princeton nashe . capitol

p.

"Do you
Princeton Duarte
take Phennix Monroe
to be your lawfully wedded husband
so long as you both shall live?"

"Do you
Princeton Monroe
take Cash Bourdeaux
to be your lawfully wedded husband
so long as you both shall live?"

Do you
Princeton Bourdeaux
take Harvey Nashe
to be your lawfully wedded husband
so long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

I don't.

My teeth, stripped white from weeks of preparation for this day, glow as I say those words next to my husband. All of his family and friends sit straight up in their chairs, glasses of champagne in hand, wide-eyed at their little Harvey. Now fifty-something, he'd finally found a man he could love with all his heart. And a young one, at that. Harvey's told them that I am twenty-seven a number of times, but the elongated Wow.. as their disbelief sets in never seems to age a day.

They ask me how I say such sacred words like love to a man more than twice my age. I shrug my shoulders and let two pearly rows of teeth blind them again so I can let the lies slide through. "I just do! I love him, Harv."

I absolutely fucking do not. Oh, how quickly lying becomes a habit when money is involved. It's the root of all happiness, you know. Just call them daddy enough times in bed and they'll give you everything that you need. Or, at least, the dumb ones might. That's the trick, finding the men that will bite at every word like it's on the tip of my tongue. "Harv is just so good you me, you know? Just last week, he gave me twelve hours and his credit card and told me to get whatever I wanted. Isn't that generous?" They desperately hang on to every word that their new in-law shares with them like they're going through turbulence and my voice is the only thing keeping the plane's hatch from flying open. "That ring on his right hand. The one with the two snakes wrapping around his finger? Pure ruby, from the little districts downstairs- I know!"

I've got them wrapped around my finger, just like Harvey and his little serpentine ring. Of course, they didn't need to know about the down-payment on a new condo in the center of the Capitol, or the studio he began renting down in Saturn City. All they need to hear are the things that make them go ooh or ahh. The sheer thought of being caught up in such endearing romance enamors them. And their five-star reviews on my charming personality keep Harvey a happy man. He's got a real insecurity problem, my husband does. 'Nobody's ever been in love with me before,' that was what he told me after we slept together for the first time. I told him that I loved him. Believe me, I don't want to lie to him. The last thing I want to do is lead the guy on til death do us part.

But it's the price I'm willing to pay to be happy. It's the price I'm willing to pay to be the richest man in Panem.

-=+=-

Avoxes are my favorite creatures in the Capitol. They're so intriguing and mysterious. Can't speak for the life of them, leaving them the best type of person to vent to. Can't talk back, can't tell anyone; they keep our secrets locked in their minds, all the way to the grave. Any chance I get one-on-one with them, I give them updates, tell them stories, and rant about what funny things my partner has said or done recently. Sometimes they try to avoid me, keep eye contact strayed as far as possible. Others flash a smile as they sweat in discomfort waiting for me to walk away.

Phennix, my first husband, had an avox sent away when I told him that they had looked at me funny. He could do that without the blink of an eye. He had the finances. What else is a seventy-four-year-old, second-time-married man going to do with the money (other than spend it on me, of course)? But Phennix Monroe was a wasteful husband: he wanted to make purchases on temporary things. New avoxes, buffets, strippers. He despised the idea of permanence and investing. I'm too old to care about the future, he'd tell me. He desired happiness in his final days. We were married for about a year and a half before he passed. Heart attack. The technicians that arrived at the house were surprised to that I didn't hear anything or wake up to call sooner. "I feel so fucking stupid, I'm a heavy sleeper." At the time, I toyed with the idea of faking a good cry. Sell it a bit more. But I took the stunned, grieving husband role instead. (My brother taught me from a very young age that success and wealth take many a tear to achieve.. He died poor, that stupid motherfucker.)

I was surprised to hear that his wealth was almost entirely willed to me, the only exception being his sister taking on Phennix's three cats. They never liked me. Phennix said they can smell fear. I say that they can smell their predator.

As the widower, I led the congregation of mourners to the cemetery. Dressed in all-black, a sea of shadows processed. As I dropped the first handful of dirt into the grave, one of his friends, Marienne, questioned how I could be so brave to keep an unwavering face as I said goodbye to my dead husband. "I just can. I have to, for you all," The awws dragged on as she pulled in for an embrace. You're so young, you'll find love again soon.

That's the plan, Marienne!

Phennix was wealthy, but there was no way in hell that it'd be enough for me to feel something. I squared away most of his money I received from his passing in the bank for investments.

Conquest continued: this time in the direction of fame.

Cash Bourdeaux. A well-known actor in Panem, he always had the cameras on him. The thirty-six-year-old movie star pretended not to like the attention, but he craved it in every way imaginable. He would 'accidentally' open the blinds a bit and the paparazzi would come running to flash cameras. When I made public appearances with Cash, he did just enough to show me off as his partner. When they couldn't reach Cash, they would interview me about Cash, which helped get a steady flow of money in my pocket. Cash was the opposite of my previous husband, Phennix. He rarely spent his money, but when he did, it would be for something extravagant and luxurious to turn the media's headlines back on him. Cashy and I joked about how strange it was for two attention whores to fall in love with one another.

Oh, Cash, it's because we didn't! I didn't, at the very least, but I'm not entirely sure you did either. You loved the idea of a pretty boy, an accessory item by your side as you walked down the red carpet. As long as you kept me happy, which you did with some poking and prodding by yours truly, the spotlight might stay frozen on you. The media just loves a good queer couple in Panem!

Cash Bourdeaux took a long time to change write his will. With tensions between the Capitol and the Districts rising and the media becoming more and more intrusive, I recommended it as the safest option to protect his legacy. And, of course, his millions upon millions of dollars.

Cash was young, thirty-six if you remember me telling you earlier, but his life was full of danger. Media and paparazzi were obsessed with him. One even tried to break into our mansion when Cash was away. I scared him off, but it did give me any idea of how to get rid of my partner. One night, when I came home from a night on the town, I left the door unlocked. They'd try it, they always will. And they did. One man snuck into our house to see what might be the story of his lifetime..

Cash Bourdeaux, neck split open, with his husband, Princeton, standing behind him with a bloody knife in hand.

The stupid guy ran closer, readying his camera for the shot that would make his name go down in journalist history. But a gunshot to the leg, and then in the chest, from yours truly, would make him among the most hated murderers in the Capitol.

I called for the Peacekeepers, and when they arrived, they found me nearly stunned on the loveseat, revolver in hand. Cash Bourdeaux was dead on the ground, and the paparazzi man right near him, the knife only a few inches from his hand. My bones tightened to sell the shaking a bit more to them, but they believed what I had to say. They even went so far as to say it was only a matter of time before this unsurprising event came to reality.

The process of planning a funeral was monotonous the first time around, but having to plan for hundreds of Cash's fans made it twice as exhausting. It's a funeral service, god damnit, not a 'Oh, Princeton! Listen to our stories and pick who was Cash's biggest fan' contest. Delusional motherfuckers. I kept a smile on my face through the line of mourners, though. "I'm sure he would've loved to hear you say all of these things. Cashy loved to hear about the impact he made on his fans." I lied through it, mostly for Cash's sake. He didn't give a damn about them- only how much money they were willing to spend at the ticket booth.

How will you ever move on, Prince? One of the gentlemen clutched my arm as if he was keeping me from fainting onto the ground. "I just need to, Aaron," Fuck. His name is Arven, "Arven, I'm sorry. But he'd want me to move on. Forgive his murderer and move on." Arven pledged to take his wife and kids to the murderer's grave in the cemetery to forgive him. Little did they know that the murderer was still alive.

A procession ten times the size of Phennix Monroe's funeral service travel down to the cemetery. The widower, dressed in an all-black suit, leads the group of fame-hungry followers in an assortment of colors, to Cash Bourdeaux's headstone. I look down into the hole where his coffin now lies. They offered me to throw the first pieces of dirt. I declined, giving it to the first of his fans in the procession. "He loved you all so much, probably more than me. You all can do it." They all gladly seized the opportunity. His fans buried him in the ground, but I bathed him in blood. I stand by as they go, scratching at my wrist with my fingernails. One by one, to the coffin to pay the final respects to their idol.

-=+=-

The first night with Harvey is.. fine, I guess. He's handsy, as any man would be on the first night after their marriage.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he says.

"I love you, I love you, I love you!" I lie.

But he's my third husband in eight years. I have to be faithful to him now. Cash's will increased my wealth immensely, but I don't just want to get richer, I want to be the richest. Harv can help me do that if I play my cards right and sell every ounce of devotion I have in my bones for him.

He kisses me on the cheek and I close my eyes, relaxed and with a pleased smile on my face.

Pretend. Eliminate. Succeed.