Chapter 3
Peeta smacked his elbow on the doorjamb as he tore through the door. Between his sore arm and running, he had trouble dialing Effie. His heart raced, his mouth went dry. A sore throat came from him yelling at the phone. Peeta ran with the wind at his back.
The blue-wigged Effie stood behind the counter, he pushed through the door and dropped to the floor on all fours. Peeta panted and couldn't catch his breath.
She leaned over and patted her thighs. "Come here boy, what's wrong, Timmy fall down a well?" Effie said.
Peeta grabbed the counter and hoisted himself upright. "Where's the ..." He gasped for air.
"Speak boy, speak."
Peeta narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
"Alright, calm down, relax, take a deep breath."
"Thank you, Effie. Where is the painting, the one you picked up?"
"The Girl in the White Dress in Field of White Flowers?"
Peeta sneered at Effie. "How many paintings did you take?"
"One."
"Well, yes. The Girl in the White Dress in Field of White Flowers."
"She's very pretty. I like the white on white. It's very dreamy."
He smacked his head on the counter.
"Are you okay?"
"Just give it back?"
"Why?"
"I told you, it wasn't finished."
"Oh pish posh. It's perfect."
"Effie, please just give it to me."
"I can't, I sold it."
Peeta's eyes got tremendous. He grabbed his chest and bent over.
"Peeta, are you having a heart attack?"
He shook his head.
"Are you sure? You're really pale and you're grabbing your chest. How's your left arm?" She poked it with a pin.
"Ouch. Why did you do that?"
"They say something about your left arm when you're having a heart attack. Or was that a stroke. Now I'm not sure." Peeta turned beet read. The veins in his neck grew. "You don't look well. I'll call an ambulance."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I just have to get it back." He straightened himself up and pinched his lips. "Effie, who did you sell it to?
"Ceasar Flickerman."
Peeta lifted his eyebrows. "The TV guy with the blue hair?"
Effie bit the inside of his cheek and glared at Peeta.
"Oh, sorry Effie."
She stepped back and adjusted her wig. "He bought it for his husband's birthday."
Peeta paced around tapping his legs. "Just give me the money. I have to buy it back."
"No can do Peeta-Pocket."
"Why?"
Effie half-smiled. "Like you don't know. This sale finally pays off the money I advanced you." She placed her hands on his slumping shoulders. "You're very talented. Just paint another one. I can move your paintings. There's a market for art that people understand but is still a little mysterious."
"Okay, give me his address. Maybe I can get him to trade it for another."
Ceasar Flickerman was a well-known longtime local TV personality. His interviews of celebrities and fluff stories were perfect for escapist viewing. He was known for his outlandish clothing and colorful wigs.
Peeta brought three paintings to the Flickerman household. It was a majestic four-story townhouse in the toniest neighborhood in the city. He knocked on the door. An older white haired man with a mullet answered the door. Peeta had seen Miami Vice on TV Land and his gray suit and black tee shirt dated him to the 1980s.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to speak to Caesar Flickerman, please."
The man on the other side of the threshold stepped back and folded his arms. "Why?"
"He just bought one of my paintings-"
"Oh my God, that was you." He waved his arm and walked away. "Close the door and follow me."
Peeta walked through the marble-floored foyer. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling over an antique oak table with a vase filled with blue chrysanthemums.
"You like the flowers?"
"Yes."
"Good, today is his blue day. Ceasar, we have a visitor." His voice echoed through in the two-story atrium lined with a staircase on each wall. Artwork adorned the walls. Tables with antique vases and statues decorated the room.
Peeta's eyes opened wide. "You're Claudius Templesmith, aren't you?"
His longtime companion, Claudius Templesmith, was also in the media. He announced for many news and talk shows with his loud, booming voice. Everybody knew his voice but nobody knew what he looked like.
Claudius turned around. "Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing."
"I recognized your voice."
"Yup, I'm just a disembodied soul whose voice comes from the sky. CEASAR, WE'VE GOT COMPANY."
Caesar Flickerman stood at the top of the stairs. The reflected light from his teeth was blinding. "I heard you, Claudius." He glared at him. "THE FIRST TIME." He looked like a blue-tinted disco ball sashaying down the steps. Even his hair glittered blue.
"So, who do we have he?" Caesar asked.
"This is the artist of that painting you bought for the drawing room."
Caesar's eyes lit up. He stretched out his hand and grabbed Peeta's. He patted him on the shoulder with the other. "Peeta Mellark. So good to meet you. Come and see where we put your work of art."
"You mean where you put it," Claudius mumbled.
"You say something Claudius?" Claudius kept silent and trailed behind.
The Girl in the White Dress in Field of White Flowers hung in the middle of the wall. An assortment of paintings surrounded it. "We gave it a place of honor."
"You mean-"
Caesar cut off Claudius. "Like I said, a place of honor." He turned to Peeta. "So what do we owe this pleasure?"
"Effie sold this painting by accident."
"Oh, that's too bad," Caesar said.
"I'd like you to take something else in its place."
Claudius bounded across the room. "Oh, thank the gods. Let's see what you have."
"Absolutely not," Caesar said. He brushed off Claudius with a flick of his hand.
"Well, I want to see," Claudius said.
Peeta opened the case. "No, not that one. Too bright. No, not that one either. Too country. I like this one. It's perfect."
Peeta smiled broadly. "So we can trade?"
Caesar turned his back. "No."
"Yes, with a few changes." Claudius placed his chin in his hand. "Make the girl a boy. Have buildings behind him instead of mountains. Put clouds in the sky instead of sunlight. Dress him like it's the 1930s instead of contemporary. Have him hold a stack of newspapers instead of a baby."
"Is that all?" Peeta asked.
"Like I said, it's perfect." Claudius grabbed Caesar's arm. "Please, Caesar, for me." Claudius flicked his eyes at Caesar, pouted his lips then gave him a peck. "Please."
"Oh, Claudius, you know how to tug at my heart."
They stared into each other's eyes.
"But no. It stays."
They separated and argued so fast Peeta couldn't understand them. His heart shrunk. Pain radiated from his stomach. He looked at the painting and felt his arms around Katniss. He wished she would jump out of the painting now so they could run away.
Peeta left the couple arguing and took his slumping head out the door. A delivery boy from the supermarket stopped at the townhouse. He lifted the box from his cart and walked through a service door without using a key.
Peeta's eyes lit up and he sprinted to the subway.
Peeta printed a copy of the painting and taped it the wall of the studio. He attached the canvas to the easel and prepared his paints. Stepping back, he sighed, but this was the only course of action he could think of, Katniss had to come back to him.
He struggled, constantly referring to the printed copy. The strokes didn't flow like before, he wasn't inspired. He felt like a forger, not an artist.
The hours that followed exhausted him, but he finished. No two paintings were ever the same. He hoped it was close enough to fool Ceasar Flickerman. He checked the clock. It was hours until daytime when he had to have it framed.
After leaving a message for his mother that he was taking the day off, he poured a cup of strong black coffee and pulled out another canvas. He spent the rest of the night painting. Inspiration returned, his strokes flowed, colors blended with ease.
Peeta stepped back and admired his work. He shook his head. "Not bad." He placed the Katniss copy and the Paperboy from the 1930s painting in the case. He set out for Finnick's Frames.
"Hey Peeta, no work today?" Finnick asked.
"I need a rush job." Peeta picked the same frame he saw at Caesars. "This style, for both."
"Let's see what you have." He pulled the girl out of the portfolio. "Hey, someone buy her?"
"Yeah, you could say that. This one too."
Finnick's eyes widened. "When did you do this?"
"Last night."
"When are you picking them up?"
"Two hours."
"Two hours. No way, I got a backlog."
"Thanks, Finnick."
Peeta sat in the back room on the sofa and fell asleep. His dream came alive. He chased after Katniss but never caught up with her.
He felt a poke. "Peeta, wake up."
The harsh, fluorescent light blinded him. "Ahh, oh it's only you."
"Who did you expect?"
"Someone with longer hair, browner eyes, softer skin and-"
"Boobs," Finnick said.
"Yes, and boobs."
"Yeah, I dream of boobs too. Your frame jobs are ready."
Finnick wrapped the two paintings. Peeta rushed through the door.
"Bye Peeta, no need to thank me." Peeta waved. "Or pay me."
Peeta staked out the door from the alley next to the townhouse. He tried to dry his hands on his pants but the sweat always returned. He took a deep breath and suppressed the sound of his pounding heart. He inched towards the service door when he heard the front door open. He slipped back to his hiding place.
Claudius followed Caesar through the front door. Claudius dressed in a similar outfit as yesterday. Caesar looked like a walking hedge. Today must be his green day."I told you I was doing an interview today," Caesar said.
"No, you didn't. I know your schedule by heart," Claudius said.
"What does it matter. All you have to do is introduce the segment."
"You know I need to prepare my voice. You can't just spring this on me at the last minute."
"Stop whining and get in the car."
The black car sped off and Peeta made his move. He tried the knob, his heart sunk, it didn't turn. The smile returned when he turned it the other way. Silence met him, he looked for an alarm keypad, none.
He meandered through the first floor. Two small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom were up front. A gym and a utility room in the back. He decided to use the small servant's stairs instead of the main stairs.
The old stairs creaked as he climbed them. Peeta wasn't sure if there were any servants in the house. He opened the door an inch and peeked into the kitchen. It was bigger than his apartment. "Wow, the other half knows how to live. Or at least, how to cook."
He tried to walk quietly but he never possessed a silent step. He found the drawing room. Katniss was just where he saw it last. He took the original off the wall and replaced it.
He heard a voice. "You need to arrange Mr. Caesar's wigs in the correct order." Peeta hid behind a door.
"I understand sir. But what does it matter?"
"Look, he's nuts, it doesn't matter what we think. Just put them in order: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet. Just like the rainbow."
"What about black, white, gray and brown?"
"They don't matter, he doesn't wear such pedestrian colors."
Peeta was met by three pairs of eyes when the door closed. "Who are you?" Asked a tall man dressed in black. He sported a thin black mustache and close-cropped black hair. A tattoo of a chain wrapped around his neck.
The sweat pouring out of Peeta's palms could fill a tub. He lost all saliva in his mouth. "I'm Peeta Meelark."
"Hello, Peeta Mellark. Who are you?"
"I'm the artist."
"Okay, Peeta Mellark the artist. Why are you here?"
Peeta blinked, he lost the ability to speak.
"Well?"
"I'm delivering a painting. I came through the delivery entrance. I was looking for someone to leave it with."
"Flavius, Octavia, Venia where are you?" Claudius Templesmith was home.
"In here Mr. Claudius. I thought you went to the studio with Mr. Caesar."
"I had a fight with him so I came home. Make me a Dirty Martini with extra dirt." Claudius' eyes lit up. "Mr. Mellark, what are you doing here?"
"I'm delivering the painting." Claudius cocked his head. Peeta opened the portfolio and showed him the Paperboy painting. Claudius gasped and brought his hands to his chest.
"It's wonderful." He showed it to the trio.
"Oh, very nice Mr. Claudius. Very nice," Flavius said. Octavia nodded. Claudius went to hang it. Flavius opened his mouth and stuck two fingers in, Octavia and Venia agreed.
"So you really like it?" Claudius asked.
"Oh, yes Mr. Claudius," they said in unison.
He handed the Katniss painting to Peeta. "Take this away." He turned and admired the new painting. "Far away."
Peeta slid the copy in the portfolio and bolted from the scene of the crime.
When he got home he pulled them out. "Damn, maybe I could make it as a forger?" He looked for the mark he made on the back of the copy and put the original on the easel.
Peeta sat in the recliner and waited for Katniss to return.