Everything belongs to NBC. Except this internal monologue.

Who would have thought that tonight centre stage, the Cartwright girl would be mesmerising the audience as Marilyn Monroe?

Me.

I did.

When I was asked to come on board and listen to poor imitations of the woman that was Monroe. A girl in many ways. Savvy to the press, a wife, daughter and someone who longed to be a mother? Probably as her own, was never there.

Little did I know how things would turn out. I Derek Wills was surprised.

I had sat watching blonde wigs and pink dresses come through the door to the point, I was losing my will.

Then a brunette, jeans, top and baseball jacket walked in. Her shy smile, how very sweet. Very Marilyn. This girl was new, very new, no bitterness, no chip on her shoulder. It was probably her first audition. The piano started, she focused on a spot behind us. Classic trick makes the audience believe your looking at them.

She sang Beautiful. Even Christine what's her face would concede it was far superior to hers.

Somehow she made the lyrics make you imagine Marilyn Monroe as if the song was written for her in mind.

I was hooked.

The Ivy Lynn fan club got their way for most of it, right through the workshops and early rehearsals. And to start with, I could see where they all where coming from.

She was stunning, a near replica of Monroe. And yes I had my wicked way with her, much longer than I had expected. But Cartwright was there just in my line of vision.

When I had pulled the casting couch trick on her, she proved that she may green but not that green to compromise herself.

Ivy went off the rails, I rallied for Cartwright. They thought I was mad. I kept putting her through the ringer and she kept coming back, when everyone around her thought she would fail. There was no acting involved (no matter what Ivy thought when she told me to play nice).

Karen's inner strength shone like a beacon. She never knew but early mornings she would come into an 'empty' room to rehearse. I would watch out of sight and see her fix each mistake time and time again. It was like watching a solider getting ready to go to war.

Ivy played us and got back in the show. Ensamable of course. Cartwright was now understudy to an A lister Rebecca Duvall from tinsel town. As with any show, no name, no audience, no work, no money.

But even Duvall saw Karen had star potential, probably envied it.

Karen Cartwright never once tried to steal the thunder from Duvall. She even helped her. Duvall is a clever actress thought by using me she could gain more spotlight. Well darling I invented that game. Though it did hurt Ivy. But instead of going after me, Ivy went for Karen!

She slept with Karen's fiancé. Talk about timing, on the day Rebecca Duvall got 'poisoned'. Duvall backed out, leaving Karen with half a day to learn everything in one go! Plus a new song.

Eileen was ranting, wanting Ivy. Especially after, Karen pulled a tough number out of the bag.

Karen stormed past me, with every emotion on her face. A ring? Found in Ivy's room? Oh my songbird, they couldn't, but they did. I had to step in, no matter what Eileen wanted, Karen needed this more. Her eyes searched my soul; I took her hand and led her backstage. Just when I thought it was sorted, she disappeared.

This theatre isn't that big, but she hid well. After having words with that snake of a fiancé, I saw an earring, clever girl; I've hidden in wardrobe from Eileen before too. There was the match to the earring in my hand, shoes and dress. Behind the rail, she was curled up, wanting me to leave, I couldn't. I needed her, the show needed her and right now she needed the show, to escape, to forget, even for a little while. I could see to that. I offered the best patter I had. She didn't bite, so I told the truth.

I helped her off the floor, picked up the purple dress from my dreams and led her onstage where crestfallen Ivy saw she was beat.

I watch her from the wings, tell her she's a star, tell her another truth, a secret truth. I let the songbird enchant everyone.

As the curtain comes down everyone runs off for the run ons. Bows to you and me. Karen is the last to go on, as she's the star. She's shaking, and I take her hand in mine until the last second. And let her go to stand to an ovation that only she could produce. Worthy of Marilyn.

At last, I've found a star for Broadway. Miss Karen Cartwright. She will somehow retain the innocence in twenty years time, remember where she came from. And not belittle anyone. I'm just glad I could help.

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