Chapter 9: Saving Face
"Freedom of the press is not just important to democracy, it is democracy." --Walter Cronkite.
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"I'm here to see Rosa," Eliot said.
Michelle put her hand on her hip. "I don't think she wants to see you," she said, waving her index finger around. "And it's Ro-SELLE."
Roselle got up and walked towards him. "What do you want?"
He blinked at her. "Why do you look like a racoon?"
She felt her eyes, and they were watery. Her mascara was smeared. She grabbed some nearby baby wipes and cleaned herself up. "None of your business," she said.
He took a deep breath. "Look, I know we aren't exactly best pals or anything, but I need your help with something."
"And why would I want to help you?"
"My political career is on the line because of what happened."
"Don't care."
"Armani's career is too."
She blinked. "What? Why?"
"Everyone is saying that the fight was proof that it was a mistake to lower the minimum president age to twenty-one. The other candidates are using this as an opportunity to try and say 'oh, we should change the law back to thirty-five'. If that happens then Armani and I can't be president anymore and they'll consider us nullified, and there'll be a makeup election. You gotta help us!"
"Well maybe it IS proof that y'all are too young to be head of state," Michelle said. "I mean, you did get into a fist fight."
"I know, alright? It was a dumb move. I thought I was untouchable since they already elected me." He pulled out a plastic bag with a cookie in it. "Here. This is for you."
Roselle raised a brow. "Uhh . . . ?"
"It's a peace offering. My Grandma made it. So will you help me?"
She sighed. "Fine."
"Yes!"
"But I'm not going to do it for you! I'm doing it for Armani, and for the country. I think you're terrible, but I know Armani will be a good leader."
"Fair enough."
"So what do you need me to do?"
"I kinda left a press conference right now. I need you to come with me and make a statement that the media is wrong, and the fight wasn't as politicians, but as cousins. I want you to say it was all in good fun."
"Whatever."
* * *
Eliot and Roselle went downstairs. When they got outside, she looked around, expecting a limo, but there was none. Eliot walked over to a motorcycle and put on a helmet.
"Oh no. No, no, no," Roselle said. "That thing is a death trap. I'm not getting on there."
Eliot looked back and forth between her and the motorcycle. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah!"
He pulled out a bike--no, not a motorcycle, a bicycle that you pedal--behind the motorcycle she was looking at. He stared at her in confusion. "You never learned how to ride a bike?"
She gaped her mouth. "I thought that . . ." She pointed at the motorcycle.
"Oh, no," he said. "My Grandma would never let me drive anything like that anyway." He got on the bike. "Hop on," he said. Ring, ring, went the bell.
She grumbled, but did as told. She got on the back of the bicycle. "Uh . . ." She felt awkward. She didn't know where to put her hands.
"What are you doing? We don't have all day. Hold on to me."
"No!" She flustered. "That's awkward!"
"YOU'RE awkward. Now hold me!"
Roselle did as told, wrapping her arms around Eliot's torso. To her surprise, he was actually very muscular and strong. 'No, stop thinking that!' she thought to herself. Eliot peddled the bike down the street, and Roselle was amazed at how fast he was going. In fact, he was going TOO fast.
"Are you trying to get us into an accident?!" she yelled.
"This ain't my first rodeo, girlie."
He peddled the bike so fast that he matched the speed of cars in the street. Roselle screamed, but her screams quickly turned into giggles. "Woo!" she exclaimed.
"Are you having fun back there?"
"Hahahahah!"
"I'll take that as a yes."
She was still holding on to him for dear life, but she felt safe somehow. He delicately smelled sweet, kind of like cinnamon. She hated this guy, but she loved his scent. She inhaled it more feeling slightly guilty, but somehow calm.
* * *
After ten minutes or so, they arrived in the parking lot of the building where the press conference was held. Eliot chained his bike to a pole, and the two went inside.
"Where have you been?" asked Armani as the two went inside.
"Fixing our problems." Eliot stepped aside, revealing Roselle, who was standing behind him.
"Uhh, hi," she said to Armani.
The future president's face went pale. "Ro?"
"Beautiful weather . . . isn't it?"
"What are you doing here?" He turned to Eliot. "You shouldn't have involved her in this. If she goes through with this conference and she makes a statement, I don't think she's going to be able to live a normal life anymore. She'll be all over the media." He looked at Roselle. "You don't have to do this, Ro. I can handle this."
"I want to do this."
He sighed. "Alright, but keep your words to a minimum. These news reporters will take whatever you say and twist it. Only answer the questions about the fight, and nothing else. Got it?"
"Got it."
An official-looking person walked to where they were. "Break time is over," he said. "Come back to the press conference."
Armani Parker, Eliot Scott, Roselle Reyes, and a few other officials walked to the stage with their flashing cameras and news stations asking questions. Roselle sat in between Armani and Eliot, not having a mic of her own. Eliot answered a few questions about the fight, and Roselle was now being asked too.
"Ms. Reyes," a news reporter said. "As a third party present, can you confirm that the fight wasn't political at all?"
"Um, uh," she looked at Eliot, who nodded. "It was just . . . It wasn't . . . It was just a little fight between cousins," she said, barely being able to pull off the line. "Nothing serious."
Another reporter raised her hand, and Armani selected her. "Another question for Ms. Reyes if you don't mind. So is it, or is it not true that VP Eliot Scott and Prime Minister Dylan Valette were fighting over you?"
"No way!" she exclaimed. "It wasn't like that. The fight was just . . . for fun?"
"You were spotted at a cafe with Prime Minister Valette earlier this evening," another reporter said. "Do you and the Prime Minister of Canada have romantic affiliations?"
She froze. She didn't know whether or not it would be alright to go public with her dating life between her and Dylan. These questions were getting to her, but she remembered that Armani said not to answer any questions that weren't about the fight.
"I have no comment on that at this time," she said.
The press was getting even more antsy with questions for Roselle, asking difficult inquisitions left and right.
"Is it true you and your sister broke into the Strobe mansion by impersonating employees of Washington D.C. Stylist Team?"
"Is it true you didn't even vote for Parker and Scott this election?"
"Is it true you'll be doing Lily Strobe's hair for the president's wedding?"
"Oh my God, stop!" Roselle said, under pressure.
The press, however, did not in fact stop.
"Word says Scott was was at your hotel room previous to this meeting," a reporter said. "Are you having an affair with the future vice president?"
"I wouldn't have an affair with him if he were the last man on earth!" Roselle blabbed it under pressure, but she realized how bad that sounded after she had just said it. She smacked her hand over her mouth, and widened her eyes.
"Why does the VP repulse you?" a reporter asked. "Is it true you're a lesbian?"
An official took control of the conference before Roselle could say anything else stupid. "Okay," he said. "If you have any questions for anyone other than Ms. Reyes, please answer them now. We'll be ending the meeting in five minutes."
Roselle ran off the stage, and the crowd was even more wild than before. All she could hear was," ROSELLE! MS. REYES! ONE LAST QUESTION, ONE LAST QUESTION!" The lights from all the flashing nearly blinded her, and all the questions nearly made her deaf.
* * *
She sat backstage trying to calm down. She was still shaking. She felt as if she was going to puke.
"Hi there."
Roselle turned around, and there was Lily Strobe, looking down at her. "Li-Lily?"
The heiress crossed her arms. "Well that was embarrassing."
"Yeah, tell me about it. It's so hard being up there when everyone is screaming at you." She hugged herself. "I couldn't handle all those cameras."
Lily nodded. "I get it. Although, I have a question of my own now that there's no press around."
"What?"
"Is it true you're dating my ex-boyfriend?
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