“I called your father when I saw the papers. He explained everything to me,” the President continues. “The girl you were with is feeling terrible and spent most of yesterday and the day before telling your father about how much she hated herself for all this.”
Hated herself? Alicia?
Well fuck, after breaking my heart in a thousand pieces, she could go fucking rot, for all I cared.
“It’s funny,” I say to the President as he walks with me out of the courtroom. “I’ve been with a fair number of birds, but I never really knew what they felt till now.”
He nods with understanding. “There’s something to be said for forgiveness though, Prince,” President Bain says.
I sigh. Some things just can’t be forgiven. What I need now is to leave New York for a while. Maybe even go back to St. Livy and figure out how to get over the only girl I’ve ever loved.
The only girl to break my heart.
I don’t know how to tell this to the President.
But it seems he knows what’s going through my head. “Read this,” he instructs me as he hands me today’s News of the Times. “And think about it.”
I take the paper from him as I head into the Bent
ley.
“Where to, Sire?” Pressly asks.
I think about going back home, but right now, I need to be away.
“St. Livy, mate,” I tell him. “I need to get out of the fucking city.”
I throw the newspaper to the seat next to me and close my eyes as photographers swarm the Bentley, snapping pictures as I drive off.
Great, I’m not going to jail.
But I’m still a broken wreck of a man.
Abby Adams: Let She Who Is Without Sin…
I’m Abigail Adams, and here’s what Abby’s hearing...
Actually, New Yorkers, it’s what I’m telling today. And what I’m telling is a confession. Maybe it’s too little, too late, but it’s the only gesture that means a damn that I have. Because I seem to have nothing left.
I’m not Abby. I may write as Abby, but the responsibility for coming up with the gossip is given to reporters who have gossip to report. My name is Alicia May Bayer and for the last four and half months, I’ve had a delicious story to report to you on the actions of a certain Prince. You all came to know him as Prince Sin. I came to know him as Derrick Blaine. And I fell in love with him.
I didn’t know I loved him at first. And here’s where the confession starts. I actually grew up with him. When I was a child, I grew up with Derrick Blaine. But because we were children, and because I was awkward, and because he was a typical guy, we never connected. And that love never found words.
And so I thought it was hate.
Gossip is our stock in trade on Page Eight, and for a while, it became my reason for being. I thought I wanted to do better. So when the District Attorney came to me after Derrick’ rather provocative display of exuberance (hint: waving a certain appendage around for the TV cameras) I jumped at the chance to dig up more dirt and drag his name through the mud.
Was I doing it to inform you?
No. I was doing it to destroy him. Because I had unrequited feelings for him that my brain didn’t know how to process.
But time and again, Prince Derrick has shown me what a capable, protective, and caring person he is.
He’s rescued me personally when I was getting attacked on the street from my ex-boyfriend.
He’s given me shelter when my own home was ransacked and I felt unsafe.
He’s taught me how to live freely and enjoy myself.