My body tenses, my toes curl, and I let out a stifled moan at the moment of release. My legs nearly go out from under me and Clint has to hold me tight to prevent me from crashing to the white tile floor of the shower. He reaches over behind me and turns up the wonderfully hot jets of water and soon I've caught my breath.
"That…was…incredible," I say resting my now soaking wet hair on his firm shoulder.
"Thanks," he says back with a smirk. "The other battalion wives all volunteered to help me practice while you all were away…"
"That's not funny!" I say pulling back and playfully slapping him on his bare chest.
"I thought it was," he says grinning back down at me.
"Ok…" I admit bashfully. "It was…" I rest my head back on his shoulder.
"I can't believe they're making me go the Capitol tomorrow morning. I just got home!"
"Liv," Clint says flashing me a look. "The entire country is begging to hear your story and it's better coming from your mouth than anyone else's."
"Why are you always right?" I say stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel.
Clint just shrugs as he turns off the water and steps out after me. I feel him wrap his arms around my waist and lean forward next to my ear.
"I'm only right about the important things….things like you." He turns me around, stares deep into me, and I just gaze back as he leans in for a kiss. He hasn't been able to keep his hands off me all day…and I admit, I like it.
While he towels off, I step back into the bedroom and slip into my old nightgown.
"Sorry," I shout back at him as he crosses over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of pajama pants. "I don't feel like wearing anything sexy. I just want to be totally comfortable," I say as I flop back into the wonderfully clean and crisp sheets of my own bed.
He grins as he pulls on the pajama bottoms, ties the waistband, and then leaps into bed after me.
"Anything you wear is sexy because you're in it."
"Oh man," I say chuckling, "You are on a roll!" He playfully pushes me down and hops on top of me.
"Plus, I'm about ready to go again…"
"Me too," I manage to get out before he immediately starts planting soft kisses on my neck.
Suddenly, the door flies open and we both jump apart. Clint and I are barely under the covers when I look up and see Aurora, standing in the doorway clutching Ears the Rabbit to her chest with tears streaming down her little, red face.
"What's wrong, Sweetheart?" Clint asks softly when he sees her.
"I…had a…scary dream," she says between sobs, pulling Ears closer to her. "There was a monster, and he chased us, and I dropped Ears…and the monster got him!"
"Oh, Baby, it wasn't real," says Clint. "You see? You and Ears are both safe and they're no monsters." This does little to calm Aurora down and she still stands there in the door shaking like a leaf. I throw the covers open and make a spot in the bed for her right next to me.
"Do you wanna sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight?" I ask her softly. She slowly nods. "Alright, come on up," I say patting the mattress. She darts straight for me and climbs into the bed. I throw the covers over her and she snuggles right up to my chest. I think I hear a subtle groan from Clint and turn my head over to him. He flashes me another look, and I flash him one right back to say, "What? You already got it once."
The warmth of my body soon calms Aurora back down and by the time I reach over to turn out the lamp, she's already asleep. I pull her towards me and run my fingers through her hair. Almost on cue, I feel Clint's arms wrap around both his girls and soon I'm able to drift off to the best sleep I've had in ages…
When my train reaches Capitol Station at noon the next day, I barely have time to grab my garment bag before I'm whisked away to a waiting car which drives me straight to PNN headquarters near Victory Square. We park at the rear entrance and a mob of strangely dressed, multi-colored attendants practically drag me into a hallway and plop me down in a seat in a private dressing room.
"We're so honored to have you, Mrs. Hightower," a woman with two foot tall pink hair and matching three inch nails says while making notes on a clipboard.
"It's a honor to be here….I guess…and its Sergeant Major Hightower actually," I manage to get out without choking on the perfume of a giant bouquet of blue flowers that have been placed on the vanity beside me. They have a note from someone whose name I don't recognize. "I hate this freaky place," I say thinking about how much I loathe the strange eccentricities of the Capitol.
"Your prep team will be here in half an hour to help you with your wardrobe. Until then, just relax and enjoy the complimentary snacks and beverages."
"Oh, I brought my own clothes…" I say pointing to the garment bag. I hear a scoff from the pink-haired woman which I find incredibly rude, but she probably doesn't even notice.
"Well, our stylists will still assist you in anyway necessary. After all, PNN Primetime Report with Cicero Cooper is the top rated nightly news program in the whole country! Everyone who's Everyone will be watching and we want you to look your best!"
"Right…" I mutter while imperceptibly rolling my eyes.
"I just want you to know," the woman says pulling closer to me. "It's such an honor to meet a real life war hero like you. Everyone at PNN supports their troops." Her nails rub against my arm, causing my skin to crawl, but I still manage to put on a fake smile.
"That's…very…sweet of you…to say that."
"Isn't it?" she says almost squeaking in her affected Capitol accent.
"I guess some things never change." I think to myself while still pondering how anyone who looks so stupid could think they look stylish.
"Well, I'll leave you to rest. Ta ta!"
"Ta ta!" I reply back accidently mimicking her accent, but she still doesn't seem to notice as she walks back out of the dressing room and closes the door behind her.
"It's too bad they don't still cut out people's tongues here," I mutter as I walk over to my bag and start to put on my dress black uniform.
It takes me a good twenty minutes just to make sure all the brass and medals are still present, polished, and pinned in their right places. I'm just hanging my Cross of Valor around my neck when, suddenly, the door flies open when two men, and another neon nightmare of a woman barge in carrying two giant boxes of makeup and a suitcase. They instantly surround me like a pack of wild dogs and I have to resist punching one of the men who reaches up and grabs the leg of my trousers.
"Pardon me!" I shout loud enough for him to take a step back, but the three of them still look at me like I'm some kind of failed science experiment.
"You cannot be serious," the first man says with such a heavy lisp that I think he's about to choke on his tongue. The way his glowing flower printed shirt looks, I'm tempted to reply back with the same words, but I restrain myself just enough to say
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you have a beautiful, natural skin tone, but you have almost no make-up on your face to highlight it…you hair is lovely, but I can see the split-ends from here…and what is up with the pants and those hideous shoes? It makes you look like a twelve year old boy trying to play soldier!"
I'm starting to see red now. It's obvious this little punk has no idea what I'm capable of.
"Look," I say fighting back the overwhelming urge to break at least one bone in this guy's body. "This happens to be the uniform of a soldier of the United Districts of Panem and…"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! The whole 'military thing,' we're going to play it up, but we will still make you look fabulous."
"Look, Sergeant Major," I think ordering myself to calm down. "It's not worth getting arrested over. Just let them do their job…"
Over the next hour, I watch in the mirror as I am transformed. Begrudgingly, I watch as a layer of make-up is applied to my eyes, lips, and face. My black trousers are replaced by a knee-length black skirt, my shoes disappear in favor of a pair of black heels, and my hairstyle is changed from my trademark simple bun with two long bangs to an intricately woven circle of blonde braids. Sadly, I have no recourse to complain, because everything is still technically within uniform regulation, but I think it makes me look far too feminine to come across as a gruff and battle-hardened Infantry Sergeant Major.
"Look, I don't mind looking a girl when I'm not uniform," I say trying to get them to compromise, "but I'm trying to impress the television audience, not date them."
"Nonsense, I love it!" the second male stylist says. "It's very Katniss Everdeen circa the 74th Games. It's like…It's like…" he struggles to think of something. "What's the word I'm looking for?"
"An homage?" the first man says turning to him.
"Yes! An homage! We will take this whole country by storm tonight! I can already see the headlines in the fashion magazines tomorrow: Hatchet: her looks can kill as easily as she can."
"Oh my God," I mutter as they disappear out in the hallway. I turn back into the mirror and stare at my reflection. "I look like a ' joke."
"Are you kidding, Olivia? You look absolutely beautiful," says a wonderfully familiar voice from the doorway. I snap around and see him, just casually leaning there as if he'd been watching all along. His eye is twinkling and the way he holds his cane is more like a comic prop than something he needs to move around.
"Ares!" I shout as I fly towards him and give him a hug.
"You see? Was it really that hard to start calling me that?" he says returning the embrace. It's only at this moment that I realize how happy I am to not have to go through this alone. I look down at his plain grey suit.
"Are you seriously going out there like that?" I say trying to mimic the accents of the stylists as best I can. "The fashionistas in the Capitol are going to harpoon you tomorrow in the tabloids." We both laugh but then he shakes his head.
"I'm not going on camera tonight, Hatch. I'm here only to support you. This is your show."
"Why not?" I say chuckling. "Bixby, told me you did more to save my ass than anyone. If the Chief of the Defense Forces had his way, I'd still be riding a camel under the Tripolitanian sun!"
Just then, General Snow has that subtle shift in his tone again that makes me incredibly nervous.
"Make sure you remember that tonight for me, ok?"
"Oh no!" I say shaking my head back at him. "You know something, General, and you're gonna tell me what it is right now!" He just smiles, leans forward, and places a kiss on my forehead just like I was his petulant little sister.
"I just know you're gonna knock 'em dead. They love a good girl on fire in this town…" He turns and heads back down the hallway. "I'll be backstage. Meet me there when you're ready," he calls over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner.
"Why is everyone comparing me to Katniss Everdeen!" I shout somewhere between laughing and complaining. "After all, you're the one with the Mockingjay pin!" No response.
"And I mean, c'mon! My mom is Johanna Mason! If we're going Hunger Games themed than I probably should be in a tree costume with my tits hanging out instead of these stupid heels, Right Sir?"
I feel a pair of eyes watching me and turn around. The woman with the pink hair and nails is back and staring.
"Well, it's time for you to go backstage and get ready, but we still have enough time before we go live that if you really want to be in a tree costume I can bring the prep team back…"
I just bury my head in my hands and sigh before I trudge after General Snow.