AN: Welcome to the long awaited second story in what I am now titling the
Song and Dance series. In case you've forgetten (It has been forever!)
The first story was called Starting Over . . . Again. That story was
entirely written by me, Duchess. This fic is co-written by me and my
bestest best friend, Lyric. She has her own fic in this series, which
actually is the one after this one! Something to look forward to :-) But
anyway, on with the story!
*~*~*~*~*~*
April 1899 Medda Larkson took a final bow on the Irving Hall stage to wild applause for the perennial favorite "High Times, Hard Times," then headed backstage to take a break. She noticed that her niece Skye had been watching from the wings and was apparently waiting to talk to her. "Aunt Medda," she began hesitantly. "Yes, Blush?" Medda privately thought this nickname was ridiculous, but her stubborn niece insisted on being called nothing else. "I think I'm ready to start performing." Medda eyed her niece with mild surprise. "Are you sure?" "Well it has been two months." Medda sighed. "I know, but are you sure performing is what you want to do you're your life? I mean, look at me. This is all I've ever done." The red haired woman began to express herself as only a performer would, in song. "Why do stage struck maidens clamor, to be actin' in the drammer?" Blush jumped in with the glib response, "I've heard say, that you play, night and day."
Medda rolled her eyes at her niece, "Oh go 'way!" Mooch and Discord, two of the chorus girls, jumped in with a cheeky response, "We drink water from a dipper. You drink champagne from a slipper." Medda shook her head affectionately at the girls. "Tho it seems cruel to bust all your dreams, still I must; here's the truth I tell you.
Life upon the wicked stage ain't ever what a girl supposes. Stage door Johnnies aren't raging over you with gems and roses. When you let a fella hold you hand which mean an extra drink or sandwich, Ev'rybody whispers 'ain't her life whirl?' " The chorus girls, who had gathered to listen echoed enviously, "Ain't it a whirl? Her life's a whirl."
Medda continued, "Though you're warned against a roué ruining your reputation, I have played around the one night trade around a great big nation. Wild old men who give you jewels and sables only live in Aesop's fables. Life upon the wicked stage ain't nothin' for a girl." Blush suppressed a giggle at her aunt's cautionary song. "Though I've listened to you moan and grieve, you must pardon me if I don't believe you. There is no doubt you're crazy about your awful stage!"
Medda was surprised at how well her niece knew her. "I admit it's fun to smear my face with paint, causing ev'ryone to think I'm what I ain't. And I like to play a demi-mondy role . . . with soul!" Darlin', one of Medda's best actresses, jumped in with, "Ask the hero does he like the way I lure, when I play a hussy or a parmour." "Yet when once the curtain's down your life is pure," Darlin's friend, Quirky reminded her teasingly. Darlin' rolled her eyes. "And how I dread it!" Medda smiled at the young performers' antics, then sighed, "If some gentleman would talk with reason, I would cancel all next season. Life upon the wicked stage ain't nothing for a girl!"
"You'd be back the season after!" Dianna and Cecile insisted. The irrepressible Darlin' jumped back in. "I got virtue but it ain't been tested."
"No one's even interested!" Quirky quipped. Finally Medda sang the last line, "Life upon the wicked stage ain't nothing for a girl!" She sighed, "All right, I surrender. Do you have a piece in mind?" Blush nodded eagerly. "Yes, it's called 'Sparkling Diamonds.' It was Satine's best number at the Moulin Rouge. Of course we don't have the scale here to do it exactly the same, but it's very adaptable." "Do you have the music?" "Of course. And speaking of music, I brought a bunch of other pieces with me from a new show they were rehearsing called 'Spectacular, Spectacular' that I thought we might be able to use." Medda smiled approvingly at her niece. "That's wonderful. I've been thinking we needed some new material. I'll just give your piece to Max," she said, referring to the kindly middle-aged conductor, "And he can start rehearsing the orchestra. You can make your debut next week. Is that all right?" Blush nodded eagerly. She hadn't realized how much she had missed performing until this moment. She was really looking forward to getting on stage again.
******
The next morning
The sign outside Irving Hall said "Continuous Vaudeville," but it meant continuous from noon to midnight. In the mornings the performers gathered for rehearsal. Blush often hung out with them, but this was the first time she had a piece of her own to rehearse. Her friends gathered around her to express their approval and happiness. Pirouette and Steps, a very talented ballroom dance team, were the first. "We're so glad you're finally going to join the team," Pirouette began, smiling. "Any relative of Medda's has to be talented," Steps finished. The two were standing arm in arm as usual. It occurred to Blush, not for the first time, that the two should be a couple. The casual observer would assume they were, but they both insisted that they were nothing more than dancing partners and good friends. Blush, who was very observant, suspected stronger feelings on both sides, but she didn't think the situation called for any interference on her part. At that moment, Keys, a pianist, arrived. "So," she said in her candid way, "You're finally gonna use that tremendous talent to pull in the customers." Blush looked askance at her. "You've never seen me perform. How would you know if I have any talent at all?" Keys shrugged. Anyone who can get a job at the infamous Moulin Rouge must have talent." The remark was obviously meant to be a compliment, but Blush's face fell. Yes, but talent at what? She had really only been a chorus girl, but everyone assumed that a job at the Moulin Rouge entailed other less respectable activities. And even her talent for singing was called into question. Blush's looks were quite striking. She had wildly curly red hair and brilliant emerald colored eyes. But apparently there's only room for one gorgeous red head at the Moulin. She thought of her older and more experienced (In more ways than one) rival Satine. They called her the Sparkling Diamond, while Blush was relegated to the position of mere Diamond Dog. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with memories of the infamous Parisian night club. Faces and voices whilred through her mind. Harold Zidler, owner of the Moulin Rouge, "You're very popular with the gentlemen, Blush. You should . . . capitalize on that." Satine, the sparkling diamond, "Just because you look a bit like me, don't think you're my equal." Nini, Blush's best friend despite a large difference in age and experience, "What's a respectable girl like you doing in a hellhole like this?" Edward Moncrith, Blush's persistent admirer, "I love you Skye, why won't you sleep with me?" Blush shook her head as if to clear it of the unpleasant memories. Just at that moment, Medda entered, signaling the official start of rehearsal and Blush was quickly much too busy to dwell on memories.
*~*~*~*~*~*~* AN: So, what'd you think? Review! I can't write more till you review! So hit the button! Please! C'mon, you know you want to . . .
*~*~*~*~*~*
April 1899 Medda Larkson took a final bow on the Irving Hall stage to wild applause for the perennial favorite "High Times, Hard Times," then headed backstage to take a break. She noticed that her niece Skye had been watching from the wings and was apparently waiting to talk to her. "Aunt Medda," she began hesitantly. "Yes, Blush?" Medda privately thought this nickname was ridiculous, but her stubborn niece insisted on being called nothing else. "I think I'm ready to start performing." Medda eyed her niece with mild surprise. "Are you sure?" "Well it has been two months." Medda sighed. "I know, but are you sure performing is what you want to do you're your life? I mean, look at me. This is all I've ever done." The red haired woman began to express herself as only a performer would, in song. "Why do stage struck maidens clamor, to be actin' in the drammer?" Blush jumped in with the glib response, "I've heard say, that you play, night and day."
Medda rolled her eyes at her niece, "Oh go 'way!" Mooch and Discord, two of the chorus girls, jumped in with a cheeky response, "We drink water from a dipper. You drink champagne from a slipper." Medda shook her head affectionately at the girls. "Tho it seems cruel to bust all your dreams, still I must; here's the truth I tell you.
Life upon the wicked stage ain't ever what a girl supposes. Stage door Johnnies aren't raging over you with gems and roses. When you let a fella hold you hand which mean an extra drink or sandwich, Ev'rybody whispers 'ain't her life whirl?' " The chorus girls, who had gathered to listen echoed enviously, "Ain't it a whirl? Her life's a whirl."
Medda continued, "Though you're warned against a roué ruining your reputation, I have played around the one night trade around a great big nation. Wild old men who give you jewels and sables only live in Aesop's fables. Life upon the wicked stage ain't nothin' for a girl." Blush suppressed a giggle at her aunt's cautionary song. "Though I've listened to you moan and grieve, you must pardon me if I don't believe you. There is no doubt you're crazy about your awful stage!"
Medda was surprised at how well her niece knew her. "I admit it's fun to smear my face with paint, causing ev'ryone to think I'm what I ain't. And I like to play a demi-mondy role . . . with soul!" Darlin', one of Medda's best actresses, jumped in with, "Ask the hero does he like the way I lure, when I play a hussy or a parmour." "Yet when once the curtain's down your life is pure," Darlin's friend, Quirky reminded her teasingly. Darlin' rolled her eyes. "And how I dread it!" Medda smiled at the young performers' antics, then sighed, "If some gentleman would talk with reason, I would cancel all next season. Life upon the wicked stage ain't nothing for a girl!"
"You'd be back the season after!" Dianna and Cecile insisted. The irrepressible Darlin' jumped back in. "I got virtue but it ain't been tested."
"No one's even interested!" Quirky quipped. Finally Medda sang the last line, "Life upon the wicked stage ain't nothing for a girl!" She sighed, "All right, I surrender. Do you have a piece in mind?" Blush nodded eagerly. "Yes, it's called 'Sparkling Diamonds.' It was Satine's best number at the Moulin Rouge. Of course we don't have the scale here to do it exactly the same, but it's very adaptable." "Do you have the music?" "Of course. And speaking of music, I brought a bunch of other pieces with me from a new show they were rehearsing called 'Spectacular, Spectacular' that I thought we might be able to use." Medda smiled approvingly at her niece. "That's wonderful. I've been thinking we needed some new material. I'll just give your piece to Max," she said, referring to the kindly middle-aged conductor, "And he can start rehearsing the orchestra. You can make your debut next week. Is that all right?" Blush nodded eagerly. She hadn't realized how much she had missed performing until this moment. She was really looking forward to getting on stage again.
******
The next morning
The sign outside Irving Hall said "Continuous Vaudeville," but it meant continuous from noon to midnight. In the mornings the performers gathered for rehearsal. Blush often hung out with them, but this was the first time she had a piece of her own to rehearse. Her friends gathered around her to express their approval and happiness. Pirouette and Steps, a very talented ballroom dance team, were the first. "We're so glad you're finally going to join the team," Pirouette began, smiling. "Any relative of Medda's has to be talented," Steps finished. The two were standing arm in arm as usual. It occurred to Blush, not for the first time, that the two should be a couple. The casual observer would assume they were, but they both insisted that they were nothing more than dancing partners and good friends. Blush, who was very observant, suspected stronger feelings on both sides, but she didn't think the situation called for any interference on her part. At that moment, Keys, a pianist, arrived. "So," she said in her candid way, "You're finally gonna use that tremendous talent to pull in the customers." Blush looked askance at her. "You've never seen me perform. How would you know if I have any talent at all?" Keys shrugged. Anyone who can get a job at the infamous Moulin Rouge must have talent." The remark was obviously meant to be a compliment, but Blush's face fell. Yes, but talent at what? She had really only been a chorus girl, but everyone assumed that a job at the Moulin Rouge entailed other less respectable activities. And even her talent for singing was called into question. Blush's looks were quite striking. She had wildly curly red hair and brilliant emerald colored eyes. But apparently there's only room for one gorgeous red head at the Moulin. She thought of her older and more experienced (In more ways than one) rival Satine. They called her the Sparkling Diamond, while Blush was relegated to the position of mere Diamond Dog. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with memories of the infamous Parisian night club. Faces and voices whilred through her mind. Harold Zidler, owner of the Moulin Rouge, "You're very popular with the gentlemen, Blush. You should . . . capitalize on that." Satine, the sparkling diamond, "Just because you look a bit like me, don't think you're my equal." Nini, Blush's best friend despite a large difference in age and experience, "What's a respectable girl like you doing in a hellhole like this?" Edward Moncrith, Blush's persistent admirer, "I love you Skye, why won't you sleep with me?" Blush shook her head as if to clear it of the unpleasant memories. Just at that moment, Medda entered, signaling the official start of rehearsal and Blush was quickly much too busy to dwell on memories.
*~*~*~*~*~*~* AN: So, what'd you think? Review! I can't write more till you review! So hit the button! Please! C'mon, you know you want to . . .