Peter knocked softly on Jocelyn's dressing room door.
"Come in," she said after a few seconds.
He opened the door and peaked his head inside. Jocelyn looked at him through the mirror.
"Hey Peter," she smiled.
"Hey," he replied.
She was wearing one of her own dresses. It was faded and worn and had a hole at the bottom. It was one out of the very few she had and those were also of poor quality. Another reason Jocelyn liked this job was she was able to wear beautiful things and forget that she was a poor lower-class girl.
"I'm sorry Peter but I was about to go home," she said walking over towards him.
"Can I walk you there," he offered. "The streets can be dangerous at night."
Jocelyn smiled and grabbed her tattered blue coat, "Thanks Peter but I don't live that far so you don't have to."
"I want to," Peter smiled and offered her his arm.
"If you insist," she replied.
The walked out of the Moulin Rouge silently. Every once in awhile Peter would look at her and she would look back as he turned his head quickly. Jocelyn tried not to laugh as he kept doing this. Then she noticed a small book in his pocket.
"Do you like to read?" Jocelyn asked.
Peter pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her. "Sometimes, I found this in the Moulin not too long ago in the storage room. It's a play and I started to read it because being a behind-the-scenes boy isn't that exciting," he explained.
Jocelyn examined the book and read a few lines. "What's it called?"
"I don't know, the cover's been ripped off," he said pointing to the ripped edges in the front.
They had reached the building just as the rain started to drizzle down from the cloudy sky.
"Well this is good-bye I guess," Peter said, sadly.
"Do you want to come upstairs?" Jocelyn asked quickly.
"Sure," he replied.
"Ok, follow me," she said smiling.
They walked up the stairs quietly, hoping they wouldn't disturb anyone because it was really late. Jocelyn took her key out of her pocket and opened the door to the tiny room she called her home. She turned on a light and saw Christian wasn't there.
"I guess Papa went out with Toulouse and the rest," Jocelyn said to herself. She took off her damp coat and hung it over a chair. "Let me take your coat," she said.
"No, that's ok, I should get going anyway," Peter replied still standing near the threshold.
"Please stay," Jocelyn said. "It gets really boring around here," she explained, trying to hide the eagerness in her voice. She liked Peter and wanted to get to know him more. He was the only one at the Moulin Rouge that bothered to be her friend, the others just thought of her as the new girl.
"I was hoping I would have a reason to stay," he grinned. He closed the door and took off his coat, Jocelyn hung it over hers.
"I'm sorry this place is a mess, my father is a writer and he leaves his papers everywhere," she apologized, picking up a few papers and making little piles. She realized just how messy the place was.
"It's ok, my room isn't any better," Peter laughed. "So, your father is a writer?"
"Yes, but he hasn't published anything, well not that I know of anyway. He's been working on this one story for so long but I've never read it, as a matter of a fact I don't think anyone has. He says he's waiting for the right time," she explained sitting at his desk. "So what's the book about?"
Peter picked it up and started skimming through the pages. "Well, it's about love basically. This Hindu courtesan has to seduce this evil maharaja…."
"That took over her kingdom but falls in love with a penniless sitar player," Jocelyn cut him off.
"How did you know?"
"I've heard this story about a thousand times. My father and the bohemians used it as a bedtime story when I was a little girl," she explained.
"I showed it to Harold and he said it was a play that they performed once, right before the Moulin Rouge shut down. I guess it wasn't as great as he thought it would be," Peter shrugged. "It would've done better if you were the star."
Jocelyn blushed a little, "Thanks. That's a good idea, maybe one day I can be in the play if Harold decides to try it again."
"Yeah, then we wouldn't have to depend on someone else to get that dump cleaned up," Peter said, putting down the book.
Jocelyn laughed, "Well that 'dump' is paying the bills here."
"Why don't you just leave? You shouldn't be working there, you could do a whole lot better."
"I don't know if I could leave. Monmarte is my home, I've lived here all my life and I don't know anything else," Jocelyn shrugged.
"Oh, well I'm getting out of here sooner or later," Peter replied.
"Why?"
Peter avoided her bright blue eyes and stared at the very faded rug on the floor. He hesitated a little and started fidgeting with his hands. "It's a long story," he said finally.
"Are you okay?" Jocelyn asked. She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped up and grabbed his jacket still avoiding her eyes. "I got to go," he said quietly, walking quickly to the door.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he said forcing a laugh. "I have to get back, I just remembered that Harold asked me to do something and you know how he gets when things are put off."
Jocelyn looked at him skeptically but didn't ask anymore questions. When he turned to say good-bye she put her hand on his cheek and brought his eyes to hers.
"Are you sure?" she asked one last time.
"Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow," he smiled.
"Bye Peter," she smiled back.
She watched him walk down the stairs and then walked to the window and watched him walk until he disappeared. Jocelyn wondered what she had said wrong. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang upstairs.
"Toulouse is home," she laughed to herself.
She yawned and let the wave of exhaustion that she had been holding in all day take over. She got changed and climbed into bed. Within seconds she was fast asleep.
"Toulouse!!!!" Christian shouted and banged on his door. "Open up!!"
Then he heard the bang and waited impatiently. When the door finally opened he saw his short friend with a sleepy/drunken gaze.
"What are you doing Chwistian?" Toulouse slurred.
"I saw her!" Christian said, walking inside.
"Saw who?" Toulouse asked even more confused than he was.
"The new diamond!"
"What?"
"Toulouse listen! I saw her! The new Sparkling Diamond! I was looking out the window and she was in the elephant! And she looked a lot like…." Christian trailed off.
"Like?"
"She….she l-looked like, Satine," Christian finally said.
There was silence after he said that. Toulouse looked up at his friend.
"Chwistian, she's not coming back," he said quietly.
"I know. That's not what I meant," Christian replied.
"Then why don't I believe you?"
"Come in," she said after a few seconds.
He opened the door and peaked his head inside. Jocelyn looked at him through the mirror.
"Hey Peter," she smiled.
"Hey," he replied.
She was wearing one of her own dresses. It was faded and worn and had a hole at the bottom. It was one out of the very few she had and those were also of poor quality. Another reason Jocelyn liked this job was she was able to wear beautiful things and forget that she was a poor lower-class girl.
"I'm sorry Peter but I was about to go home," she said walking over towards him.
"Can I walk you there," he offered. "The streets can be dangerous at night."
Jocelyn smiled and grabbed her tattered blue coat, "Thanks Peter but I don't live that far so you don't have to."
"I want to," Peter smiled and offered her his arm.
"If you insist," she replied.
The walked out of the Moulin Rouge silently. Every once in awhile Peter would look at her and she would look back as he turned his head quickly. Jocelyn tried not to laugh as he kept doing this. Then she noticed a small book in his pocket.
"Do you like to read?" Jocelyn asked.
Peter pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her. "Sometimes, I found this in the Moulin not too long ago in the storage room. It's a play and I started to read it because being a behind-the-scenes boy isn't that exciting," he explained.
Jocelyn examined the book and read a few lines. "What's it called?"
"I don't know, the cover's been ripped off," he said pointing to the ripped edges in the front.
They had reached the building just as the rain started to drizzle down from the cloudy sky.
"Well this is good-bye I guess," Peter said, sadly.
"Do you want to come upstairs?" Jocelyn asked quickly.
"Sure," he replied.
"Ok, follow me," she said smiling.
They walked up the stairs quietly, hoping they wouldn't disturb anyone because it was really late. Jocelyn took her key out of her pocket and opened the door to the tiny room she called her home. She turned on a light and saw Christian wasn't there.
"I guess Papa went out with Toulouse and the rest," Jocelyn said to herself. She took off her damp coat and hung it over a chair. "Let me take your coat," she said.
"No, that's ok, I should get going anyway," Peter replied still standing near the threshold.
"Please stay," Jocelyn said. "It gets really boring around here," she explained, trying to hide the eagerness in her voice. She liked Peter and wanted to get to know him more. He was the only one at the Moulin Rouge that bothered to be her friend, the others just thought of her as the new girl.
"I was hoping I would have a reason to stay," he grinned. He closed the door and took off his coat, Jocelyn hung it over hers.
"I'm sorry this place is a mess, my father is a writer and he leaves his papers everywhere," she apologized, picking up a few papers and making little piles. She realized just how messy the place was.
"It's ok, my room isn't any better," Peter laughed. "So, your father is a writer?"
"Yes, but he hasn't published anything, well not that I know of anyway. He's been working on this one story for so long but I've never read it, as a matter of a fact I don't think anyone has. He says he's waiting for the right time," she explained sitting at his desk. "So what's the book about?"
Peter picked it up and started skimming through the pages. "Well, it's about love basically. This Hindu courtesan has to seduce this evil maharaja…."
"That took over her kingdom but falls in love with a penniless sitar player," Jocelyn cut him off.
"How did you know?"
"I've heard this story about a thousand times. My father and the bohemians used it as a bedtime story when I was a little girl," she explained.
"I showed it to Harold and he said it was a play that they performed once, right before the Moulin Rouge shut down. I guess it wasn't as great as he thought it would be," Peter shrugged. "It would've done better if you were the star."
Jocelyn blushed a little, "Thanks. That's a good idea, maybe one day I can be in the play if Harold decides to try it again."
"Yeah, then we wouldn't have to depend on someone else to get that dump cleaned up," Peter said, putting down the book.
Jocelyn laughed, "Well that 'dump' is paying the bills here."
"Why don't you just leave? You shouldn't be working there, you could do a whole lot better."
"I don't know if I could leave. Monmarte is my home, I've lived here all my life and I don't know anything else," Jocelyn shrugged.
"Oh, well I'm getting out of here sooner or later," Peter replied.
"Why?"
Peter avoided her bright blue eyes and stared at the very faded rug on the floor. He hesitated a little and started fidgeting with his hands. "It's a long story," he said finally.
"Are you okay?" Jocelyn asked. She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped up and grabbed his jacket still avoiding her eyes. "I got to go," he said quietly, walking quickly to the door.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he said forcing a laugh. "I have to get back, I just remembered that Harold asked me to do something and you know how he gets when things are put off."
Jocelyn looked at him skeptically but didn't ask anymore questions. When he turned to say good-bye she put her hand on his cheek and brought his eyes to hers.
"Are you sure?" she asked one last time.
"Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow," he smiled.
"Bye Peter," she smiled back.
She watched him walk down the stairs and then walked to the window and watched him walk until he disappeared. Jocelyn wondered what she had said wrong. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang upstairs.
"Toulouse is home," she laughed to herself.
She yawned and let the wave of exhaustion that she had been holding in all day take over. She got changed and climbed into bed. Within seconds she was fast asleep.
"Toulouse!!!!" Christian shouted and banged on his door. "Open up!!"
Then he heard the bang and waited impatiently. When the door finally opened he saw his short friend with a sleepy/drunken gaze.
"What are you doing Chwistian?" Toulouse slurred.
"I saw her!" Christian said, walking inside.
"Saw who?" Toulouse asked even more confused than he was.
"The new diamond!"
"What?"
"Toulouse listen! I saw her! The new Sparkling Diamond! I was looking out the window and she was in the elephant! And she looked a lot like…." Christian trailed off.
"Like?"
"She….she l-looked like, Satine," Christian finally said.
There was silence after he said that. Toulouse looked up at his friend.
"Chwistian, she's not coming back," he said quietly.
"I know. That's not what I meant," Christian replied.
"Then why don't I believe you?"