reinhardt | stylist | fin

<< reinhardt >>

"Sean Henry Hilliard the Fourth!"

There's a furious slam on my bedroom door along with a shout from my father. Two things keep me from opening the door. Number one: The two sexy people in bed with me. Number two: He's not calling me by my new name. Reinhardt. My father is all about family tradition, which includes carrying on a namesake, even if it's something as tasteless as "Sean Henry." Where are the teeth in that kind of name? Where's the star quality? My relationship with my father is rather complex. It's tumultuous most of the time. We have four generations between us, and with every generation, the intolerance for the next one only seems to grow. I hate him because he's too old school, and he hates me because I'm too progressive.

The thing that brings us together is our love for spending money. My family home is one of the highest-valued properties in the Capitol. Daddy invested a ton of money in the oil sectors of Five. Fracking is grotesque and makes everyone with an ounce of stock filthy (rich!)

I shoo my partners out of my room toward the balcony. It's an easy story to scale down, and it's better than getting caught by my father in bed. He'd have so many questions, each one more problematic than the first, so it's better that I save everyone the trouble. I wrap a rose-pink robe around my shoulders and unlock the door, opening it half an inch.

"Please use my new name, dearest Dad. Reinhardt? Does that ring any bells?"

"I'm not fuckin' around, Sean!"

Oh… he's mad. Oh he absolutely knows what I did with my family credit c-

"I bought you a house to live in. Would you care to explain this 'Woodlands Home Renovations' charge?"

While he's chewing me the fuck out, I suppose I should probably catch everyone up to speed. Remember how I was saying I'm progressive earlier, pretty contrary to my conservative father? I'm, like, a huge environmentalist! Reduce, reuse, recycle, all that stuff! It's so tough in the Capitol these days to find much real greenery. And the districts made so many industries and factories that there was no room left for trees at the inn! What better way to bring the green environment back than transporting trees, plants, water, and tiny critters from the woods and putting them into my house? It's not like anyone is using them in the forest anyway, people outside of District Seven aren't even allowed to go there.

Dad will stop fuming about it eventually. He yells at me, telling me I'm an over-spender and self-absorbed. He's right, but I know it'll pay off in the long run. My father loves being rich, and so do I! But I want to be rich and famous. Climate change is real, and nothing is more on trend in the Capitol than protecting all things green. Dearest Dad calls it acting like an attention-seeking whore, I call it being an influencer.

He'll get it once my face is on the big screen for the work I do as a stylist for District Seven after I pick up enough of a reputation. Beyond being an activist and influencer, I have an eye for fashion and making anything, even something as natural as trees, aesthetically pleasing. I've been building a portfolio on social media as the forest home has been in the replanting stage. Outfits made from leaves, corsets from sturdy branches. I even dabble in makeup. My favorite look is when I painted myself to match an oak tree (only white oak on myself, no dark oak. I'm not problematic!) My dad should try taking an interest in my hobbies. If he took one look at @reinhardt on social media, I'm sure he would be a lot less disappointed at the moment.

"You're telling me that you're going to live in a forest, Sean?"

"Reinhardt-"

"SEAN!"

Okay! I won't harp on you anymore today, I get it.

"You're going to sleep in the dirt? And grow your own plants? Piss and shit and bathe all in the same bush? I can kick your ass right into District Twelve if that's what you want."

Oh, he thinks I'm talentless AND stupid, okay. "I think it's better if I show you. I'm more clever than you give me credit for!" It takes some convincing to get him to put on his jacket and walk down to my new house. The entire exterior is doused with foliage, vines, and butterflies. There's even a tiny moat around the entrance filled with lilypads and ribbiting frogs. The roof is also made completely of glass, letting the sun in so no tree withers away. My forest is alive and thriving, it seems!

The interior is filled to the brim with every part of the ecosystem. Trees, plants, flowers, fruits, ponds, a waterfall, dirt, bugs and critters, fish, and non-threatening animals. I point out each tiny detail because I picked it out myself. I'm bragging to my father as I go, putting on display just how much I know about myself, my audience, and what I want my image to be.

"Oh, look! Two trees with enough distance for you to make a hammock to sleep on."

I smile and nod. "I hadn't thought of that before, Dad! I'm definitely going to work on some nice designs to make the forest look lived in. But that's not even the best part."

I guide him until the last part of the tour: a huge bush. He looks confused at first when I stop in my tracks. I crawl behind it and show him the surprise. I pull up a hidden hatch and climb down the ladder.

"I love the environment, but I'm not uncivilized, Dad."

Built underneath the roots of my ecosystem is a luxury apartment, designed in my favorite color: pink! Master bedroom, full bathroom, state-of-the-art kitchen; everything I'll need to stay comfortable. On the shelf beside the entrance is an array of colognes, each one with an authentic forestry scent to keep up appearances. "If I don't want to live in the forest at any given moment, I can just come down here."

"So you're going to spend all your time down here?"

"No! I've read that fucking in the forest is near the top of the Capitol's bucket list!"

"SEAN!"

Oh right… he still thinks I'm a virgin saint.

"It's Reinhardt! Reinhardt, Dad!"

He should come around to it after seeing the thought I put into my lifestyle. No person as intricate and environmentally stellar goes by the name Sean. Reinhardt is a much more unique stage name.

On our way out, one of the construction workers asks me to sign for something. I'm not sure what; he just says something about managing the grass outside. My dad slaps my hand as soon as I make the first giant R on the line. I sign it Sean H. Hilliard IV instead.

[ rave slayed ]