"No experience necessary." I re-read the line for what must've been the thousandth time as I traveled along the sidewalk, just to make sure I was reading it correctly. The soft golden glow of the streetlamp provided sufficient enough light to clearly see that my eyes did not lie. Night had fallen and I had been walking all day, trying to find my way to this "Montmarte" village.
I had asked for directions a great number of times, getting disapproving looks from those that I asked, one woman even refused to tell me. "Do not go to that village of sin!" she exclaimed. "You are so young and impressionable. The creatures of the underworld will corrupt you and you will be lost forever!" I paid no heed to this woman or to any of the lot because they did not understand that this was my chance to make something of myself. Once I became a skilled dancer, I'd be the star of the Moulin Rouge and then perhaps I would be allowed to audition for the theatre, as I'd be a well-known performer.
I clutched the paper excitedly, sensing I was nearing the Moulin Rouge. The streets, shops and buildings were festive, with decorative lights and impressive artwork. People of all likes walked merrily about the street greeting random strangers as if they were long-time friends. Notes of beautiful music floated out from apartment windows and filled the streets. I had the feeling that this was Montmarte. But, it did not seem like a village of sin to me at all. Rather, it seemed quite inviting and friendly.
Now that I had reached Montmarte, I looked to the sky and searched for a clue as to where I could find the Moulin Rouge. In the corner of my eye, I noticed red bulbs of light moving in a circular motion. I turned to see that in the not-so-far-off distance was a massive windmill, brilliantly lighted up. I compared the picture on the advertisement with the actual windmill before me and was certain that that was the Moulin Rouge. Where else would there be a windmill in the middle of a town? I smiled and began to run in the direction of the windmill, following the dazzling lights and movement its sails.
I panted breathlessly as I tore through the streets; I was too excited to walk! An overwhelming feeling of joy filled me to the brim knowing how close I was to the place where my new life would begin. My eyes wide and a huge smile on my face, I skidded to a halt in front of the towering windmill.
The whole area surrounding the windmill seemed to be in celebration. It appeared as if there was a circus outside – snake charmers, magicians, and other interesting performers were to be found in the crowd amusing spectators. There were all sorts of people nearby, some flooding into the Moulin Rouge, some enjoying the entertainment outside.
I, however, knew that my business was inside. I had to find Harold Zidler and tell him I was his future star can-can dancer. I watched as many of the entertainers as I could on my way to the doors, absorbing the crazy, fantastic scene. A man in a clean, black suit guarded the entrance. I worried for a moment that he might not let me pass if I looked too young. I smiled sweetly as I approached the door and he smiled in return, nodding at me. He seemed to be permitting me to enter, so I strolled inside.
Music blared from every direction. Glitter drifted around in the hot, heavy air. Dancers kicked their legs high, revealing their under garments. Elderly and young men alike dressed in elegant tuxedos watched the dancers eagerly, some dancing with them. It was a completely different world from that of the outside.
Taken aback by the madness of it all, I was unsure of what to do. I didn't know what I had expected it to be like, but I certainly would have never imagined it to be like this. I stood still and could do nothing but observe the insanity. I decided to think this over before I made any decisions. I turned around to leave when a large, cheerful-looking man with heavy make-up and a tall top hat dashed in front of me. He grabbed my hand and shook it with enthusiasm.
"Welcome to the Moulin Rouge!" he cried spiritedly. "I am Harold Zidler," he introduced himself, leaning close to my face. His breath reeked of liquor.
"Pleased to meet you," I stammered. He seemed friendly enough, but something about him frightened me.
"What is it you're looking for, my dear?"
Remembering why I had come, I retrieved my advertisement from my pocket and held it up to show him.
"I wanted to ask about becoming a can-can dancer."
"Oh, I see," said Zidler, appearing pleased. "Won't you come into my office?"
Zidler lead me around back to where his "office" was. I stepped into the tiny room, expecting it to appear similar to the man's office back at the theatre, a mess of papers and important scripts. Zidler's office was not this way at all. It was painted a warm red color with all sorts of oddities and decorations scattered around the room. Zidler seated himself in a colorful, beautifully designed chair. He motioned me to sit in the simpler chair on the other side.
"Now, what is your name?"
"Satine," I responded timidly.
"That's a pretty name," he said, lighting a cigar and puffing on it. "So, you want to be a can-can dancer, eh?"
"Well . . . " Recalling the crazy scene I had witnessed when I first walked in, I wasn't so sure about this. Sensing my doubtfulness, he did not wait for a response and continued.
"A girl as pretty as you would make a wonderful addition to our happy little family," Zidler complimented.
"Thank you, sir. But, I think I was mistaken . . . I thought there was a show put on here."
"My little strawberry, the show goes on all night," he laughed. He watched me, expecting me to join in the laughter. After a few moments of my silence, he sensed my disappointment.
"Not what you were expecting to find?"
"It's just that . . . I want to be an actress," I admitted seriously. "I suppose I was hoping I could get a chance to dance or sing for an audience so I could get experience onstage."
"Well . . . " he hesitated, "we had a show like that."
"You did?" I asked eagerly.
"Yes . . . " he spoke softly, seeming saddened. "We don't anymore."
Curious, I prodded a little further. "Why not?"
"There was a dancer . . . " Zidler explained slowly. He seemed to slip into a daze. "Not just any ordinary dancer. Around here she was called the Sparkling Diamond." Zidler spoke in a depressing, bittersweet tone as he continued to unfold his story. "She was so beautiful and talented, and such a sweet girl," Zidler remembered affectionately. "But she . . . " at this he faltered and brought his cigar to his mouth. As he breathed out the hot smoke, the concluding words escaped his lips, "She left us."
I'd realized I was leaning forward, hanging on to his every word. I immediately sat back, questions racing in my mind.
"Why did she leave, Mr. Zidler?"
He seemed surprised at the sound of my voice - I think for a moment he had forgotten anyone else was in the room.
"I suppose she decided that she just didn't want to work here anymore. Her heart was never in it, anyway."
I said nothing, though I wanted to ask many more things – What was her name? Where did she go? What became of her? – but out of politeness, I sat quietly and thought it appropriate for him to direct the conversation as he wished.
"Perhaps it's time I bring back the show," he proposed, returning to the present time. Zidler moved his gaze back up to mine and studied my face carefully. "Can you sing?"
"Yes - I mean - I think so."
"How would you like to be my new Sparkling Diamond?"
"Me?!" I burst, in shock.
"Yes, you." Zidler chuckled, putting out his cigar.
"But, there are already so many other talented dancers . . . " I pointed out, still in confusion over why he would want me to be the Sparkling Diamond.
"The other dancers are beautiful, but they don't have that special look that a Sparkling Diamond must have. You have natural beauty, and with a strong voice you could capture the attention of the whole room."
I blushed beet red and shyly tried to hide my face. "Thank you, Mr. Zidler."
"Call me Harold, my dear. Now, how about it? Will you be the next Sparkling Diamond?"
I was overjoyed and could not contain my excitement any longer. My dreams were going to come true! Despite my best efforts, I blurted out, "When can I start?"
Zidler chuckled at my outburst. "Tonight?"
Though this appealed to me, there was a complication. "But, I don't have a costume."
"Don't worry about that. Follow me, strawberry." Zidler left the office with me following not far behind. He led me back out into the main dance hall, where I had first come in. Not much had changed during my absence - everything was still chaotic as it was before. After a few moments, Zidler leaned close and spoke to me in a discreet manner, the cigar smoke still evident on his breath.
"See that man over there?" he indicated, nodding in a specific direction. "That's Sir Gautier." Zidler paused, waiting for some sort of reply from me.
"Er - alright . . . "
"He's been looking for a lovely girl to . . . accompany him tonight."
"Accompany him?"
"You know what I mean, don't you?" Zidler turned to look me in the eye.
"I'm not sure I do."
"Sir Gautier has requested to spend the night with a can-can girl in return for his pay. I think he would be most pleased if you were to service him."
I was stunned at such a suggestion. "What?! Never!"
"Dear girl, Sir Gautier is a rich man. You would be paid a great sum and receive half, which is most generous considering the Moulin Rouge attracts such wealthy men."
"I don't want his money! I thought I was going to be in the show, not become a whore." I began to become distraught and could not believe what Zidler was expecting me to do.
"Don't you understand what the Moulin Rouge is, Satine? Did you not read the advertisement?"
Suddenly, everything fell into place. I now precisely understood what the advertisement meant. I could be a can-can dancer, but I also was to sell my love to men. I would become a creature of the underworld – plainly put, an expensive prostitute.
I had traveled all this way only to find that my one chance at becoming closer to getting any sort of experience without having to pay for a costly acting school required that I sell myself to men. I felt dirty – Zidler actually thought I came here knowing I would be required to do such vile things. I was so disgusted with this place, Zidler, myself . . . I needed to leave the Moulin Rouge before I broke down in tears. I stormed away from Zidler and headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Zidler called after me.
"I'm not staying in this sinful place another moment!" I shouted angrily. Tears began to well up in my eyes.
"Satine! Don't go . . . Satine!" Zidler's calls faded out as I rushed out of the doors. I tried to hide my tear-stained face as I pushed to get through the crowd that was still outside the Moulin Rouge. Everything and everyone took on a whole different light. Whereas before it all seemed pleasant and comical, now just seemed immoral and evil.
I ran until I was as far away from the Moulin Rouge as my legs could carry me and stopped in front of an empty, dark alleyway. I sat down on the filthy cement and wept, broken-hearted. I pulled that despicable thing which had brought me here out of my pocket – the advertisement. I looked upon it with such hatred and resentment. It was then that I whispered a vow to myself: "I'll never let myself get mixed up with such awful things." I crumpled it up into a ball and hurled it to the other side of the alley. I buried my head in my arms and wept without restraint into my jacket, whimpering and sniffling loudly.
The impact of all my misfortunes was now beginning to seem much worse. Not only did I not have a job, but my newfound dream to be an actress seemed nearly impossible to achieve. I didn't care if the Moulin Rouge helped my career, I would never take part in such filthy doings. As crushed as I was, I knew I'd just have to find some other job until I had everything figured out. It probably wouldn't be a very good one, but I needed more money if I was going to make it on my own in Montmarte.
On the thought of making it on my own, it suddenly struck me that I had nowhere to sleep. I had taken the money that my uncle and I had saved up, but it wasn't much. I was so sure everything would work out that I would be able to buy a new apartment with this money and make new money at the Moulin Rouge. Now I wasn't sure if I should spend the little money I owned on an apartment when I needed to buy food until I found a new job – God knows how long that would take! It wasn't very cold at the present time, so perhaps the alley would just have to service as a place to sleep, but I couldn't sleep on the streets for long. Fall was nearly over and Winter was fast on it's way. I began to think it would've been wiser to stay in the apartment until the police had me removed – at least then I would've had a place to sleep.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I heard a very loud voice call, "Mademoiselle?" I jerked my head up in surprise to see the owner of the voice was a tall, dark figure standing in the darkness.
FROM BEETLE: Please review. :o)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Moulin Rouge or it's characters.