A/N: Bear with me because I have never written Derek before. Please read and review.
Note: This is AU.
With a hunger for fame...
Derek Wills was sorting through sheet music and half done script pages and drinking a glass of scotch when he heard knocking on his door. He sauntered over, taking his time, wondering who would disturb him at this hour. When he finally reached his destination he peeked through the spyhole. Standing there was Ivy Lynn, decked out in a red dress and full makeup, looking slightly apprehensive. He smiled to himself before turning the doorknob and opening the door.
"Ivy." he said, expressionless.
"Can I come in?" All signs of her previous agitation were gone. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. He conceded and she walked in. Working quite hard, he noticed, to let him see her hips swaying. With Ivy, there was always a constant effort. Every move she made was calculated, learned and designed to achieve her goals. She was an embodiment of ambition. Sexy and determined. It was why he had agreed to give her a callback, despite the fact that he was partial to the Cartwright girl, both as a lover and as an actress. Ivy Lynn held a certain element of ruthlessness to her. She carried the wisdom of a girl who had been around the block a few times, a cynicism that would play beautifully as Marilyn but would crush Norma Jean. Norma Jean was important. The audience would fall in love with Norma Jean, sympathize with her. Marilyn was unlikeable without Norma Jean.
"This is an absolutely gorgeous place." she said, her eyes darting about, taking in her surroundings. He said nothing, just stared at the girl. She was the polar opposite of Karen. Blonde and curvaceous where the other girl was slim. Hard where the other was soft. Assertive where the other was timid. He almost laughed at the thought. Karen was naive enough that she had come to his apartment in sweats, expecting an actual coaching session. Ivy, on the other hand, had found him and was presenting herself, fully knowing that it would only be sex. She would do anything for this part. Anything.
"Is that real?" she asked, gesturing to the Picasso hanging on the wall. He nodded, still studying her. Suddenly, he had an idea. Walking over to the area he had vacated in favour of her, he grabbed a page off the table and placed it in her hands. For the first time that night, he saw confusion play across of her pretty features. But she recovered quickly, the emotion gone fast as it had come.
"What do you want me to do with these?" Derek scoffed at her playing dumb.
"I want you to read them. Obviously." He could see she was skeptical and more than a little apprehensive but she complied, sitting down, frowning as she studied the lines she'd been given. Less than a minute later she looked back up and told him she was ready. He stood in front of her and began speaking.
"I don't like the way they look at you."
"I can't help the way they look at me, Joe." The line was delivered in a breathy tone that sounded almost exactly like Marilyn. He saw that she wasn't looking at the script. It didn't surprise him. In sheer ability, Ivy had always been the more capable of the two girls. She was devoted and worked harder than Karen. She was a good actor, very analytical. She knew her character backwards and forwards, of that he had no doubt. But the soul wasn't there, the quiet desperation.
"You love it, you love every bit of it. The way you walk, the way you sing, the way you dress."
"It's my job to look like this." Another seemingly perfect delivery.
"Your job is to take care of me, and our home. I gave up baseball, why can't you give up movies?"
"I want to Joe."
"No, you don't. You could stop so easily and yet you keep going. You complain, you cry, you go crazy, you say you don't want it, but you so obviously do."
Ivy looked straight up at him.
"Yes Joe. I do. There I said it. I love it. I love people watching me as I go by. Men smiling, whistling. You know why?" her eyes were brimming with tears now.
"Because I want to be loved. I have to make them love me. If I stop doing movies... they'll forget me. They'll stop loving me." And suddenly, Derek was acutely aware that he wasn't talking to Marilyn anymore. He stared straight at Ivy, looked right into her eyes and he saw it. Just a glimpse. Behind Ivy's confident exterior was a girl just as deeply vulnerable as Marilyn. She wanted this part because she wanted out of the chorus. She wanted out of the chorus because she wanted to be the star. Wanted the fame. Wanted the love.
She was breathing rapidly, having put a lot of emotion into the scene. As she came out of character, her facade just about to slip back on, he leaned down and kissed her. He could feel surprise registering and then acceptance. She gave in completely, not even fighting for dominance. She hadn't had time to morph herself back into confident Ivy, vivacious Ivy. He was dealing with Ivy, the broken chorus girl.
They had sex. It was good and satisfying but it wasn't why he gave her the part.
