Scarlet Starlet

The engine of Ziggy's car was purring like a delighted cat, and the owner himself tapped the wheel and hummed along with a catchy tune playing on the radio. I wasn't purring nor humming, no, I was struggling to not look stiff as a plank in my seat.

Agreeing to go out with Ziggy was a bad idea, and I should have known it all along. It was my own fault that I was sitting next to a man with an agenda that differed from mine. The nagging feeling that Ziggy had meant the dinner as a date got stronger with every twinkling smile he gave me. If he only had been a rude or uninteresting person - things would have been so much easier. To be honest, I could understand the women who fell for Ziggy's charm even if they knew that his underpants would last longer than they did.

“You're awfully quiet,” Ziggy said, chuckling and nudging me with his elbow.

I forced myself to give him a stiff laugh. “I wouldn't want you to get distracted and end up in a ditch.”

Actually, Ziggy Sullivan didn't appear to be a good driver at all. The car swayed from side to side on the lane and Ziggy cared more about talking than checking the honking traffic around us. Had he found his license inside a box of Cheerios?

The world was a strange place if he had managed to get the license when I had failed miserably twice.

“You've got to have faith in my driving-abilities, honey. It's important for my ego,” Ziggy explained. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but suddenly he started to focus more on controlling the vehicle than on blabbering.

We traveled familiar roads and I enjoyed the view through the car window. The grass was green, the flowers rich in color and the evening sky a shade of indigo. Then there were hundreds of cars with vomiting tailpipes that ruined the picture of beauty. The air back home in Alaska had been of a higher quality and I never had to worry about inhaling too many toxins there. Hollywood was in many ways different from where I had grown up, but it had its privileges as well.

“You have to turn right in the next traffic circle,” I said and leaned back in my seat. When Ziggy wasn't trying to converse with me, I felt so much more comfortable. I didn't have to worry about what to say to sound cool when we were silent.

I admitted to myself the fact that Ziggy was making me nervous. Everything about him was so fascinating, yet terrifying. He was in many ways my polar opposite; confident, handsome and a philanderer. Those adjectives doesn't apply to me. I would describe myself as being a fainthearted and over-analytical person.

Ziggy spun the wheel and turned the car to the right. We were heading towards the Fisherman's restaurant and would be there in just a minute.

“We're almost there,” I said, mostly to myself. “It's the second building to the left.”

Ziggy started slowing the car down and parked it outside the restaurant. There were only two other cars in the parking lot and I was glad to know that the place wouldn't be too crowded. Having paparazzi peering over our shoulders the first time we did something alone would be plain miserable.

Ziggy jumped out of the car and rushed over to my side, opening the door for me. He bowed and I could see bumps of his neck bones stretching the tanned skin. “Let me help you, my fair lady,” he said. I could do nothing but giggle at his silliness.

He reached his hand out and I grabbed it. The skin of it was rougher and hotter than mine and the sensation was similar to a burning one. “Thank you,” I said with a slightly cracked voice.

Fisherman's restaurant was a charming place. The entire building was built of dark logs and the atmosphere was, in my opinion, soothing. Bright lights were banned from the restaurant and the darkness added a cozy touch. Critics with experience and refined pallets used to say that the quality of a restaurant's food was a direct result of its lightning. The darker – the worse. Though, I thought Fisherman crushed that statement. Their seafood was fresh and the sauces to die for.

Ziggy guided me towards a small table for two in the corner of the dim restaurant, and we sat down on cushioned chairs. His eyes were trying to catch my gaze, but I actively avoided the green orbs.

There was a ship in a bottle, placed on a shelf, which I chose to rest my eyes on. “I wonder how it's possible to squeeze the ship into the bottle,” I blurted out to break the ice.

“Is that important?” Ziggy asked curiously.

“No, it isn't.” I forced myself to stop looking at the ship. It would be rude to agree on having dinner with someone and then refuse to look at the person.“The question just raced through my brain to my mouth.”

Ziggy gave me a soft smile and small shadows from a lit candle danced on his face. His lips were curved upwards in two small crooks on both sides. “You're different from the other girls, Troya. I want to get to know you.”

Sure you do. With my pants off, that is.

A waitress interrupted our conversation, putting two shining menus on the table in front of us. “Welcome to Fisherman's, here are the menus. I highly recommend the roasted sea bass with asparagus and baby leeks.” Her voice was arrhythmical and monotone – as if she was reading a script.

We scanned through the glossy pages of the menus in silence. My eyes automatically wandered off to the seafood-section and I decided to get salmon with potatoes and sauce. The dish didn't seem like much on the paper, but it was heaven on earth; or, heaven on a plate. The salmon was what I had ordered the last time I went to Fisherman's, and to be honest I still fantasized about the taste sometimes and had tried to recreate it in my own kitchen numerous times. The soft pink flesh of the salmon just melted in my mouth and the buttery potatoes made my taste buds squeal with joy.

Ziggy needed a long time to decide what to get as he was unfamiliar with the thick menu. His index finger traveled over the glossy pages, and now and then he stopped by a certain dish and investigated it more thoroughly. After scanning the entire menu, he decided to get a simple pasta dish. I thought it was funny because Ziggy had had the opportunity to choose something exotic to prove his urbanity, but instead he had chosen a humble pasta.

The waitress, dressed in a sailor-themed suit, gathered the menus and staggered away on high heels. I felt sympathy with her since the female staff of Fisherman's were forced to wear heels while they were working. It must be awful to wobble around on stilt-like shoes all day long!

Ziggy coughed theatrically to get my undivided attention. “Tell me a little bit about yourself. Something I don't already know, that is.”

This was my golden opportunity to dazzle the hot actor with my wits, intelligence and talent – if I just thought my words through carefully before saying them. Think, think, think!

“I want to one day design a clothing line,” I said and felt my pulse speeding up. That had been a lie, and I didn't know why I had said it. I wasn't even that interested in fashion, but I figured it was a typical Hollywood-thing to say and did so. I had to cover up for my lie with a truthful statement. “But, I'd rather go to medical school. I've always wanted to help people in need.”

Ziggy nodded and flashed a serious look. “Those are wonderful ambitions, Troya. I would also like to help people in need. Actually, I'm planning on arranging a fundraiser in my home next week, and you're very welcome to join us. There will be good food, music and nice people. The money that we donate will go straight into the pockets of homeless people.”

I hadn't thought that Ziggy was the charity-type of person and my heart skipped a beat. Did he have any flaws other than his philandering ways? I sure hadn't noticed anything negative yet.

My mind was pulling me into two different direction. On one hand I just wanted to get away from Ziggy to save myself before starting to like him. Then, on the other hand, I wanted to really get to know the famous Ziggy Sullivan's personality. He had displayed many good qualities and it would be a shame not give him the chance to become a friend of mine.

I needed friends – desperately.

“Ziggy, I'll come! It's important to not forget about those who have nothing.”

Ziggy grinned widely and waved his arms around. “Exactly! We're always in the spotlight and therefore we have the opportunity to engage an entire world in serious questions! We have that responsibility!”

I had never seen Ziggy look so excited before. His eyes were shining like two green brights and his body language was like the one of an Italian; fluttery and passionate. The raw emotions on his face were so genuine and well-meaning. This was not an act.

“Yeah, I guess.” I chuckled, and for the first time that night I allowed myself to relax.

Then the food came in and we dedicated a few minutes in silence to devour the content of the plates. The salmon was just as dreamy as I remembered it, and Ziggy also seemed to have a 'Hallelujah moment' on the other side of the table. He ate like he had never seen food before and I doubted that anyone could win over Ziggy Sullivan in an eat-down competition.

“Sorry for the outburst, I just feel very strongly about giving back to those who are less fortunate,” Ziggy said and raked his blonde hair. How he had managed to have pasta and sauce without spilling anything on his shirt was a mystery to me. “Now, where do you come from?”

“I'm from Meadow Lakes in Alaska. I grew up there in a small house with my mom, dad and dog,” I said, “And what about you?”

“I grew up here in Los Angeles, but not in the wealthy blocks where I live now. Me and my mother have had to struggle for every dollar and there were months when we couldn't pay for electricity.”

“I'm so sorry...” That was yet another thing which I hadn't know about Ziggy. I had always just assumed that he was born in a golden sheen and used pacifiers encrusted with diamonds. With the new information about Ziggy, I understood why he was so engaged in giving money to the poor and homeless. He had once been in their shoes.

Ziggy shrugged. “What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? I've learned to work hard and to not take anything, or anyone, for granted.”

I nodded. Even if he was blonde, he still didn't lack of gray cells.

“And how did you end up being one of the most famous actors in the world?” I asked curiously, leaning forward over the table. The tips of my scarlet hair touched the plate on the table and got dyed by the white sauce.

Ziggy laughed and wiggled his eyebrows. “I'll tell you if you agree on having dinner with me again.”

“I already promised to come to your fundraiser, isn't that enough?” I mocked. I couldn't believe that I was sitting in a restaurant and speaking with Ziggy Sullivan like it was the most natural thing in the world. The fact that I didn't stutter nor had sweaty hands was a big victory over my own shyness.

“It's a start,” he answered.