21 The Next Chapter
"Mr. President?"
Coriolanus opened his eyes to find Cashmere staring at him from the piano. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I promise you that I wasn't sleeping. I apologize if it appeared so."
"I know. Did you enjoy the Chopin Nocturne?" asked Cashmere.
"It was beautiful. Pieces like that sometimes transport me far away. "
"Good," said Cashmere. "Music should stir one's thoughts."
"My dear, each time you visit me in the mansion, I find that you keep improving. Can you play another?" asked Coriolanus.
"Later," replied Cashmere, standing from the piano. "I would like to have a second cup of tea."
"Ah. Please, allow me to pour." Coriolanus began refilling the two cups resting on a small, circular tea table. "How do you find the leaf?"
"Very pleasant." Cashmere took her seat before lifting her teacup. "Not as bitter as last time."
Coriolanus glanced at the gift-wrapped rectangle object that lay on the table. He then looked up at his guest and smiled. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"Yes." Cashmere smiled in turn. "But first, you have to tell me why?"
"Why what?"
Cashmere set down her teacup. "We've been friends for what...three years now. You have given me a gift on this exact date three years in a row."
Without commenting, the president returned the spoon to his teacup and began stirring in a splash of milk.
"Coriolanus, did you think that I wouldn't notice?"
"I didn't think it all that important," replied the president.
"It must be important for you to request my presence on this specific day. You can tell me anything." Cashmere calmly folded her hands in her lap. "That is what friends do."
Returning the spoon to the saucer, Coriolanus inhaled deeply before meeting Cashmere's patient stare. "Today is my daughter's birthday."
The victor remained statuesque as everything became clearer. Gnawing her lip, she eyed the president and asked, "What did you do?"
"I interfered with love. I...meddled."
"A wise man like you should know better than to meddle with love." Cashmere transferred the gift from the table to her lap.
"A lesson hard learned." Coriolanus's smile faded. "I guess I wasn't all that wise when I lost her."
"You don't talk?" asked Cashmere.
"No."
"Isn't your granddaughter hers?"
"Yes, but her nanny transfers her back and forth. My daughter wants nothing to do with me. She wants me to step down from the presidency before she'll even consider speaking to me."
"But you don't want to step down?"
"I do," replied Coriolanus, "but I can't leave Panem to anyone. Panem is more fragile than what people realize. I will step down when the right person comes along." Coriolanus watched as Cashmere's fingers traced the patterns on the wrapping paper. "Aren't you going to open it? You're torturing me."
"I can tell it's a paper book, as was last year's gift. I also know that your gifts have meaning." Tapping her finger against the gift, Cashmere pressed her lips tight as she stared at her friend. "What was the meaning in last year's book?"
"With last year's book..." Sipping his tea, Coriolanus thought back. "Helen Burns. Your inner strength and spiritually remind me of her."
Recalling the story, Cashmere smiled. "Ah, I see." Merrily, she proceeded to tear the wrapping and slid the book free. Holding it under the small table lamp, she read the book's title aloud, "The Three Musketeers."
"It's an extremely well written adventure story. What makes the story great is the bond of friendship."
Cashmere sniffed the leather binding. "And the meaning?"
Coriolanus's smile stretched from ear to ear. "There is a woman in the story named Milady de Winter. She is brave and wise, like you."
"Is she dangerous?" asked Cashmere with a coy smile.
"Very."
"Good. I'm sure I'll enjoy this as much as last year's book."
Sipping his tea, Coriolanus brow narrowed. "Do you actually enjoy the books I give you?"
"Yes, very much so. I've read the Bronte books twice now. I truly am a fan of the classics."
The president leaned back in his chair, appearing more relaxed after Cashmere's reply. "Please let me know if I give you a book not to your liking, so I don't repeat myself."
"I will." Cashmere returned to her tea. "I hope you're not depleting your wonderful library of these books."
"The antique shops know I'm a fan of the classics in paper form. Whenever they stumble across good copies, they contact my secretary."
"Well, I truly do love the books you give me. I'm always reading on the train as I go back and forth to the Capitol to attend a sponsor's party."
Using his thumb, Coriolanus began tracing the elaborate patterns on the side of the teacup. "Aren't you tired of parties? Do you think you'll ever settle down?"
"I don't want to settle down."
"Do you want to find someone special, someone that's more than a friend?"
"No." Cashmere sipped her tea. "You're my friend, and I have music. If I have an itch that needs scratching, I'll go play with a sponsor."
"Don't you mean torture a sponsor?"
Cashmere smiled. "It's not my fault that some of them enjoy being disciplined by a victor."
"But do you enjoy it?" asked Coriolanus.
"I do." Cashmere's eyes narrowed, revealing her mischievous side. "You'll know when I've had too much fun when I leave a scar."
Coriolanus held up his hand. "I actually don't want to know." Reflecting on the Games—and the importance of sponsors, the president's thoughts drifted to business. "What do you think of the young victor Mr. Odair?"
"Finnick? He's pretty, but not my type. I doubt it would be any fun breaking him."
The president gave his friend a disapproving look. "I'm more concerned about his eagerness to please sponsors. He volunteers for many of the meet and greets. He spends more time in the Capitol than you."
Shrugging, Cashmere returned to her tea. "Maybe he loves the attention. I have to admit that I sometimes get caught up the celebrity status of being a victor."
With a heavy brow, Coriolanus stared down into his cup. "Something just doesn't feel right. My people believe he's madly in love with the victor Annie Cresta."
"I've heard that rumor too."
"Then why spend so much time away from her?"
Cashmere's smirk foretold what the president was thinking. "He's probably got an itch to scratch. The Games did leave Annie incapable of taking care of herself. He probably can't have as much fun with her as he would like."
"Perhaps." The president sipped his tea.
Setting down her cup, Cashmere returned to the piano. "Coriolanus, what do you do for fun when you're not reading and tending to your roses?"
I worry, he thought from behind his smile. "I often gather with friends, such as you, for intelligent conversation and art. I'm always looking for the intrinsic beautify in life, and the art within."
...
Having gathered with his friends in the Training Center, Coriolanus studied the naked body before him. Curled up into a fetal position, a dead man lay on a shower floor, water pooled in the many folds of body fat. Long thinning hair that use to make for a bad comb over draped over the dead man's bloodied face. The president could see that the man's fingernails were bent and torn with blood clotting on the ends of his fingertips.
The president's security assistant, Tiberius, bent down and searched for a pulse. "I'm fairly certain he's dead."
"He better be," said Julia in a perturbed tone. "I poisoned him with enough tracker jacker venom to drop a horse."
Tiberius tilted his head to get a view of the man's severely scratched face. "That explains why he nearly clawed out his own eyes."
Coriolanus turned to find his friend leaning against the bathroom sink, her arms crossed. "I'm sure you were justified, but what did he do?"
"He murdered one of my girls. My best Avox. The pig choked her to death."
Coriolanus looked down on the body and sighed. "Couldn't you've waited a couple weeks until after the Games?"
"You've got plenty of Gamemakers; I'm short a floor Avox. You know my situation and the special Avoxes I need. Hell, I'll probably have to replace her with a kitchen Avox during the Games. It's hard enough running the Training Center without these pigs destroying my side business."
The president walked up to a mirror and began inspecting his beard. "And I'm going to need a new Head Gamemaker." Realizing who the next Head Gamemaker would be, the president grimaced. "Damn."
"Sir?" asked Tiberius.
"My new Head Gamemaker will be Seneca Crane. He's one of those think outside the box people."
Julia approached the president and began straightening his tie. "I know him; he visits my girls every so often. He's an odd one."
"How so?" asked the president as he raised his chin, smiling when their eyes met.
"He only wants massages, real therapeutic massages. My Avoxes don't like him."
"They'd rather do the other?" asked the president.
"He likes two hour massages, sometimes longer. He says it helps him relax and brings out his creativity."
Coriolanus huffed with amusement. "His creativity is what worries me."
Tiberius gestured to the body. "Sir, what scenario should I use?"
"Use the fatal hovercraft accident while visiting a new Hunger Games arena." The president's brow knitted from a second thought. "Tiberius, have we used that one recently?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Make sure to cremate the body. We don't want his widow to see his facial scratches. Say he was so badly burned at the crash site that it was protocol to cremate the body."
"Yes, sir."
George, the head of mansion security, appeared in the doorway with a folded black body bag. "I found a trolley to help us get him to the parking garage."
Tiberius took the body bag and unfolded it next to the shower stall, unzipping it fully. When the two men each grabbed a set of limbs to transfer the dead man into the body bag, both groaned from the extreme effort it took to lift the overweight man over the lip of the shower stall.
Stretching his back, Tiberius asked, "Is this Seneca Crane a heavy man?"
Unable to restrain his amusement, the president replied with a simple, "No. He's quite slender." Offering his arm to Julia, Coriolanus asked, "Is your kitchen still open? I'm famished."
"Of course, darling." With an air of satisfaction, Julia took hold of the president's arm and followed his lead from the room. "I told the chef to begin preparing your favorite dish right after I called you."
"My dear, you spoil me," said Coriolanus. "You've actually made replacing the Head Gamemaker a trip worth taking."
...
In his outdoor garden, after pulling the last of the weeds, Coriolanus sat back on his heels and brushed the dirt from his hands. From his low vantage point, he gazed down the row of white roses, pleased with the pruning. He made a mental note to ask his head gardener, Mr. Croft, to check the nitrogen levels of the flowerbed that surrounded his favorite Hawthorne tree.
"Mr. President?" called out a young female.
Coriolanus rose to his feet in search of the familiar voice. Spotting Cashmere a couple hedgerows over, he waved to her with his gardening hat before wiping his sweaty brow.
Weaving through the hedgerows, Cashmere was soon greeting the president. "Coriolanus, how are you?" She leaned in to kiss the man on the cheek only to see him pull away.
"I'm filthy, my dear. I don't want you to get your beautiful dress dirty."
"Nonsense." Stepping forward, Cashmere kissed the cheek of the relenting old man. "See, my dress is fine."
The president smiled. "You're early."
"I took an earlier train from District One today. I especially did not want to be late for tonight's symphony."
The president nodded in agreement. "Haydn and..."
"Geminiani"
"Ah right. It should be a splendid night."
Cashmere inspected the president's current work. "Are all the roses that surround this tree Devil's Roses?"
"Yes. They were my wife's favorite."
"I know. You've told me."
"Ah, I suppose I have." Coriolanus looked up at the tree with a concerned look.
Observing her friend, Cashmere asked, "You didn't hate her; did you?"
Coriolanus swallowed hard under the hot sun. "No. But things were not going smoothly when she accidentally overdosed. I should have been a better husband; I should have ignored my own concerns and been more attentive to my family."
Cashmere placed a supporting hand upon his shoulder. "There is no point dwelling on the what ifs and could haves. You know that."
"Yes," replied Coriolanus, his voice somber. "But I miss my family."
"You still have your granddaughter...and me."
Coriolanus smiled as he accepted Cashmere's hand. "How very true."
"Is Gaia still joining us tonight?"
"Yes, and Mary will also be joining us. The nanny says that my daughter has given her approval to keep Gaia overnight."
"Did you ask your daughter to join us?" asked Cashmere
"Yes, but she declined...as usual"
"I'm sorry."
Coriolanus shrugged as he returned his gaze to the tree. After a long pause, he gestured towards the trunk and said, "My wife is in that Hawthorn tree. I buried her ashes with that tree when I planted it over twenty years ago."
"If she was here, I'm sure she would be impressed with your garden."
Coriolanus smiled. "I doubt very much that she'd be praising me."
"Well, her ashes make for a majestic tree."
Coriolanus gazed up into the tree canopy. "Very little of her is actually in the tree. Trees are made of air."
Cashmere gave the president a confused look.
"The tree." The president pointed again to the Hawthorn. "Only trace nutrients absorbed from the ground make it into the trunk. The wood itself is made from the carbon absorbed from the air."
"Huh." Cashmere smiled as she gazed up at the leaves. "I assumed it fed from the soil and the sun. That is interesting."
Coriolanus's smile faded as his thoughts drifted from his wife to Julia. He turned to Cashmere. "Do you think that you've met your one true love?"
"When I was a teenager, I thought I found my true love at least once a week." Much like Coriolanus, Cashmere's face turned glum. "Now, I don't believe I ever have."
"You're still young. You have time."
Cashmere caressed a white rose before here. "Is your friend Julia your true love?"
With pressed lips, Coriolanus nodded. "Yes. But unfortunately, we have drifted apart. I too was a romantic, thinking that true love was forever, but wisdom opens one's eyes. When you stumble upon that special person, cherish the feeling as if each day is your last. Nothing is forever."
"You still love Julia?"
"Of course," replied Coriolanus, "but life has other plans for us. Our paths have split into different directions some time ago. I see it now."
Staring aimlessly at the garden, Cashmere sighed. "I don't think that I can truly love anyone. Becoming a victor changes who you are."
"Perhaps, the victor was always inside you; the Games brought it to the surface."
Cashmere turned to face the president. "I don't think so, but there is darkness in everyone. It lurks deep inside, waiting to escape once one becomes desperate enough. Becoming victor sacrifices part of your soul in exchange for a few more days of life."
"Do you regret becoming victor?" asked Coriolanus.
"No. I'm proud to be a victor and appreciate all the rewards that come from the status. Plus, I still experience the occasional adrenaline rush when I recall how I cheated death. If I had to do all over again, I would not change a thing because this is who I am. I am a victor."
And I'm the president, thought Snow. With a smile, he extended his elbow. "Shall we go inside so I can wash up?"
"Sure. Are we eating at the Training Center restaurant tonight?"
"Yes. Garum, the head chef, is expecting us."
"The Seneschal was lucky to find him. The man could turn mac and cheese into fine cuisine."
The president patted his friend's hand. "I agree wholeheartedly."
As the pair neared the mansion, Cashmere began to slow their pace, coming to a stop. "Coriolanus, you asked me when we first met to report any odd behavior of my suitors."
The president nodded. "Yes."
"Well, I'm going out with your finance minister tomorrow night, and I thought that you might be interested in something."
"What about him?" asked Snow.
"In the bedroom he likes to—"
"Stop." Coriolanus raised his hand as his head turned away.
"I know you don't like hearing my more personal affairs, but you might be interested in this one."
Hesitantly, Coriolanus faced his friend. "Okay. If you think it important."
"Your financial minister likes to play spy in the bedroom. It's the same game every time. He likes to have me secure him to a chair with leather restraints and interrogate him until he cannot take it anymore. He eventually surrenders to me by saying a safety word."
"What part of this should I be concerned about?" asked an uncomfortable Snow.
"It's the details. He's quite specific with the details, like calling himself a rebel spy. When he resists me, he will often confess that he only knows two other rebel spies in the network—that the network was set up in a way to keep from collapsing from one security breach. He always confesses that all rebel information is passed within the network by word of mouth, never by electronic transmission."
"That is a lot of detail for just playing around." Snow licked his lips. "Does he always use the term rebel?"
"Yes," replied Cashmere. "Are there rebel spies?"
Coriolanus subtlety nodded his head. "We've never been able to crack their network."
"What do they want?"
"The same as everybody else. They want to be in charge."
"I see this man tomorrow. What do you want me to do?"
"Carry on as usual," said Coriolanus. "I'll tell my security assistant that this man should be watched. He'll contact you."
"Okay."
"Does this man say anything else?" asked Snow.
"No, he's quite predictable like the others. Outside the bedroom, he complains about his wife."
Gnawing his lip, the president stroked his beard. "If I remember correctly, he has children."
"Yes. He has a son...I forget the name. Oh, and a daughter named Lavinia. He can't stop raving about her."
Snow's mind raced with the new information. "If he wants to play spy, we'll oblige him." When question came to mind, the president smiled. "I can't believe that I'm going to ask, but what is his safe word?"
"It's a rebel word created during the last war." The corners of Cashmere's lips curled up into a sneer. "The word is mockingjay."
...
Days later, Julia stepped out of the shadows to join Coriolanus on the musical stage located inside the Training Center lounge. "There you are."
Coriolanus stood from behind piano and kissed Julia. "You look ravishing, my dear."
"Thank you." Julia ran her fingers over the polished wood of a grand piano. "And thank you for the wonderful piano. It sounded brilliant last night."
Tapping one of the keys, Coriolanus held it down to listen to the resonance reverberate over the stage. "It sounds terrific. Who broke it in last night?"
"We had a jazz pianist last night. He said that this was the finest piano he had ever played."
Snow stepped back to admire the gleam of the wood under the spotlights. "Good."
Julia moved next to the president and took hold of his arm. "I'm not complaining, but why did you give the Training Center this?"
"Your lounge is one of the finest establishments in all the Capitol. I want you to have the best. Electronic pianos just won't do."
"Yes, but why? True pianos are priceless. Does anyone make them anymore?"
Coriolanus shook his head. "The last true piano craftspeople perished in the dark days. My assistant, Ashur, eventually tracked down a classical instrument restorer in District Three. By chance, the restorer had just finished with this grand piano. I bought it for you.
"Isn't this piano similar to the one you gave away?" asked Julia in a cautious tone.
"It is similar to the one I gave to Cashmere. What are you implying?"
"Nothing." Julia released the president's arm and took a seat before the piano. "Does she play well?"
"Yes." Coriolanus joined his friend on the bench. "Her piano skills are quite good."
"Does she know that she's your daughter's surrogate?"
Coriolanus smiled. "Yes. But I would be her friend even if my daughter was on speaking terms with me. Does it bother you that I have a platonic relationship with this young woman?"
Julia began to play a simple tune. "I don't mind. You've always had an attraction to strong, independent women."
"You being the strongest and fairest of them all, my dear." Coriolanus gently leaned against Julia's shoulder.
"Flattery isn't necessary, but I do appreciate it." Julia smiled as she continued to play at the piano. "Do you want to go upstairs for a little afternoon delight?"
In a hesitant regression, Coriolanus's smile faded. "I...I can't"
Julia's playing stopped. "It's been a long while since we've been intimate. I would like to spend time with you."
Coriolanus reached for Julia's hand. "I physically can't. I find you as alluring as the first day we met, and I will always consider you the first, and only, lady of Panem, but I can't."
Gripping the president's hand firmly, Julia leaned against the man. "Is it a late effect of your poisoning? You could go to the doctor."
"Perhaps," replied Coriolanus. "But I just feel old and worn out. And to be honest, I don't miss it. Sounds crazy doesn't it?"
"No, my love, it doesn't sound crazy at all." Julia lifted the president's hand to her lips. "When I was still seeing clients, some of the older men had lost their libido. Most of them just wanted to spend their time with me talking. There was even one man who asked me to pose nude so that he could draw me. He thought drawing my figure would inspire him."
"Were his drawing any good?" asked Coriolanus.
"No," replied Julia with a smile. "He could barely draw a stick figure, but he enjoyed himself."
On the piano bench, the two friends held each other in a long embrace, both realizing that their relationship had entered the next chapter.
Coriolanus cleared his throat and asked, "What would you say to George becoming the Head Peacekeeper here at the Training Center?"
With an impish smile, Julia eyed her friend. "How long have you known?"
"For quite a long time."
"Did your surveillance people tell you?"
Raising Julia's hand to his lips, Coriolanus planted a long, dry kiss. "No, my dear. They have been given strict orders not to spy on you. I've even instructed them not to spy on George, though I haven't shared this with him. You can let him know if you deem it important." The president looked squarely at his friend. "I've always known that no one man could capture your heart. It was obvious by the way you two looked at each other. It has been obvious for years."
"We've always assumed you knew," said Julia in a somber tone.
"I'm happy that my two friends have found each other. I just hope that you and I can remain best friends."
"Of course, my love." With teary eyes, Julia planted a kiss on the president's cheek. "Forever."
"Forever," repeated Coriolanus, gently touching his forehead to hers.
Interrupting the solemn moment, Coriolanus's stomach betrayed his hunger, rumbling loudly across the musical stage.
Straightening, Julia smiled. "I take it that you're ready for lunch?"
"I am," replied an embarrassed Coriolanus.
Julia stood from the piano bench, offering her hand to the president. "Shall we move to restaurant? My chef would be heartbroken if he didn't get to cook for you."
Coriolanus stood. "We should invite George to join us."
As the two friends exited the lounge into the lobby, Julia said, "I'm so happy that you approve of George."
"Do you think he'll agree to the change in assignments?"
"Yes," replied Julia. "He's mentioned before that he has become bored with mansion security. Knowing George, he'll be mostly relieved to be unburdened by our secret. He thought you'd be furious."
Opening the door to the adjoining restaurant, Coriolanus said, "Age may have slowed me down, but my gained wisdom has taught me to never interfere with love."
"So, you've finally learned your lesson?" Smiling at her friend, Julia passed through the door into the restaurant.
"Yes I have," replied Coriolanus in tow. "I will never make that mistake again."
