Author's Note: Hope you enjoy, please review.
The boy (who was older then I) who was not the Duke turned out to be Christian. The Moulin Rouge's new writer. And Toulouse's latest protégé. I somehow managed to keep a polite smile and serene expression while a small racket of explosions was detonating inside my skull. What the hell is going on!?
"Good Afternoon, Christian, I'm Jo and it's a pleasure to meet you. Viva la Revolution." He held out his hand and I shook it briefly, his eyes lighting up at the Bohemian greeting.
"Jo, nice to meet you too. Toulouse has told me that at some time I must discuss the ideals with you." I smiled and averted my eyes downward, unsure of how to act in this most unusual of circumstances. Here was someone who Satine, of all people, with her dreams of being a famous actress on the European stages, had been kissing the previous evening in the elephant after the Duke had left. The Duke who was investing an enormous amount of money. An investment which would be very, very beneficial to her. "He said you were quite the prodigy." There was no way Christian, who was currently speaking with me while allowing his gaze to drift to Satine, could possibly be as well endowed financially as the Duke. And I doubted if the Duke or his manservant Warner would be too pleased to discover Satine with Christian. So as it stood . . .Satine had been kissing the new writer Christian, who was not rich, in the elephant after the man who stood to give her everything she ever wanted had left. There was only one explanation. Satine had gone mad.
" Oh, Jo!" Satine approached with a radiant smile. "So you've met our new writer."
"Yes." I replied smiling brightly and taking a step back so I could face both of them. "I'm glad you're here, Christian. Did you ever meet Audrey? He was an egotistical nightmare."
"I only had a brief encounter with him." Christian smiled. I watched as Satine matched his smile as though he had made a clever joke. I groaned inwardly. With their obvious body language and flitting glances it was almost as though they wanted to be discovered.
"So the play is taking place in India, eh?" I asked loudly, hoping to snap them out of their semi-stupor before the Duke stopped bickering with Zidler in the background and noticed the two. Toulouse waved his hands and tapped his cane.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Christian was so effulgent! He came up with the story right away for the Duke!"
"Right away for the Duke?" I asked dumbly, my eyebrow shooting up. From the corner of my eye I saw Christian looking panicked and Satine pale.
"Yes! For the Duke! You see we were in the-"
"Oh my Toulouse!" Satine suddenly jumped in, drowning out his words. "I completely forgot! Harold wanted another of your posters featuring Arabia!" She stooped to grab his shoulder and spun him towards Zidler. "Why don't you go ask him about it?" I frowned and feigned indifference to the topic while stewing inside. Toulouse also knew she was dallying with Christian? Did all the Bohos who comprised his entourage know? If that was the case . . .it wouldn't be long before the girls heard. Assuming they didn't figure it out sooner from the openly affectionate pair. Now Satine turned to me. "And Jo, would you mind running to the market and getting crepes?"
I grinned easily. "Ok, ok. I know when I'm not wanted." The tone was light hearted enough so they knew I joking, but the remark was enough to cause both of them to jump a bit. I looked at Christian with a highly amused smile, my own private joke at their expense. "Anything the new writer would like?"
"Oh, no thank you."
"Sure? There's some good food down there."
"I'm afraid I haven't been there yet, I wouldn't know what to ask for."
"No?" I was shocked. Within an hour of my arrival to Montmarte I had known where the market was located. "I'll have to take you there some time when you're not working, you can tell me about the play." He smiled.
"I'd be very grateful, thank you."
"Satine, I'll be back in about two hours with your crepes. Christian, nice meeting you and I hope to see you about." I left and headed back across the hall (now amply lighted courtesy of the torn wall) towards Zidler and the Duke while Toulouse, with a furtive glance at Satine's back headed off towards a group of ecstatically chattering Bohemians. As I approached, Zidler looked up and waved me over.
"Jo, I would like to introduce you to our esteemed investor. Duke . . ." I couldn't hear the rest over the sudden commotion as yet another wall fell. "He's quite eager to talk to you." I frowned.
"To me, Dear Duke?" I vaguely recalled from my days with the nuns that they always insisted that nobles should be addressed with reverence similar to that of "Our Dear Lord". I suppose it never hurt the nuns when they went collecting for donations to make the rich feel revered. He smiled. Even while watching him I had never realized what a weasel like face he had. All the features and manners of the powerful coward."
"Dear Duke?" I cringed as his nasal voice pierced my ears. "I quite like that title. Tell me, girl, Zidler here tells me that you have no objections to doing odd jobs for compensation." I looked at Zidler, he smiled nervously. I looked at the Duke.
"That depends on the job. I collect information if that's what your asking." I replied warily. The Duke sneered at what he no doubt considered my impertinence but said nothing about it.
"That's just what I need. I also hear you pick pockets for a few more dollars in your pocket." I stiffened but nodded. "Well," He continued, oblivious or uncaring to my state of insult. "I can promise you that while you work for me you won't have to pick pockets."
"While I work for you?" I asked, stupefied. I intend to stay as far away as I can from you, Dear Duke. I thought as Harold spoke up.
"Josephine, as the Duke is giving-"
"Lending, Zidler. I expect a profit." The Duke sneered, his moustache twitching.
"Forgive me, Dear Duke, lending of course." Zidler apologized softly before continuing. My eyes widened, it was disconcerting to see Harold groveling in such a manner. "So much money I have assured him that he will have joint authority over all employees of the Moulin Rouge." My eye involuntarily twitched.
"Oh?" I asked, my voice high.
"Of course since you are not an official employee and I will require you to be on alert at all hours, I will be willing to compensate you." The Duke interjected.
"But we'll still ask for your cooperation, Josephine." Added Zidler with begging eyes.
"What exactly is it that you want me to do, Dear Duke?"
"As I've explained to Zidler, I know what you seedy, underworld, show-folk types are like." He said, carefully brushing some plaster dust from his gray bowler. "And I have assigned my manservant Warner to ensure a contract Zidler here has agreed to is enforced."
"Contract?"
"Yes, you can speak with Warner for more details, but the main thing is I want you to keep an eye on Satine."
"Satine? Why?"
"I want you to keep an open eye and ear," He ignored my question. "For any rumors concerning suitors or men still under the impression she is for sale. And I want you to report them to Warner or I and we will handle them as we see fit. And if Zidler here tries anything, you are to report him as well." I was barely able to keep the anger off my face and even Harold was unable to conceal his shock at such a blatant insult. "It's not that I don't have complete confidence in Warner, it's just that I know he can't be everywhere at once."
"So when do I get compensated for spying on friends and co-workers?" Given the smile he flashed me, I got the distinct impression that my anger and sarcastic tone had been completely lost on him. He brought his fingertips together.
"You will be paid on opening night when I consummate my relation with Satine." They haven't slept together? Then what in the world would cause him to invest?
"Opening night isn't for quite sometime." I replied coolly. "What am I supposed to live off of?"
The Duke sneered, reached into his pocket, removed a small roll of bills and threw them at me. They fell to the floor. Harold looked astonished. "You underworld type never learn to save anything, do you?" Who's spending all this money on a theater so he can sleep with some woman? The Duke's face suddenly lit up. "Ah! There's my diamond! If you'll excuse me!" And with that he rushed off. Both Harold and I exhaled deeply. I looked at Harold.
"You know-" I began.
"I know." He said heavily. "But what do you mean what will you live off of? Do you think I'm unaware of your bank account?" I grabbed the bills and jammed them into my pocket.
"Why should I spend that when I can just get some from him?" I smiled. "The pompous ass tax."
Harold was not amused. "I don't want you to say or do anything, do you understand me?"
"Don't worry."
"We can't afford to lose or anger him, understand? Just do what he says. Now go find Warner and follow his orders, Jo." It frightened me that Harold seemed so nervous and skittish about the entire situation, almost as if there was something he wasn't telling me. I swallowed.
"Ok, Harry."
* * * *
I decided as I gasped for air, the neck of my shirt painfully drawn against my neck, that I did not like Warner and we were not going to get along. He dropped me to the floor, releasing his grip from my collar and no longer holding me in the air. I fell into a heap, choking.
Our conversation thus far had been: "Excuse me, Mr. Warner? I'm Josephine, the Duke said I was to speak to you?"
And then Warner had introduced me to the wall.
"Understand whose orders you're following now, girl?" He growled. I nodded fearfully, fighting the urge to babble my complete comprehension of whose orders I was to follow. "Good. The Duke wants me to make sure that no old ties or loyalty will keep you from your task."
"They won't!" I blurted. "I swear!" Survive. First rule. Tell them what they want to hear. Pretend you're down and beaten. This was the first thing I had learned on the streets.
"Good. Satine is now bound by contract to sleep only with the Duke on opening night, understand girl?" I nodded. Satine? The contract is about Satine? "You're going to help me keep an eye on everyone who might be trying to get into bed with her. Understand?"
"Yes! I do!"
"And if anyone tries anything you'll tell me right away, won't you?"
"Yes!"
"And if you don't." He ended his argument with a boot to my stomach that doubled me up nicely. I bit my tongue and tasted blood in my mouth. Warner left and I lay still a few more moments.
This is all going to end badly. I thought. And then something that Warner had said clicked and I sat up with the force of the thought.
* * * *
"You sold Satine, Harry!" I screamed as I burst into his office. His head flew up from the papers he had been reading. "Sold her! To that madman! How COULD you, Harry? How could you?" Zidler was on his feet now, trying to calm me.
"Sh! Josephine, quiet!" He said frantically, grasping me by the shoulders. "Do you want everyone to hear-" He frowned. "What happened to you?" I laughed, it was a high pitched and strange sound. "Josephine, what happened? Who did this?"
"Oh." I giggled, I suddenly found my situation quite funny. "Warner. Wanted to make sure I understood who Satine belonged to and why I was going to help keep it that way."
"What!?" Harold roared. "What did you say?"
"Nothing . . ." I trailed, an overwhelming sense of sadness washing over me. I looked up at Zidler, tears burning in my eyes. "I didn't say anything and he just beat me." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve as Harold's face softened. "Really, Harry. I didn't do anything."
"It's alright, Josephine . . .you're not in trouble." Oh yes I am . . .
"I can't believe you sold Satine."
"I didn't sell-"
"Yes. You did . . .no matter what you tell yourself."
"You don't understand."
"I understand, you're so damn eager to make money you'll sell her off!"
"She's agreed to it." I was silent, I knew she had. I didn't care. "And why are you so worried, Josephine? Satine will handle this perfectly, has she ever gone wrong before? And it's a relief for her, she won't have to sleep with anyone for a while and she'll still be cared for." My eye twitched as Zidler watched me. "What's gotten into you, you're usually far more perceptive."
"Why is it so important, Harry?" I asked dully.
"Why is what so important?"
"That she doesn't sleep with anyone else? I understand the Duke is possessive . . .but why are you so adamant? The worst he can do is pull funding, which is bad, but not enough for you to tolerate all of this." Harold sighed, struggling with something. "Harry," I said softly, he looked at me. "Tell me why I'm going to be tolerating this," I pointed to the dry stream of blood that marred my chin. "For some time. Give me a reason."
"The Duke is holding the deeds to the Moulin Rouge as collateral." He softly replied, something resembling guilt on his face. But I knew he never felt guilt. I closed my eyes. Opened them.
"Thank you for telling me."
I left.
Very badly.
* * * *
"What happened to your neck?" Samuel had heard I was at the market and had come to find me. This was his greeting.
"My neck?"
"It's bruised." He reached out and gently touched the nape. I flinched.
"Ow!"
"Sorry!" He pulled away, watching me with an expression of gentle concern. "What happened?"
"Ah, I was stupid. I was jumping from one of the catwalks to another and damn near hung myself." I chuckled and shook my head, bringing my hand to my neck. "I didn't know it got bruised."
"Oh." Samuel quietly replied. I didn't have the energy to worry whether or not he believed me. The important thing was that he stopped asking questions. I pulled my jacket tightly about my shoulders, flipping up the collar.
* * * *
"Samuel said your neck was bruised." Gabrielle was watching me. "He said you wouldn't tell him what happened." I looked up from where Marie was inspecting the ugly blue stains, checking to see it anything had been pulled. I didn't say anything but clutched the brown paper bag in my hand a bit tighter. She sighed. "You should've just said it was Warner."
"Was it?" I asked dully.
"We're not so stupid, Jo." Arabia interjected, applying makeup to her already perfect face. "No one who works here would or could do that to you. And Harold has given us the 'do what they say' speech as well." She shuddered.
"Let's hope that Warner stays away from here." Mome scowled. "I don't trust him."
"It's the Duke I don't trust." I sneered. "Something is just plain wrong with that man!"
Gabrielle nodded and sighed. "Too bad he's rich."
"Well he's investing so keep your thoughts to yourself when you're around him." Admonished Marie with a stern glance to all. "He's going to be here a lot."
"C'mon Marie!" I said with a devious smile, pulling away. "What do you think we'll do?"
"Oh Dear Duke!" Gabrielle suddenly cried in a high, foolish voice. "I just wanted to tell you what I think of you!"
"Think!?" Paul came forward from the shadows as we all jumped at his sudden entrance. He took an old costume top hat from a rack and began a vain attempt to mimic the Duke's voice. "Women don't think! You're here so I can buy you and make you what I want!"
"Oh , but Dear Duke!" I gasped. "What about the play Spectacular, Spectacular?"
"I'm warning all of you-" Marie tried to interrupt, but we were on a roll.
"Yes! And the Bohemian ideals it upholds!" Arabia laughed.
"You think I care about that silly dogma? I just want to ogle my newest toy!" He grabbed Gabrielle by the waist with an evil grin. By this time we were all valiantly holding back our laughter and attempting to carry on with our charade.
"If you want my opinion of the Duke . . ." The voice rang quite clearly through the room with an unusual haughtiness and we froze. Paul still gripping Gabrielle's waist, Mome and Arabia guffawing, Marie shaking her head but nonetheless amused and I clasping the table for support, about to make another comment. "He's quite generous to invest so much money in the Moulin Rouge and you're all being quite ungrateful." Satine entered and everyone, with the exception of Marie, swallowed hard. "You're all going to benefit from this as well."
It struck me as odd that she was acting in such a manner and my anger rose a little though I kept my face calm.
"All of us, huh?" Snapped Gabrielle. We started, this was very unlike her. She stalked over to me and jerked me by my arm, pulling my jacket collar from my neck and pointing. Paul cursed in shock and Satine went pale. "All of us!? Did you see what your boyfriend's lapdog did to Jo?"
"It's not so bad." I said softly, pulling away from her as she glared daggers into Satine. Heck, it wasn't Satine's fault.
"Jo," Satine said apologetically. "I'm sorry, I had no idea-"
"Of course you didn't!" Gabrielle was still at it. "You're too busy telling us to be grateful while that freak is beating Jo up!"
"Gabrielle!" Cried Marie. Paul was now holding Gabrielle back by her arms. Arabia and Mome were sitting stunned.
"Hey!" I hollered. Everyone looked at me. "I'm fine! And it was my own fault, alright?" So it was a bad lie. No one was talking about me being 'beat up' for the moment. "And Satine 's right! We should be grateful and we are going to benefit from all of this." I saw Gabrielle relax.
"Sorry, Satine." She muttered. "I'm just angry right now." She turned and left, Paul gave us a backwards glance before following her. A few seconds later Arabia, Mome and Marie drifted from the room.
"I'm . . ." Satine began softly. "I'm sorry."
I shrugged. "Don't be. It's not your fault." I sighed and looked at the ceiling, studied the grains and marks in the wood. "I'm supposed to spy on you."
"Are you?" She blinked. I nodded.
"Yeah." I gazed at her dead on. "You know you're bound by contract to the Duke?"
She forced a smile. "Did Harold tell you or is the grape vine growing that fast?"
"Warner told me." I rubbed my neck. "Quite bluntly." Satine flinched and I continued. "I'm supposed to help them ensure you and everyone else is honoring that contract."
Satine smiled. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."
I let a moment pass in silence, studying my shoes. "You're being an idiot."
"Excuse me?"
"I saw you last night with Christian." I looked up, Satine had her mask.
"Oh that?" She said airily. "We were pitching the play to the Duke!"
"Afterwards." Satine was silent. "After they were all gone. I saw you." I sighed. I wanted to cry or scream or hurt someone. I didn't. "I'm not going to tell anyone."
I paused, but she said nothing. Just watched.
"You slept with Christian?"
"T-that's none of your concern, Jo."
I gave her a pained smile and pointed at the ugly mess that was my neck. "Oh." My voice wavered. "But it is. I think you slept with him. And the way you two acted in the hall, I think you're falling in love with him. And I think you'll continue to have displays like you did in the elephant."
"Jo-" She began. I held up my hand.
"I'm not going to tell. It wouldn't serve any point and it would get you, Christian and I hurt. And I'm not too eager for another time with Warner." I took a deep breath. So here's what I'll do. I'll do my best to make sure you don't get caught."
"What? Why?" Satine watched me.
"Because I think you know the risks involved. I think you know that, if the Duke finds out, the Moulin Rouge will close and many of us will never find jobs, you will have lost your chance to be a star and Christian will most likely be hurt. And if you're willing to risk all of that . . .then nothing I do or say will stop you." I smiled weakly. "Besides, you've carried the weight of this place long enough . . .if anyone deserves a break or whatever it's you." Poor rationalization, I knew it. I didn't care. The Duke would make our lives hell if he found out. And I would undoubtedly get Warner's personal attention.
"You really aren't going to tell anyone . . .are you?" Her tone was full of wonder.
"No."
* * * *
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. That thought kept ringing through my head the entire day. But what else could I do? What would be gained by loosing a talented writer and angering our investor? We'd loose our show, no customers would come and I would make no money. And . . .Samuel wouldn't be getting the work experience he needed to become a great tailor.
"So if you ruffle the taffeta like this . . ." He twisted the cloth in his hands. "It completes the effect."
"Beautiful!" I exclaimed. "But it won't help much in making those costumes for Spectacular, Spectacular, will it?"
"Nope." He sighed, dropping the material. He flashed a smile. "But it'll be a fun challenge."
"Samuel!" Marcel called gruffly, thrusting his head into the room. His expression lightened considerably when he saw me sitting with his son. "Samuel . . .I'm heading home now for dinner. Should I expect you to be in later this evening?"
"Yes, I'll be home at eleven, father." Samuel replied in his quiet way. "I want to finish the sketches for the Sitar costume."
"Have a good night, you two." Marcel left. Samuel picked up his sketchpad. I watched him a moment before returning my eyes to the newspaper I held but the text swam before me as my mind wandered. Or should I say paced because the only thing I could think of was Samuel. Samuel who wanted to open a fine tailor store. Samuel, who spoke French, English and German fluently. Samuel, who had read as many books as I. Samuel, with his quiet and serious manner and ready smile. Samuel, who asked nothing of me. Samuel who had thankfully stopped asking about the bruises.
"Your shirt is torn near the shoulder." His voice broke through my thoughts. I looked down, the material had stretched and ripped at the seam where Warner had held me.
"Oh, I didn't notice.. I'll ask Marie to-" But Samuel had already gently grasped my shoulder and was pushing the needle through the cloth.
"This will be a minute." I sat stiffly, not accustom to being touched by men beyond rough housing, and barely breathed. "Don't worry, I won't stick you."
"I trust you." He smiled, his eyes on the tear, his face scant inches from mine. It was strange to see him so close, feel the warmth of his light breathing against my shoulder along with the gentle grip of his hand. Oh Damn, I thought miserably. I'm acting like one of the girl-
"And finished." Samuel deftly cut the thread with a quick snap and knotted it. "It's hardly perfect . . ." I glanced at the tiny, precise stitches that held the sleeve, far better then I could ever hope to mend anything. "If you'd like I can take it home and do a better job." Damn pounding heart and his stupid eyes!
"I think he just wants you to take your shirt off!" I rolled my eyes and Samuel began to turn crimson as Nini stepped into the room.
"Fitting?" I asked, rising.
He stood as well and sighed. "Yes, I'll see you later, Jo."
* * * *
The next morning Christian came to speak with me. I was caught quite off-guard given the fact that, at the time, I was up in the rafters helping Jordan and Marcel aid some of the older hands with heavy lifting.
"Damn," Marcel spat. "I'm a tailor, not a stage hand!" The beam we were moving had just clattered to the floor again, barely missing his foot..
I grunted at the effort of lifting it again. "Why didn't you send up your son?"
"He's still taking measurements and he needs the practice."
"Hey Jo," Jordan grinned. "Don't you have a walk on part you'll need measurements for?"
"Go to hell, Jordan." I sneered over Marcel's laughter.
"Excuse me, I was told Jo is here?" Christian's voice echoed from behind us loudly. Marcel started cursing in earnest as the beam landed squarely on his foot. After apologizing profusely and helping us move the monstrous beam, Christian and I went for a walk to a nearby Absinthe bar. He bought the first round.
"I want to thank you for what you said to Satine." He began. I waved my hands, screwing my eyes shut as the green stuff slammed into my brain.
"Think nothing of it." I choked. Absinthe was a bitter drink and it always burned my throat. The small green bitch flew up and watched me with a dark smirk. Amused at my sudden 'weakness' I supposed. "I owe her, she got me the job anyway."
Across the small table Christian was smiling into thin air. "Perhaps," He said dreamily. "But it's nice of you anyway." The bitch was now laughing and pointing at me, I scowled. "I mean," He laughed without humor. "You could be fired." The bitch laughed harder, holding her sides. "Or hurt by Warner." She was gasping for air now. "Or the Duke could put you in jail." Tears rolling down her face. "No matter what happened, you'd never get to America with the record it's give you." Rolling on the floor with twitching wings. "They don't take thieves or the physically disabled."
"Enough!" I leapt up and slammed my hand down, glaring at Christian. "You're new to Absinthe, aren't you?" I hissed. "What is this? Your second or third glass?" He nodded dumbly while the fairy leered hungrily at him. I blinked at the ominous scene. He's too innocent . . .the thought came from nowhere. He's going to be eaten alive here . . .and it was gone, my anger returning. "Just say thank you and be done with it!" I threw my hands up. "You're going to give yourselves up like THAT!" I knocked my glass over, the few patrons in the bar openly staring as I made a scene. Christian sat sputtering as I stormed out, the fairy flying after me.
"You're a fool." She whispered, giggling, over and over as I stalked back to the Moulin Rouge. I stared up at the giant red windmill, my worst fears stirring in my soul. "You'll never get out of here." She smiled darkly. "They'll be discovered you know, and you'll never leave. You'll become one of them. But don't worry, I'll be here to keep you company. Just like I do for all the others."
I shivered in the cool air.