Phoenix

The Madame

Madame's dressing room was dingy and cramped, lit by a crown of lightbulbs around a mirrored dressing table. Costume racks lined the walls, brimming with sequinned leotards, feather boas and faux fur jackets. At first, she didn't see the Madame, lounged on a dark purple sofa, swathed in so many jewels and glittering fabrics that she looked like just another costume. But when she did, she wondered how she'd missed her.

The Madame was large and bulbous, a potato gone to sprout, with loose jowls and a second chin. When she spoke, Ash thought she saw the feint outline of an Adam's apple bobbing between the folds. "I thought Amerie said you were a girl." The Madame said, her falsetto cracking mid-sentence.

Ash frowned. "My name's Ashalia. And I ama girl." And what does it matter to you?She thought.

The Madame beckoned her with a ruby endowed finger, downed with knuckle hair. "Come closer."

Ash stepped forward.

"Closer."

Ash paced again, cringing under the Madame's intense scrutiny.

"How old are you... girl?"

"Eighteen."

The Madame raised a thick eyebrow and began rotating the rubied finger. "Eighteen and not a single womanly curve on you." She puckered. "But my, you draw the eye. It's about time we had someone a little bit different on the floor."

"The floor?" Ash heard herself echo. She had to know what she was getting in to so she could walk very quickly in the other direction.

The Madame smiled. "Oh, darling. You didn't think you could just wander in here and become a dancer, did you? I admire your ambition but becoming a Sinderella takes training and practice. Four hours a day, five days a week. You'll start on the floor like everyone else."

A dancer? So that's what they did here. Danced.

Ash didn't have time to ask any more questions before the Madame was hollering, "Amerie! My little dragonfly. Come here."

The pixie appeared at the doorway so quickly that Ash was sure she'd been hovering just outside.

"You've done well. She's perfect."

Amerie looked at Ash, then back at the Madame, as though she couldn't quite figure out who 'she' was referring to.

"Make up a bed for Ashalia in your room. Change her clothes. She will begin training immediately. I want her out on the floor tonight."

Amerie's features rose in surprise, then quickly rearranged themselves into a petulant glare. "I have to rehearse," she said.

"Nonsense, you've been rehearsing all week. Or are you trying to say you're unprepared?"

"Of course not."

"Well, put Ashalia on shisha duty then. That should be easy enough. With your excellent training abilities, I'm sure she'll be tending two pots at a time come sundown."

Ash glanced from the Madame to Amerie and back again. She had no idea what was going on and the confusion was unsettling. The floor? Pots? Shisha? The only thing stopping her from walking away was the disgruntled look on the pixie girl's face at the Madame's interest in 'orphan scum' like her.

"I don't see why we need more girls,"Amerie said, folding her arms over her chest.

The Madame gave her a stern look. "Need I remind you we'll be at capacity tonight because of the parade. Establishment officials have chosen Sinderella's Palace to host their celebratory drinks. It's our chance to impress the Elites and I will not have them retire to their rooms unsatisfied."

"If you think sucking up to the Elites is going to make you anything more than a Middle Caster, then you're lying to yourself," Amerie said, jutting her chin.

The Madame slammed her hand on the armrest of the couch. "Enough from you, Amerie Wilson. You will do as I say or else I might just change my mind about casting you as lead dancer in our next show."

Amerie strained her mouth into a smile and muttered. "I'm the only reason this place makes any money."

"Excuse me?" The Madame was leaning forward,

"I said of course, Madame. Just leave it to me." This last response said with a sarcastic curtsy. Amerie grabbed Ash's arm and dragged her out the room.

The Madame called after them. "Dress Ashalia in the satin shirt and breeches. Slick her hair. No make up. I want the clientele to have a taste of something different."

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