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

Chapter Three

Marilyn took a smoke of her cigarette and slowly released it from her plump lips as she stared at her closet doors. In her fist, she gripped a bottle of pure vodka. She was wearing nothing but underwear and a loose, white button-up shirt that belonged to her husband. Her curls were a bit messy and she had no makeup on, but she was careless. The only thing that filled her mind were those memories. Memories that sat in an old shoebox underneath a pair of black pumps. Memories that Arthur didn't know she kept secretly, and she would never tell. She took another breath of her cigarette and turned away from her closet. Marilyn couldn't do it. She couldn't relive what she had broken. Yet, somehow - all morning - she couldn't stop thinking about Jimmy. It had been two days and she couldn't get over how he hadn't changed in the slightest. He looked good. He looked healthy. His smile was still the same, and those eyes could still win over the hearts of many. But she didn't want to think about it. It was the past, she told herself, it didn't matter anymore. Marilyn took a swig of the liquor and let it burn down her throat. She looked back at her closet doors and rolled her eyes. "Coward." she whispered to herself. It's what she truthfully thought of herself. Perhaps she was cowardice, or perhaps she was just trying to forget. Life had moved on. Things had changed. She had changed - or at least she wanted to believe she had. Marilyn turned away from her closet once more and plopped down onto her bed, the vodka bottle attached to her lips as she laid back. Gulp after gulp, she drank. The burning in her stomach was thick.

"Really, Marilyn?" Arthur scolded, snatching the bottle of Vodka from her grip, "It's ten in the morning." Marilyn sat up sharply from the bed and gave Arthur an unfriendly glare. "I was only having a drink." Arthur rolled his eyes, grabbing the cap from the dresser and screwing it onto the bottle. "That's what you said yesterday and then you ended up passed out on the couch." Marilyn rolled her eyes. "Come on, Marilyn," Arthur pleaded, though he was annoyed, "For the thousandth time, you've got to get dressed. We've got a lot to do today." We, Marilyn thought to herself with a huff, he isn't the one out there trying to keep the world entertained. However, Marilyn did indeed do as he had said and rolled out of bed. She made her way over to her closet and threw the two doors open. She could feel the memories tugging at her thoughts. They were begging to be remembered. Marilyn took a puff from her cigarette, becoming absentminded. Marilyn put her cigarette to her lips and blew the smoke above her head. "Marilyn, must you smoke in the house?" Arthur scolded as he snatched it from in between her fingers, "Get dressed!" Marilyn turned to Arthur and put a hand on her cocked hip. "Well," she seethed, "You're offly catty today, aren't you?" Arthur smuthered the cigarette in an ash trey that sat on one of the dressers. "I wouldn't be so catty if you weren't so time consuming," he shot back, "Marilyn will you please just try to be on time today? Just once, will you do as told and make it on time?" Marilyn bit her tongue. It was hard not to snap at someone who didn't understand or care what you were going through. And of course, she did as told without any complaints because that's what she always did. Arthur, after gathering her script, pulled the car around to the front of the house; rushing Marilyn to get in it after she had gotten herself ready for the day she knew would be long. It had indeed been a busy day with press conferences and multiple interviews about the movie she were to be doing. Flashing cameras and screaming fans always following her around. And she was using the best fake smile she could to hide the sadness, though, really, her cheeks were starting to hurt and she was fatigue.

On the other side of town, in a small diner, few people sat to have their breakfast before work, or perhaps just because. It wasn't anything fancy, the diner, but the food was always good and the coffee was always hot. Jimmy and Perry sat in a booth in the back of the diner across from one another. "You talked to her?" Perry asked with interest before taking a drink of his coffee. "Yeah," Jimmy smiled, "I swear it was like relighting a flame. She was so beautiful. It was like nothing had changed." Perry set down his cup of coffee and picked up his fork that sat next to his pancakes on his plate. "I wanna see her again." Jimmy admitted in a mumble. Perry let out a worried sigh in response. "What?" Jimmy inquired, leaning forward with curiosity. "I don't know, Jim," Perry said, "I'm glad you got to see her and all, but - just, something doesn't feel right, you know? I mean she's a married woman. You can't just chase her down."