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“Were you expecting someone?” Orlando asked, looking toward the door.

“Just you,” I said, heading for door. I looked through the peephole and my heart sank. Ramsey, my ex-boyfriend, was standing on the other side of the door. He knocked again.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Orlando called from the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah,” I said weakly as I pulled the door open. “What do you want?” I hissed coldly to Ramsey, keeping my voice low so Orlando wouldn’t hear me.

“Hello to you too,” Ramsey said, pushing past me and waltzing into my apartment as if he owned it. “Your manners are slipping, Charlie.”

“I told you not to contact me anymore, Ram,” I said, following him. “I meant it.”

“Funny, I don’t remember that,” he said, flopping down on my sofa. “So what’s for supper?” He grinned at me, his perfect white teeth flashing in the light from the lamp beside him. He was well-dressed, as usual, in fresh blue jeans and a black button-down shirt. On a superficial level he was sexy, and at one time I’d thought him irresistible, but now he just made me uncomfortable, even when Orlando wasn’t in the kitchen.

“Whatever your tramp of a girlfriend is making,” I spat, crossing my arms over my chest. I hated how he seemed to bring out the worst in me.

“You’ve really gone downhill since I left, haven’t you, Charlie?” he said, smirking. I wanted to smack that smirk off his face, but I didn’t dare. He was twice my size and not opposed to knocking around a woman.

“You’re memory’s going, Ram,” I said. “I kicked you out, remember?”

He shrugged. “Small detail.” He rose from the sofa and started for the kitchen. “So what’s there to eat in this dump?”

I hurried to cut him off before he opened the kitchen door. “Nothing. Get out.”

He simply shoved me aside and opened the door anyway. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hey, you’re that pirate guy,” Ramsey said into the kitchen. I couldn’t see Orlando, but I hoped he wasn’t going to get pissed. “What the hell are you doing here?” He advanced into the kitchen, and I was hot on his heels. Ramsey turned to me and I almost ran into him. “Do you know this guy?” he asked stupidly.

“Uh, Orlando, this is Ramsey,” I said, ducking past Ram so I could stand between them. “He was just leaving.”

“No I wasn’t,” Ramsey said belligerently. “What’s the pirate guy doing in your apartment, Charlie?”

“His name is Orlando, and he’s a friend of mine,” I said impatiently. “You need to go, Ramsey, now.” I tried to move him toward the front door. He simply shoved me away.

“What’s your problem, mate?” Orlando said, closing the fridge.

“Since when do you hang out with Hollywood hotshots?” Ramsey spat, ignoring Orlando. “You didn’t keep that kind of company when we were together.” He looked from me to Orlando and back again. “Oh, I get it. You’re trying to get a piece, hey, pal?” he said to Orlando. His face distorted into a disgusting grin. “She’s quite the wild thing in the sack, you know. I’m sure you’ll get your money’s worth.”

“Ramsey, I’m not a whore,” I said, trying to sound menacing. “You need to leave, right now.” I moved to the door and opened it.

“What’s your rush?” he asked. “I’m just getting to know the pirate guy here.” He slapped Orlando on the back, hard.

“Why don’t you just take off,” Orlando said, backing up a step so Ramsey couldn’t slap him again. “Charlie doesn’t want to you here.”

“Ramsey, just go,” I pleaded from the doorway. “All you’re doing is causing trouble.”

“I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Ramsey said haughtily, starting to open cupboard doors. “What have you got to eat in this place?”

I looked at Orlando and mouthed “I’m sorry” to him. I burned with embarrassment and anger at Ramsey’s intrusion. I didn’t want Orlando to think I was low class, with buffoons like Ramsey just showing up whenever they felt like it. And I definitely didn’t want Ramsey to be his usual self and start a fight.

Ramsey was banging through my cupboards, pulling food out left and right, making a huge mess on my counter. I reluctantly closed the front door and went back into the kitchen to stop him. Luckily, just as I was pulling a jar of spaghetti sauce out of his hand, his cell phone rang.

“ ‘Lo?” he said, letting go of the jar. “Damn it, Jo, I said I was going out for the night.” He started to sound really angry. “I’ll be there when I damn well get there.” He closed his phone.

“Women, eh, pirate?” he said to Orlando, a lewd grin on his face. Then he looked at me. “Only good for one thing.” I thought I saw hurt around his eyes, but I didn’t want to, so I disregarded it. He turned to the mess he’d made. “There’s nothing good here. I’m gonna go for a pizza. You want to come with me, pirate?” He looked at Orlando.

“No, that’s okay,” Orlando said graciously. “You go. I’m going to stay and help clean up the mess.” He gave a pointed look at the counter.

“Suit yourself.” Ramsey went to the front door. “Just don’t expect to get any from this one,” he gestured to me. “She’s wild, but she’s frigid, too. It’ll take you a good couple of months to get any out of her.” He left and slammed the door behind him.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the door slammed. I hurried to lock it, so that he couldn’t get back in.

“Who was that guy?” Orlando asked as he helped me clean up the kitchen.

“That was the almighty Ramsey Neilson,” I said, putting jars and boxes back in the cupboard. “I told him to take a hike a few months ago, and he still hasn’t gotten the picture.”

“You dated him?” Orlando said, sounding shocked. I couldn’t blame him. I wondered what I’d been thinking myself from time to time.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said, wiping up spilled rice. “He wasn’t always like that, though. He was sweet at first, really nice and normal. Then he decided it was okay to manhandle me and sleep around.” I shrugged, dumping the rice in the garbage. “Just goes to show, you can never really tell about a person.”

“I guess,” Orlando said, closing the cupboards. “I was afraid he was going to get violent.” He chuckled to himself. “Pirate guy, huh? That’s original.”

I smiled. “We saw Pirates of the Caribbean in the theatre and he loved it, so of course he recognized you.” I paused and studied his face. “Especially since you kind of look like a pirate right now.” I playfully ran my hand over his stubble. “So, are you still hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“You know what, let’s go out,” I said, going back into the living room. “I’ll just change and we can go grab something to eat.”

“You don’t have to change,” he said, following me. “You look awesome just as you are.”

I looked down and my old pink workout suit. “You’re kidding, right?” I laughed. “I look like a bum. I’m not going out in public like this.” I went into the bedroom and closed the door.

When I came out a few minutes later, Orlando was sitting on the sofa with the TV on. I’d put on my new clothes again, figuring I may as well get some use out of them. My black slacks, baby blue, off-the-shoulder blouse, and black stiletto heels made me feel sexy, so I was sure I wouldn’t embarrass him out in public.

“Ready to go?” I asked as I strolled into the room. I grabbed my purse off the piano.

“You look fabulous,” Orlando said, standing and shutting off the TV. “Where do you want to go?”

“Well, there are some really great restaurants around here,” I said, pulling on my leather jacket. “Depends on what you feel like eating.”

“Anything,” he said, taking my hand.

“There’s a sweet little Italian restaurant right down the street,” I said as I locked my front door. “We don’t even need a car, it’s only a block or two.”

He looked skeptically at my feet. “You want to walk in those?” he asked, gesturing to my shoes.

“I do it all the time,” I said as we walked down the hallway.

“Okay, sounds good to me.”

We walked the two blocks to Tony’s, my favourite restaurant. I knew it wouldn’t be crowded, and it was dark inside, so there was less chance of Orlando being recognized. As soon as we walked in, he seemed to relax, seeing that we were the only people in the restaurant at the moment.

After we were seated at a cozy little booth in the back corner of the restaurant and our drink orders were taken, I started to feel nervous. We were actually on a date, and I wasn’t sure what to say. I desperately wanted to forget Ramsey’s intrusion, but I couldn’t, and it was distracting me.

“Is something wrong?” Orlando asked, after I’d been staring at the table cloth for five minutes. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

“I was just thinking about Ramsey,” I said honestly. “I’m really embarrassed that he barged in like that and said the things he did.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Orlando said, taking my hands over the table. “You didn’t know he was going to show up the way he did. Don’t give it another thought.”

I smiled at him in the dim candlelight. “I just wish he’d move on. I mean, he’s living with the girl he was cheating on me with, so it’s not like he’s alone. And I certainly don’t want anything to do with him anymore. What bothers me is when he shows up and I’m alone. He’s a big guy, in case you hadn’t noticed, and he can be really intimidating.” I stopped. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear about this,” I said, taking a sip of my water.

“No, it’s okay,” he said softly. “I can understand how he’d be scary to face on your own.”

“Even when I don’t let him in, he’s still obnoxious,” I said. “He makes so much noise sometimes that the neighbours complain, and rightly so.” I shook my head. “Oh well, let’s not let him ruin our evening.” I forced a smile. “So tell me about your movie.”

For the next hour or so, Orlando told me all about his new film, and life in Hollywood. I listened intently, marveling at how he could talk about his business with such passion, and not once sound self-centered or conceited. He genuinely loved his job and it showed.

“By the way,” Orlando said as we were finishing our desert, “You never did tell me whether or not you got the part you auditioned for. Have you heard?”

“Actually, yes,” I said, taking my napkin from my lap and placing in on the table beside my empty plate. “They called a few days ago. I got the lead role.”

“Congratulations!” he said, beaming at me. “Charlie, that’s amazing.” He paused for a minute. “When do you have to go?” he asked quietly.

“I have to be in New York in two weeks,” I said softly. “I’ll be leaving right around the time you are.”

“Two weeks seems to be our limit, doesn’t it?” he said. Then he shook himself and was suddenly brighter. “So what now?” he said, forcing cheer into his voice.

Before I could answer, the waiter brought our bill. Orlando and I reached for it at the same time, then laughed.

“Let me get this,” I said, shooing his hand away.

“No, it’s my treat,” he argued, taking the bill from me. “I insist.”

“Why don’t we split it?” I suggested.

“No, I’m paying tonight. Please, let me.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to start an argument over something so silly as the bill, so I gave in. “Fine,” I said, “But I get the next one, okay?”

He grinned at me. “We’ll see,” he said, and stood up. He paid the bill and came back to the table. We left.

“So where’s the nearest hotel?” Orlando asked as we were walking back to my apartment. “I’m exhausted.”

“Uh, hotel or motel,” I asked, knowing there was nothing overly nice anywhere near my place.

“Hotel preferably.”

“It’s about half an hour away,” I told him.

He winced. “Okay, then I should go when we get you home.”

“Right.” I paused. “Or you could stay with me,” I suggested tentatively.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“My sofa folds out,” I said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “It’s actually pretty comfortable.”

“Sounds good,” he said, squeezing my hand. He gave me a brilliant smile.

“I’ll make up the sofa-bed as soon as we get home,” I said. “That way you can get some sleep.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably just curl up in bed with my Wicked script,” I said. “I’ve got lots to learn before I get to New York.”

“I’m not putting you out, am I?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“No, of course not,” I assured him. “I could use the time with my script.”

“You know, I think this is going to be a great couple of weeks,” he said after a few minutes of silence. We had just stepped into my apartment building and were climbing the stairs.

“What are your festival commitments?” I asked as we walked down the hall to my place. “We should probably figure that out.”

“Uh, the press conference is on Friday, and the premiere and party are on Saturday, and then I have some press stuff to do next week,” he said, rattling off his schedule like he’d done it a million times. “I’ve got quite a bit of downtime, though, considering.”

“You’re not going to drive back and forth, are you?” I asked, unlocking my front door. “That seems really inconvenient.”

“You’re right,” he said, flopping down on the sofa. “That could be a problem.”

“Just stay in Toronto when you have commitments, and then come here on your down days,” I suggested. “That will still give us about a week.”

“No,” he said forcefully. “I want to see you every day. We don’t have much time together.”

“But you just agreed that driving is going to be inconvenient.”

“So come with me.” He stared at me intently, waiting for my response.

“What?”

“Come stay at the hotel with me,” he said, starting to get excited. “We can get a room with two beds, and you can just stay with me.”

“How is that going to look?” I asked, thinking of the tabloids, and, worse, my father. How would I ever explain something like that to him? “You can’t just have some girl stay in your room without it getting around.”

“You know what, I don’t really care about that,” he said. “We’ll make it work.”

“Okay, I guess we can do that.” I’d quit my job the day I’d heard about Wicked, so it’s not like I had any commitments. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Absolutely.”