Disclaimer : nothing's mine. Although Derek... I wish he was.
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CHAPTER 2
They exited the fancy elevator into the dim bar. Many lights coloured the room, beating dancers' in the faces, and lonely business men's whisky glasses. It smelt like cheap perfume, sweat, and strangely, new clothes.
Karen ignored the drunken, appraising gazes that were cast her way by young men that tried to work themselves onto her. Never had this happened to her before. Jessica, Bobby and Dennis followed her clumsy steps whilst others were already scattered all over the floor.
"It's full, more than I expected! I thought Boston was gonna be small," Bobby yelled over the blaring music and voices that created a cacophony that was a little more harmonious than the ones he had to endure in New York.
"What, did you think it was gonna be the middle o' nowhere?" Jessica giggled. She was already aiming the barman with her darting eyes.
"You've never been to Boston?" Karen asked incredulously.
"Never. First time!"
"And our impressions are climbing the ladder," Jessica added, assessing a group of guys in the far right. "I'm gonna join them," she mumbled as she left swiftly.
"Iowa, it's just you and me," Bobby declared.
"Wha – ? Dennis was just – "
"Already gone. We work hastily. Oh, it's the Dark Lord," Bobby whispered in an exaggerated tone. Karen laughed mockingly.
"You go, I need to talk to him."
"Ohh! I sense a connection!"
Before Karen could even begin to think about nudging him, he was gone.
"Derek," she approached her director, and sat on the only seat close to him. He was eyeing a blonde across the room.
"Karen," he finally turned to her, shoulders slumped, drink in hand, predator smile dancing on the corners of his lips.
"Looks like you're gonna have company tonight."
"Nah. Not in the mood," he looked back at the girl, heaving his whisky to his lips and downing it with one gulp. "Rupert, send me one more."
Karen could see that Derek was heavily drunk. "Odd name for a bartender," Karen whispered to him, and ordered a White Russian.
"What do you expect them to be named?"
"I don't know... Sam? Jerry? Definitely not Rupert," Karen clarified, and sipped a little of her drink.
"We're in a free country, aren't we?" Derek smiled, and for once she could see dark circles hanging heavily under his eyes. She also noticed his wrinkles, and although they were modest and charming during daylight, they seemed to be larger and less pleasant at night. Or more so when he was intoxicated.
"You're drunk," she tossed the words his way, and let him interpret the intonation.
He smiled gruffly, and downed another whisky. "You were great today," he softened momentarily. "And I'm not really drunk."
"Thank you. Tell me... Why did you choose me? I mean, Ivy knew the part better. And she has been in the business longer than I. And you slept with her," Karen said, instantly regretting the last remark.
"Ivy did know the part better. And she has been in the business for ten years. And I did sleep with her, although that last thing didn't affect my judgement. That's why I'm so successful – personal life and work is never to be mixed. It seems obvious of course, but some people sadly can't understand that," his accent seemed a little more distinct. "Anyway... I chose you because – remember when I told you that I 'see' you as Marilyn? Well, it's true. That's it. My gut instinct. As easy as that," he smiled again, as much as Karen stayed stoic.
She seemed to digest his words for a few moments. "Thank you," she smiled tightly, and he pursed his lips in return. "She's in the hospital now."
"She is. I can't say I'm not sorry. She was great. She wanted, she needed the role so much. I can't say she didn't fight for it, because that's all she did."
"Do you think she's gonna be alright?" Karen sounded a little childish and upset.
"You're worrying about her? I thought you were the greatest of rivals."
"The only person who can defeat her is me. I won't let her lose the battle to herself, that wouldn't be fun."
"Karen, I never thought you'd say that," he cocked his head to the side, smiling devilishly.
Their faces were mere inches apart as a strong smell of alcohol hung stiffly between them.
"Rupert, bring me another," she glanced the bartender's way.
"They made you follow tradition," Derek noticed her wig.
"They sure did. I'm boiling my head in that thing," Karen complained, and with a swift movement, unleashed her dark rivulets of hair from the hairpiece. Derek waited with some sort of fascination. The she took her drink, downed it in a hurried swig, and stood up.
"I gotta go, Derek. Big day tomorrow. I'm tired after the whole performance."
"I'm going to stay."
"Alright. Good night," she bid farewell and made her steady way to the elevator and back to her room, unaware her hips' sway was being watched very closely.