Diamond in the Rough
By: PoeticChick
Part I
Diamond in the Rough
"Next!"
Harold Zidler, manager and owner of the Moulin
Rouge, reclined in his uncomfortable wooden chair, drumming his fingers on his
knee. Really, auditioning acts for the Moulin Rouge was such a bother. Half of
the people had no special talent whatsoever, and the other half had egos that
were bigger than, well, bigger than him, he thought wryly. He'd just turned
down a contortionist on the grounds that he already had multiple
contortionists, all of whom were better than this hopeful, and the young man
stomped out of the room in tears.
"Next!" barked Zidler impatiently,
looking around for the next act. His eyes fell upon a young woman, most likely
in her early twenties, with flaming red hair and a very pretty face. She stood
before him with her hands behind her back, a look of impatience on her face as
well.
"You are?" Zidler asked, assessing the
girl.
"I am just what the Moulin Rouge needs,"
said the girl confidently, tossing her fiery mane of hair, "I am a singer
and a dancer."
Zidler chuckled. "That's very nice, darling,
but I'm auditioning talent. If you're looking for employment as one of my
diamond dogs, you'll have to come back later."
"Diamond dogs? A whore?" the girl's lips
curled into a smirk.
"I suppose you could call them that,"
Zidler said, his eyes narrowing. Who did this spitfire think she was?
"I came here from Nice, and I would like to be
a performer at your club," the girl said calmly, "If I wanted to be a
whore, I would simply stand on a street corner in my lingerie like most girls
do."
Zidler chuckled. He was beginning to like this
girl, whoever she was. She probably didn't have any talent, but what harm was
there in letting her sing for him? Maybe he'd be able to convince her to become
one of his girls - with her creamy skin and lithe figure, the gents would
certainly go mad for her.
"Go ahead, then," Zidler said with a wave
of his hand, "The stage is all yours."
The girl squared her shoulders, cleared her throat,
and began to sing.
"Diamonds are forever, they are all I need to
please me…"
Zidler stroked his mustache as the girl sang,
adding in a few shimmies and twirls. Already, her raw talent was obvious to
him.
"…diamonds are forever, sparkling 'round my
little finger, unlike men the diamonds linger…"
Not bad, not bad at all, Zidler thought, careful to
keep his face blank. Not only was she a cute little thing, sure to please the
audience, she had a sweet, pure voice, which was more than he could say for
some of his girls. She was also poised, possessing an attractiveness that was
breathtaking yet not overwhelming, and she had a stage presence, a confidence,
that some of his girls would kill for.
"Diamonds are forever…forever and ever!"
With a wink and a kiss, the song was over and the
hall was silent. Zidler stroked his mustache again, pretending to be deep in
thought.
"Well?" the girl finally asked after a
few minutes of silence had passed, "What do you think? Am I good enough
for your Moulin Rouge?"
"I think," Zidler said carefully, "I
could make you a star."
The girl's composure cracked, and she erupted in
squeals, running over to Zidler and throwing her arms around him, catching him
completely off guard.
"Just a moment, now," he said, unwrapping
her arms from around his neck, "I haven't agreed to anything."
"But you said - " the girl began
breathlessly.
"I said that I think I can make you a star,
but you're going to have to work for it. You can't just strut in here and
expect to become the main attraction just like that, sugarplum," Zidler
chortled, "You're going to have to begin the way all the girls do."
"A - "
"Yes," Zidler nodded, "A diamond
dog. A can-can dancer. But if you've really got what it takes, and I think you
do, it won't take long for you to rise above the others. Are you willing to
give it a try?"
"Oh yes! I've always dreamed of being a star,
a singer…"
"Yes, yes," Zidler said briskly,
"That's what they all say. Now then, you're going to need a stage
name."
"I already have one," the girl said
confidently, "Satine! I'm going to charm the audience and bewitch the men,
you'll see!" she giggled like an excited schoolgirl, and her enthusiasm
was contagious.
"Slow down, there," Zidler laughed,
"You may have the looks and the talent, chickpea, but you've still got a
lot to learn. You're like a lump of clay: you've got the raw materials, and
with my help, we can sculpt you into something great. What?" he asked,
seeing the look of disgust on Satine's face.
"Clay?" she asked, arching a thin
eyebrow, "I prefer to think of myself as a jewel - a diamond in the rough,
if you will. With your help - " she shot him an alluring look " - I
can shine."
Zidler chuckled. He really liked this girl, this
Satine, already, and he could tell it wouldn't take long for her to rise beyond
his guidance and soar away from the Moulin Rouge like a bird. He'd become her
mentor, but he'd have to be careful not to teach her too much, not to let her
get too confident or self-sufficient.
"Well my little dove, welcome to the Moulin
Rouge!"