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Jake calls again, but I push it to ignore and get into the car.
“Morning, love,” he says with a smile as he gets out. “Figured we’d go do a photo op helping at a soup kitchen. What you say?”
I can’t argue with something so blatantly altruistic. “Who came up with the idea, Your Highness?” I ask.
He takes a moment to smirk at me. “Actually, it was Pressly who suggested it to my lawyer. Thought it would be a good way to spend the day. And fuck me, if they didn’t call some press accidentally.”
Figures. I wouldn't expect someone as hedonistic as Prince Sin to come up with an idea like that.
I’m quiet most of the way down Manhattan and only when we crawl through the maze-like streets of Lower Manhattan does the Prince even look in my direction.
“Seriously, Daphne,” he says with no hint of mirth. “I don’t mind doing these things…. I just never get a chance to.”
I roll my eyes again. “Too buy getting kicking the girl out of your bed?” I ask.
He actually nods in agreement! “And hung over,” he adds.
Great. He doesn’t feel a lick of shame at his actions.
We board the Staten Island Ferry after some breakfast and the Prince takes me outside. It’s already close to 11 and it’s a nice morning and I watch the seagulls fly around the boat. It’s perfect.
I take a sideways look at the Prince, seeing what he’s doing. He’s gazing out soulfully towards Manhattan. I gasp, but try to keep it to myself. Gone is the arrogant smirk, the cocky demeanor. Instead is a man, struggling with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
I’m about to say something when I hear a scream.
My head turns immediately to the stern. There’s a woman. She’s flailing her arms and screaming.
“Help!” she yells. “Timmy! My boy!”
Before I know what happens, Derrick is already rushing over. I run after him, but I can’t catch up to him.
“He fell! He fell…please someone help!” the woman is wailing. Tears are flowing down her eyes and she’s nearly hysterical. I see a little head bobbing in the water. The other people around us all turn around and are looking at her. No one is sure what to do.
Derrick doesn’t even stop, but jumps on the railing and jumps off the boat.
Well, I can’t say I expected that.
With swift and strong strokes, within seconds, he’s caught up to the boy and he takes him in his arms. He stays in place, treading against the current and waves at the mother, who is still going crazy.
By this time, some other passengers have alerted the Ferry captain and the boat slowly comes to a stop. But Derrick is already swimming up to the boat itself and by the time the emergency workers lower the life raft, Derrick is waiting, helping get the boy back to the emergency workers.
The mother weeps and cries out as the emergency personnel bring the boy up and put a blanket around him. Derrick is down below, talking to the emergency workers.
Remarkably, the Staten Island Ferry resumes service immediately, although it turns around and heads towards Manhattan.
It’s only once we dock again in Lower Manhattan that Derrick comes up to me. He’s dripping wet, and soaked to the bone.
“I think we’re going to have to cancel today’s event, love,” he says looking directly into me. “Seems our first foray into respectability is all washed up.”
I can’t help but smile. Emergency personnel have taken the child to the clinic at the ferry terminal and the mother looks towards Derrick very briefly.
She never got a chance to even thank him, I think to myself. But t
hen again, no one will ever even know about what he did. His heroism.
Except for me.
“You smell like dirty water,” I say, cracking a rare smile at him. “I think you need to go home and change.”
