Author's Note:
Thank you Beanster for pointing that out! I must admit I was writing a bit fast and didn't have the character explain things too well. When Jo says "Legit theaters with real actresses make more money" she was referring to the increased take on Zidler's part. The only motivation I can imagine for Zidler turning the MR into a real theater in the movie is because he would make more money. And while it's true that whores made more than the vast majority of actresses then (and now), I doubt Bernhart made less than Satine. And running with Marie's affirmation that Satine would be bigger then Bernhart (and the crowd's standing ovation at the end of the film), I'd wager Satine would make more as a legitimate actress then she would as the "Sparkling Diamond". But I agree with you in that financial reasons are not her main motivation for going legit, I simply think they are Zidler's.
I fell asleep angry and woke with an aching neck and shoulders. Groaning, I rolled off of my cot and landed with a painful thump on the filthy floor.
"Ow." Said dully, as I raised my throbbing head and glanced around. The overlapping rhythms of nails being pounded into lumber echoed from among the rafters. I listened to the muted conversations among the men as they repaired and prepared the sets for tonight's show. From another hall I heard the rising giggles of the Diamond Dogs and the swell of their gossiping tones. I managed to pull myself to my feet and begin to clumsily plod down the corridor towards the baths. Mornings were not my time of the day. I passed a few of the older women sitting hunched in their large wooden chairs, bent over the large costume dresses the girls wore as they engaged in a heated debate over the latest tidbit of news.
"Well I heard this Duke was known for-"
"Never! Never would I imagine we'd have such a rich financier-"
"And he's after Satine?"
"It just makes me quiver thinking about it!"
I rolled my eyes and pressed on towards the baths, nodding to friends working backstage as I passed. Despite my hatred of rising early, it was a better alternative to waiting for an hour once the other girls were up and about. I dumped my rumpled clothes in a hamper and slumped into the cool tub of water. I never had enjoyed hot baths, they made me drowsy. Briskly scrubbing my arms raw I began to think about my chores for the day. In the morning I had to run errands in the local market and manage to get myself breakfast. By noon I needed to be back at the Moulin Rouge to help Marie prepare Satine's room for the evening with the Duke. During the afternoon I would aid the men with last minute adjustments on the stage. Before the show I'd help the other girls dress and scout the door for the Duke's entrance. And during the show I would liberate more then enough funds to cover what I had lost last night while confirming facts on the Duke. I stopped scrubbing my arm as my eyes widened . . .that reminded me.
"Jo! Don't forget you've got to show Samuel around this afternoon!" Marie was pounding on the door. I managed to reply a garbled promise before I sunk under the surface of the water. Damn. I surfaced, climbed out of the tub, grabbed my robe and went off in search of a clean outfit. If I believed in fate or God, I would have believed that one or the other had brought me to Montmarte. The only place in Paris, if not the world, where a girl could walk freely wearing male clothing. After all, there were stranger sights then I. It was true, taunts were thrown my way every now and then, but not enough to merit the rate of "often". Besides, pants were practical, and skirts and dresses were cumbersome and bulky. I didn't mind wearing skirts or dresses, but while I was biking around Montmarte they caught in the wheels, and while working at the Moulin Rouge they brought more attention then my pants.
I arrived from my morning errands to find Chocolat fiddling with some props for the show.
"Hey." I said, taking an empty seat at the table where he sat. He nodded, concentrating on the magical device. It was a wand that shot like a gun with great green flames that sparkled in the air for long seconds. None of us knew how it operated. I glanced around the generally abandoned dance hall. A few of the girls were rehearsing some complicated moves before general practice began. The slow counting and solid smacking sound of wood echoed in the great chamber. I sighed.
"Jo!" I turned my head, my body slouching low in the chair. It was Nini, hands on her hips and scowling. "Harry wants you in his office." She smirked. "He would like to introduce you to your new client." Don't rise to it . . .I thought as I glared at her and rose slowly, bringing my bag of food with me. Chocolat muttered something and I turned back to him.
"What'd you say?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and allowing a skeptical smile to play across my lips. He grinned and winked.
"I said you can leave that bag of food here since you'll be too busy to eat." I sighed and threw the bag onto the table. A pear rolled out and fell to the floor. Chocolat chuckled and bent to retrieve it.
"Everyone's a comedian." I shook my head and started for Zidler's office. As I moved past the main stage and slipped behind the heavy stage curtains I heard my name called again. I turned and this time it was Satine who was coming up to me.
"Jo, are you going to help Marie get my room ready for tonight?" She asked looking slightly flushed and very excited.
"Oh, yeah, sure. Harry told you about the Duke then?" I pocketed my hands and leaned back on my heels. My mind was already racing and analyzing further the details I had managed to scrape together about the Duke. Already the perfect way to ensnare the Duke through atmosphere and setting was settling in my mind. Satine laughed and glanced at a group of girls standing in a group, talking in happy tones.
"If he hadn't someone would have. This Duke is quite rich, isn't he?" She leaned forward slightly, eager for a positive answer.
"Too rich if you ask me." She gave me a mock-weary look. "But you didn't!" I smiled easily. "Yeah, he's pretty wealthy. And he could really turn this place around, as well as it's doing right now. But I'm sure Harry gave you the speech."
"Oh! Did Nini tell you that he wants you in his office? Something about giving a tour?" She raised a curious eyebrow. I stiffened a bit and looked at my shoes. The toes were beginning to wear through.
"Yes. Nini told me I was needed. Actually, I'm heading there now." Satine obviously sensed I was not in the mood to sate her wonder over the "tour" issue and gracefully changed the subject.
"So you'll help Marie later then?"
"I will. Anyway, no use in keeping Harry waiting. I'll talk to you later, Satine." She smiled and nodded and I went on my way. I always found it interesting how different Nini and Satine were, despite similar backgrounds and situations. I knew that Nini wasn't an evil woman . . .she could just be petty and cruel at times. I gathered she must be a jealous woman and at times, I pitied her. And then there were times when I wanted to slap her in the face.
"Josephine! So glad to see you!" I raised my head and forced a smile as I walked into Zidler's office. Samuel was already sitting there, dressed in simple clothes instead of the fine suit he had worn the previous evening, with what he must have thought was a polite and charming smile. As much as I loathed to admit it, the young man did have quite a charming smile. And undoubtedly it would have worked on some unsuspecting young lady. I, however, was neither unsuspecting nor a lady. Samuel and I exchanged the politest of nods and slight inclinations of our eyebrows. Zidler allowed a moment for our subtle greeting before taking a slightly nervous breath and pressing on. "This is Samuel, Josephine. Marcel's son."
"Oh, don't be troubled with introductions, Harold." Samuel stood as I crossed the room with an amused look. He took a few broad steps towards me and I automatically raised my hand. I had watched the other girls do this numerous times, it was a ritual drilled into my being at this point. Samuel took my hand in his, and before bringing his pals lips to it commented "Miss Josephine and I have already met." He lightly toughed the sensitive skin on the back of my palm as I smirked and murmured softly.
"I told you I am no miss."
He smiled as he brought his face up from my hand. Zidler's view of the exchange was blocked as my back was to him, but he was already fully involved in his role of playing the "shocked employer who had no idea we had met".
"Have you already?" He exclaimed, eyes widening with calculated shock as he brought a hand to his curly orange hair. "That's wonderful! Then you won't mind, Samuel, if Josephine escorts you around the backstage and familiarizes you with the Moulin Rouge?"
"Of course not, Harold." Samuel replied with what seemed to me to be mock severity. He turned slightly and gave me a composed glance. "That is if Miss Josephine is not currently engaged in any other activities and has the time to do so." I saw Harold stiffen and found a rather perverse pleasure in knowing that he feared I would lie to Samuel and excuse myself. Though, I did have work to do and dragging the tailor's son was delaying some important chores I would be rushed to finish later. Technically it would not be a lie. I smiled.
"Not at all, sir."
"Oh, call me Samuel, please. I never did enjoy formalities."
"Samuel, then. And since we are on such friendly terms, please, call me Jo. Everyone but Harry does. Harold, would you mind if I started right away? Or do you have further business with Samuel?" Zidler blinked and hesitate a mere half second before recovering with his broad smile and opened his hands, palms facing out.
"No, not at all! By all means you two, get started on your tour." Samuel bowed towards Zidler in such a serious manner and so stiffly offered me his arm, I wondered if Harry had even caught on to the subtle mockery. I had to gently bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling as, mimicking Samuel's severe demeanor, I took his arm quite properly and allowed myself to be led from the office.
* * * *
After three hours of taking Samuel around the Moulin Rouge and showing him everything from Satine's dressing room to the piss-bucket the stagehands in the highest caverns of the sets used during shows, I found myself not as violently opposed to spending time with him. When I spoke he paid close attention to what I had to say, he asked intelligent questions and when Nini began to make some snide comments while I was making introductions, Samuel asked in an exceedingly polite tone and manner whether or not she had been to a doctor lately because he was concerned she was showing the early signs of Syphilis. As we went along the dim corridors we spoke at great length of literature and philosophy and science and I was 'surprised' to discover that Marcel had sent him to school. We also conversed on the Bohemian Doctrine of "Truth, Beauty, Love and Freedom".
"I can understand why you would be more attracted to Love and Beauty, Samuel." I said as we moved from the dingy back halls and up towards the lavish room where the Diamonds entertained clients. "After all, you are an artist of cloth. Art must be beautiful to the artist. And to create beauty, and artist must love his work."
"Perhaps." He had replied, running his hand along the smooth banister. "But I don't understand why you prefer truth and freedom." I merely shrugged and smiled cryptically before giving him the history of the women working on the particular floor we had reached as well as the latest gossip so he would be aware of the scandals and rivalries to avoid. After he was quite satisfied with the tour, Samuel queried if I would be interested in going to a small cafe close by and getting a light dinner. I, of course, declined explaining I had to aid Marie with preparations for the night ahead. Samuel smiled and said he understood and that he hoped he would see me the following day, when he was to begin working with his father. It wasn't before I reached Satine's personal area in the elephant that I realized we had said nothing about the previous evening or his marking me as a spy.
* * * *
With only a few minutes until showtime, Harold Zidler was panicking. The Dogs had long since stopped being Diamonds and were snarling, agitated and generally snappy and skittish. I was one of the few in the general vicinity of the stage area who still had their head on. Thus I was attempting to order dancers to their places and receiving dirty looks. Was I nervous? Yes. Was I shivering and swallowing repeatedly and wringing my hands? No.
"Marie! Is the room ready? Satine? Are you ready? Girls, don't lose it tonight! Josephine! Why are you backstage! Get out there! Now! Now! Now! Is everything ready!?" He was yelling to the point where I almost felt sorry for him, Zidler was going to kill himself if he did not learn to clam down. On my way out into the dance hall Zidler grabbed my arm and jerked me towards him. "Are you positive everything is ready?"
"Yeah! Don't worry!"
"Everything is perfect? Everything?"
"Yeah, Harry! Calm down! I've never seen you so worked up!" I crossed my arms and glared at him, slightly insulted he thought I would managed to ruin something so important. "The flowers are just the kind he likes, the champagne is his favorite brand and flavor and-"
"And what kind of women appeals to the Duke?" Zidler demanded, shooting a concerned look past the curtain. We could see a slit of audience. I sighed.
"Satine is more of an expert on that, Harry. Ask her." I said as I slipped through the slit and made my way into the crowd. I caught a view of the Duke and his bodyguard, the Duke looked far more apprehensive than Zidler. In an adjacent booth I was please to see Toulouse with a few of his friends, one whom I had never seen before who looked slightly ill thought eager. I made a mental note to speak with Toulouse later in the evening as I wandered towards the back of the crowd of rowdy men. As it was a larger crowd than usual the "gentlemen" were packed quite tightly together and it was no hard task to slip my hands in and out of their pockets as they all had their eyes fastened on the stage curtain, panting with anticipation.
My back was still turned when the first wave of music burst over the crowd. The Dogs descended onto the floor with an unusual flare and sense energy. The way the men grouped together, pressing to gain even precious inches closer to the dancers kept me from effectively moving among them. With a smirk and a quick jangling of the coins in my pocket, I began to pick my way along the edge of the crowd. When Satine took stage I would be able to slip among them again as their faces were drawn upwards and their minds were elsewhere. Positioning myself, I watched the Duke as he nervously swallowed another mouthful of brandy. His hand kept rising to his face and fingering his thin mustache. I found myself wondering what it was inside this man's head that made him tick. I wondered why he would grow so nervous over a mere meeting with a prostitute. Many men had slept with Satine and many were apprehensive . . .but none that I had seen were quite so much as this Duke. And then Satine took the stage.
And I was in my element. I plowed my way through the hypnotized crowd and plundered every pocket I could as I made my way at a steep angle towards the safety of the curtains. Amid the glazed eyes, slightly parted mouths, sagging skin and lusting stares I moved with flying fingers until my wrists were sore from twisting and my deep pockets were brimming with billfolds. I ducked behind the curtains and ran into Marie.
"Josephine?" Marie, for some odd reason or another, had always treated me with an unusually strong maternal sense. I wasn't the 'daughter she never had' (I always thought Satine had long since earned that title) but I was her misfit granddaughter who needed advice and guidance. She gently placed a hand on my shoulder as a look of concern grew in her eyes. "Why are you back so early? It hasn't been but five minutes! Are you alright?"
"Full House." I panted, wiping a thin layer of sweat from my forehead as I suddenly realized how hot it had been in the hall. I began to empty my pockets onto the floor, a few of the idle performers watching me closely. I glared at them. "Mind putting these away, Marie? I want to be on the floor in case anything goes wrong." Marie stooped with a worried look and began to place the loose bills on a low table. The performers continued to look on with interest. "If you touch 'em . . .I'll get each of you back." Slight smiles appeared on their faces at my threat. It was not idle, quite serious actually. I had already blackmailed a thieving dancer for light-fingering some money from my trunk. I had also invested in a lock. Besides, a few scant francs in the hands of those hacks were a small price to pay to ensure I could watch the Duke and Satine. In a moment I was in the hall again with my eyes turned towards the Duke . . .and there was Toulouse brushing him down with a handkerchief.
What the hell? The Duke looked flustered and angry as he batted at Toulouse with open hands. Toulouse was busy falling over the Duke and creating a general nuisance of himself. Too much absinthe already? I wondered as I squinted at the scene they were causing. Other patrons watched their tussle with looks of amusement, confusion and annoyance. I grinned inwardly at their reactions and hypocrisy. It was perfectly acceptable for a 'gentleman' to be in a bordello, to drink in excess and to sleep with many women, but it was unacceptable for him to make a scene. Victorians were so easy to laugh at. Another flash of white caught my eye and I watched one of the men with Toulouse, the one I did not recognize, wave his handkerchief weakly in the air. Or was someone waving it for him? I could not tell.
But as the music changed Satine went over to the young man and claimed him as her dance partner for the evening. He must have been flustered, or responded too slowly or stupidly because she turned from him briefly, flashing that pout that would make men kill for her if she so desired, before grabbing his arm and dragging him to the dance floor. Confused, I scoured the crowd to see where Zidler was but I could not make out his face anywhere. I looked back at the Duke whose expression must have matched mine. And suddenly things made sense. My eyes widened as I watched Satine and Toulouse's friend dancing gracefully on the floor. Oh hell . . .Oh no . . .And I quickly began to move for the backstage area. In my haste I collided with Gabrielle and her partner.
"Josephine! What do you think you're doing?" She squawked leaping back as I tripped over my feet and fell to the floor. Her partner cursed and made a weak attempt to kick me but I was already up and lurching once again for curtain. This could damn well ruin everything! I stole another hurried glance at Satine and her partner who was most certainly not the Duke but by the way she was putting "the moves" on him, she thought certainly was. Hats flew into the air and Satine was returning to her swing as the "Duke" stood slack-jawed watching her go. I grabbed for the heavy velvet and pushed it away, prepared to launch myself backstage to be first to tell her the folly that had just happened, when the crowd gasped. I turned and followed the trail of their shocked eyes.
And Satine fell. The Moulin Rouge was, for the second time in my memory, dead silent. Satine had once done an act where she purposely 'fell' from her swing, but she never plummeted in the ungodly fashion with which she fell now. The sharpest breath I had ever taken pierced my lungs as my hand clenched, I waited helplessly for her to land with a wet crack on the ground.
And Chocolat caught her. In the instant I saw her face, before the backs of crowding dancers blocked my view, I saw she was unconscious. Chocolat moved quickly to bring her backstage as the crowd was left in confusion. My body reacted again with time and I flew backstage to see if I could find Satine and make sure she was safe. I barely heard Zidler begin to cover up what had just happened.
And it wasn't until much later that evening that I realized the frightening incident had temporarily erased my memory of the man who was not the Duke dancing with Satine, and by then it would be too late.