Unintended Consequences

I shut the door firmly but quietly – Jesus God, I didn't want to wake her! Two hours of handholding, coaxing (Me! Coaxing someone, anyone, especially the Sparkling Diamond, was too impossible to be believed!) laudanum down her throat, tucking her into bed with the pillows piled just so, and her weepin' and whinin' like a girl all the while…it were enough to drive me right over the bloody edge. But – hell, I guess I deserved it. Shoulda been me that went up those tower steps and his penniless majesty who went to break the news to Satine. Don't suppose I could've told him that though. A question for the ages that one is. If I'd 'a told him he wasn't comin' down those steps without his arsehole unstretched, do ya suppose he'd've gone anyway?

Of course I didn't have to do it – but like I said, I deserved it, well enough, so there's nothing to do but suck it in and take my punishment. Sure I was cheering her on when she threw that tub o' guts Zidler out the door, but I could've stuck up for Marie and let her play nursemaid – I dare say she's had plenty of practice. I coulda told Satine what the doctor said last month but I didn't – it weren't my place after all. It was theirs to tell and they should've. I ain't much for rules, but there's things that are proper and things that are not. Shoulda been them spillin' the beans months ago instead of me, tonight, before opening night. Zidler should have been explaining to the Duke while there was time to find a substitute for Satine on stage as well as between the sheets. Chills even my blood just thinking about it – if that's how Zidler treats his precious star, his chickpea and all that rot, what'd he have done to any o' the rest of us in the same situation? And Marie? If that's who Satine counts as her friend, well, then I'll take a solid fucking' enemy every single time.

But this were so plain in her face even Miss Nose-in-the-Air had to see what's what. So she sent Zidler and Marie out o' the room, caterwauling all the while, and I stayed. Someone had to make sure she didn't go wanderin' out lookin' for that boy o' hers. Not that it were likely, not in her state o' mind but I couldn't risk it. The poet had a job to do, and so did I. Didn't know what to do at first but she made it easy for me. Never thought I'd be thankin' God for that henna-haired tart's self-centeredness - all I had to do was stand there while she babbled on and on.

"It isn't fair – it's not fair! I can't be – mon dieu!" She bit back the word "dying" as if it were too ugly a thing for her pretty little mouth to say, although she didn't look so precious then, sittin' before the looking glass with her bony elbows propped on the dressin' table and her fingertips pressed against her temples. Her eyes was squeezed shut and her face was all contorted, just like one o' them oriental masks in Toulouse's collection that the little painter was so damn proud of showin' off to anyone what walked in his studio. "It's just not right! I've worked so hard, and I'm so close – so close to having everything. It just can't end this way!"

"Sure," I snorted. She looked up at me in the mirror's reflection, surprised, like she'd forgotten anyone was there listenin'. "This is all about you, ain't it? Just like always. Never mind the rest of us and our shattered dreams. No, that be too much to expect o' your Porcelain Highness, to think about someone else for a change."

She turned in 'er chair to face me then, all right, eye narrowed to cat-like slits. "Did you ever ask yourself why I didn't run away with Christian months ago? I could have, you know; it would have made my life so much easier than it has been."

"You, run away? Not bloody likely, not after you've been chasing' your hoity-toity dreams of stardom all these – "

"It not just my dreams that are at stake!" She jumped out of the chair, eyes all a-fire like some harpie that was set to tear me to pieces. I thought she might actually do it, too, might fly right at me and wrap those stick-like fingers around me neck; but I guess that called for more strength than she had, 'cause she clung to the back o' the chair with one hand and settled for shakin' her finger at me instead. "Do you really think I don't know that? If the show does not go on – if I cannot go on – then it affects everyone here at the Moulin: Harold, Marie, Chocolat, all the girls. Even you, Nini Legs-in-the-Air, you smug little tramp!"

"You expect me to believe that all them months you was gallivantin' around with that boy right under the Duke's very nose, you had my best interests at 'eart?"

She sank back in her chair, as if she'd used up every crumb of energy left in her, and it was all too much – facin' the truth was just too damn much. "Believe whatever you like, then."

"I thought as much," I muttered, wanderin' over to the marble mantelpiece. Like everythin' else in this room it was all grand looks, all show; the fire in the hearth was fadin', and the heat that come from it weren't no better than what the rest o'us girls enjoyed from the potbellied coal stove in the common backstage dressin' area. Throwing another log on the cinders would o' helped, but I weren't no damn scullery maid, just 'cause the Diamond thought she was too precious to dirty her hands.

I turned my back to the mantel, feelin' what little warmth there was done to me bones, wishin' like anything I had me cigs with me. Satine was still sittin' in front of her dressin' table with her arms wrapped around her, shiverin' a bit, facin' the mirror but not really lookin' at it. Her eyes was half-closed and unfocused, the way Rico's are when he's wakin' up from one o' his fits. I couldn't decide what were more unsettlin' – seein' her in a rage moments ago or this way, all at loose ends, the fight gone out o' her.

"Was it worth it?" The words just jumped right off o' me tongue almost before I'd even thought them through. When she didn't respond, not even look at me, I went on. "Livin' a double life, workin' ten hour days, doin' the Devil knows what and sneakin' around behind the Duke's back – was it worth it?"

She smiled all o' a sudden and the anger and fear just melted away. There was a long piece of red silk that'd been sitting on her dressing table along with all the bottles and jars. It was only when she picked it up that I realized it weren't no scarf, it was a man's tie. Rubbin' the thick silk against her cheek she closed her eyes and sighed. "Really Nini, do you even have to ask?"

Not after that little performance I didn't. But then, who am I to be so cynical? After all, just a few hours ago he'd been shakin' me and I'd thought it was a good thing I was furious with him, otherwise I'd have probably jumped on him and shown him what it was like to be a real woman, not a pasty-faced doll. So yeah, I could see what she saw in him – you'd have to be blind not to. The thing of it was, I knew that the Duke saw it too. Everyone knew it, 'cept Satine. Self-centered she may be, but even she must'a been blind - or crazy - not to have noticed the Duke's eyes rovin' over the boy's backside all these months.

If that's what being "in love" does to a body, it's no wonder Zidler's so hard set against it.

"How will I tell Christian?" She said it out loud but I didn't think she was talkin' to me, not really, lettin' her tears roll onto the red silk. "However will I tell him…oh – oh!" Her eyes flew open right then, and I swear if I ain't never seen a look o' 'terror' on nobody's face before, I seen it right then. "What if I've given him – what if he's – oh God, what have I done?" Her words was mangled up in a scream that were the harshest, most pitiful sound what's ever hit me ears. "How am I going to – what shall I – how can I tell him?"

"For tonight you ain't tellin' 'im nothin' – hush now, Diamond." She dropped the red silk in her lap as she clung to me – me! – all o' a sudden, as stupid and helpless as a babe, while I reached in her dressin' table drawer for a clean bit o' linen to mop her face with. All o' Marie's handiwork was runnin' in streaks, but the sight o' it – o' her this way – didn't give me satisfaction like I'd thought it would have done. No, it terrified me too, though I wouldn't have let her see that for the world and then some. But she were right, what she'd said before – her dreams and mine and everyone else's was all bound together. Maybe that's part o' why I'd hated her so much all these years: because we needed her, or thought we did, whether we liked it or not. I wiped 'er face with the bit o' muslin I'd grabbed; it could have been a hankerchief or a piece o' her dainty underwear, I didn't know, didn't care. But I couldn't help noticin' that the frilly lace on it were probably worth more than what I earned in a whole months wages. I also couldn't help noticin' that her cheeks was so hollow, so sharp beneath me hand.

"I have to find him –"

"Hush, you ain't goin' anywheres tonight. Last I 'eard, Toulouse and the rest o' them bohos dragged 'im off for a little night on the town – bit o' a celebration I guess. They're probably all hand-in-hand with the Green Fairy right about now. They could be anywheres in the village, or all o' Paris for that matter. 'ere," I handed her the soaked and soiled rag, and she eyed me suspiciously. "Go on, blow your nose."

She looked down at the bit o' cloth. "This is a corset cover, Nini." I shrugged and she accepted it anyway, sighing mightily. "Whatever will I do?"

"You're goin' to go to bed, that's what. You've got a long day tomorrow, we all do. 'sides, you don't really want Shakespeare seein' you unraveled at all ends, do you? Course not. And he'd 'ave me 'ead on a pike if 'e thought I was keepin' 'is princess from gettin' her beauty sleep."

That made her smile, a little, despite herself, and she shook her head obediently. For once in her life I swear she was so muddle-headed that right then I coulda told her to jump off the windowsill and try to take flight, and she might o'done it. (And don't think I didn't consider it, either.)

"Thank you, Nini." I couldn't remember the last time I heard those words come out o' her mouth, the last time I'd seen her express gratitude toward someone else – someone what wasn't payin' her, that is.

So I stayed around to play nursemaid – don't let it ever be said that Nini Legs-in-the-Air can't act with the best of 'em, when the need arises! I helped her out of her clothes and didn't comment on her ribcage. I brushed her hair and held out a handkerchief for her to cough into, as if I didn't even notice how yellow all her handkerchiefs are. Yeah, I even threw another log on the fire – sick as she was I couldn't have her catching a chill on top of it all.

Then I bundled her into bed and held her hand, and let her cry slow tears over all that should have been. Hell, I even kissed her (on her forehead, mind, I ain't no fool!) and comforted her the way we did when we were girls and our lives in this glittering dungheap were still new and raw. I let her go on and on about the poet and his many fine qualities and all her silly dreams until at last it wore her down. Her eyes closed and I left, hoping that she wouldn't be disturbed.

There weren't no one about in the hall thankfully, so I went to my favorite spot under the back stairs and found my cigs on the floor where I'd dropped them earlier. I lit up a fag, drew the smoke back, and breathed a little easier watchin' the white trail waft up through the steps. Would Satine make it through the night? I couldn't be sure. When I helped her undress I saw that she was much thinner than before. Don't get me wrong, she's always been a stick compared to the rest of us, but now I could count every one of her ribs. Alone in that fancy dressing room of hers, she's been able to hide how bad its really gotten.

What would happen, if she couldn't perform in the show tomorrow? I hated to admit how much I wanted her to live, if only for one night. Sure I could take over her role, and be damned good at it – I could finally show Harold and the Duke, Shakespeare and the whole damn world what a wonder I'd be, if only they could wipe the sparkle that is Satine out o' their eyes for one minute. But, take over the role overnight? With one rehearsal? Not bloody likely, even for me, and I'm a professional.

I sucked down the rest of the fag, watched the ash drop to the floor and stubbed it out with my foot, feelin' near as tired to the bone as the Diamond had looked. Yes, I would have stayed to guard her door if I could, but I've got to get some rest. After all, I let her darlin' boy go off to be her stand-in and think I'll shortly be in for another session of hand-holdin' and sympathetic caresses.