Ivy Lynn drummed her fingers on her seat at Table 46 after receiving a harsh reality check courtesy of public relations expert Agnes Molina. After spending years toiling in the chorus in various shows and workshops, she finally found her spotlight, her dream role, and just in time for awards season. She was Marilyn Monroe in Bombshell, with her name even on the marquee, nearly unheard of for someone who had never headlined a show or had name recognition.

According to Agnes, people knew of Ivy, but not for the right reasons. The public relations expert had laid down the cold hard facts at the lunch table, telling Ivy and Bombshell director and composer Tom Levitt, that underground chat was getting louder and louder, with rumors being confirmed by unknown sources. Ivy struggled to defend herself about everything from pills (they were for her voice), an 'incident' from a previous show (one pill-ridden night when patrons asked for their money back), and sleeping with a former costar's fiancé (unfortunately very true, and something Ivy didn't have an excuse for). Yet the one that stung the hardest, that she couldn't shake, was that she had reportedly 'slept her way to the top'. Have my years in the chorus meant nothing? Ivy wanted to protest. She vehemently denied that rumor, but according to Agnes, the damage was done, and there was a published column sharing gory details courtesy of Michael Musto and The Village Voice.

Ivy anxiously recalled the rapid-fire month of auditioning for Marilyn. Getting a call back, having private sessions with choreographer and director Derek Wills, and then being offered the part after an agonizing wait. Yet there was no doubt in her mind, she didn't sleep with Derek until she was informally offered the part. He had been cold to her the first time they had met, she had been doing a favor for Tom and Derek had seen her as an inconvenience. It wasn't until her first call back that he showed any interest in her, and nothing happened immediately after. There had been dance auditions and line readings. The rumor at the time was that she was the favored one for the part, but that didn't make her feel any more sure of herself. During one of the reading sessions, Derek had suggested that they continue their conversation over dinner. Ivy readily accepted and before either one of them knew it they were sleeping together. She had wondered briefly if she had only gotten the part after sleeping with him, but Tom had assured her that an informal offer had been in the works, she had earned her role.

But the truth was less interesting than a lie, which was now being circulated among the Broadway community as a blind item. A blind item that hit too close to home for Ivy who was now alone at the table.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Ivy shuddered slightly at the English gentleman standing before her, holding a piece of one of the floral centerpieces in his hand. "Hi," she said quietly, purposely avoiding his gaze.

"Hello." Derek took a seat next to Ivy, placing the flower next to her right hand.

Ivy looked at the flower as if it were fire. "I don't think we're supposed to be plucking them out," she grimaced.

"It looks better near you," Derek countered. Derek reached for the back of Ivy's chair. "Is everything alright?"

Ivy let out a low gasp. Was word spreading this quickly? "Why wouldn't it be?"

Derek clicked his tongue. "You just seemed a little distracted."

"Distracted?" Ivy repeated.

"I couldn't help watching you from the across the room."

"Maybe you should find a new subject to watch," Ivy suggested, reaching for her purse.

"Wait," Derek stood with her. "We're friends right, that's what you said?"

Ivy blinked. Half the time she didn't know what they were. They had been sleeping together on and off for the last year, during which Ivy lost the role of Marilyn, got a spot in the chorus, ended things with Derek, and found herself fired, all in the span of a year. It had taken her nearly seven months to build everything back up, and now it was crashing down on her. "Sure."

"Friends talk to each other, right?"

"Derek, I really don't have time…"

"I know when something is bothering you."

Ivy exhaled; there were parts of her that he knew all too well. "I don't think we should be seen together right now," Ivy said feebly. There is a chance that he doesn't know, or hasn't read Musto's column.

"Why ever not?"

Ivy looked around the room. "Walk me home?" she requested.

Derek nodded, offering her his arm. Ivy rejected his touch, keeping her eyes forward.

"We're outside now," Derek said. "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

"You'll know soon enough. It involves you." Ivy repeated Agnes' report, leaving out the portion about sleeping with a costar's fiancé.

"That isn't true," Derek said in a low voice. "And I would know because I was there."

Ivy nodded. "So was I."

"I didn't sleep with you until I was convinced you were right for the part. I barely had a chance to try anything with Tom watching us like a hawk last year."

"He's protective," Ivy agreed. "The timing of everything is so, so close together."

"I'll deny it," Derek affirmed. "Clear your name."

Ivy shook her head. "I'm afraid that may only make things worse; draw more attention to the subject."

Derek touched Ivy's shoulder, only for her to step backward. "It isn't right."

Ivy clenched her fists to fight back tears. "I finally get a leading role, and all people can talk about is my past and who I slept with."

"Why won't you let me set the record straight? It may be bad for a moment but you'll have your name back."

"It's a blind item for now, there are whispers, saying something will only confirm that it was me all along."

Derek shook his head. "I can't let you go through this alone."

"You're the reason this is happening!" Ivy spat at him.

Derek crossed his arms, waiting for Ivy to justify her comment.

"You have a reputation with your leading ladies. You sleep with someone and you get a pat on the back. I sleep with someone and it's how I got my success. It's a double standard."

"I…"

"Not only do you get away with it, but you get to call the shots."

"I never forced you to sleep with me," Derek said quietly, seeming wounded

"No, you didn't, but when you asked me to dinner after work, and one thing led to another, I followed your lead. You have all of the power." Ivy's expression softened slightly. "It's the culture that we live in. You bounced back just fine after last fall. Me, I don't know what's going to happen. Agnes wants to put me in 'image rehab'. 'Marilyn' on the stage, 'Norma Jean' everywhere else."

Derek shook his head. Lead producer Eileen Rand had schooled him on culture and appearances after a string of dancers accused him of sexual harassment. He plead innocent, indicating that 'asking someone out was not the definition of harassment'. But then there was the issue of power to contend with. He knew he had it and he wasn't afraid to wield it to get what he wanted. "I won't stand idly by with your reputation at stake, not when I… took the lead," he finished diplomatically. "If anyone's name should be thrown about it should be mine not yours."

Ivy touched Derek's arm as they reached her apartment stoop. "Maybe you'll be able to work this to Hit List's advantage," she teased.

Derek pressed his hand on Ivy's. "If it gets to be too much…"

"I'm sure you'll be reading all about it soon enough. All press can be good press, right? Even if I am a marked woman. I'm not the first or the last." Ivy offered Derek a small wave as she walked up the steps of the building.

Derek watched her go, his mind full of thoughts. Marked woman, because of something he had contributed to. He opted to walk most of the way back to his penthouse building, needing to clear his head. Ivy's parting comment about not being the first or the last had struck him. Over the past decades, there had been plenty of liaisons with leading ladies and he had never once thought about the consequences to their reputation after getting involved with an influential director and choreographer. He was ashamed to admit that he had only considered his own needs and desires, never giving a thought to the other woman, or as Ivy had called them 'marked women' until now. Were they also tainted by their relationship to him?

Throwing his coat onto his couch, Derek looked for his contact list and began to go through the names. Maybe he couldn't help Ivy just yet, but he could at least atone for his past actions with those he may have hurt in the past. Pouring himself a drink from his bar area, he settled in for a long afternoon.


The following week, Derek paced the familiar stoop that he had frequented over the past year. He had spent the past few days making amends and clearing the air with several former paramours, leading ladies, and aspiring actresses to-be. Yet there was still one more person that he had to talk to. And unlike the others, it couldn't be done over the phone.

"Derek?"

Derek sat up straighter, as Ivy exited her building. "Hello," he mustered.

"Hello," Ivy echoed. "I'm on my way out and…"

"Wait." Derek stood. "I was hoping we could talk," he ventured.

Ivy offered Derek a quick nod.

"I, I thought about everything that you said last week."

"With Musto's column, it blew over I think. He's moving on to someone else."

"No, not the column, what you said about being a marked woman."

"I thought you would have forgotten about that."

"I couldn't forget. I spent all of last week thinking about it."

"It really isn't necessary."

Derek reached for Ivy's hand. "Please let me explain. I know I have a reputation for sleeping with actresses in my productions, and it never occurred to me to think about the consequences for them."

"Derek…" Ivy warily interjected.

"And after thinking about it, I called them."

"You called all of the women?"

"Well no, not exactly all of them, it'd take me more than a week, but I spoke to over a dozen, including the dancers from last season."

"And now you feel better?"

"Not quite." Derek narrowed his gaze. "There's one more apology that I need to make. And I couldn't do it over the phone."

Ivy placed a hand on her hips, pointing Derek in the other direction. "I am not going to help you apologize to Karen Cartwright." Karen was the unofficial third person in her relationship with Derek from the very beginning. They had spent weeks competing for the Marilyn role, and it didn't end when Ivy initially got it, only to be replaced by a 'name' actress and then Karen herself in previews.

"No, it's not Karen." Derek waited a beat. "It's you."

Ivy shook her head. "Derek, you already apologized for last year, and everything was consensual with us."

Derek knelt down on the stoop, inviting Ivy to sit next to him. Ivy acquiesced, her knee touching his. "I've come to apologize – and not just for everything in Boston. I'm sorry not appreciating you when we were together, for making you wonder how I felt, for not advocating for you harder with Bombshell and breaking your heart."

"You have done a lot of thinking," Ivy said softly, her eyes blinking rapidly.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I know I don't have the right to ask for another chance with you after everything that transpired." Derek took in a breath. "Caring for someone and not knowing how they feel about you…that must have been horrible for you last year."

"It was," Ivy murmured. "What if you had one more chance?"

Derek's eyes shot up to Ivy. "I wouldn't waste another moment being apart." His face inched towards her, gauging her reaction.

Ivy brought her lips to his. "I, I, I…" she stammered breathlessly.

Derek stood, pulling Ivy up with him. "Were you going somewhere important, earlier? When I came over I…"

Ivy shook her head, her hands moving to his cheeks. "Lunch with Tom. I can cancel."

Derek responded with an impassioned kiss. "Should we go inside?" he ventured.

"Are you planning on leaving your mark on me?" Ivy asked, her head tilted.

"So many marks," Derek responded huskily. "A lasting impression."

Ivy fumbled with the key to the front door, her mind dancing with anticipation of a different kind of imprint, one that would leave a satisfying impression.