Chapter Seven

In the end, Peeta accepted Plutarch's offer. Cato had an idea that Peeta had always been aware that it was sort of a no brainer, but that he wanted to think it over anyway. A few days after he received the email, Peeta wrote back to Plutarch saying that he would be honoured to accept the role. The Chairman didn't hesitate in replying and told Peeta that he was delighted to hear this and that he couldn't wait to start working with him in May.

They had to talk through a few things, such as Peeta's cane and how they were going to work around it. Plutarch explained that there would be a medical officer on duty at all times during performances, and any time Peeta needed to sit down during rehearsals he could. They were expected in District 1, the home of the main PAAM building at the end of April, so the cast could get acquainted before rehearsal began. Cato was relieved when Plutarch didn't have an issue with his coming along. As much of an amazing opportunity this was, Cato wasn't fond of leaving Peeta in District 1 for the good part of a year. They'd barely been separated from one another for a month since High School, the best part of a year for rehearsals and then another year of the tour itself was not going to fly.

There was only one thing they had avoided doing for most of the week. In fact, doing it had made them so weary that they waited until the day before they were leaving for 12 for the holidays before finally bucking up the courage to do it.

To tell Snow about Plutarch's offer, and of Peeta accepting it without discussing it with him first.

"Do you think he'll be mad?" Peeta asked.

They were heading out the back of the mansion, to where Snow was tending to his roses in the garden. The weather had picked up a bit after the seemingly endless torrents of rain, the sun having risen in the sky as if it hadn't disappeared at all. Their agent had been attempting to fix up the garden again over the last few days after the rain and wind had destroyed most of his flower beds. The only thing that seemed to have survived was the roses, which Snow now tended to every single day.

"There's not much he can do about it if he is," Cato reasoned.

"He could drop us from the label," Peeta said.

Cato frowned. It was a possibility, but a rather silly one considering the fact that Snow had always made a big deal about how 212 saved the label and were the most successful band they'd ever signed. Peeta being part of Les Miserables would only pose to increase their income and popularity anyway so there really wasn't a reason why their agent should be anything but happy for them.

"He couldn't risk dumping us from the label." Cato touched the back of Peeta's neck as they walked, rubbing it comfortingly. "Stop fretting."

They passed through the glass patio doors out into the garden. If the front of the mansion looked massive, it had nothing on the back grounds. It seemed to go on forever in a stretch of endless green, melding into the forest that lined the back of the grounds at the very bottom. You could almost fit another mansion there; it was that gigantic.

The garden had been a florists dream before the bad weather. There had been so many different varieties of flora that had bloomed in Snow's garden. Some of them the product of seeds bought by Snow himself, others having grown wild over the deck chairs and gazebo. The hectic weather had destroyed most of them, leaving nothing but Snow's roses behind. It was lucky that anything was left behind at all, but it was a godsend that it was the roses. The roses were Snow's pride and joy.

As they had suspected, Snow was trimming the roses in the garden. They were white roses, to match their agent's name. Cato didn't know how to size up the man's mood from his demeanour, and could only hope that he could be in a semi-good feeling today. Knowing their luck, though, this would be the one day where Snow would be in the worst mood of all possible moods.

"Where have you boys been hiding all week?" Snow asked without turning around. "You're going away tomorrow and you're spending the week hiding from me?"

"We weren't hiding," Peeta quickly said, as if the prospect of them hiding from Snow at all would anger him enough to condemn Peeta's decision to accept the role in the musical. "We were just sort of . . . arranging a few things. For the trip."

Snow snipped a thorn off one of the roses, still not turning around to face them. Even Cato found it unnerving how he spoke to them with his back turned. Like he somehow knew that thy weren't going anywhere while in his presence. "I trust everything is in order?" he said.

"Uh, yeah." Cato glanced at Peeta, who was chewing anxiously on his lip, not knowing how to bring up the topic they needed to discuss. "There's something we need to talk to you about, though. Before we go."

Snow froze, his clippers poised as if ready to snap downwards at any moment. Peeta sucked in a breath, as if anticipating their agent spinning around and stabbing them to death with the shears before they even got to tell him what was going on. Cato nudged Peeta when he didn't say anything. As much as he wanted to do it for him, Cato couldn't tell Snow about Les Miserables. Peeta accepted the role, it was his duty to inform Snow of it. Cato was here as moral support, ready to stand in if Snow did something out of line.

The fact that they were anticipating Snow doing something out of line was a tad disconcerting.

"At the start of the week, the chairman of the PAAM emailed me," Peeta began, immediately taking up the habit of playing with his fingers while he spoke.

"Plutarch Heavensbee? I know him well," Snow answered.

"Um, yeah, so uh, he actually said that he was putting up Les Miserables to tour the country in 2017," Peeta continued.

"So . . . ?"

"He," Peeta swallowed hard, "he offered me the role of Marius and I, uh, I took it."

What had to be the longest pause Cato had ever endured in his entire life followed. He watched Snow carefully, glad for the deck furniture that stood between them and him. Cato didn't expect Snow to lash out at them, but if he was going to get angry and start yelling the distance would be extremely helpful. There's nothing worse than having someone scream in your face. Cato had taken enough shit like that from the stepwitch, he wasn't going to take it off Snow as well.

"You took it," Snow repeated.

"Even you can't deny it would be a wasted opportunity if he hadn't," Cato said, immediately to Peeta's defence.

"It would bring more attention to the band!" Peeta added. "It would be increase the popularity of not only us but your label too. Maybe if the people who attend the musical like me enough they'll look into 212 and possibly buy some of our music. Not to mention it will create links between us and the PAAM which could possibly lead to future projects, maybe even including Cato this time which would result in even more popularity"-

"Peeta, breathe," Cato said gently.

Peeta took a deep breath, seeming to have forgotten to do so during his panicked spiel. "I stand by my choice. You know I don't really care about popularity, Snow, that's your dealing. This is something I want to do and I won't let you stop me from doing it."

There was another pause. Finally, Snow turned around. He didn't look mad, which was a relief, but his expression was hard to decipher. "Why are you immediately assuming that I'm angry with you?" he asked.

Cato felt as taken aback as Peeta looked. "We wouldn't be able to produce any music until at least the end of 2017," Cato said, in case Snow hadn't realised this yet and that was why he wasn't furious.

Snow nodded slowly, putting the shears down onto the garden table and seating himself on one of the deck chairs. "I understand that," he said. "However, that doesn't discredit your point, Peeta. Or yours either, Cato. This is a massive opportunity you can't miss out on and it will most definitely bring attention to your music."

"Exactly!" Peeta said, daring to smile for the first time since they set foot in the garden.

Snow smiled back, but Cato couldn't help feeling like the gesture was quite empty and false. He couldn't quite put his finger on what made him think this, but it had to be something to do with how the smile didn't reach his eyes . . .

"You must promise me that you're going to make up for the lost work in whatever way I deem fit," Snow said.

Peeta nodded. "Of course, of course."

Snow propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his face on his knuckles. "Then notify the PR team and let them confirm it. I'm not having Plutarch getting the glory rights at announcing this," he said. "That man likes a good story for the PAAM nearly just as much as I do for you two. Nearly."

Peeta did this immediately, not willing to question Snow's patience by dilly dallying. Who knew how Snow really felt about this, or whether he would change his mind over the smallest thing or not. Cato felt like there was something off about their agent's behaviour. He had expected them to have gotten shouted at for insolence at least once, or at the very least for not discussing it with him before accepting the role. But there had been none of that? Something didn't feel right.

Somehow Cato didn't feel like Snow was doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He was planning something.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

A/N: I can only apologise for how long this has taken, and how pathetically short it is. As I have explained on my profile, there was a recent bereavement of a close relative in my family and I just haven't been up for writing at all. I'm trying to get back into the groove of it, hence why I finally got this chapter written, but I can't say for sure if I'm back to regular updating yet.

Just remember: I have NOT ditched this story. I never ditch stories without notifying my readers first. You guys would be the first to know if I was stopping writing a story.

Please R&R and thanks for sticking with me (: