Chapter Text
The Lucky Star Casino boasted itself as one of the biggest swinging hot spots in town. And it certainly lived up to expectations. But the establishment had a hard time finding entertainment for its VIP Starlight Lounge. The small stage was beautiful, set at the opposite end of a gorgeous VIP booth and nestled between a bar and small card table. And singer or band starting there would never have to worry about a gig ever again.
But none of the girls on the strip would play there. They wouldn’t sing, they wouldn’t do cabaret, even queens knew not to set foot on that stage. Occasionally a girl would be so desperate and need the money bad enough to risk it all. The pay was good after all, enough to pay off a loan shark or gambling debt. But then you didn’t hear from them. They moved away to someplace no one really knew.
So, the stage remained empty. Entertainment folks talked, especially in a town like this. After all, you couldn’t pay bills if you were dead.
That’s why when you told your troupe mates about the singing gig one of them solemnly started to prepare your funeral. Another desperately begged you to stay, telling you that you should just let the police handle it.
Now you sat in the tiniest little dressing room you’d ever seen surrounded by glitz and soft linens. Costumes left behind by singers who never returned. The bright bulbs haloed your reflection as you stared into it.
Mr. Afton’s amazing audio animatronic Music Man would accompany you. If you had anything to say about that you were sure to keep quiet. However, Mr. Afton did not allow you to rehearse with him. Which was a different problem entirely.
It’d taken a lot of work to look like you did right now, you looked at your lips that were perfectly lined. It’d taken you over thirty minutes with how much your hands were shaking. You’d do it, wipe it off, and do it again. The corset dug into your ribs, but you ignored it. Sitting wasn’t as comfortable as it could be, but you stared at your reflection longer than you really wanted.
Could they see the bags under your eyes covered in thick, glittering makeup? Were the rhinestones glittering in your hair too obvious?
Everything rode on tonight. You had to survive, and then come back again and again until you got answers.
It’d been very difficult to obtain a mask this ornate that wouldn’t interfere with your singing. The base color was navy blue, and it was littered with a celestial map with rhinestone stars. The Sun rested on one side of your face while the Moon danced under your right eye. The gaps in between were covered with bright golden whorls. With the shimmering makeup underneath and the corset it gave you a passable look. Someone could confuse you for an animatronic if they were drunk enough.
Satisfied you took a deep breath and stood up to do your vocal warmups. You forgot entirely that the glittering golden thing you had on had a slit all the way to the bottom of your hip and you flipped the fabric over.
After a few minutes a soft knock at the door interrupted your soft practicing.
“Five minutes.”
You quickly hopped over to where your golden shoes were. You still needed to put on earrings. Big dangly things that clipped on to prevent someone from grabbing them and tearing your earlobe.
There weren’t a lot of eyes on you when you opened the door and crossed to the stage. That was fine. You were only after a couple pairs.
The animatronic named Music Man perked up with your appearance and started to wind down the jazz song he played.
You assumed he’d been given the set list, so you adjusted your microphone, scanning the crowd. You ignored the first face that was dangerously obvious standing next to the VIP booth. He had nothing better to do than to stare at you. Instead, you settled on the sun animatronic. He was cheerily dealing cards to guests, a smile positively glowing from his face. His skinny frame covered in a perfectly manicured uniform.
You could feel your hand sweating against the metal of the mic stand as you brought it a little closer. Hopefully, this first day will work…if not, you would have to sing these songs every night until someone got the hint.
Music Man played the last few notes of his song and you turned to him and met his eyes. But the guitar bars emitting from his speakers were wrong.
Suddenly you realized that the little animatronic believed you were speaking about the contemporary version of this particular song. By which artist…The Animals.
Luckily, you’d heard it on the radio, you snapped your eyes to the front. The last thing you could afford in this web of lies was a slip up this early on.
With the jarring shift from jazz to stuttering rock, a few eyes were already trained on you as well as a soft spotlight. Your mask and rhinestones flung little stars around the room as the spotlight brightened. You had a few more bars to think about before taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and then opening them to train them on the Blackjack dealer. He hadn’t stopped his game with the few bars of notes in a throaty guitar. But you sung to him now, and it had to be perfect.
There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun. And it’s been a ruin of many a good girl. And God I know I’m one.
More heads, more eyes looked up at you with the sudden change in familiar songs, different lyrics. Your voice fits the slow rock song just fine as you sung in your lower tone. Thank god you’d warmed up. A few more bars afforded you enough time to desperately shift words around in your head.
My father was a gambler. Momma died when I was young. I’ve worked since then to pleasure men. Down in New Orleans.
With the shockingly sensual change of lyrics all eyes were on you. That didn’t distract you from Sun, who waited patiently while a man took a drag from his cigarette, watching you with hungry eyes as he listened to silken tones over the familiar sound of sad bitter guitar.
But you were swinging to it now, reverting to the original lyrics for the next verse. With his distracted guests not looking at their cards anymore, Sun finally looked at you. Your eyes lingered, trapped in his stare only for a moment, letting him know you’d been staring before the organ solo pulled you away.
You naturally danced in a sort of stilted marionette way. “House of the Rising Sun” wasn’t exactly out of place in the Starlight Lounge, but it certainly brought a new energy that the dulcet tones of jazz couldn’t.
When your roaming eyes returned to Sun you sung the lyrics right to him: Mothers tell your children not to do what I have done. I’ve lived a life of shame and strife. In the House of the Rising Sun.
Of course, you could just be changing the words to fit yourself. After all, how would he know you? You’d never met him before. Of course, you’d met someone similar when they’d come to the acrobatic act your troupe put on.
As Music Man played the last notes everyone found themselves clapping. Sun’s table finally returned to the game. The house won that round.
You continued to sing, this time more appropriate songs for the coxy atmosphere in the Starlight Lounge. Your voice fell into the dull roar of patrons having fun, and the clink of glasses. Occasionally, someone would surface from their drunken stupor to look starstruck at you as you crooned soft songs to the audience. You’d cleverly picked songs that blended into the sound of the Starlight Lounge between the smoke and the laughter. You were the center of attention and yet part of the background.
Your last song of the night was Frank Sinatra’s Blue Moon. It was a popular song, one of the most popular of the year. But you trained your eyes on the moon animatronic the moment you began to sing.
Sun got a rock song about prostitution and Moon got a ballad about being so helplessly lonely and in love. If it didn’t sit right with them, the only tell was the smooth glance they gave each other before turning back to the things they had to do.
But Moon didn’t have much to do. You watched as he shifted on one leg and then another. You maintained eye contact as you sang out please adore me and his eyes brightened and he pulled down his cap, averting his gaze down.
Funny, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was blushing.
You left the stage followed by soft clapping. Hopefully that was good enough for William Afton, and unsettling enough for his animatronics.
The bustle of the private casino dulled when you shut the door to your dressing room. You were playing a dangerous game. But that’s what the mask was for. And the fake name.
You’d told them your name was Estrella. It was the name of your best friend, the light of your life. Sure, you could use a significant other but your tastes were otherworldly. But Estrella was just a happy memory now, you’d never get her back.
She’d come to the troupe as an acrobat but always spoke starry-eyed about being more than just a part of an act. No, she’d see her name in lights if it killed her.
You were worried it did.
Your troupe was right, you could call the police. But they hadn’t done anything when you reported her missing. They accused her of getting pregnant and going back home. What did you care, you weren’t her family.
A knock came at the door of the cramped dressing room. Someone took the bait. Now it was just figuring out who.
When it opened, you could smell the light amber and raspberries of his cologne. He was sharply dressed; a deep plum three-piece suit accented in stunning gold. Mr. Afton carried himself with an air of superiority, head held high, and shoulders squared in perfect posture. Each delicate movement from him, whether it was taking a drag from a cigar or staring at you from across the bar, was classy.
You had perfect posture and heels and glittered gold from your head to your high heels. You were just as classy now too. Even if it was a fraud. And just a little taller in these heels. you looked especially formidable with the mask firmly secured to your face.
“That was an amazing first day, nightingale.”
“I’d invite you in, sir.” you said languidly, “But I’m afraid there’s no room.”
“I hate to see you in this little broom closet. Perhaps you’d like to use my office,” Mr. Afton offered, “To freshen up between sets.”
“No thank you, sir,” Your voice came out hoarse at the implication, “My dressing room is more than enough for me. The only thing I could ask for is time to practice with Music Man, sir. When none of our guests are in the bar.”
“You sounded wonderful to me,” Mr. Afton dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
“I’m grateful sir.” You bowed your head. You weren’t going to stay here any longer. “But that first song was not on the set list. My unbearable talent got us through.”
William frowned, “I can see how that’s a problem. I’ll call someone about it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Afton pulled a gold cigarette case from his breast pocket, and it took every inch of you not to marvel at it. It was a solid gold case, probably hand crafted in the 1940’s. Judging by the color it was 18k gold. You could probably sell it for at least a few hundred dollars. He took your stare as interest.
“Would you mind joining me and my friends for a nightcap? Or even a smoke?”
“I hate to decline, sir.” You kept your soft soothing tone to keep your voice strong. “But alcohol and smoking after singing can damage the instrument. Perhaps some other time?”
You dragged your fingers over your throat for emphasis and Mr. Afton followed those fingers greedily with his purple eyes.
“Of course, how professional. Please allow my bodyguard to escort you home.”
“Much obliged, Mr. Afton.”
Moon shifted uncomfortably but he’d been called. He avoided your eyes as you looked up at him.
For animatronics so steeped in Afton’s dealings, you would think he would be a little less naïve.
“Are you going to change?”
You look around the room, there aren’t many people here just a few lingering guests with hungry, burning eyes looking at you. You’d rather keep the mask on.
“No,” you say as neutrally as you can.
Moon stalked ahead of you, and you jumped at the chance to tease him.
“You don’t get a lot of romantic attention, do you Mister Moon?” You chastised, “I’m not even offered an arm by my escort?”
Moon wordlessly walked back to take your arm before practically pulling it off returning to the elevator.
You chuckled lowly.
When the elevator’s doors close, Moon fixes his red optics on you.
“Do you…know us?”
“Who?”
“The sun animatronic and I.” Moon looked uneasy. You try and snake your arm away, but he grasps your fingers to keep your arm there. Either that or he intertwines them for kicks.
It isn’t a threat. More of a warning that he wants you to stick close.
Two can play that game. You lean your head against him. Using his arm as support on these heels.
“No, but I’ve met someone like you.”
Moon frowned, “Like us?”
“Sorta,” you laugh. “You sure do ask a lot of personal questions.”
Moon looked a little irritated at that, “You were the one singing to us.”
“Singing to you,” you feign outrage and hope your lies aren’t easily deciphered by the animatronic, “In singing you must pick a point in the crowd to sing to. Helps the nerves. Easy to focus on two glowing eyes in a crowd.”
If Moon picked up your deception, he said nothing.
“You seem, really familiar.”
“Oh, do I?” You respond. You keep back the burning sensation to learn more. “You meet a lot of masked singers?”
Moon shifted from one foot to the other, “No it’s just your body language. The way you move and how you carry yourself. How dangerous you behave.”
Bingo.
You knew why he thought you were familiar. It was the first indication that someone remembered your friend.
Estella and you were tightrope walkers. Walking on ropes changed your gait, especially when you tried wearing high heels. It was given you’d have similar ways of walking.
“Is Estella a common name?
“What?”
But the ding of the elevator interrupted any further conversation. You should have slammed the emergency stop button and leapt onto him. You could be feral when you wanted to be. Maybe you could take one of your shoes and use the end to jab….
Moon spoke to you again, “Let me pull the car around.”
Is Estella a common name?
You should have said something, told him it was your stage name. But you took on your friend’s name like a skin. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.
But Moon knew, he knew Estella’s name and he knew how she walked.
It meant she was here, despite everyone at the bar saying they’d never seen her before.
A black car rolled to the entrance. You’d normally call it ‘hoity-toity’ but now it was your ticket out of this place. So, they wanted to know your address, wanted to know how to get to your house.
“How long have you been singing?”
“Today was my first day.”
That was true enough. You could sing just fine in the shower or with Estella. Or even along to songs you heard on the radio. But you didn’t have the drive to be professional. Just sing your silly little songs to an audience of one.
“I find that hard to believe.”
Watching Estella made it easy, after all you could move just like her. Enough that an animatronic could recognize it.
He opened the back door, and you sigh.
“I don’t know Mister Moon,” you give a fake pout, “I so very much want to sit up front.
This is one of those spiffy cars. You heard they could lock you in automatically. Who knew how advanced the car was when the animatronic was anything above what you’d seen before, even in Pirates of the Caribbean.
With the exception of one.
After all, the Disney animatronics couldn’t press you close to them, twisting rope around your two intertwined bodies while their creator assured you that any emotion or heat you felt from the hulking frame was just you projecting.
Moon glared at you before slamming the backdoor closed to open the passenger door. It knocked you out of your memory of deep rust-colored arms holding you.
“Did you say something?” You ask sweetly.
“Get in.” The animatronic bodyguard growled.
He couldn’t see you raise an eyebrow behind the mask, but your teasing smile was enough.
The car ride was silent at first, until he asked you where you lived. You gave him the address to a laundromat and he frowned. All you could hear was the engine, and your heartbeat for a long while.
“You should quit.”
“Beg pardon?” You ask.
“If it’s money you’re after, I can get you some, but you should quit. This ain’t worth the bit.”
Your gaze softened as you looked at the animatronic, “Do you offer this sort of thing to every singer?”
“Yeah.”
Any anger burning in the ever-present need for revenge for your friend dampens. Poor animatronic, whatever happened to Estella he wanted to avoid it happening to you. You wonder if he offered Estella this too.
“I’m not stopping until I see my name in lights.” You reply.
Moon visibly flinched with that, and reset his cap.
Finally, he slowed down, the bright lights of the laundromat confusing him. There were a few people lingering around.
He grabbed you wrist suddenly as you start to lean for the door, “Do you want me to escort you to your place?”
Your eyes narrow, any warm and fuzzy feelings about him were starting to ebb.
You lean in close to him, letting him keep your wrist close. Any human would think you were going in for a kiss. Moon froze and turned his head to the side.
“Do you really think,” you hissed gently into the side of his head, “I would I be stupid enough to take you to where I live?”
You yanked your wrist away from his grasp and kick open the door with your heel, leaving Moon to watch you as you glittered away.
The boys at the laundromat knew you. After all, it was a laundromat you knew. So when they saw you they quickly jumped up.
“What do they have you doing in that circus?” One of them yelled friendly at you.
Your look must’ve not been good because Bippy, the store manager turned to Moon.
“You better get out of here because if you don’t, we’ll mangle that car something fierce.”
You used Moon’s distraction to pull off your shoes and start running. There was a back exit to the laundromat that you were going to use as fast as you were able.