What's Killing Marilyn Monroe(JamesDean/MarilynMonroe FanFic)

Chapter Two

"You did lovely." one of the camera men told Marilyn as she stepped off of the set. "Thank you." she graced. Quickly, she made her way into her dressing room, making sure to close and lock the door. She leaned against the door and let out a tired breath. It felt good to get away from the madness. It was quiet. She liked quiet. She tugged at her dress and pulled it off. With permission, she let it fall to the ground before finally picking it up. Slowly, she made her way over to the vanity and took a seat in front of it; tossing her dress on the arm of the sofa behind her. Then she turned around to the mirror. Staring at herself, she pulled a tissue from a small box that sat on the desk and began to wipe off her makeup. She started with her lipstick; clearing the cherry red color from her lips. She watched herself unfold the character that she had forced herself to become. It felt good. But before she could fully enjoy herself, there was a bang on the door. Knock, Knock, Knock. "Marilyn?" Arthur called. Marilyn closed her eyes and sighed regretfully. The day is almost done, she thought to herself. She stood up and grabbed her robe that sat on a coat hanger in the corner of the room. Tying it around herself, she took one last look in the vanity mirror and then unlocked the door; opening it swiftly. "I was just about to change outfits." she lied. Arthur stepped past her, into the room and closed the door. "I hope I'm not interrupting." Marilyn shook her head, though she knew otherwise. "You did lovely today," he graced, "You were absolutely charming." Marilyn walked away from him, pretending to blush - though, she felt she hadn't done as good as people kept telling her. "Oh, stop it." she said; acting in a shyness. Arthur chuckled as he stepped over to the sofa to take a seat, pulling his rounded framed glasses from his face. "It's true," he insisted, "You did amazing. In fact you've done so amazing these past couple of years that Ciro himself wants you to sing tonight at the opening for his club." Marilyn's eyes grew wide and she quickly turned to Arthur. "Ciro wants me?" she breathed in shock. Ciro was a famous club owner who only let important people into his Hollywood clubs. People would do anything to get in because they were the hottest party spots. And here Marilyn was, getting asked to perform on opening night to one of his newer clubs. She felt pressured. Arthur smiled the minute witnessed the shock on her face. "This has got to be some kind of joke." Marilyn thought aloud. "No," Arthur told her, "It's real. He's fascinated by you, just as the rest of the world. He asked if you'd do it. I told him yes." The blonde beauty slightly frowned. "You what?" she asked; confused. Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. "I assumed you'd want to do it. It's good money, after all." Marilyn felt a pinch in her chest. It seemed as though the man who was supposed to be able to read her like a book, didn't know her at all. He didn't see how tired she was, how frail she was becoming, or, most importantly, how sad she was growing of everything around her. She felt hurt.

Marilyn, nervously, began to pace in a small line. "I don't know about this." she mumbled, concern. Arthur stood to his feet and placed his glasses back over his eyes. He grabbed Marilyn by her shoulders and stopped her from moving. "What's not to know about, Marilyn? This is what you want. He's a good man and he wants to honor you. Besides, all you have to sing is one song. How bad could it be?" Perhaps it was only one song, but Marilyn wasn't up for it. She didn't want to do it. Then again, lately, she didn't want to do much anymore. It seemed that she was always busy, running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. But she couldn't complain. This is what she had worked her whole life for, wasn't it? And after hours of convincing herself, she decided that there was only one thing to do. Sing.

That night Marilyn paced around behind stage. Anxiety had built it's way into her system. And though she looked like a beauty queen, she didn't feel pretty at all. She felt like a disaster. Not only had it been awhile since she's sung live, but the minute people heard about Marilyn opening for the club, everyone wanted to get a glimpse of the famous and talented Ms. Monroe. "You've got to calm, down." Arthur scolded as he walked over to her. In one hand, he held a glass of whiskey and in the other, were small blue pills. "Take this." he told her. He handed her the water and without even asking she took her pills. It was valium; something to help her with her nerves. She'd been taking it for years and not once had Arthur been concerned. To her she was the great Marilyn. Nothing could possibly be wrong with her. She chugged down the whiskey and coughed as soon as the glass was empty. "Get me another one will you?" she asked him shakily. Arthur took no time to do as told.