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Charlotte Lamb a Naked Flame

Charlotte Lamb a Naked Flame



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Published by 3dodo

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Published by: 3dodo on Feb 14, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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A Naked Flame
Charlotte Lamb
was whistling through his teeth as he drove along thePromenade des Anglais. Christie recognised the tune at once; itwas the theme music for her latest film. Ziggy had composed it,and it had that special quality which his music always had, andwhich made him highly demanded by the film world: haunting,poignant and yet memorable. When the film was releasedChristie was certain half the world would be whistling it.Ziggy turned to smile at her, and stopped whistling. 'Willyou marry me?' It was a light question and one he had askedmany times before in the same light tone.Christie laughed. 'Ask me tomorrow.' That was how shealways answered him, and he had always smiled and said: 'Iwill, don't worry.'Tonight, though, he said gently: 'There are no moretomorrows, Christie. Give me my answer now, and if it's no, thistime it's final.'She was taken aback and stared at him uncertainly, ahundred different reactions flashing through her. Ziggy lookedunfamiliar to her, he was serious, and that was rare enough tostartle her into attention. Ziggy had always made her laugh, evenwhen he proposed. She had never seen him fight to get attention,the way most people did in the film world—yet he always got it,people found him funny, they started to smile as soon as they
saw him. Oddly, he didn't have a comic face—he was distinctlygood-looking, in a lazy, casual fashion, fair-skinned, with sunnyblond hair and blue eyes and a long, slim body which movedwith lounging grace. His voice drawled, blurring words, he oftensounded sleepy and he found other people as amusing as theyfound him, his blue eyes smiled all the time.Christie did not know what to say to him now. She tried tochange his mood, hurriedly laughing. 'Is this goodbye, Ziggy?You wouldn't break my heart, would you? You know I couldn'tsay goodbye to you.' She said the words teasingly, lightly,watching for his usual wry smile.'I mean it, Christie,' he said, though, and he wasn't smiling.'Oh,' she said, suddenly cold. She felt like crying, she wasaggrieved because Ziggy was changing the rules of their gamewithout warning. For four years they had been friends, alwaysseen around together at first nights and parties, spending days onthe beach at Malibu together in between working, and she wouldbe lost without Ziggy, but she knew she wasn't in love with him.As a man he lacked some vital ingredient. Perhaps he was toocivilised? Women always liked him, but they didn't lose theirheads over him. Christie hadn't lost her head, either, but sheloved Ziggy, he had become an essential part of her life. Shecouldn't bear to lose him, it would be like losing her right arm.'I'd rather have it straight,' Ziggy said. 'If I'm wasting mytime, say so. Can't you love me, Christie?' He was still drivingalong the wide straight road along the bay, palm trees on eitherside, the pavements thronged with holidaymakers who, likethemselves, had just had dinner and were taking a stroll, manyof them with some vague hope of spotting a celebrity. TheCannes Film Festival was a magnet for all sorts of people: filmbuffs, ambitious young actors, curvy starlets who hadn't yet

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