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Carlotta says, “I’m taking the first shower.”
She pauses, waiting for Christine to object. But Christine has already started unpacking her dresses, blue and much too modest for a diva, into the drawers she claimed in their division of the hotel room. Carlotta scowls. They’re stuck here, together, for the next four days, but that doesn’t mean they have to get comfortable. Carlotta certainly won’t. She’s going to keep her clothes in her suitcase, and her agent can scold her all he wants for the resulting folds and wrinkles. People notice the persona, anyway, not the clothes, once you get as big as Carlotta.
“I said, I’m taking the first shower.”
“Go ahead,” Christine mutters. She doesn’t look up from the drawer but waves a hand. As if in dismissal. As if she, the agency newbie, has the right to boss around Carlotta, a wildly popular and well established diva. She’s always like this. Someone ought to teach her a lesson, but Carlotta can’t be bothered.
She slips her clothes off, wresling her way out of tights. She tries to ignore Christine as she stalks over to the shared bathroom, but her eyes flick over, and she catches Christine looking away. She stares at her for a moment, wondering if Christine will say anything. Christine says, “Are you going to take that shower or not?”
Huffing, she closes and locks the bathroom door. She’s brought her own soap, shampoo and conditioner with her, of course—hotel products will ruin her hair, and she’s spent too much money on it over the years to stand for that. Christine’s small suitcase seems to indicate she didn’t bother bringing beauty products. Carlotta really thinks the girl might be in the wrong line of work.
She has no idea what the managers were thinking, booking the two of them for a tour together. Their fans don’t even overlap that much. Carlotta mostly appeals to two crowds: middle-aged men who remember when she was just a bit younger and lesbians who want her to step on them. Fortunately they make a large enough crowd combined to keep her evergreen, even if she’s not as popular as she was back in the day. But Christine’s popular with the youth for the most part, teenage girls and boys who think she’s somehow glamorous with her all-natural, relatable look, and that’s hardly a crowd that’s going to go for Carlotta.
There’s no point in touring the two of them together—all it will do is annoy both groups of fans, and even put some of them off. In fact, Carlotta guarantees it will only end up wasting the agency’s money, and worse, earn her less money too.
Not her fault, anyway. When it all plays out she can at least say “I told you so.”
In the meantime if she has to put up with a fucking ingénue she’ll try.
But this, the hotel, is really the cherry on top of an awful situation. There was no reason for the managers to put Carlotta and Christine in the same hotel—this city has plenty, and they could probably use the business. But in some misguided effort to save money—maybe from a premonition of how badly this tour is going to go—they not only booked them in the same hotel but only got them one room.
And they somehow accidentally booked one that’s tiny, with only one bureau and, worst of all, only one bed.
Carlotta has every intention of making Christine sleep on the floor. She can use a comforter for bedding, and if it gives her back kinks, too bad.Carlotta already begged her agent to get her a different room and he just laughed and said something about learning how to play well with others, so she’s already done her best. And she’s not going to sacrifice her sleep for some fresh faced bitch.
She takes her sweet time in the shower, using water as hot as it comes—and if it runs out on Christine afterwards, too bad. Only when the hot water begins to make her sleepy does she emerge. She rubs moisturizer onto her face and skin, and dries her hair with her hair dryer, which she also packed. Brushes it out. And then, when she looks like the diva she is (minus a layer of makeup, but still well put together), she is ready to face Christine again.
She half expects to find Christine messing around with the drawers again. But what she emerges to is worse.
Christine is already in bed.
Carlotta frowns. She slips on her lacy nightgown and hurries over. The bed is not so large that she can fit on without disturbing Christine, and besides that she has no intention of sharing. She hisses in Christine’s ear, “Miss Daae!”
Christine mumbles something unintelligible. Her hair is a mess, strewed all about her. Carlotta gives her back a little shove, and Christine’s elbow comes up. Carlotta barely manages to dodge a black eye (and wouldn’t her managers have complained?).
“Miss Daae!”
“What is it, Carlotta?”
“I see you’ve felt no compunction taking the only bed.”
“I’m sleeping, Carlotta. Just…” Christine flaps a hand again. Carlotta is getting sick of her imperiousness.
“There is only one bed, Miss Daae. And if you think I have any intention of sleeping on the floor…”
Christine grabs Carlotta’s wrist and pulls. Carlotta stumbles onto the bed, and Christine, surprisingly dexterous for someone who claims to be sleeping, maneuvers the blankets around her and pulls her in.
“Just go to sleep, Carlotta. I can’t deal with you right now.”
“Miss Daae!” The nerve.
But it is late at night and Carlotta isn’t sure she has the energy to deal with Christine right now either. Especially since she’ll have to deal with her constantly for the next four days in this hotel, and the next couple months throughout the tour. It’s enough to make you sick.
She pulls as much of the blankets around her as she can, though Christine clings to her half with a ferocity Carlotta would not have expected from her. Half asleep she apparently becomes oddly aggressive. In fact, when Carlotta keeps fidgeting, she throws an arm around Carlotta and says, “Lie still. Go to sleep.”
Her arm is heavy.
Carlotta wakes up hours later and finds it still curled over her, and Christine lying closer than ever. It seems she’s a cuddler. Carlotta should elbow her off and pull free and start up her makeup routine—they have a busy day—but the sun is barely filtering through the curtains and she’s feeling lazy. Maybe she’ll lie around a while longer.
Christine’s alarm goes off about half an hour later and she turns over, swipes it off, and goes back to snuggling. So she’s in agreement.
They finally are forced out of bed by a phone call from Carlotta's agent, asking where they are.
"Sleeping. Until you woke me."
Blah blah blah, running late, blah blah blah, irresponsible, I can't believe you...
"Well, the flight up here was exhausting. You should have scheduled a shorter layover. Besides, the mattresses here are awful." They're actually pretty good. "Fine! I don't need your scolding. Miss Daae and I will be down in ten."
Christine's eyes are wide open as Carlotta hangs up. "Carlotta, we can't get ready in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes is code for an hour," Carlotta says loftily. She sighs and leans back onto the pillow. "I'll give you the first shower."
Christine climbs over her carefully, not touching her legs in the process. Neither of them mention the cuddling. But Carlotta doesn't complain about it. Possibly it helped her sleep. She knows in the past she's slept better with a lover--well, no need to dwell on that now.
They'll present a united front against the agents, at least. She's sure Christine will back her up against their complaints. All in all, it's a promising start to the day.