Satine fell asleep early in the morning. Harold Zidler came in at about
7:00 and saw curled up in blankets, a soft smile on her flawless face, with
a small curl of red hair over her cheek.
"She's perfect," he whispered to himself.
"Leave her be, Harold."
Harold looked up sharply and saw Marie, her dress crumpled, rising from a chair in the corner.
"She was wonderful tonight. . . did you hear that crowd?"
"She's not like the rest of your can-can whores. She's. . . real."
"And wonderful. I'm going to make her a star." Marie opened her mouth to speak more, but Harold quickly said softly, "And if you don't want to be living on the streets, you' think so, too."
Satine made a low sound in her sleep and turned over, rubbing her eyes. "Mmm. . . what are you two talking about?" she asked groggily.
Marie looked down at her feet as Harold sat on the edge of her bed. "We were just discussing. . . a permanent job for you here." Satine's eyes sparkled like diamonds as she smiled.
"Really?" she asked, rising form the pillow.
"You'll be my star."
"Only if you want this," Marie said, sitting down and taking her hand. "It's not to late to leave. . . you can start your life anywhere in the world. You're not obligated to stay here."
"I haven't even been here a whole day. . . but I love it. When I was on that stage. . ." Satine smiled. "It was like magic. I can't abandon something I love."
Zidler clapped his hands together. "You hear that, Marie? My little strawberry is going to be staying with us!"
Marie sank away, with a sick expression on her face. "Yeah. . ." she said weakly. "So I heard."
"It's like I always say. . ." He jumped up and flicked on the light. Satine squinted for a moment, and slowly opened her eyes.
"There's no business like show business like no business I know!" Harold sang, doing a little jig in the cramped room. "Everything about it is appealing, everything that traffic will allow. Nowhere could you get that happy feeling when you are stealing that extra bow." He paused a moment and sat down next to her again. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Even with a turkey that you know will fold, you may be stranded out in the cold. Still you wouldn't change it for a sack of gold, let's go on with the show."
Satine laughed as he jumped up on the bed and danced around some more. "There's no business like show business and I tell you it's so. Traveling through the country is so thrilling, standing out in front on opening nights." He gave her his hands and she took them, standing up. He gestured to the distance. "Smiling as you watch the theater filling, and there's your billing out there in lights."
He kissed her cheek, grinning and jumping down from the bed. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack, and when you lose it, there's no attack. Where could you get money that you don't give back?" He opened the door and they tangoed down the hall. "Let's go on with the show!"
"Here," Harold said, giving her a sheet of paper.
"What's. . . this?" she asked, looking the words over.
"Your contract. Just sign at the bottom line on the fifth page."
She scanned through the first page, squinting her eyebrows in confusion.
Harold was getting nervous. "All it says that you will work here for a minimum of five years."
"Isn't it a waist of paper for all that?" she asked, flipping to the next page.
Harold snatched up the contract from her fingers. "Well I'm sorry, I thought you were interested to be a star." He started to walk away.
"Wait!" Satine said, touching his shoulder and turning him around. "I am serious. . . I want to do this."
Harold flipped to the fifth page, where there was nothing but a thin black line. "Your name, mademoiselle."
She took in a deep breath and took his pen and wrote 'Satine' on the line. Something dropped in her stomach, and she strained to smile at him as he caught her in his arms. "I know you'll love it here. . ."
"Me too," she managed from his tight embrace.
"Come, lets go rehearse with the other girls. . . I shut the Rouge down for a week just for you, pumpkin. To get your routine incorporated."
"How very kind of you," she said as he led her closer to the stage. Her smile was harder to keep as they approached it.
"Oh, and before I forget. . . here." He handed her another piece of paper. "This is the song you'll be singing."
"You got me my song so fast?" taking the paper.
"It was the song our old star sang."
"Who was that?"
"Oh, you probably don't know her yet. . . Nini."
Satine froze in her tracks as they reached the stage. She noticed Nini's icy glare as she stepped onto the oak floor.
"But don't worry, there aren't any hard feelings," Harold said, patting her on the back. "She heard your voice and was more than willing to give you her position."
"How very kind of her," Satine said, moving her eyes from Nini and looked over the words on the paper. She scowled. " 'The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money.' Harold. what is this?"
"Your song!"
"But. . . 'give me money'? I thought I was up there to just. . . sing."
"You ARE singing! We just have. . . a reputation to keep."
"But I just. . . I can't. . . What are they gonna do, just throw it on the stage?"
"As you dance across it." He bit his thumb. "Maybe we can incorporate you in the audience. . ."
He scribbled ideas quickly into a notebook as Satine flopped down at the edge of the stage, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
"Ok, Satine, sing the song."
Satine folded the paper in her hands. "Harold, I. . ."
"Ah, can princess not do it?" someone said, laughing. Satine glanced back and saw Nini, snickering with a few of her friends.
Harold gave her a look that could kill and she was silent. "Darling. . . you signed the contract." He brought it out from a pocket in his coat. "Article 12 - to summaries, it says that you must do whatever the director, which is me, says. Including. . ." he looked at the paper and read it off, 'songs, choreography, lifestyles, etc.' " He put the paper down. "It ALSO says, that if you don't comply with the contract, the director, which is yet again me, may set punishment accordingly. You signed it. . . now, sing."
Satine was about to scream. He made her sign a contract to those kind of terms?! She took in a deep breath. . . he was right. She had no where else to go. . .
"The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money. That's what I want."
Nini and the rest chimed in, their arms across their chests, "That's what I want, yeah."
Satine sighed again. "Your lovin' gives me a thrill, but your lovin' don't pay my bills. Give me money. That's what I want."
"That's what I want, yeah. That's what I want."
"Money don't get everything, its true. But what it don't get I can't use. Give me money. Lots of money!"
She felt hollow as she sang the words that Harold was so excited over. The other dancers shunned her, whispered about her behind their hands, headed by Nini.
'Yes, how kind it was of her to give up her job for me,' Satine thought.
The week went by slowly, working from dawn 'til dusk on the one dance/musical number. Harold said it would be better if she was only in one, to make the men begging for more the next night.
Early on the morning of the performance, she found herself awaken by a greater force and before she realized it, she was standing in the outside garden, and she hugged her thin shawl around her.
"So. . . this is it," she whispered. The snow had melted for the time being, and her feet sank into the frosted ground. She looked at the blackness that surrounded her and tried to smile, but for some reason all that came out were tears. She wiped them away swiftly. "What's wrong with you, Satine?"
She sighed as she sat on the stone bench and rested her chin in her hands. " 'There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. . .' " she whispered, straining a smile.
All was still around her, all was dark except for the pale shadow of the moon. She looked in to it's round, chubby face and it was easier to keep her smile.
"Lying idle in my room," she sang softly, "telling my thoughts to the moon. Why do I always feel so unimportant? To other egos my mind clings and inside these voices ring that I'm just a carbon copy of everyone else."
She sighed and looked at her feet. Doctor's had checked her over and found no bump, no scratch. . . no accident caused her amnesia. Would she ever know who she was? "And now I'm searching out my own identity. Something down inside telling me that I'm like no one else but me. But as of yet I still don't know who is this girl that I am and for her life what does she have to show?" She lifted her head and looked at the moon once more and whispered, "Who am I? What am I for?"
She was silent for a moment, waiting on it's answer. She laughed and shook her head as the wind blew through her cherry hair. "I wait for answers from the sky, the only audience I find. But no comfort finds my ears, just silent mocking. And I know I was created but I just can't figure out why."
She reached down and picked up a flower, killed by the frost. "Come from dust and return to dust. . ." She threw it down. "I don't want to feel that useless. I want to see something in me that is unique. I just want to know. . ." She rose from the bench, letting her shawl fall to the ground. She reached her hands up, trying to grasp the moon. "Who am I?" she cried.
"You're beautiful," a voice said, softly.
Satine jumped and reached around for her shawl - she was only wearing a thin nightgown - but the person had it in his hands.
She wrapped her arms around her body tightly. "I. . . didn't know anyone was out here."
She saw his face in the moonlight. . . he was handsome. Blonde hair and light skin. He wore a tuxedo with a black tie and white silk gloves stuck out in his pocket. "I was just. . . passing by. . . and I heard the most beautiful voice. . ."
Satine blushed and smiled. "Thank you," she said through chattered teeth.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. . ." he took a few steps closer to her and draped the shawl around her, leaving his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his warm breaths on her face. "Is that better?" he whispered, and she saw that he had green eyes.
"Yes," she said softly, biting her lower lip.
"Would it be bold of me, if I kissed you right now?" he asked.
Satine laughed. "Yes, it would."
"I thought so," he said, dejected, stepping back.
"So what's your name?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm afraid I forgot all my manors today. Looking at you just. . . takes my breath away." Satine blushed. "I'm Lord Jerome." Satine looked amazed. He was a lord! "My. . . my father is a Viscount."
Jerome laughed at her shocked expression. "So do you come to the Moulin Rouge often, Mademoiselle. . ."
"Satine," she said, extending her hand to him. "I work here."
The man smiled slightly as he kissed her hand. "So you're the one."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The one Zidler shut this place down for. I've heard about you. . . they say you've got the voice and face like an angel. They were right, too. . ."
She felt her cheeks burn. "Perhaps they were. . . I'm performing tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
He touched her cheek. "I'll be there, I promise. And I always keep my promises."
Satine giggled a bit. "I better go in, they don't know where I am."
"Well, then. . . tonight."
She nodded. "Tonight."
As she turned around, she tried to hide her smile by biting her lip, but it was too late. There was a wide grin on her face and she didn't care if it stayed. There was something about Jerome. . . handsome, sweet Jerome. And rich, too! She'd only met him, but. . .
She laughed to herself. 'No, of course I'm not in love. You can't love someone you just met. . .'
She froze in her tracks, inside the lobby of the Moulin Rouge. "I can't fall in love at all," she said sadly. "Harold would never allow it."
"Did you say my name?"
Satine looked up to see Harold and she looked away.
"No, I didn't," she whispered.
"How is my little star today?" he asked, pinching her cheeks.
She grimaced. "A bit nervous."
"Everyone is their first time." He beamed. "I have a surprise for you. . ."
"What is it?"
He put his arm around her shoulders and led her outside. The sun was quickly rising over the horizon, turning the land outside the gates pink, but for some reason inside the gates of the Moulin Rouge, it still looked dark, so dark. . .
"Do you see that?" he said, pointing to the giant elephant on the lawn.
"Of course I can. Anyone with eyes can see that."
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "It's yours."
Satine's eyes became wide. "Wh-What? But. . ."
"We've been building a room in there for you while you've been practicing hard." He said, taking her by the hand and leading her to a small door on one of the back legs of the elephant. "I'll think you'll love it, too. . . much better than sharing a room with Marie for the rest of your life."
He led her up the winding stairs and pushed open the golden door, and Satine gasped. "It's. . . beautiful, Harold." She hugged him quickly and wondered around the room. She ran her fingers over the silk sheets of the large red bed and sat down. All around the room were beads, perfumes, painting, sculptures, jewelery. . .
"I love it," she whispered.
"It's fit for a star. . . my star." He walked over and took her hands. "You will be incredible tonight!" He got a far away look in his eyes, and she could almost swear she saw dollar signs in them.
"Well, I should better let you get settled in to your new room." He smiled slightly and left.
Satine flopped onto the bed. Yes, it was beautiful. . . everything was so exotic, expensive, flashy. . . none of it seemed real.
"A chair is still a chair, even when no one is not sitting there," she whispered. "But a chair is not a house. A house is not a home when there's no one there to hold you tight and no one there you can kiss goodnight."
She scoffed angrily at herself and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "You idiot. . . why do you care so much about a home? Or love? You have all you need. . . a place to sleep, food to eat, cloths to keep warm. . . why do you want things that are pointless?" she wondered out loud. But she couldn't convince herself, and she climbed under the covers in her bed and slept.
"Satine. . . Satine, wake up," Marie's voice called to her.
Satine slowly opened her eyes and moaned. "Mmm, what time is it?"
"Nine. We need to get you ready for tonight."
Her eyes became wide. "Tonight!" She jumped out of bed.
Marie laughed. "You're not that late."
"But. . . it's my big night! I have to be ready!"
"Well, you've been asleep all day. . . have a little something to eat. I brought up something, so sit down."
Satine looked around and found a small table and a golden chair and sat in it, while Marie handed her a small plate of croissants and strawberry jam. "Tea?" she asked.
"Yes, please," she said, buttering her croissant.
"Well, someone must have taught you manors. . ."
Satine smiled sadly. "Someone," she whispered.
Marie poured hot tea into a cup. "You know, even if you don't know your past, it doesn't mean you can't have a future. And I know what Harold said about never falling in love. . ."
"Have you?" Satine asked, lifting her head from her tea cup. "Ever been in love, I mean?"
Marie smiled and sat down on the bed. "Once upon a time."
"What was it like?"
"It was like. . . nothing I ever felt before."
"Who was it? Did he. . . die?"
Marie sighed. "Oh. . . in some ways, yes. But you know him."
Satine thought for a moment, and then set her cup down in surprise. "Harold?!"
Marie nodded. "Yes, Harold Zidler."
"Well. . . what happened?" She took a bite of her croissant.
"Well, I was like you once, if you can believe it. I was the star here when Harold's father owned this place." She closed her eyes. "I fell in love with him at first sight. . . and that was it for me. But. . . then his father died," she opened her eyes again, and they held a hint of sadness, "and Harold took over and he. . . loved something else more."
"What?"
"Money, doll," she whispered. "He fell in love with money and is the person you see today."
"Do you still love him?"
"Yes, but Harold. . . is lost, drowning in some sea of greed somewhere." She closed her eyes again and smiled. "But I still remember the nights he held my hand, and told me I was beautiful. . . and that's the love I'll keep forever." She sighed. "That's all love really is, memories. . . in the present, future, or past."
Satine forced a smile at her through tears. "Marie, I-"
Someone knocked on the door and Harold stepped through the door. "It's time," he said to them, turning to his star. "Are you ready? They're all expecting you."
Satine nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Yes. . . yes," she breathed.
-----------------------------------------
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.
A/N: Thanks so much everyone for all the help I've been getting on the song idea's. This didn't take too long. Her performance will be later. . .I think there's enough in here to soak up. Hehe, stay tuned my peeps!
Songs used: 'There's no business like show business' by Frank Sinatra, 'Money' by Josie and the Pussycats(sorry, don't know who originally did it), 'Who Am I?' by Craig's Brother, 'A House Is Not A Home' by Michael Ball
"She's perfect," he whispered to himself.
"Leave her be, Harold."
Harold looked up sharply and saw Marie, her dress crumpled, rising from a chair in the corner.
"She was wonderful tonight. . . did you hear that crowd?"
"She's not like the rest of your can-can whores. She's. . . real."
"And wonderful. I'm going to make her a star." Marie opened her mouth to speak more, but Harold quickly said softly, "And if you don't want to be living on the streets, you' think so, too."
Satine made a low sound in her sleep and turned over, rubbing her eyes. "Mmm. . . what are you two talking about?" she asked groggily.
Marie looked down at her feet as Harold sat on the edge of her bed. "We were just discussing. . . a permanent job for you here." Satine's eyes sparkled like diamonds as she smiled.
"Really?" she asked, rising form the pillow.
"You'll be my star."
"Only if you want this," Marie said, sitting down and taking her hand. "It's not to late to leave. . . you can start your life anywhere in the world. You're not obligated to stay here."
"I haven't even been here a whole day. . . but I love it. When I was on that stage. . ." Satine smiled. "It was like magic. I can't abandon something I love."
Zidler clapped his hands together. "You hear that, Marie? My little strawberry is going to be staying with us!"
Marie sank away, with a sick expression on her face. "Yeah. . ." she said weakly. "So I heard."
"It's like I always say. . ." He jumped up and flicked on the light. Satine squinted for a moment, and slowly opened her eyes.
"There's no business like show business like no business I know!" Harold sang, doing a little jig in the cramped room. "Everything about it is appealing, everything that traffic will allow. Nowhere could you get that happy feeling when you are stealing that extra bow." He paused a moment and sat down next to her again. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Even with a turkey that you know will fold, you may be stranded out in the cold. Still you wouldn't change it for a sack of gold, let's go on with the show."
Satine laughed as he jumped up on the bed and danced around some more. "There's no business like show business and I tell you it's so. Traveling through the country is so thrilling, standing out in front on opening nights." He gave her his hands and she took them, standing up. He gestured to the distance. "Smiling as you watch the theater filling, and there's your billing out there in lights."
He kissed her cheek, grinning and jumping down from the bed. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack, and when you lose it, there's no attack. Where could you get money that you don't give back?" He opened the door and they tangoed down the hall. "Let's go on with the show!"
"Here," Harold said, giving her a sheet of paper.
"What's. . . this?" she asked, looking the words over.
"Your contract. Just sign at the bottom line on the fifth page."
She scanned through the first page, squinting her eyebrows in confusion.
Harold was getting nervous. "All it says that you will work here for a minimum of five years."
"Isn't it a waist of paper for all that?" she asked, flipping to the next page.
Harold snatched up the contract from her fingers. "Well I'm sorry, I thought you were interested to be a star." He started to walk away.
"Wait!" Satine said, touching his shoulder and turning him around. "I am serious. . . I want to do this."
Harold flipped to the fifth page, where there was nothing but a thin black line. "Your name, mademoiselle."
She took in a deep breath and took his pen and wrote 'Satine' on the line. Something dropped in her stomach, and she strained to smile at him as he caught her in his arms. "I know you'll love it here. . ."
"Me too," she managed from his tight embrace.
"Come, lets go rehearse with the other girls. . . I shut the Rouge down for a week just for you, pumpkin. To get your routine incorporated."
"How very kind of you," she said as he led her closer to the stage. Her smile was harder to keep as they approached it.
"Oh, and before I forget. . . here." He handed her another piece of paper. "This is the song you'll be singing."
"You got me my song so fast?" taking the paper.
"It was the song our old star sang."
"Who was that?"
"Oh, you probably don't know her yet. . . Nini."
Satine froze in her tracks as they reached the stage. She noticed Nini's icy glare as she stepped onto the oak floor.
"But don't worry, there aren't any hard feelings," Harold said, patting her on the back. "She heard your voice and was more than willing to give you her position."
"How very kind of her," Satine said, moving her eyes from Nini and looked over the words on the paper. She scowled. " 'The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money.' Harold. what is this?"
"Your song!"
"But. . . 'give me money'? I thought I was up there to just. . . sing."
"You ARE singing! We just have. . . a reputation to keep."
"But I just. . . I can't. . . What are they gonna do, just throw it on the stage?"
"As you dance across it." He bit his thumb. "Maybe we can incorporate you in the audience. . ."
He scribbled ideas quickly into a notebook as Satine flopped down at the edge of the stage, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
"Ok, Satine, sing the song."
Satine folded the paper in her hands. "Harold, I. . ."
"Ah, can princess not do it?" someone said, laughing. Satine glanced back and saw Nini, snickering with a few of her friends.
Harold gave her a look that could kill and she was silent. "Darling. . . you signed the contract." He brought it out from a pocket in his coat. "Article 12 - to summaries, it says that you must do whatever the director, which is me, says. Including. . ." he looked at the paper and read it off, 'songs, choreography, lifestyles, etc.' " He put the paper down. "It ALSO says, that if you don't comply with the contract, the director, which is yet again me, may set punishment accordingly. You signed it. . . now, sing."
Satine was about to scream. He made her sign a contract to those kind of terms?! She took in a deep breath. . . he was right. She had no where else to go. . .
"The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money. That's what I want."
Nini and the rest chimed in, their arms across their chests, "That's what I want, yeah."
Satine sighed again. "Your lovin' gives me a thrill, but your lovin' don't pay my bills. Give me money. That's what I want."
"That's what I want, yeah. That's what I want."
"Money don't get everything, its true. But what it don't get I can't use. Give me money. Lots of money!"
She felt hollow as she sang the words that Harold was so excited over. The other dancers shunned her, whispered about her behind their hands, headed by Nini.
'Yes, how kind it was of her to give up her job for me,' Satine thought.
The week went by slowly, working from dawn 'til dusk on the one dance/musical number. Harold said it would be better if she was only in one, to make the men begging for more the next night.
Early on the morning of the performance, she found herself awaken by a greater force and before she realized it, she was standing in the outside garden, and she hugged her thin shawl around her.
"So. . . this is it," she whispered. The snow had melted for the time being, and her feet sank into the frosted ground. She looked at the blackness that surrounded her and tried to smile, but for some reason all that came out were tears. She wiped them away swiftly. "What's wrong with you, Satine?"
She sighed as she sat on the stone bench and rested her chin in her hands. " 'There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. . .' " she whispered, straining a smile.
All was still around her, all was dark except for the pale shadow of the moon. She looked in to it's round, chubby face and it was easier to keep her smile.
"Lying idle in my room," she sang softly, "telling my thoughts to the moon. Why do I always feel so unimportant? To other egos my mind clings and inside these voices ring that I'm just a carbon copy of everyone else."
She sighed and looked at her feet. Doctor's had checked her over and found no bump, no scratch. . . no accident caused her amnesia. Would she ever know who she was? "And now I'm searching out my own identity. Something down inside telling me that I'm like no one else but me. But as of yet I still don't know who is this girl that I am and for her life what does she have to show?" She lifted her head and looked at the moon once more and whispered, "Who am I? What am I for?"
She was silent for a moment, waiting on it's answer. She laughed and shook her head as the wind blew through her cherry hair. "I wait for answers from the sky, the only audience I find. But no comfort finds my ears, just silent mocking. And I know I was created but I just can't figure out why."
She reached down and picked up a flower, killed by the frost. "Come from dust and return to dust. . ." She threw it down. "I don't want to feel that useless. I want to see something in me that is unique. I just want to know. . ." She rose from the bench, letting her shawl fall to the ground. She reached her hands up, trying to grasp the moon. "Who am I?" she cried.
"You're beautiful," a voice said, softly.
Satine jumped and reached around for her shawl - she was only wearing a thin nightgown - but the person had it in his hands.
She wrapped her arms around her body tightly. "I. . . didn't know anyone was out here."
She saw his face in the moonlight. . . he was handsome. Blonde hair and light skin. He wore a tuxedo with a black tie and white silk gloves stuck out in his pocket. "I was just. . . passing by. . . and I heard the most beautiful voice. . ."
Satine blushed and smiled. "Thank you," she said through chattered teeth.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. . ." he took a few steps closer to her and draped the shawl around her, leaving his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his warm breaths on her face. "Is that better?" he whispered, and she saw that he had green eyes.
"Yes," she said softly, biting her lower lip.
"Would it be bold of me, if I kissed you right now?" he asked.
Satine laughed. "Yes, it would."
"I thought so," he said, dejected, stepping back.
"So what's your name?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm afraid I forgot all my manors today. Looking at you just. . . takes my breath away." Satine blushed. "I'm Lord Jerome." Satine looked amazed. He was a lord! "My. . . my father is a Viscount."
Jerome laughed at her shocked expression. "So do you come to the Moulin Rouge often, Mademoiselle. . ."
"Satine," she said, extending her hand to him. "I work here."
The man smiled slightly as he kissed her hand. "So you're the one."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The one Zidler shut this place down for. I've heard about you. . . they say you've got the voice and face like an angel. They were right, too. . ."
She felt her cheeks burn. "Perhaps they were. . . I'm performing tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
He touched her cheek. "I'll be there, I promise. And I always keep my promises."
Satine giggled a bit. "I better go in, they don't know where I am."
"Well, then. . . tonight."
She nodded. "Tonight."
As she turned around, she tried to hide her smile by biting her lip, but it was too late. There was a wide grin on her face and she didn't care if it stayed. There was something about Jerome. . . handsome, sweet Jerome. And rich, too! She'd only met him, but. . .
She laughed to herself. 'No, of course I'm not in love. You can't love someone you just met. . .'
She froze in her tracks, inside the lobby of the Moulin Rouge. "I can't fall in love at all," she said sadly. "Harold would never allow it."
"Did you say my name?"
Satine looked up to see Harold and she looked away.
"No, I didn't," she whispered.
"How is my little star today?" he asked, pinching her cheeks.
She grimaced. "A bit nervous."
"Everyone is their first time." He beamed. "I have a surprise for you. . ."
"What is it?"
He put his arm around her shoulders and led her outside. The sun was quickly rising over the horizon, turning the land outside the gates pink, but for some reason inside the gates of the Moulin Rouge, it still looked dark, so dark. . .
"Do you see that?" he said, pointing to the giant elephant on the lawn.
"Of course I can. Anyone with eyes can see that."
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "It's yours."
Satine's eyes became wide. "Wh-What? But. . ."
"We've been building a room in there for you while you've been practicing hard." He said, taking her by the hand and leading her to a small door on one of the back legs of the elephant. "I'll think you'll love it, too. . . much better than sharing a room with Marie for the rest of your life."
He led her up the winding stairs and pushed open the golden door, and Satine gasped. "It's. . . beautiful, Harold." She hugged him quickly and wondered around the room. She ran her fingers over the silk sheets of the large red bed and sat down. All around the room were beads, perfumes, painting, sculptures, jewelery. . .
"I love it," she whispered.
"It's fit for a star. . . my star." He walked over and took her hands. "You will be incredible tonight!" He got a far away look in his eyes, and she could almost swear she saw dollar signs in them.
"Well, I should better let you get settled in to your new room." He smiled slightly and left.
Satine flopped onto the bed. Yes, it was beautiful. . . everything was so exotic, expensive, flashy. . . none of it seemed real.
"A chair is still a chair, even when no one is not sitting there," she whispered. "But a chair is not a house. A house is not a home when there's no one there to hold you tight and no one there you can kiss goodnight."
She scoffed angrily at herself and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "You idiot. . . why do you care so much about a home? Or love? You have all you need. . . a place to sleep, food to eat, cloths to keep warm. . . why do you want things that are pointless?" she wondered out loud. But she couldn't convince herself, and she climbed under the covers in her bed and slept.
"Satine. . . Satine, wake up," Marie's voice called to her.
Satine slowly opened her eyes and moaned. "Mmm, what time is it?"
"Nine. We need to get you ready for tonight."
Her eyes became wide. "Tonight!" She jumped out of bed.
Marie laughed. "You're not that late."
"But. . . it's my big night! I have to be ready!"
"Well, you've been asleep all day. . . have a little something to eat. I brought up something, so sit down."
Satine looked around and found a small table and a golden chair and sat in it, while Marie handed her a small plate of croissants and strawberry jam. "Tea?" she asked.
"Yes, please," she said, buttering her croissant.
"Well, someone must have taught you manors. . ."
Satine smiled sadly. "Someone," she whispered.
Marie poured hot tea into a cup. "You know, even if you don't know your past, it doesn't mean you can't have a future. And I know what Harold said about never falling in love. . ."
"Have you?" Satine asked, lifting her head from her tea cup. "Ever been in love, I mean?"
Marie smiled and sat down on the bed. "Once upon a time."
"What was it like?"
"It was like. . . nothing I ever felt before."
"Who was it? Did he. . . die?"
Marie sighed. "Oh. . . in some ways, yes. But you know him."
Satine thought for a moment, and then set her cup down in surprise. "Harold?!"
Marie nodded. "Yes, Harold Zidler."
"Well. . . what happened?" She took a bite of her croissant.
"Well, I was like you once, if you can believe it. I was the star here when Harold's father owned this place." She closed her eyes. "I fell in love with him at first sight. . . and that was it for me. But. . . then his father died," she opened her eyes again, and they held a hint of sadness, "and Harold took over and he. . . loved something else more."
"What?"
"Money, doll," she whispered. "He fell in love with money and is the person you see today."
"Do you still love him?"
"Yes, but Harold. . . is lost, drowning in some sea of greed somewhere." She closed her eyes again and smiled. "But I still remember the nights he held my hand, and told me I was beautiful. . . and that's the love I'll keep forever." She sighed. "That's all love really is, memories. . . in the present, future, or past."
Satine forced a smile at her through tears. "Marie, I-"
Someone knocked on the door and Harold stepped through the door. "It's time," he said to them, turning to his star. "Are you ready? They're all expecting you."
Satine nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Yes. . . yes," she breathed.
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Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.
A/N: Thanks so much everyone for all the help I've been getting on the song idea's. This didn't take too long. Her performance will be later. . .I think there's enough in here to soak up. Hehe, stay tuned my peeps!
Songs used: 'There's no business like show business' by Frank Sinatra, 'Money' by Josie and the Pussycats(sorry, don't know who originally did it), 'Who Am I?' by Craig's Brother, 'A House Is Not A Home' by Michael Ball