8. The Bar
Where her social life was concern, there was little resemblance to the person she was before the war. It was glaringly apparent when she chose instead to spend her Friday night in the office, going through the project timeline and noting with satisfaction that it was going according to schedule - schedule she had meticulously set out.
Cressida and Pollux had tried to persuade her into joining them for a party two blocks away from the office thrown by one of the small-time district entrepreneurs but the thought of mingling with people from the districts made her stomach roiled. Just like those former Capitol elites, Effie was sure that some of them would have something nasty to say behind her back or mock her in the face or throw her disdainful looks, all of which she was not in the mood to face that night so she opted to work instead.
It was boring, yes, but boring was good. Boring meant she was safe.
That was becoming her new motto in life. As long as things were boring, it meant things were fine and there was no need to disrupt that.
Glancing at the clock, she realised with a start that it was nearing nine at night. Going home too late in the night was something she was not comfortable with either so she shut her computer, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked home.
She passed by rows of shops that had sprung up in the neighbourhood. The deli was still open, as usual, so she slipped in and smiled at the lady behind the counter. Without even having to say anything, the lady had her usual order prepared and wrapped. Effie walked passed the bar to get to the traffic junction that would take to her building when she spotted the familiar hunched figure of Haymitch Abernathy.
She stopped, debating with herself if she should go in. But even if she did, what would she do or say? The bar was not a place she frequent often or at all.
It was then that Haymitch turned and saw her standing by the glass window. He raised his glass in a toast, a half smile on his lips before he looked away, swirling the glass absent-mindedly.
It was actually the look on his face that made her walked in. He looked... despondent... lonely.
The stool next to him was empty so Effie slid in and placed the sandwich on the bar top.
"Finally finished working, huh?"
She smiled. At the risk of her dinner getting cold, Effie unwrapped it.
"You don't eat after eight," he pointed out this change in her behaviour.
"I am not an escort anymore."
The 'I do not have to look good for the cameras' was left unsaid but Haymitch understood it anyway.
"You're not," he nodded. "You could use a bit filling out, anyway. Here, have a drink on me."
He ordered a random cocktail off the menu and scoffed when it came, a sloshing pink drink with a mini umbrella.
The back of her neck prickled and after years of being in the spotlight, Effie could always tell when someone was looking at her. She didn't mind it before but now... It made her uncomfortable in her own skin.
Angling her body, she turned to see a group of women sitting in a booth. The only reason, she realised she felt that someone was staring at her was because their gaze was lingering on the person next to her. They were watching Haymitch, sometimes giggling and conferring amongst themselves.
She shifted a little and her stool moved just tiny bit to the left, closer to Haymitch.
"Here, have some with me," she said without much affair, giving him more than half of her sandwich.
She never could eat much which meant Haymitch often cleaned her plate since he had something against wasting food. He picked up his half of the share and took a large bite from it. It was gone in two bites before she was even a quarter through hers.
His gaze strayed her way every now and then, watching her quietly.
"What's the matter?" Effie asked as she put down her napkin.
"What makes you think anything's wrong?" Haymitch snorted. "Me in a bar, drink in a hand... What tipped you off?"
"The fifteen years I worked with you. There is something you're not telling me."
With a scrunched of his nose, Haymitch downed his whiskey and ordered another.
"I've been thinking 'bout sitting out tomorrow's plan."
She traced the movement of his finger circling the rim of his glass with her eyes, waiting for him to explain.
"You'll have Beetee for tomorrow so... You've got a victor – you don't need me there, yeah?"
"I – I don't but..."
I want you to.
She was used to his presence. She was used to it being them - she and him – destroying the arena. It would be different without him around but he must have his reasons for not wanting to be there when he had refused to leave for Twelve even after Mags'.
"May I ask why?
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. One of the women from the booth earlier, bumped his shoulder as she picked up her drink from the counter. She sent a charming smile his way but Haymitch merely nodded, clearly distracted enough not to fall for her ploy.
"I can't look at him," Haymitch admitted, forcing Effie's attention back from the woman to him. "I can't do it without thinkin' of Prim blowin' up to pieces."
Startled at that unexpected admission, Effie sat her glass down lest it slipped from her grip. She turned in her seat so that she was facing him, her knees resting lightly against the side of his thigh.
"It ain't his fault or Gale's... Not really, not their blame to take on the whole. They designed the dual-timing explosion but they didn't fuckin' know Coin would find 'bout it and use it," Haymitch muttered in a rough voice. "Except I can't help but think if they were as suspicious 'bout Coin as I was..."
He trailed off but clearly did not find that point worth illustrating further because he said, "He's gonna see me tomorrow if I'm there. He's gonna want to talk 'bout what happened again and it ain't somethin' I want. This whole business with the arenas is fucking exhaustin' already in the first place without having to add that conversation into the mix, you know?"
Effie barely form a reply when Haymitch took her bag at the foot of the stool and set it on his lap. He unzipped it without asking her if it was permissible to do so, as if he was at liberty to be going through her things the way he often come and go from her room before. He quickly found what he was looking for amidst her bag of make-up, the novel she was reading which drew a skeptical look from Haymitch and her emergency tampons. Haymitch flipped through her bound notebook.
"He'd want to see Wiress' arena destroyed," Haymitch finger tapped the section marked with the year Wiress had won. "Do me a favour and get his and Wiress' destroyed tomorrow, yeah? Hers is gonna be close to Chaff and I don't want to have to take a trip in a hovercraft with him if I can avoid it."
"I will work it out tomorrow with the team," Effie assured, taking back her book and her bag from him. "How long do you plan on avoiding him, Haymitch?"
All she got for an answer was a non-committal shrug.
"Victors should stick together," she advised. "You are a close-knitted group with the exception of Enobaria. You're bound to see him during Finn's birthday celebrations or Remembrance Day."
Snorting, Haymitch, "you should take your own advice too, yeah? Stick with your victors. Your team... Don't see you doing that."
His words felt like a punch to her stomach. That was unfair. Effie recoiled and promptly turned away from him, staring at the multitudes of liquor bottle on display across from her behind the bar.
"Shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry, sweetheart," he held both hands up. This time, he moved his stool closer. "Don't go," he placed a hand on her arm when she started keeping her belongings back into her purse. "I like that you're here. Stay, alright? Won't talk 'bout you not being in Twelve ever. Okay?"
Ever... She paused.
He would never ask her to return to Twelve again.
Except, on his first day back, he had been sure that when he goes home, she would come with him.
He's going to take me back because I want to, not because he asked.
XxX
It did not surprise her to see Beetee arriving in Plutarch's car since Plutarch had graciously offered his home to the man. He would have extended the same courtesy to Haymitch if he was only going to be staying in the city for a day or two, she supposed, except Haymitch would be here for a few months and Plutarch would not risk Haymitch turning his home into a pig sty.
"Ms. Trinket," Beetee greeted amicably with a smile.
Before the war, Effie had never been forced to spend her down time with Beetee as she had with Finnick or Chaff or Johanna when they made social calls to Twelve's Penthouse. Chaff always thought Beetee was too serious and put too much damper on the group's spirit for him to be included.
"Will Haymitch be here?" Beetee asked when he noticed that Haymitch was not in the room.
Covering for Haymitch had become second nature to her after numerous stunts he pulled during Games season so this was no different.
"Since you will be here to oversee your arena as well as Wiress, I gave him the day off. I did not think his presence today was needed."
"I see," Beetee nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Will you tell him that I have something he might find interesting? I had thought to give it to him now since we are both in the city but... Let him know, will you?"
"What is it?"
"I would rather meet him and pass it to him personally."
Effie sighed.
This was exactly what Haymitch wanted to avoid.
"He will ask if it is anything important," Effie said once the hovercraft had landed and her voice could be heard over the sound of the rotators, "and if you really do want to meet him, you will have to give me more than that."
The sad smile on his face was telling enough for her. He must have known that Haymitch would not have wanted to meet him.
"He is not... angry," Effie felt compelled to say. "He knows you and Mr. Hawthorne are not to be blamed for what happened. I believe he just needs time to come around."
"I understand completely," Beetee nodded, accepting the bottle of water Cressida tossed his way for their journey. "I take the blame for what happened. I should have known. I should have been more careful."
The slight pause from her was enough a canvas for him to paint his own conclusion on where she stood on that matter.
"This here," he showed her a small thumb drive, "is the recording of the vote Coin had all the Victors participate in. I took it from Plutarch and deleted the soft copy. He does not know that I have it in here now. I believe that it is the only recording."
"A recording?"
"We were told that it was a confidential vote but I believed especially after what Coin pulled with the design Gale and I had, that she had the vote recorded in case she... needed leverage in the future."
Her gaze landed on the device in his palm.
"Why would you want to give it to him?"
"His was the swing vote, Ms. Trinket," Beetee said. "I have heard of one or two publishing company in the midst of publishing the events that led to the fall of the Capitol. This," he tapped the thumb drive, "is part of our history. It is something that happened even if, thankfully, the last Games never came to fruition but the votes did happen and if this recording falls into any one of the publishing company's hands, it will be published. That is something that I can guarantee you. I wouldn't know how they would paint the vote or any of the victors who voted for it."
Effie held out her palm and he easily gave her possession of the thumb drive.
"I owe it to him and to Katniss over what happened. If he or Katniss wants it destroyed, they should do it even if it meant we are withholding the truth from the public. Or otherwise, if this leaks – "
"It shouldn't if this is the only copy," Effie interrupted despite herself.
"If it does and if I am wrong about this being the only copy in existence, then you with your experience with public relations could cast the event in a … proper light," Beetee said. "Soften the impact so to speak; make the victors look non-threatening especially to the Capitol citizens so they would continue to place their trust in this new government. If Coin had lived, she would have informed the public that the Victors stood by the decision for the Games even if she gave her word that the specifics would be confidential."
"Her word doesn't seem to mean much, does it?" Effie mused, looking at the thumb drive in her hand.
"No, it doesn't, which is why I took this away from Plutarch. If any of the publishing company even alludes to the vote perhaps… we could present it in a way that does not distress a certain group of people."
He meant the Capitol citizens. People like me. If I was distressed when I found out, the others would too.
"I will give this to him," Effie assured. "Thank you."
When I read Mockingjay and it says that Coin in the event of the Games would let the public know that the Victors stood by it, it made me think that would she really not disclose who voted what in the future if any of the victors were to... step out of line? It's Coin so I have trust issues with her.
ANYWAY, what do you make of Effie's life motto about boring = good and hayffie at the bar or Haymitch with Beetee? Let me know!
A/N: I am going on a vacation next week so I will try to update the chapter on Sunday night instead of the usual Saturday.
