A Gig in New York

"I'm a great believer in luck, and the more I work, the more I have of it." --Thomas Jefferson

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One, two, three, four, five. Inhale. Five, four, three, two, one. Exhale. Roselle did that a couple of times after what Grandma Scott had just texted her.

"Uh, you good?" Eliot asked.

"Yeah, fine," she said. It wasn't as though she could tell him about his crazy grandma's evil plans.

"So . . ."

"Uh, so . . . ?" she repeated.

"Are you and Dylan still--"

"Nah, we're not. We both decided it was best that we went our separate ways."

His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas day. "Then maybe you and I can go out now, right?"

She shook her head. "No way."

"I swear, I wasn't trying to make the moves on you or anything that night. It just kinda . . . happened."

"You know what? I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I talked to Dylan and he told me everything you said. I was actually surprised that you were . . . I don't know, mature about it."

"Then you'll go out with me?"

"Still no."

"Why not?" Eliot wore his lips in a pouty expression, and his eyes were goggled.

'Jeez, this guy is really just like a kid when he lets his guard down, isn't he?' Roselle thought to herself.

"I just think we wouldn't be a good fit," she said. "I mean, you're really sweet and all, but you're still pretty immature. Plus, I think you need to work on your gambling addiction."

"I haven't been to the casino in like, five days!"

She narrowed down at him.

"What?"

She got up. "Goodbye, Eliot."

He groaned in discontentment as she walked away.

* * *

Roselle looked everywhere for her sister at the party, but she was nowhere to be found. She called her, but still no answer. She wasn't worried. She figured Michelle was probably off on some spontaneous adventure. It's been awhile since she'd wandered off actually. That was so her. At a loss, she got in a taxi and went back to her apartment.

* * *

"I'm home," said Roselle as she threw off her coat and pranced to the couch. "Man, it's been yet another crazy night."

No answer. She wasn't really surprised.

"Michelle, are you even here?" She let out a gust of air. "Didn't think so."

Splash. The sink turned on for a moment. Rustle, rustle, rustle. Was someone brushing their teeth?

Roselle got up to investigate, and slowly tiptoed on the floor towards the bathroom. "Michelle?" she asked, her heart now thumping.

There was no answer, so she tapped her cold knuckles against the door. No response, but whoever was inside was still making noise.

She clutched the doorknob and turned it just to check. It was unlocked. She could open the door to see what was behind it. The real question was, did she want to?

With a gulp, Roselle creaked the door open, and stumbled back to find a stranger wearing HER kitty pajama bottoms, brushing his teeth while topless. He turned to face her, gave the sup nod upon seeing her, and continued brushing.

"Uh, hi. Are you in the wrong place?" she asked.

The guy spat in the sink, and rinsed his mouth.

She flared her nostrils. How dare he ignore her. "Hello? What are you, deaf?"

The man grabbed some wireless earphones from the top of the sink and stuck them in his ears. Wait a minute, those weren't earphones.

"Sorry," the guy said, giving a bright smile apologetically. "I can't hear very well without my hearing aids. What were you saying before?"

Roselle smacked her hand in front of her mouth. Her cheeks were deep scarlet. Good thing he couldn't hear her last line.

"I, um, uh," Roselle stammered at a loss of words.

He stuck out his arm. "I'm Dan," he said. His grin was a nice one. His teeth were sparkly white like the ones you'd see in the dentist commercials. "You must be Roselle! Michelle told me a lot about you."

She shook his hand. "Michelle? Is she here?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping in her bedroom."

"Uh huh. Can you excuse me for just a sec?"

"Sure thing."

Roselle dashed into her sister's bedroom. "Hey!"

Michelle, wearing just a lavender bathrobe, was sleeping peacefully on her pillowy bed, unaltered by her sister's presence. "Mmm," she mumbled, turning to her side.

Roselle grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it. "Wake up!" she exclaimed.

Her upper half suddenly erected into the air, and she was frantically looking around. "Who? Where?"

"It's me," said Roselle, snapping her fingers in her face. "Who's the dude in the bathroom with the afro and why is he here?"

"Oh, Dan?" She smirked. "I met him at the Thanksgiving dinner. He's one of the bodyguards of the Governor of New York. He's hot, right? He's got a six pack too."

She facepalmed. "I wish you told me you were having someone over. Jeez, that scared me."

"Well, sorry. It didn't occur to me to text you while I was busy getting it on."

"Okay." She cringed. "Too much information."

"Anyway, I haven't told you the good news yet. Dan got us a gig."

"We get gigs every day."

"Yeah, but this is different. It's in New York."

* * *

Ugh. It was Dan's car, so how did Roselle get stuck driving it on the way to New York while those two had fun flirting and kissing in the backseat?

"You know," Roselle said. "I'm right here. You don't need to be doing all that smoochy smoochy stuff."

"Don't mind her," Michelle assured. "She's just a grouchy girl."

She slammed her foot on the break and spun around. "Don't think just because I'm driving I won't stop to turn around and smack you for that."

"Hey, easy now," Dan intervened. "Ro, please keep the car going. We're on the highway. We won't kiss anymore if it makes you uncomfortable, alright?"

Roselle returned to driving, mumbling to herself.

"Cheer up, sis," Michelle said. "Not even a month ago we never left Michigan, and now we're going to New York City. Aren't you excited?"

"I guess, but I'm hating this long road trip so far. So, Dan. Whose hair and makeup are we doing again exactly?" She made sure to have her lips visible to Dan in the rear-view mirror since he was hard-of-hearing and could understand people better when he saw lip movement along with speaking.

He shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know, but I think they must be pretty important. So important, that their identity is confidential."

"How did you get us this gig anyway?"

"Well, I know the governor, who knows this guy, who knows this guy, who knows this guy that has a sister who is a friend of this guy that knows this person's assistant."

Roselle took a minute to map it out in her head. "Uh, that's a little convoluted, but keep going."

"Anyway, apparently the assistant was looking for a hair and makeup team because his boss was such a diva that no one wanted to work for them. I met Michelle at the party and she mentioned she did makeup and you did hair. I made some calls and got you guys the gig."

"Wait, so this person is a diva?" She groaned and had a twist in her stomach. "I don't have a feeling about this."

"Well, look on the bright side," said Michelle. "We're staying at a fancy hotel in New York while we do their makeup, and it's all on the house. Plus, they're paying us A LOT of money. We're so lucky to be getting this gig."

"Yeah, but what if this person is like Lily Strobe or something? I can't deal with more drama right now."

"This person won't be like Lily Strobe," Dan warned. "This person will be much, much worse."

* * *

The Reyes sisters got settled into their hotel room. Well, it was more like a hotel mansion. It had a chandelier, three massive bedrooms, and a bathroom with a bathtub the size of a double king bed. The décor was high-end, and the view was grandeur since they were almost on the top floor of the building.

Surprise surprise, Dan was going to be staying in Michelle's room during their visit. Well, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Roselle was warming up to Dan.

* * *

Knock knock. Roselle opened the door. In front of her, there was a short man that was probably in his mid-fifties. He wore a suit, and Roselle was no suit expert, but something told her it was probably the most expensive clothing she'd ever seen in person.

"Ah, you two must be the Reyes sisters," the man said in an English accent. "My name is Mason. I'll be escorting you two to the event."

"Alright. One question though, who are we working for?"

The man gulped. "That information is confidential. I promise, you'll know who he is when you see him."

She narrowed her eyes. "Seriously?"

"Okay," Michelle said, grabbing Dan's hand. "Let's get going."

* * *

They rode a limo going to a large building which was notorious for hosting fashion shows. Once they got inside, the security was the most thorough that Roselle had ever witnessed--even more so than the airport. They all had to have their things scanned, walk through metal detectors, have every item checked, and more. The process took hours.

The Reyes sisters, Dan, and Mason were in the waiting room for a long time as well. Around the four hour mark, Roselle was getting antsy, pacing around the room and munching her hair.

"Would you sit down?" asked Michelle.

"No, actually, I would not." She continued walking around back and forth. "We've been here all day. Who even is this guy?"

The assistant wiped sweat off of his forehead with a handkerchief. "I assure you, this is a very busy man. He'd be here sooner if he could."

"Call him."

"I . . . I don't want him to get angry."

"To hell with that. Call him."

"I gotta be honest," said Dan. "I don't really like waiting here either. It'd be nice if he came by soon."

"THANK YOU!" Roselle exclaimed. "I mean, who does this guy think he is? Why is he so important that he thinks he can just show up hours late?"

"Excuse me?" A British voice said.

Roselle turned to the source of the voice, and she immediately knew why this person was so important: he was the King of England.