by Alexis Angel
“Are you moving back in?” I ask, excited.
Jenna gives me a sheepish shrug. “Alicia, I’m so, so, sorry,” she tells me the first thing out of her mouth. “I wanted to come back and apologize to you, and pay you back the rent I should have paid, but I’ve been too scared at what you’re going to say or do…”
I don’t let Jenna finish. “You can move back in whenever you want!” I say. I’m not thinking about Jake at all. I’m thinking instead about the fun that Jenna and I used to have. How we used to go for jogs along the water, or out to brunch after a night out. I miss those days. They seem so much simpler.
“No, I need to tell you, I seriously fucked up, Alicia,” Jenna tells me, sitting me down. I remain silent. “I believed Jake when he told me you were purposely withholding sex from him and using him to get him to do things for you. That you were using sex as a weapon over him.”
I gasp. “I never even…” I’m about to continue when Jenna shushes me.
“I get that now. It took me a long time but when I heard how he attacked you, I was glad that he’d stopped calling me after you guys broke up. I’ve been wanting to apologize ever since for what I did,” she says.
I’m about to tell Jenna that I forgive her when she continues, as if she’s reciting something that she prepared. “But I knew I couldn’t just come back and say sorry,” she says. “I had to make a gesture to show you that I meant it.”
Now I’m silent.
She takes a deep breath.
“It took a lot of work, and literally getting my Dad to talk to everyone he knows from his business contacts, but I think I got it,” she says, and pulls out an envelope from her duffel bag.
“I submitted some of your recent work and got it shown to the right people. There’s an interview ready for you as a Senior Politics Reporter at The New York Sun, if you want it.”
Oh, my. I don't know what to say. I can’t even begin to fathom how Jenna was able to get the necessary contacts to get me this opportunity to work with the most prestigious newspaper in the country. Literally, the paper of record for the United States of America. I’m literally speechless.
“It was hard,” she says, as if hearing my thoughts. “It literally took four months of digging while I lived at home, but it was worth it,” she says.
I don’t know what to say, so I barely manage a “Thank you, Jenna.”
She nods. “I needed you to know how sorry I was,” she says to me, looking me in the eyes. “And I knew you were miserable writing gossip, so I put everything I had to make a grand gesture to show you.”
I reach over to hug her. I have so much to tell her.
But what she said to be starts tickling at my brain. She was sorry. She made a grand gesture to show me how much.
It’s an idea that noodles around my brain while we open a bottle of wine and talk about our lives in the last four months.
It’s an idea that I wrestle with as I tell her all about Derrick and she consoles me.
It becomes a plan as we make dinner together.
And it gets me sitting at my desk after dinner, with Jenna’s blessing as I put it into fruition.
The next morning, I walk into work. There are some stares in my direction. People have either heard about what went down with Derrick yesterday from the newspapers or they’ve heard about Samantha’s meeting with Mike, Danielle, and me.
Whatever. I’m not some fragile little girl. I’m a force of nature today.
I walk into Mike’s office and he looks up and smiles at me.
“Tomorrow’s column,” I say and hand him my piece. He takes it and reads it.
Then he reads it again. And again.
Finally, he looks at me.
“You’ll probably get fired for this, Alicia,” he says. “I won’t stop you from running with it, but I won’t be able to protect you.”
I nod. I could probably be throwing away my chance at the most prestigious newspaper in the country, The New York Sun, as well with this piece. But that’s my grand gesture. “I know,” I tell him.
Then I walk out the door.
Derrick
“All rise,” the Bailiff announces as the entire courtroom gets to its feet and an elderly looking judge comes in from his office attached to the back. The Bailiff continues. “The Honorable Judge Walter E. Byrd is now presiding over the Federal Court for the 10th Circuit. Please be seated.”
I sit down.
Judge Byrd peers over his bench and looks at me. “Prince Blaine,” he says. “I thought we reached an understanding that we were never going to have to see each other in a professional capacity?”
I stand back up to address him. This whole experience is like some fucked up Deja vu. I was arrested two days ago. The papers had a field day yesterday. My arraignment is today. I don’t know what I’m going to say to the judge after this fucking whirlwind, but before I can address him, Larry stands up and speaks up next to me. “My client thought so as well, Your Honor, which is why we seek to dismiss all charges this morning.”
There’s a snort of derision from across the aisle. I look over and Samantha Scar, the District Attorney from Hell, is standing as well, dressed in a pinstripe black power skirt and suit.
In normal situations, Samantha would look hot. She’s got the tits and ass to make sex a fun experience with any man. But she’s also got some sort of crazy hateful rage that’s guiding her at this point as she looks at the judge and begins to speak, “Your Honor, Prince Derrick Blaine represents a clear and present danger to the well-being of all New Yorkers and it’s the job of the District Attorney to defend the population.”
I wish Judge Byrd would just say something because I see him roll his eyes a bit as he asks, “What are the charges, Counsel?”
Samantha takes a deep breath and dives in, “Conspiracy to commit lewd and lascivious acts, gross obscenity, public drunkenness, willful harassment of a threatening sexual nature, aggravated sexual assault, and willful vandalism of the public trust,” Samantha declares. There are literal gasps throughout the court and I can’t believe how half of this is even going to stick.
“Specifically, Your Honor,” Samantha continues. “His Highness went to a CBC interview after a night of heavy drinking where he proceeded to sexually assault the interviewer who was supposed to be working with him. This was caught on live camera, at which point network executives attempted to intercede but were stopped by the Prince. He then proposed to expose himself in front of those live cameras and subject the entire nation to a shameful display of his own vanity before running out of the studios.”
Fuck me. I’m fucked, after listening to Samantha put it like that.
“So the Prince got caught screwing and then flashed around his junk to the country?” the Judge asks with a smirk. Samantha frowns at him and he straightens up, clearing his throat and addressing Larry. “Mr. Summers, how does your client plead?”
Larry clears his throat. There are titters of laughter throughout the court as people pull up the video of me on YouTube. “Your Honor, my client pleads not guilty and seeks to dismiss the charges. These events occurred four months ago and the District Attorney has had the chance to bring up charges, but she has not. Only with the statute of limitations arriving on these acts has she decided to take action.”
“That’s true,” the Judge says nodding his head and turning to Samantha. “Why did you wait so long, Counsel?” he asks.
Samantha goes through some spiel about seeing if I had changed my ways but I know the fucking truth now. She had set Alicia on me, seeing if more dirt could be dug up. To get the people in an uproar and demand my head.
Only, Alicia didn’t do that. Sure, she may have lied, but she actually came up with the shit that got me in the public eye as a do-gooder. She actually helped me in that respect.
She helped me as Daphne. But she was there looking for dirt as Alicia.
Fuck, this shit is starting to give me a headache.
“Your Honor, my client has d
one numerous good works and stayed out of trouble since these events occurred,” Larry persists. “If the DA has her way and he’s indicted today, immigration rules state that he would be deported back to his country.”
“Your Honor, Prince Blaine is a direct threat to the moral fiber of the United States and his original actions cannot be allowed to go unpunished,” Samantha replies, as if she’s been rehearsing for this moment.
Judge Byrd looks at me.
“Prince Blaine,” he begins, “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? Or are you that same man whose actions have him teetering on the brink of deportation?”
The courtroom goes quiet and I can feel every eye turned towards me. For the first time in two days, I focus on what’s happening instead of wallowing in a feeling of betrayal.
Because it’s a pretty simple question. But one that cuts to the heart of the matter.
“Your Honor,” I say. “There is no way in all hell that I am the same man as to whom these charges are being applied.”
The Judge smiles and I continue, “I’m not going to go off and beat my own drum about how I’ve started the beginnings of a charitable organization or found a cause that I believe in philanthropically, or any of that.” People are beginning to whisper but I don’t fucking care. “All I can say is that I was rescued, Your Honor. Rescued by the love of a woman. That’s literally all it took. She made me want to be a better man. And her memory still makes me want to be a better man today.”
The Judge furrows his brows in confusion.
“Her memory, Prince Blaine?” he asks. “Where is she now?”
“She was never real to begin with,” a voice says from behind me.
There are loud gasps and murmurs. I turn around as well. These proceedings are supposed to be closed once they close the doors so I’m curious.
Holy fucking Christ.
It’s the President of the United States.
I shit you not. It’s Austin fucking Bain. The most badass President that this country has ever seen. If you don’t believe me, check out his story after mine.
This President Bain is something else. Probably the one that had been negotiating the trade deal my dad kept going on and on about. The one he concluded when he came to see me find out the truth about Daphne/Alicia and then get dragged away in fucking cuffs.
“You see, she was sent by Samantha over there to go find something about the Prince,” the President says, walking in. Secret Service agents fan across the courtroom and he walks up the aisle. “Only she couldn't find anything over four months. She even gave up trying, and fell in love with him, because at heart, Prince Derrick Blaine is a good fucking man.”
Now normally, there would be gasps of shock and surprise because the President of the United States just cursed, but if you’re surprised, then you really haven’t read about how the President ended up marrying the love of his life - who was actually his fake fiancee. You will, if you want. It’s added as a bonus book after this. You really should.
Instead, there’s no gasping. Just sheer pandemonium at the accusation.
Judge Byrd bangs his gavel bringing the courtroom to order.
“Mr. President,” the judge says, “It seems you’ve caused quite the stir in my court. I don’t like that. You may be the President of the United States, but this is still my Court.”
The President shrugs. “I’ve been dealing with the Prince’s father for about six months now, and I gotta be honest,” he says as he pushes past the gate and approaches the bench. “At first, I used the Prince’s antics to get a better bargaining leverage against his father by embarrassing him, but over the last four months the tables have turned.”
I’m fucking silent. It’s not every day you get the leader of the free world advocating for you.
“I also feel a bit responsible because Samantha used to be my Chief of Staff before I fired her,” he says looking at the judge. “Everywhere she’s gone, she’s been the villain. I let her come to New York and I felt bad so I wrote her a reference that she used to become District Attorney. I guess she had some issues she needed to work out and she felt that by taking advantage of people like the Prince she’d find a little peace - or at least get some sort of revenge. But the good news is she’s been stopped before. Don’t let her win this time.”
The President turns to me and gives me a sidelong look before turning back to Judge Byrd. “No charges were filed because Samantha wanted to find something to ruin his reputations in the gossip pages of the tabloids.” He holds up a copy of yesterday’s News of the Times. It’s got my picture on the front page with a headline, “The Fall of Prince Sin.”
“When she got nothing and realized that people were falling in love with the Prince, she had no other option but to act,” President Bain concludes. “She’s just one of those people that doesn’t like hot bad boys getting away with stuff.”
“Your Honor!” Samantha stands up and shrieks with a shrill yell. “This is too fantastical to believe. This is the same man who pretended to have a fake fiancee, I’ll have you remember.”
President Bain smiles. “If it’s too hard to believe, Your Honor, then why is it all over the Abigail Adams column today?”
The President hands the paper to the Judge who reads it. He chuckles quietly at something and then, as if realizing he’s still in the courtroom looks over at me.
“Prince Blaine,” Judge Byrd calls out and I stand up. “I’m going with my gut here and President Blaine just made me feel a whole helluva lot better. All charges dismissed!”
Judge Byrd bangs his gavel and the courtroom breaks out in spontaneous applause.
Samantha rushes to the bench and begins yelling at Judge Byrd.
“You can’t do this!” she yells. “You can’t let a man like that go!”
The Judge looks down from his bench towards Samantha for a moment.
“You stupid foolish old man!” she continues to yell at him.
That does it. The judge’s face darkens and he bangs his gavel.
“Bailiff,” he summons, “I find Counsel in contempt of court. Put her in holding for the next 24 hours.”
The bailiff drags Samantha away and I turn towards Larry. “That’s it?” I ask, a bit puzzled at the turn of events.
“Hey, Your Highness, don’t thank me,” Larry says, gesturing towards President Blaine, “Thank the President of the United States.”
Then as if realizing what he’s telling me, Larry quips, “I never thought I’d be saying that in my life, by the way.”
He packs up the remaining papers and walks away as President Blaine comes up to me and shakes my hand.
“Prince Blaine,” he says. “I’ve followed your career for a while now.”
“Thanks, mate,” I say, not sure how to respond.
“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.
