Author's note: All of my stories are based on the movies/actors, not on the books.
On Halloween Night
"Right."
"No, left."
"We've driven around the fucking block three times already, Chaff; I'm not turning left again." With squealing brakes, Haymitch stopped the car at the roadside. "I'm done!"
"Do you know what your problem is?" Chaff replied coldly. "You have no faith in others. That happens when you sit all alone at home writing books."
Haymitch snorted in disbelief. "I'm an author, Chaff! It's my job to sit at home and write; after all, I get paid for it."
In the darkness of the car, both men exchanged glances, until Haymitch turned his face away and let his eyes wander over the dull street canyons.
Most of the shops had lowered metal shutters over their windows to keep burglars out, and the ugly gray walls were sprayed with colorful graffiti. The bad state of the district was complemented by the countless empty cans and paper bags which were lying in the street.
Since their arrival at the international airport of Los Angeles a few hours ago, the world had successfully conspired against them.
After landing, Haymitch's old smartphone had run a long overdue update, with a final request to enter the password. That password was safely stored on the other side of the country, buried under a pile of papers and books on his old wooden desk.
At the car rental office, Chaff had fallen in love with an old-fashioned Cadillac, unfortunately without a navigator. Soon afterwards, as Chaff was forced to realize he couldn't cope with his brand new iPhone's state-of-the-art technology, both men failed to discover a road map in the glove compartment, and a single missed exit was enough to get them lost in the endless streets of Los Angeles.
"We're just asking for directions," Chaff said easily.
"Are you crazy?" Haymitch looked up in disbelief. "We don't know which part of town we're in. The first person we ask will probably kill us."
Sadly, Chaff shook his head, looking pitifully at his friend. "Have you forgotten what day it is? Halloween. On such an evening only nice families are out and about."
Forgotten?
How could Haymitch have forgotten this? Totally annoyed, he looked into the rear-view mirror of the car, seeing only a small part of his face and hairline. He couldn't say which was worse, his bizarre face makeup or the greasy greenish hairline.
"Go on, drive on to the next street corner," instructed Chaff, pointing. "I'm sure we'll meet some families there."
…
She could see the car from afar. An old-fashioned red Cadillac, unusual even for California in the cool season. Probably tourists who'd lost their way in the endless traffic jungle, she thought, slowly chewing her pink-colored gum.
Since her arrival in the City of Angels nearly one year ago, Katniss Everdeen had cleaned more tables and glasses in bars and coffee shops than she could ever have imagined.
On sizzling hot days, she had sold hot dogs and ice cream to countless tourists on Venice Beach and afterwards had babysat annoying kids of various unknown C-celebrities, until one of the lovely family fathers couldn't keep his hands to himself and she had to stop him with a hard kick to his groin.
As a result, she'd not only lost her unloved job, she'd also been kicked out of the babysitter agency. No one was interested in her side of the story.
No, she couldn't blame herself for having tried everything, but at home the money kept getting shorter and her little sister's letters and calls more desperate.
Katniss could still hear the kind-hearted words of her old acting teacher from Kentucky. How many times had Mr. Snow told her that she had a great, rare talent? That the whole world was waiting for her, and that she should try her luck and move to Hollywood.
Taking her chances, Katniss had bid goodbye to her family and friends, had thrown her worn-out suitcase into her old Ford and headed for California. Of course, she had known it would be hard to be one among thousands, running from casting call to casting call, living off cheap cans of beans and doing terrible jobs for next to no money.
But no matter which audition she had attended, she had been either too beautiful or too ugly, too fat or too thin, too small or too tall, her nose too long or too short – the list was simply endless.
Finally, she had sworn to herself, if she couldn't get at least one role by the end of the year, she would hitchhike home, after having sold her old shabby car for a handful of dollars some months ago.
Sighing, she focused on the present. She knew that what she was planning to do was stupid, but her small family needed the money desperately.
No-one but her would ever know what happened tonight; the thought was the only thing that stopped her from turning on her high heels and running away as she pulled down the low-cut neckline of her mini dress with one hand and combed her long curly hair with the other as the Cadillac pulled to a stop beside her.
Clumsily, the car's passenger window was wound down.
"Excuse me, Miss, could you help us?"
Before the evening had begun, she had asked herself countless times what her clients might look like. Bored daddies, drug addicts or fat tourists, she guessed. It hadn't occurred to her that she'd end up meeting a madman wearing a Batman costume.
"Yes?" Katniss asked cautiously, stepping back from the roadside and looking suspiciously into the dark car.
Her eyes wandered from Batman to a brightly painted Robin in the driver's seat. Stop, wrong, she thought, instead of Batman and Robin, she had the honor of meeting Batman and the Joker tonight.
"Sorry, Miss, we're tourists and we've lost our way. Could you please be so kind as to tell us the quickest way to Hollywood?"
"What?" Katniss asked, sounding pretty dense as she stared through the open window.
"Beverly Hills," Chaff repeated, stretching each syllable as if he was speaking to a toddler.
And suddenly, Katniss could see her chance. "How much money do you have?"
"What?" Chaff asked, surprised, pulling the dark mask off his face. "Miss, we're lost and need your help, so do you know the way to Beverly Hills or not?"
"Sure!" Katniss said, more confidently than she felt, leaning with her naked arm against the open window, and looking from one to the other, still chewing her pink gum. "For money, always!"
Haymitch snorted loudly and his piercing blue eyes found hers in the darkness. "Let's go, Chaff; I told you a girl in a slutty costume wouldn't be any help."
Katniss pulled in a sharp breath, frowning at the Joker. "Okay, guys, here's the deal. I'll show you the way to Beverly Hills for 500 dollars. Personally!"
Haymitch laughed humorlessly. "You know what, sweetheart? Where we come from we can get that kind of information for free."
Yes, Katniss thought, where I come from too. But with charity alone, the bills would never get paid.
"So, how are we doing this?" she asked, not giving an inch of ground. "Do you have much money?"
Groaning, Chaff slowly pulled out his scuffed wallet and flipped through the notes.
"Do you have a few dollars, buddy?" he asked, turning to Haymitch.
Haymitch turned his eyes away from her, and shook his head in disbelief. "Ask Mademoiselle if she takes Euros as well."
…
"Turn right after the second traffic light and follow the street until you will see the first road sign for Beverly Hills."
After getting 400 dollars in cash and the rest in Euros – the result of a long poker night, according to Haymitch – she had got into the Cadillac. Katniss's intuition told her that the two men were absolutely harmless even if they looked bizarre.
Chaff turned around, glanced down at her long naked legs and gave her big smile. "Lovely Halloween costume, Miss, what's it supposed to be?"
"I don't know…" she replied lamely, her eyes scanning the busy street. "Maybe Black Widow?"
Haymitch looked into the rearview mirror and met her eyes, trying his best not to laugh. "Not the smartest, are you, sweetheart? Maybe you haven't noticed but your dress is purple."
Glaring daggers at him, she keep her mouth shut, before turning to Chaff. "Is your friend always this rude?"
"Sorry, sweetheart, if you aren't crazy about me," Haymitch answered coolly. "But in less than an hour, I have to present my screenplay to one of Hollywood's most powerful filmmakers, and if he rejects me, I can just kick the script to the curb!"
Haymitch had been working on his latest screenplay for the last two years, and everyone he had shown it to so far had agreed that it was his best work yet. As a result, he was determined that this script at least wouldn't end up being performed as another ambitious but obscure theatre production that no one wanted to see except some old critic.
After all his years of writing he wanted more and, supported by his agent, Haymitch was sure that his masterpiece was good enough for the big screen in Hollywood. The story was so complex and demanding that only a big studio could produce it.
Unfortunately, the first production companies he'd contacted had already turned him down. They justified their decision by insisting that supporting an unknown writer was too risky when there was every chance the film would end as a huge flop. Every time he thought about it his blood went up and his hands started shaking, like they were now.
Katniss's clear voice brought him back to the present. "And that's why you're both wearing these silly costumes?"
Chaff nodded, his eyes on the road before him. "Plutarch Heavensbee annual costume parties are legendary, Miss. Have you never heard of them? Well, meeting or not, without a proper Halloween costume you won't get entrance to his luxury mansion tonight."
The young woman shook her head slightly. She'd never been heard of this party, but something else had caught her attention.
"What's the script about?"
Haymitch laughed humorlessly. "Come on, sweetheart, you aren't really interested. You better tell me where to go after the road sign."
"Why not?" Katniss asked stubbornly. "I'm a keen reader."
"You?" Haymitch arched an eyebrow. "What kind of glossy, mindless gossip magazine do you prefer?"
She took in a deep breath. "I prefer the Playboy magazine, Mister. Maybe you've heard of it?"
Chaff's loud laugh filled the dark car, and Katniss was confident she'd brought the point home. Assured, she leaned back against the black leather seat as the car came to stop at the red traffic lights, and Haymitch turned slowly around.
"Listen!" he snarled. "You've just taken 500 bucks from us for nothing, I'm wearing a fucking sticky felt on my head, and we're still miles away from Heavensbee's villa. The last thing I need is to talk to you about my screenplay."
Katniss folded her arms over her chest, looking straight back into Haymitch's piercing eyes. "If you talk to Heavensbee like that, you'll never sell your precious script to his studio."
"Really?" Haymitch mocked her. "How do you know? Are you friends with any powerful studio bosses, sweetheart?"
The young woman shrugged her shoulders and forced herself to stay calm. "I used to be a babysitter in Hollywood, so I know those kinds of…"
"Babysitting, you?" he sneered, glancing straight at her low-cut neckline. "What kind of babysitting is that?"
Her dark eyes narrowed to slits. "Would you like to know something?" she hissed. "Your green hair looks like shit."
"Next time I want your opinion, sweetheart, I'll ask for it." he snapped back but before they could jump at each other's throats, an orchestra of blaring car horns sounded from behind. The traffic lights had changed back to green and Haymitch turned around angrily, revving the engine.
No less furious than him, Katniss stared out the window. The money wasn't worth the trouble, she thought. Tomorrow morning, she would throw her few belongings into her worn-out suitcase, buy a ticket for a Greyhound bus and head back to Kentucky.
Surely she would get a role in a provincial theatre, maybe go back to school or college...
"The story takes place in the distant future after an apocalyptic war." Chaff's calm voice filled the car, and Katniss could hear Haymitch inhale sharply.
"The female protagonist has to participate in the so-called Hunger Games," continued the man in the Batman costume, his black eyes fixed on the heavy traffic in front of them. "These games are fought every year in a huge open-air arena and every participant has to fight for his life. The last remaining competitor is crowned victor."
In the dark of the car you could have heard a pin drop before Katniss cleared her throat. "Wow," she said in awe. "That sounds fantastic!"
"Thanks, sweetie," A smug grin appeared on Haymitch's features and his eyes glittered in the dark, meeting hers in the rearview mirror. "Would you like to be president of my fan club?"
She took a deep breath, and if looks could kill he would be lying on the floor, bleeding slowly and painfully to death. "May I tell you something?" Katniss asked icily. "Never try to write a comedy or a romance: your arrogance will always stand in your way."
Chaff pulled his mask lower over his face, glad that neither of them could see the big grin on his lips.
Touchée.
…
Haymitch Abernathy raised his flask to his lips and took several sips of Talisker's finest single malt whiskey while his eyes moved over Heavensbee's opulent white mansion.
It was lit up by tasteless rainbow-colored spots, and on each marble step of the broad open staircase stood a servant dressed as a barefoot Roman slave with a silver tablet in his hand, greeting the guests with champagne.
His critical look followed the stars and starlets of Hollywood as they climbed out of their expensive limousines, walking slowly up the marble staircase. Most of the tasteless costumes had so little fabric and so much silicone that he wondered if he had landed in the Playboy mansion instead of Heavensbee's annual Halloween party.
A heavy hand rested on Haymitch's broad shoulder, and Chaff's deep voice whispered into his ear, "This is how I've always imagined heaven..."
"And how Dante always imagined hell," Haymitch pointed out sardonically, taking another sip from his flask.
"You're really boring, old friend." Chaff shook his head in amusement. "At least our charming companion won't be noticed."
"Who won't be noticed?" Katniss asked as she came to a stop behind the two men, her eyes glancing over the luxurious mansion.
Whatever she had expected, it had not been this. In her small hometown, on one night each year, each street was lovingly decorated with pumpkins and little lights, and the children dressed up as witches or magicians, running from door to door and begging for sweets.
But this Halloween party was all about seeing and being seen, and for the first time since the evening had begun she felt as if her clothing covered too much skin.
"Mr. Livingston?" a voice called from the marble steps. "Mr. Chaff Livingston?!"
The three looked up as a beautiful blonde woman approached the trio. Chaff's jaw dropped as the dazzling beauty wove her way through the guests, her hips swinging gently with every step.
Her well-shaped body was sheathed in a black faux leather catsuit with a lace-up bodice and a cut-out neckline. A pair of small handcuffs was dangling from her matching belt, and her long, voluminous blonde hair tumbled flatteringly around her beautiful face. A police hat and spiky high heels completed the sexy officer look.
"Sell my house, Haymitch, I'm staying in Beverly Hills," Chaff said, licking his dry lips before beaming at the blonde beauty. "Miss Trinket?"
"Yes!" The smile on her red painted lips grew wider. "Please; call me Effie."
Chaff politely took her slender fingers in his and breathed an elegant kiss on the back of her hand.
Caught by surprise Effie laughed. "I was afraid you might not come. I couldn't reach you on your mobile…"
"Bad reception, sorry," Chaff muttered, somewhat embarrassed. "But may I introduce my friend and screenwriter, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy."
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Abernathy. I've heard only good things about you." Her artificially long nails gleaming, she took Haymitch's outstretched hand in hers, and he wondered how it would feel to have those razor-sharp claws scratching over his bare shoulders.
Effie Trinket's bright gaze finally moved to the young woman at Haymitch's side. "And you are, Miss?"
Katniss looked up in surprise. "I'm, I'm..." she answered lamely as chills ran up and down her spine. She was deeply aware of the fact that no matter what she might say, she couldn't win. Finally, she took a deep breath, put on her best acting smile, and gracefully reached for Effie's outstretched hand.
"I'm Octavia," Katniss said with as much confidence as she could muster, carefully avoiding the stunned looks of the two men. "Haymitch's muse."
"A muse?" Delighted, Effie clapped her hands together, her voice rising at least three octaves, ready to break glass. "That's wonderful! And such a gorgeous costume." Effie beamed enthusiastically at Katniss's short mini dress. "Fantastic, Plutarch will be pleased!"
Sure that his best friend was eager to share some private words with his newfound muse, Chaff gallantly took Heavensbee's assistant by the arm and steered her toward the impressive staircase. "Let's go, Effie, we don't want to keep your boss waiting any longer..."
Katniss looked down at her clenched fingers. She could hear Haymitch taking a deep breath beside her, and guessed this wasn't a good sign.
"I'm really sorry, but I couldn't tell her that you– Ow!"
Haymitch had pulled on one of her long, dark curls.
"Did you hit your head, sweetheart?" he growled, reaching for her bare arm. "You can't walk around telling the world you're my muse!" With a yank, he pulled Katniss to his side. "Octavia… Could you at least have come up with a less stupid name?"
Furious, she glared at him, freeing herself from his almost painful grip. "Should I tell Miss Super Sexy that you were both too stupid to use your phones and that you picked me up next to a streetlamp in Downton?" she snapped back, ready to fight. "I just wanted to help."
"Listen closely, sweetheart, because I won't say this again; I don't need your help," he hissed. "One more stupid move like that and I'll put you over my knee."
"That will cost extra, Mr. Abernathy!" Katniss replied coldly. "And I think you're already broke."
A smug smile appeared on his lips and with glittering eyes he slowly closed the remaining space between them as his lips brushed over her soft curls. "I think, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear, "it was included in the price."
…
Plutarch Heavensbee leant back in the old, worn out leather armchair, his bored pale blue eyes resting on Chaff and Haymitch. In his doughy hands, he was holding the screenplay which he had been studying closely over the last few weeks.
With a loud bang, he threw the script onto the monstrous glass table in front of him. "Gentlemen," he raised his voice. "I've read your screenplay, very ambitious, very passionate, but unfortunately I cannot see an audience for it."
The harsh words hit Haymitch like a blow to his pale face as his eyes locked on the manuscript. Rejected, again. How could this be happening? All those hours of work torn apart by that cool, indifferent voice. Dully, as if from a distance, he heard Chaff speak.
"That's no problem, Mr. Heavensbee. We can rewrite the script, any time. If you like we could kick out the girl and put in a strong male character, couldn't we, Haymitch?"
Grinding his teeth, trying his best to stay calm, he gave his friend a short glance with his piercing blue eyes: When hell freezes over.
Openly uninterested, Heavensbee listened to Chaff's words, before his gaze wandered further through the semi-dark room, coming to rest on Katniss's deep neckline. The pasty face of the heavyweight studio boss brightened considerably.
"The male viewers could identify with the character and we could give him a very attractive female co-star." Chaff's hands sketched very feminine curves in the air.
"Perhaps." Heavensbee shrugged, his eyes still on the young woman's firm breasts, his appetite stirring.
"Or how would it be if we had two male actors? We could have a love triangle." Chaff's eyes gleamed with passion, determined not to give up. "The girl must choose between the two heroes and a battle of love and death ensues."
"How would it be if the story stayed exactly as it is?" Katniss's cool voice sounded from the corner of the room and Heavensbee's weasel eyes found their way to her face. With satisfaction, he noted that her facial features complemented her well-formed body.
Nonchalantly, he reached for a bowl of green grapes on the table beside him, before turning to her. "And what is your opinion, Miss?"
The young woman straightened her back and held her chin high as she faced Plutarch calmly. Just like Chaff she wouldn't give up without a fight. Nevertheless, she felt her face heat up, very aware of the rows of awards mounted in the cabinet behind Plutarch, his power to make or break a career with a single wave of his heavy hand.
"At the moment, there aren't enough roles for strong and courageous women in Hollywood." She raised her voice. "I want to see a movie where a heroine is brave, self-confident and independent, and – most of all –doesn't need a man to help her survive a battle."
Totally unimpressed, Heavensbee pushed the grapes into his mouth. He loved passionate women, not as equal-ranking business partners, of course – but when they were warming his big, soft bed and were willing to suck his cock, whenever he desired.
"We've already got Wonder Woman, darling," he challenged Katniss. "Is that not enough?"
"No!" Her brow creased. "Haymitch's idea is far better; smart, modern, innovative...'
Heavensbee's grin widened as he looked from Katniss to Haymitch, who was staring at his muse as if he couldn't believe his ears.
"Do you see my little friends at the back, girl?" With his thick thumb, the film mogul indicated the illuminated glass cabinet that each of his visitors had noticed the moment they'd entered the room. "Academy Awards aren't given away for free, and I got those golden boys because I have a nose for business. It's as simple as that." He shrugged his shoulders finally. "I'm sorry, but I don't see any future for your project."
The words had barely left his lips before he sent Katniss a long look that made her shiver. "But I'm always keeping an eye out for young and talented actresses." He gave her a shitty smile, licking over his dry lips, certain that he would see her again soon, hopefully on her knees before him.
After an uncomfortable pause, his gaze wandered to her companions.
"Very tasteful costumes, gentlemen, good evening."
…
Ice-cold water ran over Haymitch's wrists, clearing his thoughts. His hard work of years had been torn up by Plutarch Heavensbee in a matter of minutes. He knew that his screenplay – the whole idea – was brilliant, unique and that there had to be an audience for it somewhere.
His gaze fell on the grotesque mask in the mirror before him: the white face, blood red lips and deadly black-encircled eyes. He nearly laughed in disgust. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so ready to make an idiot of himself, all so that someone like Heavensbee could dash his hopes to pieces?
He reached for the soap dispenser, turned off the tap, and began to scrub his face and hair clean.
Not for another second would he wear this stupid costume, he thought, as he let the water run through his long hair and his eyes took in with satisfaction how the water ran in green streams down the sides of the white marble sink.
As the water finally cleared, he raised his head and examined his work in the elegantly polished mirror. Taking a soft guest towel from the rack, he began to dry his copious hair. Grimly, he swore to himself that he'd dispose of the ridiculous costume the moment he got to his hotel room – along with throwing every Batman comic he could find in his house onto a fire as soon as he got home.
The bathroom door opened quietly and a lascivious voice greeted him.
Haymitch looked up, nodded shortly, and recognized one of the young men who had served champagne on the marble steps. The toga draped over his muscular body had so ridiculously little fabric that Haymitch found himself wondering if it counted as work clothes or fell under the sexual harassment category.
The stranger gave him a beaming smile, showing nearly every one of his white teeth, and for an uncomfortable moment Haymitch was reminded of a shark, looking for his dinner.
"Cool costume. Are you the Joker?" the stranger asked, moving deliberately towards Haymitch. "I bet my tunic that you look fantastic with green hair." The man stressed every syllable, reaching out to take a few strands of Haymitch's light hair in his hand, and looked at them dreamily with his sea green eyes.
Caught by surprise, Haymitch simply stared at him. He'd never been hit on by a man before, and his first thought was to give the brash pretty boy a well-placed right hook. But finally he changed his mind, pushing the stranger's hand away and giving him a crooked smile. "I should probably feel flattered to be hit on by you, but sorry, I'm not gay."
"Are you sure?" asked the broad-shouldered stranger, with a ravishing smile on his full lips. "Not even a little bit?"
"I'm sure!
"A pity," he sighed and shrugged his bare shoulders. "It's always the same; all the hot men are either taken or straight; terrible."
...
Standing in Heavensbee's opulent garden, she let her gaze wander over the impressive grounds. A vista she only knew from glossy magazines stretched out right in front of her eyes. On the huge terrace behind the mansion, the party guests had gathered around a sprawling pool in their bizarre costumes, laughing and dancing to the sound of an edgy band.
The park-like garden was illuminated by the light of hundreds of lanterns and was only surpassed by the stunning view of the skyline of Los Angeles. An endless sea of lights danced in front of Katniss's eyes as she became painfully aware that only a few hours ago she had been a tiny speck in that sea of lights and would be again soon.
"Champagne, miss?" a clear voice asked behind her. Katniss turned and looked into the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.
"Gladly," she answered, and reached with trembling fingers for a champagne flute.
"Are you an actress, miss?" the waiter asked politely.
"Yes," Katniss replied, slightly embarrassed, her eyes focused on the polished glass in her hand. "But so far I haven't acted in any productions."
The charming young man gave her a warm smile. "As attractive as you are, miss, I'm sure you'll be a famous movie star one day."
Katniss could feel her face heat up: she wasn't used to compliments like this. Most of the boys at school hadn't liked her, describing her as cold as ice, and had tended to avoid her.
Slowly, she guided the champagne glass to her red lips. "What about you?" she asked between two long sips. "Are you an actor too?"
The waiter laughed softly, which made his warm eyes shine even more. "No, I'm a student at UCLA. I'd love to work with disabled children one day."
"Oh," Katniss said with awe. "That sounds very ambitious."
"Thank you," he answered modestly, his blue eyes fixed on her dark ones.
"Peeta!" A voice sounded sharply from the terrace, and the young man winced guiltily.
"Excuse me, miss, but I have to go." He bowed politely before hurrying up the elegant white staircase. Her dark eyes followed him with a longing look.
"Make a conquest, sweetheart?" Haymitch's rough voice said behind her, and Katniss rolled her eyes; she'd almost forgotten why she was here.
"Thanks for asking," she replied irritably, and turned on her heels. Caught by surprise, Katniss let her eyes wander over his blonde hair and clean face as he passed her, his hands hidden deep in his pockets, his coat hanging casually over one shoulder.
"Are you leaving?" she asked after a pause.
"Yeah."
"Can I come with you?"
Haymitch laughed humorlessly, not bothering to look at her. "You took nearly 500 dollars off us tonight, Octavia. I'd say a taxi ride back to Downtown is possible."
"My name's Katniss, not Octavia," she called after him as he walked across the park.
"Do you think I care?" he asked dispassionately.
Katniss drew a sharp breath and tried her best to stay calm as she followed him. "Please! I need every single dollar I can get: I can't afford to spend the money on a taxi or a bus ticket."
"Well, then, Katniss…" He stretched her name out, raising a hand in farewell, his back still turned to her. "You'll have to walk home..."
The girl swallowed her pride as she hurried after him. "My mother is seriously ill: I need the money for her therapy."
Unimpressed, Haymitch walked along the well-kept lawns until he reached the huge parking lot on the other side of the villa and turned around to face her.
"Do yourself a favor and audition for Les Miserables, sweetheart; maybe an amateur drama group will show mercy and give you a small part."
His harsh words hit her like a blow and Katniss gave him a look that could kill.
"I'm an actress!"
"Sure, sweetheart," he mocked her. "Let me think, what were the names of those movies?"
His gaze wandered into the distance and his eyes narrowed as if he were thinking hard, finally his face lit up and smoothed the deep lines on his forehead. "Maybe Nymphomania or ...?"
"I've played theater!" Katniss clenched her small hands into fists, and walked slowly towards him, a burning fire in her dark eyes. "I was by far the most talented drama student at my school."
"Theater?" Haymitch raised his eyebrows scornfully, unimpressed by her words or her anger. "You?"
"Yes!" she retorted, ready to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face.
"Well, start."
"What?" she asked, eying him suspiciously.
"Act," he snapped, losing patience with every minute that passed: the long day had exhausted him.
Katniss pressed her lips together and took up the challenge. Without saying a word, she took off her high heels one by one and threw them carelessly to the ground, not taking her gaze off his piercing blue eyes for a second.
"Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Viola's monologue."
The young woman took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she put her hands before her face. She was listening to her own heartbeat, gathering herself, and her angry, defiant features changed.
When she opened her dark eyes again, Katniss's face was soft and tender as she looked around her with curiosity. She raised her right hand slightly as if she were holding something in it, and her gentle features reflected bafflement, before she started to speak.
"I left no ring with her. What means this lady?"
Haymitch had hoped to shut her up with his harsh words, but the girl had easily caught his arrogance and thrown it right back in his face. Motionless, he watched her transformation from a femme fatale into a fair maiden disguised as a young attendant.
As a writer, he'd watched all kinds of plays, and he saw straight away that the young woman hadn't lied to him. Slowly, he circled her, watching her closely as her words and emotions changed from comedy to drama and back again.
"O Time, thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me t' untie."
So true, Haymitch thought, so true.
…
He took her against the car. It wasn't his style nor was he used to it, but he didn't care. It felt right, here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by desert and weeds as his rough lips brushed along her pale long neck down to her collarbone while his fingers buried themselves deep in her long dark curls.
"Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" he teased her tugging playfully at one of her long tresses, making her gasp. "Or are you just a very good actress?"
Katniss leaned her head back against the car, shuddering in pleasure as his lips trailed down her shoulder, her skin tingling all over her body under his touch. She would never admit it, but his lips on her bare skin felt fantastic. "I'm a damn good actress," she panted into his mouth, before their lips met, fighting for dominance.
Letting go of her dark hair, taking in the smell of her smooth skin, his hands moved down to her short dress, pushing up the flimsy fabric, caressing her bare ass as he pressed her against the car. "You're a lousy actress," he whispered in Katniss ear, challenging her.
For a brief moment, she stiffened and thought about making him pay for his insolence. A short but hard kick between his legs and his arrogance would be gone forever.
But then, stretching her full lips into a smile, she gave up the stupid idea, as she felt his hard cock pressing against her body. Eagerly, her hands wandered under his shirt, and her long fingernails slid roughly across his broad back as if she knew he'd like it. "I'm good," she insisted, pulling him closer as if she wanted to crawl inside him.
"Show me," he pushed out, enjoying the scratch of her nails on his bare shoulders as his hands found their way into her deep neckline, pulling and tugging until he had freed her firm breasts. He bent down to explore her soft white flesh, circling the tops of her nipples with his fingers, making her moan as her nails drove passionately over his shoulders, leaving red, painful marks.
Finally, ready to satisfy his own needs, his own desire, he unzipped his pants, grabbing her bare leg firmly and hooking it around his hip, and Katniss felt her heartbeat accelerate as she lay back against the Cadillac, imagining how good he would feel as he roughly shoved her thong aside, pushing himself into her.
Closing her eyes and stifling a groan in her throat, she buried her fingers deep into his broad shoulders as with each hard thrust he touched the most sensitive part in her body, and his name came over her sensual lips like a prayer before she pulled him close, biting her teeth deep into his neck as she could feel the familiar tightening in her lower body as finally the orgasm hit her, tearing her apart.
Still shuddering, gasping for air as he came down from his own peak, he rested his sweaty forehead against hers, and whispered into her hair, "You're a damn good actress, sweetheart…"
…
His mobile phone rang loudly, but he ignored it, burying deeper under his pillow.
Whoever was on the other end of the line had patience. Once more it began to ring and Haymitch vowed to himself to throw the phone out of the window as soon as he got up. Finally, the caller gave up and he let out a sigh of relief – just as his landline began to ring.
Cursing colorfully, he rolled out of bed, ready to rip the phone out of the wall. Grabbing the receiver he yelled into it. "Abernathy!"
"Jesus, Haymitch, where are you?" Chaff sounded mystified.
Haymitch suppressed a snarl. "At home, you moron, or we wouldn't be talking right–"
"Shut up! I have fantastic news!" There was a dramatic pause and Haymitch could hear the sound of his heart pumping.
"Heavensbee wants to produce your screenplay!" Chaff screamed into the phone and Haymitch felt the ground shift under his feet. "He said we should come to Hollywood as soon as possible and discuss everything." Suddenly, Chaff's voice dropped in volume, now sounding a touch apprehensive. "There's just one slight problem..."
Haymitch could hear his friend swallowing hard as his own blood roared in his ears.
"Plutarch is insisting that your muse has to be the lead actress."
With a loud bang, Haymitch dropped the phone, running his shaking hands over his pale face.
"Do you know where we can reach Octavia?" Chaff's voice asked from the phone handset, which was dangling only a few centimeters above the old wooden floor.
'Fortune is a frivolous girl...' Isn't it, Haymitch?
Thanks for 'Katniss & Haymitch – Play Dead' on YouTube for inspiration.