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(And if you have reviewed any of my previous chapters, thank you!)
"So, it's day four, huh? How are you doing?" My boss asks.
"It's okay," I tell her. I'm sat on Peeta's counter, using his phone, since I didn't bring mine, which was a foolish thing to forget. Now he is at work, it doesn't matter, though I'm surprised he didn't take it with him. "Peet- Mr. Mellark is a nice guy."
"Is he treating you well?" She asks.
"Extremely," I say. "I think I like being rich." We both laugh. "But honestly, it's good."
"Do you know what he does for a living? I was shifting through some of the information he left with us when he hired you and he gives men wives!"
"I know," I say. "He told me,"
"So he's open with it?" She asks.
"I guess," I say. "We didn't talk about it for long."
"Maybe he sees a wife in you," She says. "He's so stinking rich, if you married him and then you got divorced, you'd never have to be an escort again."
"I wouldn't marry him because of his money," I tell her. "He's genuinely a nice person,"
"Oh, well, Katniss, I've got to go. Ring me if there are any problems, okay?"
"Yes, I will do; bye," I say, and I hang up.
It's hard to believe that it is day four, though I don't know why it hurts me that it is, because surely, there will be more appointments with Peeta, and if he chooses not to call, then there will be other Capitol men and women that want sex.
I put the phone back on Peeta's bedside table and collapse onto his mattress. I wonder what he actually does to keep him occupied for long hours almost every day. After a few minutes, I decide to find out.
I flip open his phone and find a contact for his office; when I click it, it leads to the options to ring the office, but also the address. I scribble it down on the back of my hand and change quickly, locking the front door with a spare key that he keeps in his bedroom drawer.
Locating his business is easy; it is the tallest building on the street. I walk up the front steps and see a woman at a desk in the reception. The reception is busy, with Capitol Citizens – much like the ones on the street – passing me as I go towards the desk.
"Excuse me," I say to the woman, who smiles politely when I address her. "Can you send me to Peeta Mellark's office, please?"
"I can send him down for you," She says. "What's the name?"
I'm about to say 'Katniss' but I stop myself. "Just tell him that 'The girl from the Seam' is here," I tell her.
She picks up the phone and dials a number. After several rings, he must pick up, because she says, "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Mellark, however I have a woman down here looking for you; she has told me to tell you that 'The girl from the Seam' is waiting. Should I send her up or do you want to come down?" She listens to whatever he is saying for a few seconds. "Okay, thank you, Mr. Mellark." She smiles at me. "He'd like you to go to his office, please." She hands me one of his business cards and points me in the direction of the elevator.
I read the card as I approach the queue for the elevator. It reads his name, an extremely brief description of his business, and the number and floor of his office; floor twelve, office four.
I step in the elevator with some Capitol citizens that chat none stop with their ridiculous accents which is probably the main thing I hate about the city. If I'm having sex with a client with that accent, I have to tune them out, because I can't focus when they bicker in my ear.
The elevator stops on the twelfth floor and I step out. The corridors have high ceilings and are filled with Capitol men, some dressed normally, like the way Peeta would, but others dressed like cartoons. I stop at the office number four, and knock politely, and wait.
The door opens, but it isn't Peeta; a man dressed smartly in a suit jacket and a tie smiles at me as I stand in the doorway. "Mr. Mellark is just this way," He says. I step inside and he closes the door quietly behind me. "May I take your jacket?"
I am astounded by the size of his office; it must be several times bigger than his apartment. Around the walls are books, and maps in every visible space; a large chandelier, with every light-bulb in a jar, hangs from the ceiling. The carpet is fluffy and white. In the middle, there is a fountain, which gushes water from the middle.
"He is in the door right opposite you," The man says as I remove my shoes. I walk towards the door, in awe of the place, and open the door slowly. It leads to a room, about the size of Peeta's living room that has a desk in the centre, and paperwork in large piles around his chair. He's sat with a Capitol man, looking serious, but then he sees me and the Capitol man turns around as well.
"I think that concludes our meeting," Peeta says, rising, and he shakes the man's hand. "If you want to make your way down to the eleventh floor, you'll meet Percy, and he'll take you to the women. Thank you."
After the Capitol man leaves – he closes the door behind him – Peeta messes up his styled hair and collapses into his chair. "I didn't expect you to be here," Peeta tells me.
"I got bored," I say. "I'm also curious about your business."
"My business?" Peeta says. "I'm surprised you show any interest,"
"I'm a very curious person," I tell him.
"I know," He says with a grin. "Want a tour?" He asks, and I nod.
After giving me a brief tour of his office, he takes me down to the eleventh floor, and introduces me to several of his office friends. He then takes me to see the room where the girls are.
When he told me about his business, I thought of it as a more of a dating opportunity for the Capitol citizens; a single woman signs up, a single man signs up, and if they like the look of each other, they get married. Though I thought of this as a strange business, I never thought that it would be like this.
The women are being sold at auction.
Peeta takes me further into the room. It is a large hall, with a stage; the crowd is full of elderly Capitol men, shouting out their price for the half-naked girl on the stage. She has blonde hair, pale skin, wide blue eyes, and a scared expression; she can't be older than twenty.
And that's when I realize that this is not a form of dating; this is practically slavery.