47 A Split Second Decision

Roselle definitely made the right choice wearing shorts under her dress that inauguration day. She was pretty sure people would've been able to see her panties if she hadn't. She couldn't believe the ridiculousness of the scenario: Eliot Scott, who was supposed to be inaugurated in less than four hours, got scared and climbed a tree like an idiotic cat, and he wasn't coming down. She now had to climb up the tree to talk to him.

It'd been a while since Roselle had climbed a tree, so it wasn't easy. The heels didn't do her any favors either. Luckily, after a long and tedious climbing session, she reached the branch where Eliot was sitting.

"How's it hanging?" Roselle said, rasp in her voice from struggling to hold on.

Eliot jumped at her voice and lost his balance. "AH!"

People from down below bellowed their screams.

She kept him from falling, and stabilized him. "Mind is ya scoot over?" she asked.

"Uh, nah. I'm good."

"I'M ABOUT TO FALL! SCOOT OVER, DAMMIT!"

"Yes ma'am!" He made some room and she sat on the branch next to him.

"The view's pretty nice up here, isn't it?" asked Eliot.

She raised a brow. "The view of the angry crowd begging you to come down?"

"Yeah . . . I'm trying to ignore that part of it."

"What are you doing up here, dude? I thought we talked about this the other day. If you don't know what to do when you become the VP, Armani will guide you right through it."

He let out a sigh. "Yeah. I wish."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"These past few weeks, people have kept putting words inside my head. They keep telling me what to do when I become vice president, and a lot of the things they want me to do are against Armani's policies."

"Who's telling you these things? Just don't listen to them."

"I can't ignore them, Ro."

"Can't your grandma tell those people to screw off?"

"I would, but my grandma IS one of those people."

Roselle stared at him in awe. Yeah, Grandma Scott was a raging lunatic, but she didn't see this coming. She thought she'd seen the last of that woman. "Why would your grandma think you had the power to go against Armani's policies?"

"I don't know! I'm freaking out, Ro. I've got so much respect for Armani. I can't go against him."

"Why don't you refuse the position then?"

"Grandma will kill me. LITERALLY!"

"Eliot, come down from there," Grandma Scott said from down below through her megaphone.

"Oh no," he whispered. "Ro, she's crazy. What do I do?"

To get involved, or to not get involved? Roselle was already finished with that crazy old lady's wrath. She'd be an idiot to face her wrath again, right?

"I'm going to count down from five, and once I reach one, you will start coming down," the old woman warned. "Five."

"Ro, please, you gotta be there when I talk to her."

"Four."

"Wha--" Roselle was tongue-tied. "Why can't you get someone else to go with you? Tell Armani or something."

"Three."

"Grandma specifically told me not to tell Armani! Come with me. You're not a very important political figure so I don't think she'd care if you came."

"Two."

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Please . . ."

"One."

Roselle threw her hands in the air. "Okay, fine. Screw it. Let's talk to your grandma."

"Thanks, Ro."

* * *

Once Eliot and Roselle were down, the crowd was applauding. Grandma Scott signaled at them all to go away and return to their duties, and the crowd dispersed. The only ones who remained were her, the future vice president, and Roselle.

"Eliot," the old woman said, looking down at him. "You had everyone worried, you know. Whatever is wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," he said, standing tall.

It only took a small raise of a single eyebrow from his grandmother to send Eliot cowering behind Roselle. She glared at Eliot, then turned her attention back to Grandma Scott. "Uh, hey," she said.

"It's quite nice to see you again, dear," said the old woman. "How may I help you?"

"Well, Eliot is pretty nervous about . . . stuff I guess?"

"Intriguing." She took a sip of her tea. "Mind if you enlighten me about this 'stuff'?"

"Okay, I'm just going to come right out and say it. Why do you want Eliot to go against Armani's policies? If you were so against them, why did you let your grandson even run in the potato party anyway?"

She sighed. "I assure you, this is all a misunderstanding. He's got a wild imagination and doesn't understand me properly."

"Are you sure? He's nervous out of his mind."

"Eliot, come out from behind Roselle. Let me clarify what I've told you."

Slowly, Eliot peaked out his head, which was followed by his body. "Okay . . ."

"I never said I wanted you to go against Armani's policies." She gave her tea a bit of a shake. "I just said I wanted you to persuade him to reconsider a few things that I've listed."

"Are you going to be mad if I can't convince him?"

"Heavens no. I'm not a monster, my dear boy."

"See?" Roselle said. "I think that sounds perfectly reasonable, Eliot."

"Exactly." She squeezed her grandson's cheek. "Don't you worry a bit, my dear. You'll be a fine vice president. Grandma will love you no matter what, alright?"

He nodded. "Okay . . ."

"I'll see you later at the ceremony." She walked away, but turned to look at him one last time, leering at him. "Don't be late, and don't pull a stunt like this again." With that, she turned around and strutted on her merry way.

Once Grandma Scott was gone, Roselle could finally visibly panic in peace. "Oh shit, you're right! She's definitely planning something evil."

"Wait a minute." Eliot furrowed his eyebrows. "You believe me?"

"Uh, yeah. I've seen that woman plot enough to know that she's planning something. It's not a question of 'if', but a question of 'what'." She paced back and forth. "Oh man. I KNEW something still wasn't right."

"What am I going to do, Ro?!"

"Tomorrow you have to tell Armani what your psycho nana is up to."

"Grandma's gonna--"

"Kill you?" She grabbed him by the tie and yelled to knock some sense into him. "THAT'S WHAT THE SECRET SERVICE IS FOR! To protect you!" She let him go. "You can't let your evil family control you forever."

"It's easy for you to say!"

"Be a man, dammit. You call the shots. Not your grandma."

He looked around as if her words were soaking in, and bobbed his head. "You know what? You're right." He scoffed. "I'm not a kid anymore. I'm so friggin' tired of being controlled like some kind of puppet! I'M A GROWN ASS MAN!"

"Hell yeah!" Roselle pitched in, hyping him up. She knew that would work.

"So, uh, what do I do now?"

"You march over backstage and practice your speech."

"I'm going to give the best damn speech in history!"

"Yes you are!"

Eliot ran back to the building with triumph and confidence. Meanwhile, Roselle was still stressing out.

* * *

Finally, the main event that everyone was waiting for: January 20th, 2033. 12:00 p.m. Inauguration time. There were thousands of people watching from the crowds along with the cameras floating around, televising this historic event for millions of Americans to witness.

Armani was on stage with Eliot, and he gave his oath of office. "I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and I will do the best of my ability to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States."

"I can't wait for the Inaugural Ball tonight," Michelle whispered.

"I'm tired of parties," Roselle said in sign language.

"It's not a party. It's a ball!" she signed back.

Roselle took a moment from arguing with her sister to noticing a man in the crowd with a bald head and a trench coat. She recognized him. That was the same man who directed her, Eliot, and Antonio to Marlie's casino about a month ago. She tried to tell herself to stop fixating on the man, but she couldn't stop.

"My fellow American people," Armani said, giving his speech. "On behalf of myself, Vice President Eliot Scott, and the Potato Party, I just wanted to say, thank you so much for believing in us and making today possible."

The crowd cheered.

Roselle couldn't stop staring at that bald guy. Why was he staring at Armani so hard? Oh . . . because he was giving a speech. Duh. She tried to pry her eyes away from the man, but she just couldn't. Something felt off.

Armani continued. "They said a twenty-one year old was too young to be president. Too immature. Too inexperienced. I'm here to tell you that I may be the youngest president the United States has ever seen, but despite my age, I want what's best for the American people, and I am here to guide and serve this nation at all costs."

Now the bald guy was reaching in his trench coat. Maye he was getting a snack, right? People eat snacks all the time. Perfectly normal. The only questionable thing was why he kept looking from the inside of his trench coat and back at Armani.

Roselle had a hunch, but if she was wrong, it would be embarrassing. Could she even trust her hunch? She was freaking out for no reason all morning. 'I'm imagining things,' she told herself.

The man slowly took his hand out of the trench coat holding something silver, and she had a split decision to make her choice. Without weighing out the pros and cons in her head, and without skipping a beat, Roselle ran to the podium where Armani delivered the last words of his speech.

"God"

"NO!" screamed Roselle.

"bless"

"Look out!"

"America."

BANG.

Roselle screamed in pain. She was able to push Armani out of the way before the bullet could hit him, but now her arm was in writhing agony. She pointed at the man in the crowd. "He's got a gun!"

The man aimed again, this time at her head. She closed her eyes.

BANG.

Horrified screams came from the crowd. Roselle heard the gunshot and was expecting to be in pain--or worse, dead--but she wasn't. She opened her eyes to see what happened, and to her surprise, a certain king stepped in the way before anything could happen to her.

The Secret Service took down the man who fired the shots and arrested him, but the damage had already been done.

Roselle knelt down and held the person in her arms that saved her, who was unresponsive and bleeding in the chest.

"JAMES!" she cried.