"One's too few, three too many." --John Ray
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"Are you sure it was a threat?" asked Michelle. "Maybe they were just wishing you a happy new year."
Roselle gave her the side eye.
"Yeah . . . Who am I kidding? It was definitely a threat. Could it be from Grandma Scott?"
"No way. She doesn't send threats anonymously. She does it upfront. I told her about it and she said she had no idea who that could be from."
"Did you tell Armani?"
"No. I'm afraid. What if this person is dangerous or something?"
"What if it's Lily?"
Roselle stroked her chin. "Now that I think about it, it could be. I think she's really mad that Armani is spending the holidays with me instead of with her." She gasped. "Do you think she's gonna do something terrible to me?"
"I don't know. She seems pretty harmless to me. Her dad though . . . Ouch."
She widened her eyes. "Oh my gosh . . . you're right. It's not Lily, IT'S WARREN! HE'S MAD BECAUSE I'M GETTING IN BETWEEN ARMANI AND HIS DAUGHTER!" Roselle started panic-breathing rapidly.
Michelle was flustered. "Oh, uh, no. I mean, how can you be so sure it's Warren? You've made plenty of enemies at this point. I'm sure this message is from a less dangerous one."
The breathing worsened.
"Uh, you know what? I'm going to get Armani to calm you down. I suck at this."
* * *
A few days went by, and it was the day before New Years Eve. Roselle's worries about the anonymous text were soothed by Grandma Scott, who assured her she'd get to the bottom of it, and the Secret Service guys who were always patrolling the house. She had some top tier people at the defensive.
The days were spent like any other winter vacation days; playing in the snow, snuggling inside with a warm fire drinking hot chocolate (though she actually made the switch to Grandma Scott's tea [it worked wonders]), having a cozy dinner with friends and family, and chilling, watching movies. It was a lot of fun.
Though, in the back of her mind, she still thought of the anonymous text and was dreading New Years Eve slowly crawling up.
* * *
Ding dong. Everyone was in the living room watching a movie when the doorbell rang.
"Can you get that, Ro?" her father asked.
She flinched. "Me?"
"I'll get it," Michelle said, getting up to open the door.
When she opened it, standing outside was none other than the future Vice President, Eliot Scott.
Michelle did a double-take. "What are YOU doing here?"
"Ro invited me." He walked in without further invitation, and stood in the living room. "Sup guys?" He held a box in the air. "My Grandma made y'all some Christmas donuts." He looked nervously at Roselle. She knew, that he knew, that she knew, HE was the actual baker of the donuts.
Mr. Reyes looked at Roselle, confused. "Did you invite this doofus into our house?"
"What do you mean, doofus?!" Eliot protested.
"Zip it, son. I saw you speak at the rally when you won the election. Newsflash; saying 'uh, uh, uh,' and then having Armani mouth the rest of your own speech to you isn't very impressive."
"Hey!"
"Okay, chill," Mrs. Reyes told her husband.
"I didn't invite you, Eliot," said Roselle. "There must be some kind of mistake."
"You definitely did. Check it." Eliot handed her his phone. There was a text that was sent, appearing to be from her number.
Roselle: Hey Eliot, want to come to my house for New Years? Having a get together.
Eliot: I guess so. Where?
Roselle: [attachment: my address]
Roselle: Swing by on December 30th :)
Roselle dropped the phone. "What the--I don't remember sending these texts."
Mr. Reyes mumbled to himself angry, hurtful things about Eliot.
"Hun, relax a little," Mrs. Reyes nudged. "It's the holidays." She turned to Eliot. "You're welcome to stay for New Years."
Eliot dropped himself on the couch so fast. "Sweet." He took a bite of his own donut. "You want some?" he asked everyone, his mouth full and his words barely audible.
Ding dong.
Roselle took a defensive stance and did a karate chop in mid air when the doorbell rang again.
Michelle rolled her eyes. "I'll get it. Again."
When she opened the door, standing outside was the Prime Minister of Canada, Dylan Valette. "Hello!" he greeted. He had a bouquet of flowers with him. "May I come inside?"
"Yeah. Join the party."
He walked into the house, looking around. "Wow, your house is so warm and beautiful," he said.
"Are you kidding me?" Mr. Reyes questioned. "Are you Canada's Prime Minister?"
He blushed. "Well, yeah. You must be Mr. Reyes! I brought you some flowers for your house."
He got up, took them, and threw them on the couch. "What are ya doin' here?"
"Well . . . Roselle invited me."
"I did?!" Roselle exclaimed.
"Well, yeah." He showed her his phone, which, again, displayed texts that appeared to come from her number. "If I'm a bother, I can just take the first flight back--"
"Don't worry about it," Mrs. Reyes interjected. "It's the holidays."
Roselle's father glared at her. "Did you get drunk and invite every head of state in the world into my house?"
"I--I--" She searched for an explanation, but she didn't know what was going on either.
Ding dong.
Mr. Reyes slammed his fist on the wall. "Well who on earth could THAT be? The King of England?"
Michelle opened the door, and standing outside was the King of England, James the first, Mason, and his royal guards. "Hello, commoner," he said. He walked into the house.
"GOD DAMMIT!" Mr. Reyes shouted. He pointed at the door. "AM I BEING PUNKED? THIS IS THE LAST GUEST. IF ANYONE ELSE WALKS THROUGH THAT DOOR, THEY'RE NOT INVITED."
"Let me guess," Michelle said. "Roselle invited you?"
"Indeed." James clapped his hands together. "I come with gifts!" He made a gesture to his assistant, and Mason scrammed around the room, giving everyone a rectangular box with a bow on it. Pink for the girls, and blue for the boys.
Everyone opened their presents. Inside each box was a gold watch with the English royal family's crest engraved on it.
"Is this real gold?" Mr. Reyes asked.
James nodded. "Yes, and it's pure. You know what they say, time is golden."
He made a face as if to say 'not bad' and stuffed the watch into his pocket. "I like this guy. Okay, you can stay."
"Excuse me." Roselle sprinted into another room.
Roselle: Did you have any idea that your grandsons and the King of England are at my house?
Grandma Scott: Well yes, of course I knew.
Roselle: You invited them without telling me?!
Grandma Scott: No, I thought you did. I assumed this was a part of our little plan somehow.
Roselle: Well, I didn't, but someone sent them invitations to my house using my number.
Grandma Scott: I have a theory. Remember the anonymous number that 'threatened' you?
Roselle: What about it?
Grandma Scott: Well, I don't think it was a threat, as much as it was irony. I think that text really was from Warren. He's known for doing things like this. I think Warren sent those boys to your house.
Roselle: Why would he do that?
Grandma Scott: You're coming in between Armani and Lily, so he sent those various men your way to distract you from the mission.
Roselle: So what do I do? Do I tell them to leave?
Grandma Scott: No. When life gives you lemons, you make iced tea. With lemons.
* * *
Roselle went back to the living room where everyone was waiting. They all whipped their heads at her at the same time as if she was the bridge between all of their worlds.
"Uh, what now?" she asked them.
"You tell us," her father said. "Most of the people here are your guests. Do we even have room for all these people?"
"Michelle and I can stay in my old room, Mom and Dad get the master bedroom, the guards get the living room and guest room, and I guess Dan, Dylan, Eliot, Armani, and James can bunk together."
"Preposterous!" James complained. "Little rose, you'll really let me, a king, sleep in the same room as four other people?"
"I'm with king-boy," said Eliot. "Five to a room?"
She sighed and rubbed her temples. These guys were impossible. How could she convince them to--never mind. She knew how. "Sorry," she said. "Maybe it's a bad idea to tell the four most important people in the world to sleep in the same room together. You're right. That wouldn't end well."
Armani chuckled. "Yeah, it would be like an exclusive sleepover for the head of states. Has that ever been done in history before? That's just silly." He gave her a wink.
"Wait," said James, growing a smile. "Why, you're absolutely right. That would be the slumber party of the century!" He turned to Dan. "But what about him?"
"I'll be your bodyguard," he said.
"Fair enough. I agree to these terms."
Eliot was now gung-ho. "Me too."
Roselle sighed of relief. Head of state or not, these guys were like children.