Summer 2012
"My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 24. I work at a dive bar in Texas. I have a useless bachelors degree. My life is vaguely shit, but I'm alive."
" So, you repeat this to yourself every morning?" Annie's bright green eyes go wide in expectation.
"Well not exactly," I pause, "I like to switch it up a bit. For instance: 'My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 24. I majored in Environmental Policy. My mother is in rehab. I am responsible for a barely legal sister and a 58-year-old drunk. But sometimes I get laid, so things could be worse."
Annie cocks her head to the side and blinks at me for a minute or so. After three years I've gotten used to this, Annie's drawn out pauses and the way she talks mainly with her eyes. She rarely says anything unless she has thoroughly thought it over, which I can appreciate. She actually listens, and I don't mind silence.
"I don't think that's much better. I'm pretty sure daily affirmations are supposed to be… life affirming, or at least you know…" her voice drops to a barely audible whisper, "positive?"
"I don't know, sounds pretty positive to me," Johanna interjects, "alive and getting some. Now that's what Dr. A would call progress." She lets a derisive laugh. "Now, am I going to have to pour all the shit beers tonight, or would you like to earn your paycheck Ms. Everdeen?"
The bar has gotten significantly more crowded since I began relating my latest therapeutic tactics to Annie, so I toss back the tequila shot that's been sitting in front of me since I started my shift and put on my best just-give-me-some-damn-tips smile as I start taking orders.
Johanna owns "The Honkey Tonk Woman" the little dive bar on east 6th street in Austin, frequented mainly by wanna-be indie-folk rockers, perpetually broke artists, or heavily tattoos roller derby girls. She doesn't mind if I a drink a bit on the job. In fact, she's come to encourage it because, as she so delicately puts it, "you aren't exactly flirty, or inviting, or even really anything other than perpetually agitated, so maybe a couple of shots will make a decent bartender out of you."
Each member of the staff is supposed to attract a different subset of the increasingly eclectic crowd, and I have been deemed the queen of the folk-rockers, despite my frequent objections. Sure, I have the genes for it, and I play a mean fiddle, but most Austin musicians are quickly put off by my seeming lack of enthusiasm for the genre and unwillingness to discuss my quasi-famous parents.
"Everdeen!" Johanna barks from across the bar, causing me to jolt mid-pour, "You have a visitor."
My head whips towards the bouncer, Thresh, checking I.D.s by the door just in time to spot a flurry of blond and sequins. Great, it's Glimmer, human disco ball on heels. I know who's coming next as Thresh turns around, raising an eyebrow. I shoot him a quick nod of consent, and in walks Cato. He slips his arm around Glimmer and his hand comes to rest on the small of her back as Thresh hands back his I.D. Cato begins scanning the crown, and I panic. I look for Annie, but she only points those big emerald eyes down to her hands and begins shredding her napkin. My mind races in the few seconds I have before he will inevitably spot me: I could duck behind the bar and assume the fetal position, abandoning waiting customers but preserving my dignity, or I could do that trick that seems to work so well in Coyote Ugly where I take a shot, hold a lighter to my mouth, and blow out fire unto the unsuspecting crowd, surely starting a fire and yet once again, saving my precious sense of well-being.
"Oh Katniss, I forgot you still work here! I thought you would have found something else by now!" Too late. Glimmer's Paris Hilton-esque whine has pierced by irrational bubble of refuge and I can only stare as she wiggles her way over to the bar.
Now, perhaps I am being too harsh on the perfectly coiffed, leggy blonde in front of me; she did graduate from UT the same year as I did, and has recently been accepted to quite a few top-tier law schools. She's not an idiot, but she boy does she love playing dumb. Especially around Cato, who sidles up next to her and leans on the bar giving me his signature, "I've seen you naked" smirk. I knew a lot of ghosts from semesters past would be in town for the wedding, but I rather not see ever guy I screwed as an undergrad.
"Katniss, you look… tired." Cato sneered. "Finnick told us that you've been working a lot of long nights, but Jesus."
"Always ready with the compliments aren't you buddy?" I crossed my arms over my chest, effectively blocking his gaze. "What'll you have?"
"A Lonestar for me and a diet rum and coke for my lady. Oh, and some sunlight and maybe a little bit of meat-on-your-bones for the lovely bartender." With that Glimmer giggles and Cato leans in to nuzzle her neck. I avert my eyes and stifle my gag reflex as I concentrate on pouring their drinks.
Johanna has made her way back to the bar, "You okay, Kat?" I slam the glasses on the bar and glare up at the slim brunette. She knows I hate it when she calls me that, but I hold in my comment as I spot her sly grin. Johanna is a bitch in all the best ways, and after all these years, she knows I can't actually snap at her. Beneath those wiry, muscular tattooed limbs and derby bruises lies something fragile, something the chosen three of us have learned to revere. Plus, I know this is the closest she will ever come to saying she's always got my back without being 8 or 9 shots of tequila in.
"I'm just peachy Jo-Jo," I say through gritted teeth, adding a pinch on her ass for emphasis as she walks back to the storeroom.
"So, I'm guessing all these late nights haven't left you much time to find a date for the wedding… or at least one that isn't a complete drunk?" My eyes whip back to Glimmer, the only woman I know capable of ending every sentence with either an insult or a giggle. I realize that my dreams of handing the blonde duo drinks and having them immediately walk far, far away without another word have been dashed.
"Alas, I think I've had my fair share of drunks over the years." I pause, attempting to look deep in thought; "It would take a truly exceptional alcoholic to really sweep me off my feet." I quickly turn to the next customer and resume pouring drinks.
"How is ol' Haymitch by the way?" Cato shouts at my turned back," Last time I saw him he was passed out your front lawn…"
I turned back, cutting him off there, not wanting to revisit the rest of the memory "I assure you that he has since moved past the lawn and has found various other places to pass out that make him just as, if not more, happy. Thanks for inquiring!"
By this time Cato and I have locked eyes. We are back to our old game. Who will be back down first? Who will be the first to give just a little, perhaps even uttering something amiable? I watch his chest puff out and he doesn't even turn as Glimmer squeals at the arrival of a familiar face in the bar and wobbles away.
"You were always at your best when you were ticked off Everdeen." Cato murmurs, leaning in closer. Without noticing I've inched closer myself, and I feel his hot breath on my ear. My mind flashes back to my legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his arms holding my up as I bite his lip and my back slams into the wall. Skin on skin, burning and aching to be devoured. We always went at it with a reckless hunger, our minds devoid of anything other than biological instincts and basic need.
My cheeks burn red and he knows he's gotten what he wanted, a rise out of the self-proclaimed stone-cold independent woman. He takes advantage of my silence, "it's too bad you don't have plus one, you throw one hell of an after party."
His eyes scan my navel to my chest; apparently the only part of me worth looking that isn't blocked by the bar. " What happened to the latest lover boy, overwhelm him with your warm and sunny disposition?"
"He was afraid," I've gotten his attention, "afraid of what he found underneath all the layers…" My voice has gone raspy.
"And what exactly would that be Katniss?" He's hooked and I lean in closer so I can whisper my response, my lips lightly grazing his cheek "vagina dentata." He quickly jerks back, clearly disgusted as I laugh for the first time that night.
"Jesus, there's a reason why bitches like you stay single." He furiously rubs his temples, "How the hell did we last for four months?"
"Four months? Are you talking about our upcoming anniversary?" A cheerful voice deftly cuts into our conversation.
It takes me a minute to gather my senses as I gaze up into a pair of blue eyes. The blonde in front of me is awkwardly running his hands through his blond mop of hair; some parts straight, some defiantly curly. He is clearly waiting for me to chime in, but all I can think about is the fact that's been at least two years since I've studied those calloused hands sweeping a stray curl off of his forehead.
Sensing my slight shock he takes over, "Baby, I know I said I'd be working tonight, but I didn't want to miss the chance to meet all your friends before the big event."
As I register the fact that he's decided to call me "Baby" and the inherent rage that follows, I suddenly snap back into reality, "Oh my God Babe, I'm so glad you're here!" Cato juts out his jaw as he tries to warp his mind around the rare term of endearment emanating from my mouth.
To seal the deal, those same hands that captured my attention just moments before reach forward and tilts my face towards his. He inches forward and stops just before our lips meet.
Wait, why has he stopped? My mind buzzes as I fight the urge to go completely blank. Shit, he's waiting for my permission. With one last sideways glance at Cato, I bridge the gap between us. I'm stiff at first, knowing I have an audience, but he deepens the kiss slightly and I let everything else slowly drop away.
I don't know how long this goes on before Joanna marches toward me and "accidentally" shoves me in the back as she passes by. The moment broken we both retract, and can feel myself blushing furiously. "Cato," I address the confused figure to my immediate right, "meet my… plus one… Peeta."