CHAPTER 7
The theatre roared with applause.
She stayed a few more seconds, bent over the image of Marilyn behind her.
She smiled, and leaned forward, all worries swimming away.
She wasn't Karen Cartwright anymore, lost in the human being she portrayed, a wonderful woman who simply needed the attention she deserved.
After the flood of audience members dissolved into the streets of Boston and the cast was dismissed, Eileen approached her as she exited the loaded dressing rooms.
"Oh, Karen, you were wonderful as always. Such power in your voice!" the older woman exclaimed, patting the younger star on the shoulder, leading her to Tom, Julia and Derek. "Tomorrow night, we'll be having dinner with a friend of mine and our investor, Randy, at L'Espalier. The gentlemen would be very pleased if you could join us."
"Yes, of course. What time?"
"At eight. But fashionably late, I'd say half past eight to let them see how elegantly you move between through the restaurant. Now, I'll let you eat. I see your friends are eager to take you out."
When Karen turned around, she did perceive Jessica and Bobby grinning exaggeratedly. Karen smiled softly in return, quitting her production crew to join them. They headed for the nearest eatery, and then to the hotel bar hours later where they dispersed once more to join little groups of people.
Karen found herself hoping she could catch a sight of Derek drinking sullenly. Unfortunately, he was no where to be seen. She guessed he must have been charming a young curvy woman into slipping into the cologne-perfumed strength of his arms. With the shaven chin of his, he must have been caressing the soft flesh of her shoulders, biting her tender neck with his teeth, and nibbling her breasts with his lips. And then she wondered why the hell such thoughts ever crossed her mind.
Suddenly feeling very confused, she exited the bar, not bothering to inform of her departure to Jessica of Bobby.
Karen lay in bed the following early hours of morning, pensive as can be, remembering the little details regarding the audience and the stage as she usually did the preceding day of a show. Her hair cloaked her pillow, and her arms curved lazily around her body as she thought of the cards her life was revealing.
She left her little town to join the dynamics of one of the biggest cities in the world. As a teenager, she had been attracted to New York with its shining lights and diversity. Then she learned about Broadway and theatre, which gave a whole new dimension to her otherwise limited ideas of cultural understanding. It gave her dreams and goals, as well as hope, the three values she ever gave importance to.
Love was always in the back of her mind, surfacing every now and then, but never hindering her ambitious path to a lead role on Broadway.
When Karen met Dev as she was serving him coffee, she felt the spark when their eyes met. As though something instantly clashed. He seemed to notice it as well, and kept coming back every morning, and eventually, every evening to find her there, flustered as per usual within the suffocating premises of his presence.
They came around to chatting and later on, talking for hours over the phone. He offered her all his free time, and would listen intently to her little ramblings about her dreams. Then, one night, as she served him his regular, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her towards him, laying a gentle kiss on her lips.
That's how their relationship had started. Afterwards, it was a simple roller-coaster ride: for a time, it was perfect; then it came rushing down the river stream, and finally crashing into the bottom of the sea with a loud thump when he ultimately betrayed her by sleeping with her rival.
Karen tried to look at it in the positive way: she would have only one goal in mind – her career. No bother could ever get to her now.
She finally sprung from the bed as a smile glazed her gentle face. Then she hopped into the shower, relishing every moment as she stroked her skin, softly spreading soap over her arms and thighs.
Her thoughts lingered in her head until she had finished breakfast. Then, she headed straight for Armani Exchange to spend a sum of her money. Nothing could begin what looked to be a marvellous day than a little shopping.
When Derek woke up around noon in a lousy state caused by a despicable headache, he couldn't find the strength to open his eyes to their full extent. He caught a sliver of light, and it immediately made him screw up his eyes. He tried to look beside him beyond the blur that gave his eyelids; he noticed no lean figure laying next to him. In sleepy bewilderment, he decided last night's companion must have left his room, and hopefully without grabbing his wallet on the way out.
When Derek was finally able to fight his hangover as he had many times before, he tried quenching his persisting thirst with numerous bottles of water. Once his throat no longer felt crisp dry, he stepped in the shower, dressed, and walked to the nearest bistro to take a coffee.
As Derek looked patiently out the large windows into the active streets of Boston, he pondered upon the incident of a couple of days ago when they had found torn clothes and broken shoes with a whole lot of paint damaging them even more.
He tried to assemble the inevitable pieces of the puzzle that kept his mind at bay of women for a couple of nights already. It was somewhat creative to break a dream in the way some cruel individual broke it for Karen. It was like putting a 'stop' sign on her path to victory before the final steps that showed the doors of a fantasy that was craved for for an eternal period of time.
It must have been a person who held respect for Broadway, Derek thought as he tranquilly drank his coffee. Directly attacking the costumes. It felt to be... a woman's job, almost, for women hold a special appreciation and desire for clothes.
Then it struck him. Hard. Hard enough for the headache to grind his brains against his skull once more.
"Ivy, what a coincidence," Karen declared somewhat disturbed when a familiar blonde came to stand before her as she picked out clothes.
"It wouldn't be enough to say that I followed you here," the other responded.
"Why do I suddenly interest you so much?"
"I just intended to know how you've been after the... incident."
"Again, since when do you care about how I feel?" Karen turned to her, feeling irritation tint her words.
"Since we can't have our star back down for another to take her place, can we? I mean, it's never too late to take the spot or anything. Marilyn would have only wanted the best to step in her shoes." Ivy's gaze was terribly direct, an element that put Karen on edge.
"Ivy, did you do it?" the brunette considered after a few moments.
"For once, Karen, I didn't do it," Ivy clenched her jaw, and walked away stiffly.
Karen stood perplexed until a clerk asked if she needed help.
Karen read on her phone that it was almost half past eight. She smoothed her hair in the mirror, pampered her lipstick, and fixed her mascara. As her cab neared the L'Espalier, the young brunette felt an agitated nervousness attain her. It seemed as though the emotion felt jealous of her.
As Karen manoeuvred with all the grace she could muster in her dark crimson gown between restaurant chairs, all the while thinking about keeping her shoulders rolled back and head high, she tried not to miss the table which she would be joining. As soon as she heard her name being called out, any turbulence that shook inside her stopped, and she was finally able to crane her worried smile into one that was finer, letting the blush applied to her cheeks bring out her charmingly delightful shine. Derek pulled out a chair for her, and she took it.
"How nice to have you here, Miss Cartwright," a man she presumed was the friend Eileen had mentioned. She could tell by his apparel that he belonged to the high-ranked people of the city.
"Karen, this is John Castellini, my good friend. He is a businessman. And this is Randy," Eileen presented the men; Karen's hand was kissed twice – once tenderly, and once quite wetly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Once you're ready, Karen, we will order," Derek stated, setting down his menu to smile at her warmly.
Half of the evening passed with engaging conversation encompassing the table. John Castellini turned out to be a very cultivated man who could approach any subject with incredible ease of manner. The words that seemed to flow luxuriously from his mouth were captivating – the way he presented his opinion was an art to itself.
As the conversation deadened while they enjoyed their food and moaned occasionally at its delicious flavours, a waltz awoke from the depth of the piano.
"Miss Cartwright, care to dance?" a voice called out to Karen as she gazed at her folded hands.
"Uh – yes, of course," she responded to Derek, taking his hand, and letting herself be taken to the floor. Circling her waist in an instant within his broad arms, Derek began, "Don't you find Castellini a little over the border?"
"No, I think he's an interesting man, actually."
"His opinion on politics I didn't find really fascinating," Derek protested, diving right into her eyes.
"Men and politics. Let's rather enjoy the dance." They chuckled.
Derek relaxed his grip on Karen, but flipped her hand where it laid gently atop his own, intertwining his fingers with hers. Karen noticed the romantic gesture, and for a few seconds, watched her director with a certain confusion that he caught from the corner of his eye. He would not look at her, she noted, but when he finally averted his eyes to meet hers, he gave her a hearty smile. Her cheeks began to burn, so she quickly looked away, rapidly blinking away the tingle and the blush that crept over her neck. When the waltz ended moments after that, the pair rejoined their seats.
"Where's John?" Karen asked, noticing the businessman's absence at the table.
"He needed to take an urgent phone call from the company."
"It's our turn to go!" Randy exclaimed, pulling Eileen to her feet and onto the floor.
Karen was left with Derek at the table as he looked out to their surrounding scenery. His eyes reflected an owl's curiosity that gave him an air of perturbed intimacy that Karen clearly didn't find suitable.
"We'll be having a new Joe DiMaggio; I don't believe we've told you," he said after a few minutes of silence, putting wine to his lips, and taking a small sip.
"Oh? Who will it be?" Karen asked, cutting her food with an elegant flexibility that enticed Derek. Her movements resembled not the pretentiousness that was engraved in nearly every woman he had ever accompanied to dinner.
"A 'young, handsome man,' they tell me. I say it's your call to decide upon that. But I will confirm one thing – he is very talented." He set the glass aside on the table, and cocked his head to the side as if to watch her.
"I can't wait. When you say someone has talent, they must be terrific."
Derek smiled.
"What are you looking at?" she shook her head.
"The crowd... You..."
"And what do you see?"
"I see quite a few people. Scoot over, I'll tell you all about them," he offered, and Karen took Eileen's seat.
"See that man over there, standing by the woman with the fur? They're big investors, and one of the first to ever jump on a deal. Heavy egotistical couple, if I may," he said as he leaned closer to Karen, lowering his voice for only her to hear, leaving only inches of expensively-perfumed air parting their faces. Her breath trembled, but she liked the intoxicating warmth he radiated. A soft shiver teased her shoulders.
"Over there," Derek resumed, pointing discretely to an elderly man, "is the grumpiest musician you will ever dare to meet. But he is wonderfully devoted to his music, and I did have the chance to work alongside him.
"The woman you see standing on the stairs, I'd be surprised if you knew her," Derek challenged Karen, and she squinted her eyes for a moment as if deep in thought.
"It's Lea Salonga, right?"
"I didn't know you liked 'Les Misérables'," Derek cocked his head again, bringing their faces even closer, and Karen felt her ears gain heat as her eyes couldn't help falling on his lips that arched into a dazzling smile.
"Oh, we're sorry to perturb you," Eileen's voice broke in. "Randy is a tremendous dancer, especially when drunk, but, well, at our age, I suppose you can say that we get tired after a while," she chuckled, and sat back on her seat after Karen obligingly took back hers without tearing her eyes off her director.
John finally rejoined the party. The rest of the dinner passed pleasantly well with a little story-telling about Broadway, and rock concerts, and little towns.
When their energy began to fade out, they put an end to the wonderful dinner. Randy went back to the bottle of whisky that waited for him at home, John drove away to his wife and children, and Eileen had Nick take her on a little journey across the city, leaving Derek and Karen alone again. They mounted into a cab that took them to the hotel, sitting in comfortable silence as the alcohol began to close their lids.
When the cab arrived at the building, the climbed off, and Derek suddenly said, "I think I know who pulled the trick on you."
"What? The one with the costumes?"
"Yes. I think it might have been Ivy." He let her enter the elevator before him.
"I spoke to her today. She said it wasn't her."
"You know how easily she lies," Derek snorted.
"She seemed sincere," Karen admitted.
"She's an actress.
"Who can also say truth." They exited the elevator.
"Tell me... Why are you defending her?" Derek asked curiously.
"Because... Everyone has a good side. I agree that she hasn't been the nicest person to me..." Karen continued as they stopped at her room, "... but it doesn't mean that she could have gone in there and splashed paint all over my shredded costumes."
After a moment, Derek concluded as he departed, "I have faith in you, Miss Cartwright. Sleep well."
A/N : I actually feel that this is a terrible chapter after a terribly long non-update week.
However, I promise that it'll get better starting next week. I'll have more time to upload and ideas will be better.
Enjoy!
Thank you for the wonderful reviews (especially Gwennie since I couldn't reply to you. Lydia, I'll keep your idea in mind.)