Chapter Eight

Times Square bustled with activity. People milled about the plaza, staring at the buildings and posing for pictures. Ivy loved to come here and people watch. One learned so much about people that way. How they interacted. What they said. What they didn't say. It was fascinating.

"Ivy?" Kyle placed a hand on her shoulder. He held a folder bound by a rubber band under his other arm.

She smiled. "Thanks for coming. Have a seat."

Kyle did so, placing the folder on the table. "Thank you for seeing me. It is so exciting to think someone like you wants to talk to someone like me!"

Ivy laughed. "Someone like me?"

"You're theater royalty! Leigh Conroy's daughter! I have her version of Anything Goes. I've played 'I Get a Kick Out of You' so many times, Jimmy has banned me from doing so while he's in the apartment."

Forcing the smile to remain on her face, Ivy nodded. He was so happy she did want her poor relationship with her mother to ruin it. "That is a good album."

Kyle ducked his head. "Sorry. You probably get sick of having to talk about your mother. Is that why you don't use the name Conroy?"

"No. It's not my last name."

"Oh. Well, as I said, not here to talk about your mother." He patted the folder. "This is everything I could sneak out of the apartment."

"Your friend really doesn't want anyone to see this?"

He shook his head. "Jimmy's a bit…paranoid. He's had a rough life and he's trying to turn it around. But he still feels the need to look over his shoulder everywhere he goes. I'm trying to help him."

Ivy took Kyle's hand. "You're being a good friend. I'm sure Jimmy appreciates everything you've done. And perhaps this might help him."

"Thanks. We're still working on the story, so I brought the music. This is the song Jimmy was playing." He handed her sheet music. "It's called 'Broadway, Here I Come.' It's our main song."

She read over the lyrics, frowning. "It's a bit…suicidal, isn't it?"

"Yeah, the show can get pretty dark."

"Jimmy working out his issues?"

Surprise flickered in Kyle's eyes. "It's not going to be a problem, is it?"

"No, not at all. Art is all about expression, right?"

"I meant about the show in general. Do you think it might be too dark?"

Ivy laughed. "I haven't even heard the story! Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay?"

Kyle smiled. "You're right. Perhaps you should first listen to the music."

"Do you have a demo?"

"No." Panic crept into Kyle's voice. "Should we have one?"

Ivy held up her hands, placating him. "No, don't worry. I know people who can play me the song. You got any more?"

He nodded, pulling out a few more sheets of paper. "This is 'Caught in the Storm.' And this one is 'Good for You.' The last one is a bit more upbeat."

She gathered the papers up. "This will be great. Anything else? Can I get you something to eat?"

Kyle shook his head. "I should be heading back. My shift starts soon. Thanks anyway."

They stood and Ivy shook Kyle's hand as she wished him luck. His smile brightened all of Times Square before he took off. Ivy held his music close and hurried off in another direction.


"Are you sure Tom won't mind?" Dennis leaned against the wall as he watched Ivy open the door to the composer's apartment.

She nodded. "I have to water his plants anyway. And I'm sure he won't mind you playing his piano. Especially for me."

The door swung open and Ivy led Dennis inside. She motioned toward one of the rooms. "Piano's in there. Make yourself comfortable and I'll be there in a moment."

Dennis nodded and wandered off. Ivy picked up the watering can, filling it at the sink. She heard Dennis check the piano to make sure it was tuned—As if Tom wouldn't keep on top of that! Ivy laughed.

Music filled the apartment. Ivy swayed a bit as she watered each plant, finding she was able to hum along with the tune. She wandered into the room with Tom's piano. "Which song is that?"

"Good for You," Dennis replied. "It's quite catchy. But seems more of a pop song than a showtune."

"That may be the point. Kyle hasn't said much about the plot except that it's dark, but he and Jimmy may want to use more pop-based music. Or make it a rock musical."

Dennis nodded. "That's possible. You want me to play 'Caught in the Storm' now? Or do you want to try and sing 'Good for You'?"

"I want to hear the other song first, please."

"As you wish." Dennis turned back to the piano and began playing the other song. Ivy walked away to resist the temptation to read the lyrics. She wanted to hear the melody first, like she had with "Good for You." Closing her eyes, she listened. There was anguish in the song and Ivy yearned to hear the words.

Dennis finished and twisted on the piano bench to face her. "What do you think?"

"I liked it. You?"

He nodded. "It's good. Whoever wrote it has talent." Dennis turned back. "You want to sing along now?"

"Yes, I do." Ivy stood, approaching the piano. She leaned over Dennis, looking over the words for "Caught in the Storm." As he began playing again, Ivy sang.

It was about getting caught up in a relationship despite the pain. Or perhaps because of it. She wasn't sure. All she knew was the song spoke to her. This Jimmy Collins had managed to capture her relationship with Derek in his music. How she knew he was a cad yet continued until she got hurt.

The music stopped and they remained silent. Ivy heard only her deep breathing. "That was a great song."

"I agree. These two really have something. You should encourage them to tape a demo somehow."

She nodded. "I'll do my best. The songwriter isn't as willing as his partner to share his songs. He might balk at the idea."

"Hope you can get him to come around. It would be a shame for no one else to hear these." Dennis stood, kissing Ivy's cheek. "Good luck."

He showed himself out as Ivy looked over the music. She hoped Kyle could get Jimmy to come around.


This time, Kyle was the one waiting in Times Square. He sat at one of the red tables, bouncing in his seat as he watched the people hanging around the square. Ivy thought he looked adorable. She smiled as she approached the table, noticing the brown paper bag sitting in front of him.

He jumped up. "Ivy! Thanks for meeting me!"

"I think that's my line. I called you, remember?"

Kyle laughed. "True, but I'm still so grateful that you're giving me the time of day…"

She held up her hand. "Stop it. You make me sound like some hot shot rather than the disgraced chorine I am."

"You aren't. So you had a setback, so what? You're still a star."

Ivy slid into the seat closest to her and leaned on her arms. "You're sweet and all, but I haven't been a Broadway leading lady."

"Yet." Kyle's voice was firm as he stressed the word.

"You're sweet but I don't think so. Did you see my setback?"

Kyle ducked his head. "Yeah, I did." He lifted his head to look her in the eyes. "But I didn't think it was something that could end your career. All you have to do is wait for the next scandal and you'll be fine."

Ivy smiled. "Do you want to be my publicist?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "I want to write a show that plays on Broadway. Do you think that's possible?"

"Well, I haven't read your script yet. But from what I heard of the music, you're off to a good start."

Kyle sighed. "It's just getting Jimmy to come around and that's going to be a problem."

"Well, how about this? You get me a copy of your script to read while you work on bringing Jimmy around. How does that sound?"

"I think that's doable. When do you want me to get it to you?"

Ivy chuckled. "Whenever you can have it ready. You have my number. Don't be afraid to use it."

"Thank you." Kyle pushed the brown bag toward her. "I got this for you. As a thank you for everything you've done so far."

He said his goodbyes and left as Ivy looked inside the bag. A warm cinnamon bun lay inside, enticing her. She moaned. "Oh, I can just imagine the workout I'm going to have to do after this!"

Taking the cinnamon bun from the bag, she took a big bite and let the cinnamon goodness sweep through her.


Kyle gave her the script a few days later but it took her longer to read it. She paced her apartment, staring at her phone. He was waiting for her call to give him her opinion on it. But Ivy didn't know what to say. Or rather, she didn't know how to say it.

A knock startled Ivy from her musings. She approached the door, wondering if Kyle had managed to find her apartment. Eyes narrowed, she called out: "Who's there?"

"Candy gram!"

"What?"

"Delivery!"

"Who are you?"

"Really? We were roommates for five years and you don't recognize my voice? I should be insulted!"

Ivy laughed as she threw the deadbolt and opened the door. Her former roommate, Allison Stewart, stood in the hallway with a smile on her face. The two women hugged each other before Ivy pulled her friend into her apartment.

Allison plopped down on the couch, pulling her friend with her. "I am in New York for a few days to argue with my publisher and I just had to see you. Tell me everything!"

"Slow down! Let me at least try to be a good hostess, okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Got any wine?"

Ivy shook her head. "Not since my incident. And I'm sure you know all about it, don't you?"

"Yeah. I have a Google alert for you so I saw the video. Oh, Ivy, it wasn't your finest performance."

"You can say that again," Ivy moaned. "And now my career is in ruins."

Allison took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Why don't you get us something nonalcoholic to drink and then you can explain everything to me."

When Ivy finished her tale, Allison shook her head. "You certainly have had a rough few months. Why didn't you call me?"

Ivy shrugged. "I guess I figured you were too busy to hear me cry about how I screwed up my life."

"Never! Though I guess it goes both ways—I could've picked up the phone and called you."

"So, we suck at being friends. Agreed?"

Allison nodded before picking up Kyle's script. "Well, it doesn't look like your career is in complete ruins. This a script for a new show?"

"Yes, but it's not being produced. I was reading it for a new friend who wants to write musicals." An idea crept upon Ivy and she smiled. "Why don't you read it? I'd love to have your opinion."

Allison glanced at the script and shrugged. "Sure, why not? I like helping young writers."


The next time Ivy met Kyle, she went to his apartment. It was Allison's suggestion as she thought he would be more comfortable receiving the criticism in a place he knew. And in private. "You aren't going to be too harsh, are you?" Ivy asked her.

Allison was silent for a few moments. "Look, everybody considers criticism harsh at first. No matter what I say, it will upset him. When I get criticism, I have to walk away for about a day before I can respond just because I know it will hurt at first. The day gives me time to gain perspective and to go back to it with some objectivity. Hopefully, Kyle will do the same."

Ivy nodded as they paused outside Kyle's door. She took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

Kyle smiled as he opened the door though it faltered at seeing Allison. It returned to full force upon introductions. "Allison Stewart? I love your books! Jimmy makes fun of me for reading them but I don't care."

Allison thanked him as Ivy looked around. "Where is Jimmy?" she asked.

"He had some things to do. He'll be gone for a while."

Ivy sighed. "You're going to have to tell him. He is writing the music."

Kyle coughed and motioned to the couch. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

The two women refused as they took a seat. Ivy made a mental note to push Kyle more about including Jimmy. But she would do it after he recovered from whatever Allison was about to say, she decided as she eyed the manuscript her friend pulled from her bag. Post-It notes covered the pages and there were also two loose leaf pages covered with Allison's neat handwriting. Don't break Kyle, Ally. Please.

He was eyeing the script with nervous eyes. "What are those?"

"Notes." Allison's tone was matter-of-fact. "Every writer gets them. And every writer hates them. Necessary evil, unfortunately. So, let's start with a question: Is this your first draft?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I want you to keep this in mind during my notes: All first drafts suck. No exceptions. Remember that."

"O-okay." Kyle's voice shook and Ivy felt nervous for him.

Allison nodded. "Then let's begin. I want to start with the characters. They are the heart and soul of the piece after all. And they are…well, one dimensional. You need to flesh them out a bit…"

Her criticism continued for a while. With each point, Ivy flinched. But she acknowledged the truth in Allison's criticisms. And they all weren't bad—she did praise some aspects of Kyle's work. Ivy knew, though, the criticism hurt more. It was the same when she read reviews.

When Allison was finished, she gave Kyle a few minutes to process what she had said. Ivy thought his head was spinning. At last, Allison spoke again. "Well, what do you think?"

"You think it…sucks? That I suck?" Kyle stood as anger rose up through him. A red hue came to his skin as he balled his fists. It was a side to the young man Ivy had never seen.

Allison held up her hands in a placating manner. "Deep breaths, Kyle. I'm not attacking you. It may seem that way because of how personal our writing usually becomes. Just take a few moments and try to calm down."

Kyle took a few deep breaths and sat back down in the chair. He held his head in his hands. Allison said nothing; she waited for Kyle to regain his composure. Once he did, he looked up again. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"I'm done." Allison held out her copy of the manuscript along with her notes. "This is yours. My advice is to put it in a drawer."

"What? Why?"

Allison chuckled. "To give you perspective. Wait at least a day and then, whenever you feel ready, open the drawer and read it. You'll see it in a whole new light." She shuddered. "Ugh. Cliché."

Kyle took his manuscript with wide eyes. "Thank you," he stuttered out. He looked at Ivy. "Both of you."


A/N: I'll admit I was very upset in "The Read Through" where everyone acted like since Kyle's first draft was horrible, it couldn't be saved. It seemed like a dangerous message to send to aspiring artists: If you aren't good the first time around, give up. Especially when Kyle had the passion and the drive to improve, if only people would have told him. So I created Allison to be that mentor until Julia comes back from Boston.