Chapter Text
The first time it happens, I’m at the grocery store. All I want is a box of my favorite cereal, but the woman comes out of nowhere faster than I can reach up to the top shelf and grab it.
“Oh my God! It’s you!” she half squeals and half screeches. It’s a miracle my eardrums survive the sheer volume of her shriek.
“I’m sorry. Do we know each other?” I ask politely, suddenly terrified that I’ve forgotten the name and face of someone who used to be important to me.
She giggles and blushes before answering, “No, you don’t know me, but I sure know you.”
“Ah, I see,” I answer, not really understanding at all, but I’ve had such a long day, I don’t really care. “If you’ll excuse me, I just need to get one more thing. It was nice to see you.”
“Wait!” she demands. “Can I get your autograph before you go? My friends won’t ever believe it.”
Puzzled, I glance at her, but there’s something in her eyes that tells me I don’t want to ask. If I do, I’m sure she’ll be happy to fill me in, and something about her makes me just a little bit uncomfortable. My best guess is that she’s seen my face on the brochure I made for the motivational speaking seminar I led the week before. I don’t remember her being in attendance, but the whole day had been a bit of a blur.
I hesitate, but the easiest way to get out of the situation is to comply, so I scribble my name on her cell phone case and say goodbye. I’m halfway down the aisle when I hear her say, “You’ll never believe who I ran into on the cereal aisle. He likes Wheaties!”
The second time it happens, I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind. Katniss, my girlfriend, is with me at the movies when two women approach us. One’s a stunning blonde and is pulling her friend along behind her until they stand before us. Katniss shrinks away from them, and I shift sideways slightly to shield her with my body.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” the blonde exclaims. A feeling of déjà vu creeps over me, and I glance at my girlfriend and squeeze her hand to reassure her.
“Have we met, umm…?” I extend my hand with trepidation, but she seems harmless enough.
“Glimmer,” she gushes, “and this is Clove.” She points her thumb at her friend whose face is tinged with embarrassment. “And you’re Peter.”
“Peeta,” I correct her as I shake her hand.
She narrows her eyes at me and drawls, “Okay… Anyway. Can we get a picture with you? We’re huge fans.”
“Uh….” I turn to glance at Katniss and our eyes lock in a bewildered exchange. She shrugs, so I turn to place myself in between them. Katniss stretches out her hand and Glimmer passes her the phone.
“Smile,” she directs and snaps a few images. “You might want to check them. I’m not the best photographer.”
Glimmer snatches her phone from my girlfriend’s hand and flips through the files. She squeals and tosses a distracted “thanks” over her shoulder before disappearing around a corner with Clove.
“What the hell was that?” I mutter and turn to find an amused smirk on Katniss’ face. Her silver eyes flash with humor, and she shakes her head at me.
“You’re clearly famous. Those webinars you added to your site must be getting you some traffic. Isn’t your next seminar completely full? It’s the one about battling your inner demons or whatever you called it?”
“Facing the Monster,” I correct and shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t get the impression they’re too concerned about personal growth. Glimmer didn’t strike me as someone with a lot of depth.”
Katniss purses her lips and shakes her head. “That’s not very nice, hon. She might have just been really excited about meeting you.”
“I didn’t mean to be disparaging. I’ve just seen enough of her type at my seminars. They come because the ideas sound like a great idea, and then the hard work isn’t nearly enough fun to follow through. It’s the most frustrating part of my job.”
Katniss leans in and drops a kiss on my cheek. “You’re a good man, Peeta Mellark. Now take me home. I’ve got some demons I’d like to exorcise with you.”
I pull her into a hug and whisper in her ear, “Would this exorcism require the use of the bedroom?”
“Hmmm, unless you want to use the shower…” She bites her lower lip and backs away a few steps before I grab her hand and drag her to the car. Suddenly, focusing on helping Katniss is a lot more appealing than worrying about fans who want selfies.
The third time it happens, I get the shock of my life. It starts the same way as the others—a female shriek followed by an exclamation of “Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s you!”
“Hi,” I say as warmly as possible for being interrupted at lunch. The woman plops down across from me and studies me so intently that I squirm in my chair. Her dark eyes survey me from underneath her spiky black hair, and I realize in that moment that her excitement is really skepticism.
“So, you just get done on set and then saunter into the closest restaurant and start eating? Don’t you want to go home and shower first?” she sneers before grabbing a French fry from my plate.
“I’m sorry, but do we know each other? I don’t usually share my food with a complete stranger.”
She narrows her eyes to a scorching glare and spits, “Now you’re picky about things that go in your mouth? Is that what you’re worried about when you start filming?”
“What?! What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“Name’s Johanna.” She waves dismissively and demands, “What do you mean what am I talking about? Your movies! You’re Peter Mallet, aren’t you? Known for crushing everything with your…” She trails off and waves her hand toward my crotch.
Suddenly, it all makes sense—the extra attention from women, the request for selfies and autographs, the abrupt increase in interest in my motivational seminars. The woman sitting across from me thinks I’m someone else, and from what I can tell, that someone else is known for something I’m definitely not.
“Oh my God,” I groan and drop my head into my hands.
“Yes!” Johanna yelps in triumph, “That’s exactly how you sound when you’re, you know, close!”
“Oh my God!”
“Good Lord, are you close now?” Her eyes widen in shock, but a hint of excitement sparks in them as she leans forward.
“NO! I-I have to g-go,” I stammer and drop a twenty on the table to cover my bill.
“Nice to meet you!” she chirps, seemingly smug with satisfaction at unnerving me.
As soon as I’m in the car, I pull out my phone, search for Peter Mallet, and immediately wish I hadn’t. The images that pop up feature naked women with eyes closed and mouths open as a remarkably well-endowed man that looks way too much like me penetrates them. As my mouth gapes, a video auto-plays, and the sounds of skin slapping, moans, grunts, and passionate groans fill the car.
“Shiiiiiiiiit…” I hiss and slap the phone off. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and I force myself to breathe normally. A million thoughts flood my mind as the silence presses on my ears.
How is this real? How well-known is this guy, and why is his name so close to mine? Could the similarities threaten my business?
Most importantly, how am I going to tell my girlfriend that my doppelganger is a porn star?