Chapter Three

Ivy was in a funk for a few days afterward. She rarely left the apartment and spent the days in her pajamas. Derek was busy tending to Rebecca "Role-Stealer" Duvall. She didn't care. It was another excuse not to leave.

Lounging around, Ivy watched a lot of TV. She didn't have the time when working so she decided to catch up. And there were so many to watch. Ivy didn't know where to begin. Closing her eyes, she chose a channel at random.

"Maybe that's what I need to do." She addressed the air after a marathon of some medical drama. "Change up my medium. Go into television."

It was an idea. Maybe even a good idea. Her reputation in theater circles was tarnished though not ruined. She believed time away was needed to help restore it. And perhaps she needed a change of scenery as well as new social circles. The theater was such a small community. It would do her well to interact with new people. People who didn't know the name Leigh Conroy.

Television was tempting. Musical series were starting to become popular; Ivy believed she could easily get cast on one of them. Lounging on the couch, she imagined her life.

Ivy was making a triumphant return to New York City. She had finished the latest season of her critically acclaimed musical dramedy series. Critics and fans alike loved her character, an aspiring singer working at a cabaret until she gets discovered. The woman had unresolved sexual tension with one of the male performers but was dating a handsome businessman. The role brought her attention; Variety was filled with reports of studios seeking her for different movie roles. And E! News was calling constantly to ask about her supposed relationship with George Clooney.

Ivy always refused to comment about her love life.

She stood in the penthouse she was renting while in Manhattan. It had a glorious view of Manhattan. The green of the trees looked like a painting. Framing it were the gleaming skyscrapers of Manhattan's skyline. Birds swooped between them, soaring over the park. Everything was peaceful.

"Ivy?" Ellis stood in the room, PDA in hand. She had hired him as her assistant before leaving New York for Los Angeles. He had proven himself and was now her manager. Ivy couldn't ask for a better one.

"Yes?" she responded.

"Versace and Vivienne Westwood have both sent over dresses they wish you to wear while out on your appearances here in the city. Do you wish to see them?"

Clapping in excitement, Ivy raced off to her bedroom. Ellis followed, sharing her enthusiasm. "These are just a few samples. Others have expressed interest but I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"It would be the Golden Globes all over again!" Ivy giggled at the memory. Minutes before she was supposed to walk down the red carpet, she still hadn't decided between a gorgeous pink chartreuse mermaid gown and a classic black A-line silk number. In the end, she decided on a red satin stunner with a heart shaped bodice and thigh-high slit. She wowed and topped the best-dressed lists.

Ellis took the dresses off the bed. "You need to get ready. Your dinner with Tom, Julia and Eileen is in a half hour."

"Of course. What do you think they wish to discuss?"

Scoffing, Ellis sat down. Ivy followed suit, knowing this meant the man had good gossip to share. He leaned forward. "The Marilyn music is still in dire straits. I've kept tabs on it while you were in LA. Rebecca grew tired of waiting to go to Broadway. Rumor has it she's walking and about to sign on for a new movie."

"So they need a Marilyn?" Ellis nodded. Ivy's eyebrow rose. "What about Karen?"

"She's still too green. And I heard she's focused on wedding plans rather than Marilyn. Will probably abandon the stage for wedded bliss." Ellis leaned forward. "Besides, you were always perfect for Marilyn."

Ivy beamed.

She arrived at the restaurant in a limo. People's heads turned and whispers began as she walked through the dining room. They were staring and Ivy loved it. She sashayed up to the table where Eileen, Julia, Tom and Derek sat. The men jumped up as she approached, Tom reaching her first. He engulfed her in a hug. "I'll pay you for mentioning me in your Golden Globes acceptance speech," he whispered.

Laughing, Ivy released him. "No need. I owe you so much, it was the least I could do."

Tom led her to the table, where Julia hugged her before Eileen embraced her as well. "You look absolutely beautiful, my dear." She looked at Derek. "Doesn't she?"

Derek smiled, brown eyes warm. A five o'clock shadow covered his chin and he wore an expensive Armani suit she bought him. "Yes, she does," he agreed. "Hello, Ivy."

"Ivy?" Derek hovered over her, concerned. "Are you well?"

She sat up, feeling a creak in her back. "Yes, I guess I just fell asleep. How did you get in?"

Derek dangled a set of keys from his hand. "You gave them to me, remember?"

"For emergencies, yes."

"Well, this was an emergency." He patted her legs and she curled them underneath her to allow him to sit down next to her. "You didn't answer any calls. We all know what happened last time that happened."

Ivy looked down. Derek placed a finger underneath her chin, lifting it up. "Did you enjoy your nap?"

She smiled while nodding. "But now I'm all rested." Ivy lowered her voice and put on what she hoped was a "come hither" look.

Derek chuckled, a sound coming from deep in his throat. He closed the gap between them, lips brushing against her neck. Trailing kissing to her jaw line, he inched her t-shirt up over her torso. "Is this what you wanted?" Hot breath tickled her ear.

"Yes," she gasped.

He chuckled again, the rumbling in his chest vibrating against her now bared stomach. "Perhaps we should move to the bed?"

Ivy agreed. Derek scooped her up, carrying her into the next room.

The two lay in bed, Ivy drawing circles on Derek's bare chest with her finger. "How was rehearsal?"

Derek grunted. "Let's not talk about that. I want to talk about you."

"Oh?" Ivy propped herself up on her elbow. "That's a first."

Rolling over, Derek mirrored her pose. "Miracles happen. But I do want to know." He rubbed her arm. "Tell me what you were dreaming about earlier."

"Stardom." She smiled. "I was imagining what it would be like if I switched media."

"Oh? Ivy Lynn, movie star?"

"I like the sound of that. But I was thinking a bit smaller. Ivy Lynn, TV star."

Derek mulled it over. "It does have a ring to it. But you're too big for TV."

Ivy sat up, glaring at Derek. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The bed sheet fell away as Derek sat up. He reached out, placing a hand on her arm. "That's not what I meant. Your talent and personality are too big for such a small screen to contain. You need a bigger screen. No, you need nothing filtering how amazing you are. Just you and the audience."

She rolled her eyes. "And we come to your way of telling me to stick to the theater."

"You are good at it."

"But I want to do more! Doesn't everybody?"

Derek rubbed his face while sighing. "Yes, yes. Look, I don't want to fight. I just want to spend a relaxing night with you."

Ivy felt her anger dissolve. "What happened at rehearsals today? And don't evade the question."

"Fine." Derek's shoulders slumped. "Eileen has decided to press on with the out of town tryout in Boston."

"And you don't think you're ready?"

"I know we're not bloody ready. Especially Rebecca. I don't know if she'll ever be ready. But Eileen is determined. There are days I fear her drive is going to ruin Bombshell. I don't want to see that happen."

Ivy grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "Of course not. You've put so much work into this show. You want it to go well. So do Julia and Tom. I know there is no love lost between you and Tom, but perhaps you can all work together to convince Eileen that the show needs more time. Surely she'll see reason if you are united?"

Derek was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I hadn't wanted to distress you but we've been arguing about this for a few weeks now. Julia, Tom and I have failed to sway Eileen. She is determined. It is a quality I both admire and loathe."

"Do not worry. You will make things work, I am certain." Ivy hugged him. "I'm going to miss you when you leave for Boston."

"I'm going to miss you too." He leaned down, kissing her. "But you will come to Boston, won't you?"

"Of course! I wouldn't miss opening night for anything. Come hell or high water, I'll be there."

Laughing, Derek pulled her back down onto the bed. "You'll be my good luck charm."

Derek, along with the cast and crew of Bombshell, left for Boston the following week. Anyone who had maintained a relationship with her since her episode was gone. She had to face the Equity reprimand board by herself. It was a daunting thought. The night before her meeting, she had tried on several outfits. With them strewn about her bed, Ivy felt lost. How she longed to call Jessica!

Sighing, Ivy sat down on the floor. Taking a few breaths to stave off tears, she tried to recollect herself. It did no good to fall apart. Not now. She needed to be composed or else the board would still see her as a wreck. How she wanted to call Tom or Sam. They would talk her through this. Or come over and tell her everything was going to be all right.

To baby her. The thought hit her with such an intensity she flinched. It never occurred to her before. But the words hung in her subconscious. Spoken in John's voice, too. Ivy hadn't spent much time with him as his relationship with Tom was like most of Tom's relationships: brief. But she had met him before the breakup, after her episode.

"So you're the famous Ivy Lynn?" John slid onto the stool next to her, wine glass in his hand. "Nice to finally meet you. I saw you at Marilyn's workshop. You were wonderful."

Ivy smiled. "Thank you…?"

"Name's John. I'm with Tom."

Her smile faltered. "Oh, the Republican? I'm sorry I took Tom away from your fundraiser. It was a stupid move."

"I don't blame you. I blame Tom."

Ivy frowned. His tone was bitter and she felt like she was being drawn into something that was none of her business. She glanced around, trying to find a way out of this conversation. There was none.

John swirled the wine in his glass. "He acts like your mother. You are an adult, are you not?" She didn't know if she was expected to answer until he ploughed on. "Yes, you are. He doesn't need to ride off and clean up your messes. Not that he did that. He just sat eating with that Sam character while you ran drunk around Times Square."

Ivy was now certain he wasn't angry with her. She didn't even think he was talking to her anymore, only ranting to thin air. Backing away, Ivy made her escape.

At the time, she had been indignant. Tom didn't baby her, he helped her. He was a friend; that's what friends did. If he went over and beyond, it was the person Tom was. Or that's what she told herself.

She knew now she had been fooling herself, only a silly girl. John had been right. Perhaps having grown up with a mother like Leigh Conroy left her with a craving to be mothered. And Tom offered it, using it as an excuse without realizing it. But no more, she vowed. It was time for her to grow up. Time to be the adult she kept telling her family she was.

It started by acknowledging tomorrow's review was pointless. Everything was done by the book as far as Equity was concerned. She had shown up and performed drunk. The producers had every right to dismiss her. Her only chance was if the producers didn't file the proper paperwork within the timeframe determined by Equity. Eileen's soon-to-be-ex-husband was many things but sloppy when it came to procedures was not one of them. Ivy was doomed.

Come now, don't be so negative! Her inner voice sounded a lot like Sam, she realized with a smile. And he was right. It wasn't the end of her career, just a complication. One she could overcome.

The next day, she returned to her apartment in a sour mood. She had been right about the proceedings—they had not gone in her favor. Jerry, or at least his minions, had done everything by the book. Write ups, notifications, the whole works. The panel had no choice but to uphold the decision.

She had thought she had come to terms with this last night. Guess not. Maybe it was just bravado brought on by fatigue.

On her way home, Ivy had gone into her favorite liquor store on a whim. She picked up a bottle of her favorite red wine for dinner while she was out. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was not yet past noon. "Oh well, it's five o'clock somewhere, right?"

As she stared at her half-drunk glass—her third—she realized it wasn't helping. Alcohol is a depressant. The thought came to her, a memory from some science class. Well, I am certainly depressed. She chuckled as she raised the glass to her lips for another sip. The liquid passed her lips, sliding down her throat. Ivy tasted nothing.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. Stop it, she ordered. No reason to be depressed. You just lost Heaven on Earth. Not your career. It sounded like Sam.

Then why does it feel like it? asked another voice. This one sounded more like her.

Because you are disappointed, Sam's voice countered. It won't do you any good to beat yourself up. You need to pick yourself up and move on. Learn this lesson.

It was good advice. Standing, Ivy felt a surge of energy pulse through her body. An idea began to form in her mind and she located her luggage. Opening it on her bed, she tossed items into it. Underwear, bras, socks. Pants, shirts, skirts. Running into the bathroom, Ivy tossed in her travel toiletry bag before going to her closet. Shoes and a dress were quickly picked out. Zipping the bag, Ivy next booted up her computer. All she needed was her ticket and she'd be on her way.

Getting out of the cab, Ivy stared at Madison Square Garden. The massive arena sat over Pennsylvania Station. Waiting on one of its tracks was a train bound for Boston.

Ivy's train.

She knew Derek's hotel room and had no problem convincing the front desk she was his wife. Ivy told the man she wanted to surprise her boyfriend and therefore needed her own key to his room. With a knowing smile, the man slid it across to her. "Enjoy your stay."

Oh, she was going to enjoy her stay. But she wasn't going to surprise Derek in his hotel room. She knew what tech week was like; it would be a miracle if Derek made it back there. No, for this to work, she was going to have to go to him. Ivy couldn't wait to see the look on his face!

Standing outside the hotel, she raised an arm to hail a cab. One pulled up and Ivy gave the driver the theater address. In the backseat, she fixed her makeup and hair so she looked her best. After all, it was Derek's birthday. The first of many, she knew, but she still wanted to make it special.

The cab pulled up outside the theater. As she paid the fare, she asked the driver if he knew any good restaurants in the area. With a nod, the man gave her a name and pointed ahead of them. "A few blocks up, there is a good place. It's a hole-in-the-wall but has the best lobster you'll ever eat."

Ivy thanked the man and walked into the theater with a bounce in her step. Deciding against using the stage door, she walked into the lobby. She paused, taking in the familiar scent of the theater. The smell of the cleaning products mixed with fresh paint. Adrenaline pumped through her as she navigated backstage, trying to find her way to the dressing rooms. It was quiet, meaning they weren't rehearsing right now.

Backstage, Ivy found Ellis. He smiled and hugged her. "It's so good to see you! I didn't know they were letting you back into the show."

Ivy forced herself to remain smiling. "They didn't. I came to visit everyone. Got a bit lonely down in New York." She prayed Ellis didn't notice how sad her laugh sounded. "How are things here?"

Ellis looked around, making sure they were alone. To be certain, he pulled her into a dark corner and lowered his voice. "It's a mess. Rebecca Duvall is getting nervous. She's screwing everything up during tech runs."

"She can't be that bad."

"Oh, trust me. It's that bad."

Ivy shook her head. "You know what they say. Bad dress rehearsal means great opening night."

"I hope so. For everyone's sake." Ellis sighed. "But you're not here to listen to me complain, are you? Let's go find Derek!"

"You don't have to do that."

"I have an idea where he might be. It'll be easier if I take you to him."

"Alright then. Take me to your leader!" The two laughed as Ellis led her to the dressing rooms.

Halfway there, the two were surprised by Rebecca's redheaded assistant. He stood on one of the landings, blocking Ivy's ascent. "You can't go up there."

"What? Why?"

"Ms. Duvall needs her privacy."

Ivy wanted to laugh. "And needs an entire floor for that? This is Broadway, not Hollywood. Besides, I'm going to see Derek, not Rebecca. Certainly I'm not going to bother her."

The assistant still did not move but a pained expression came to his face. Ivy recognized it instantly. Panic rose up through her. "No!"

She tried to run past the man but he proved quicker and stronger. Ivy struggled against his hold. As she did, unforgettable moans reached her ears. They took the fight out of her and she sagged in the assistant's arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered. For some reason, Ivy believed he meant it.

Ellis took Ivy from the man's arms. "Come on, I'll get you back to your hotel."

She didn't resist, not at first. Not until they reached the cool night air. Her head cleared and Ivy started to struggle again. Ellis let her go. "What's wrong?"

"I can't go back. I planned to stay with Derek. There is no way I'm going to face him tonight."

Ellis held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Why don't I bring you to the motel the rest of us are staying at? I'm sure they have a spare room. How's that?"

Ivy shook her head. "I think I need some time. Clear my head."

"Do you think you should be alone? Come back to the motel with me, please." Ellis was begging now. But Ivy still kept walking backwards, shaking her head. She broke out into a run, ignoring Ellis' calls for her to stop.

She did stop, outside a dive of a bar. The name didn't matter; as long as she could get smashingly drunk, Ivy didn't care.

Inside was filled with several people, all in various states of inebriation. Pushing her way through the bodies, Ivy made her way to the bar. She found an empty stool and plopped down. "Tequila shots. Keep them coming."

The barkeeper, a plump older man, eyed her suspiciously but supplied her alcohol. Ivy downed shot after shot. His other patrons satisfied, he kept an eye on her. "Maybe you should slow down."

Ivy shook her head. "Ima fine."

Unconvinced, the barkeeper seemed ready to argue with Ivy when a voice cut him off. "Get the lovely lady whatever she wants."

Ivy froze at the sound of the British accent. No, he didn't follow her. He didn't know she was in Boston. There was also no way he was finished with Rebecca yet anyway. And he wouldn't get her drunk as a way of apology. Someway he'd still manage to lecture her and never understand what he did to upset her.

The person with the British accent slid next to Ivy at the bar. She turned to look at him, her vision swimming. Once it cleared, she saw a handsome Indian man sitting next to her. He looked as depressed as she.

Ivy straightened up. "Hey there, stranger. Rough day?" She hoped she didn't imagine the purr in her voice.

He smiled. Did all British men have sexy smiles? Perhaps it was handed out with the accent? "You could say that. Proposed to my girlfriend and she turned me down."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." He downed the shot the bartender gave him. "What brings you down here?"

"I found my boyfriend having sex with another woman."

"Looks like we both had rough days."

Ivy snorted. "You can say that."

The stranger looked at her, an intensity burning in his eyes. "How about we have a better night?"

Pushing her shot glass aside, Ivy nodded. "Sounds like the best thing I've heard all night."