Disclaimer: I own no characters in the movie. Which, might I add, was the best I'd seen in a long time. Josephine is of my own creation.
Author's Note: This piece follows a character of my own design named Josephine and will follow the course of the movie from the day before Satine and Christian meet until a few weeks after her death. It will follow Jo's PoV from 'Behind the Scenes'. Another note, Nini is the actual name of the girl everyone calls "Roxanne". Comments are always appreciated.
"Don't feel so bad about it, if you want to make a living you've got to dance. There's no shame in eating, now is there?" I still find it strange that I often find myself comforting women older than I. Take Gabrielle for instance, she's the new young one. Nineteen and escaping an alcoholic father and a long dead mother. Where does she end up? Where every pretty young thing in Paris ends up when they turn to the streets. Assuming they can dance. Nini had been playing her mind games with Gabrielle. Again. Nini is the bitterest woman I've ever met . . .and I've hung around brothels that were little more than holes in rat infested basements. Gabrielle heaved a sob and I tightened my arm around her.
"But when I think of my mother. She'd be so ashamed! I'm so ashamed! God, why did I ever do this?" There was a fresh wave of hot tears soaking through my shirtsleeve. "You wouldn't understand! You couldn't understand! You don't have to sleep with them!" I've grown so weary of that. I don't sleep with the sleaze of the upper class so I don't know what it's like to live it rough. Never mind my own mother dumped me on the steps of the church when I was seven, in a city where I did not know the language. Never mind I went through five years of being raised by nuns with hot tempers and thick sticks. Never mind I spent two years on the streets myself. But then again, I'm no streetwalker.
"Oh Gabrielle." I bit my teeth to keep down the rising anger. "Nini does this to all the new girls. Don't give her a second thought. Talk with Marie, she'll tell you. What good is it to starve? Do what you have to and survive until you can get out of here. Besides, it's not really so bad once you get used to it." Myself for example, the only thing the nuns taught me that has ever amounted to anything would be reading and writing. That and how to make intricate rosaries out of beads. Fast fingers are my personal specialty for the Diamonds who feel they've more than earned a little tip from tight-fisted aristocrats. And here at the Moulin Rouge . . .well, things could and have been worse for me. The Bohemian writers always have the time to talk with the Italian tomboy dressed as a stagehand. I amuse them. They're absinthe induced antics amuse me. And more importantly, they let me read what they write. Between the money I liberate from those depraved, rich fools and the knowledge I gain from the "Children of the Revolution, I'm more than able to keep my stomach and mind well fed.
"I'm going to go to hell." Gabrielle sniffled, she was calming down. I rolled my eyes. In my years with the nuns, they had more then proved to me that there was no God. I couldn't speak much about Satan, but religion was a joke. I found myself drawn to the Bohemian dogma. I smiled at her and stood.
"No." I said, shaking my head. "You'll find a rich man and be carried off to heaven in a diamond studded carriage with six white horses. Didn't Zidler tell you all about that?" Gabrielle actually laughed. I always amuse the 'working girls'. Zidler flimflammed the incoming girls as much as any pimp, but he was a good one to work with. In my six months at the Moulin Rouge, I had never once seen him treat any of the girls poorly. And he was always prompt in paying me for my services. Aside from helping the rich by lightening their pockets, I collected information for Zidler. "You'd better get a move on, Gab. We've both got a lot of work to do tonight." She flashed a quizzical look my way as she rubbed her red and swollen eyes on the back of her hand.
"Oh? Is there a new prospective investor?" I saw Marie approaching us from down the hall. Whenever someone was crying, they were given their distance. When they stopped they were quickly cleaned up by our communal 'mother'. Gabrielle continued to watch me. I nodded.
"Yes, a Duke who has come to every show for the past week. British. Creepy looking fellow. But he's after Satine." Gabrielle flinched and I grinned. "Aren't they all though?" She chuckled darkly and turned as Marie gently caught her shoulder with a sympathetic smile.
"Come along, dear. Let's get your makeup on for tonight's show." I watched as the two left. Nini may have been playing mind games with Gabrielle, but she was also instilling in the girl the hatred she felt towards Satine. I spit on the gritty wooden floor. I didn't understand the rivalry. I had heard, whispered among the Diamonds, that Nini and Satine had worked at the same Bordello before coming to the Moulin Rouge. Satine had evidently attracted the attention of the man Nini loved. Even if it was true, I doubted Satine had done it intentionally. She was far too sweet. In the eight months I had known her, for I met her before she convinced Zidler to hire me, she had never been anything but kind to me.
"Josephine! Josephine! Where is that girl?" Zidler was parading about backstage again. I smiled inwardly. The man couldn't seem to reconcile the fact that if I was bright enough to help Lili, his accountant, with the books and speak with the great Toulouse Lautrec as well as any of the college-educated, I was bright enough to remember what my assignment for the evening was to be. I stepped forward from the shadows as he jumped slightly. "Ah, there you are. I wanted to remind you to-"
"Watch the Duke and make sure he doesn't notice me. I am to find out how much money he has lying about and to find out which is his favorite Diamond, but I can already tell you it's Satine." I hurried on before he could interrupt me. "I am also to find out what are the chances that he'll invest in the Moulin Rouge. That about cover it Harry?" He smiled and tapped my head lightly.
"That would be all." He looked me up and down. "You know," He said thoughtfully. "You could be a diamond yourself very soon. You're almost eighteen." I smiled graciously, as he meant it as a compliment, and bowed my head slightly.
"Thanks Harry, but I'll be heading over to America once I've got the money." He laughed in his good nature way and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"And we'll miss you when you go. But if things don't work out you'll always have a place here. Now get out there and make us proud."
"And richer?"
"And richer."
"You got it Harry."