Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Wrong Clark (189/???)

Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

If you need to refresh your memory on what happened in Part 188, click here.

Part 189

Franklin Stern pressed the button on his intercom and said, “Who?”

“She said her name was Patricia Riviera, Mr. Stern, and that she had some urgent business to discuss with you,” replied his secretary.

“Well, pencil her in later in the week…”

“Sir, she’s here now,” his secretary said, before lowering her voice. “And you asked me to clear your morning appointments this week in anticipation of buying that company over the weekend. I was able to reschedule some of them when it fell through, but you’re free now until lunch.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Send her in.”

A tall woman with raven black hair and icy blue eyes entered his office. She wasn’t what he would describe as pretty or even handsome, but definitely striking. She seemed completely businesslike in her appearance. “Mr. Stern, I’m Ms. Patricia Riviera,” she said, holding out her hand, which held her business card. “I represent the current owner of the Daily Planet newspaper and building. I understand you have expressed interest in buying it. If that is still true, my client would like me to discuss terms with you.”

Franklin took the offered business card, glanced at it to confirm her name and see her firm’s name. She worked for herself. Then he shook her hand and indicated that she should take a seat. After she did so, he sat down, leaned back in his chair, and contemplated the woman and her offer.

It had only been on Friday that Perry White had approached him, suggesting that Stern Enterprises might be the company to replace LexCorp as owner of the Daily Planet. By Sunday, Franklin had discovered that Lex Luthor might have purchased the newspaper and building from its previous owner, but that LexCorp never had been involved. Last he had heard from Luthor’s solicitor, that slimy Sheldon Bender, the Daily Planet was tied up in Luthor’s probate and he had no idea when it would be available nor could he comment on who the new owner would be until that person could be contacted and informed.

It was now Tuesday morning. Either Sheldon Bender was the most efficient attorney ever to practice law, something Franklin highly doubted due to lawyers charging by the hour, or that this woman was lying through her teeth.

“I was given to understand that Lex Luthor still owned the Daily Planet, Ms. Riviera,” he replied.

“He did, Mr. Stern, but prior to his death on Saturday, he signed over ownership of the company to my client,” she said. “I have already verified my client’s claims in these matters.”

“May I ask who your client is?” Franklin Stern asked, leaning forward onto his desk. So that I may also verify your claims.

“Of course, since you just have inquired, you may clearly do so,” said Ms. Riviera archly. “My client wishes to remain anonymous, though, until an agreement has been made. Only at that time will my client come forward to discuss the final terms of the deal.”

Terms? His brow furrowed. “It is my understanding that with the sale of a property or business, the only terms are the amount that will be paid and how quickly the transfer would take.”

“This is a unique case, Mr. Stern, due to the asking price of the company and building in question,” she replied. She unsnapped her briefcase, withdrew an envelope, and slid it across the desk towards him. “If you are still interested in owning the Daily Planet, this is my client’s asking price and initial terms.”

Franklin had to admit his curiosity was piqued. He reached for the envelope only to notice that Ms. Riviera hadn’t removed her fingers.

“This offer is good for today only,” Ms. Riviera went on. “— and to you only. My client believes you would be a good owner for the paper and has adjusted the price accordingly to ensure a quick sale. My client wishes that the Daily Planet return to operational status by the end of the summer.”

“That’s fast,” Franklin replied.

“My client has said that it can be done, and considers the building to be in much better condition than Mr. Luthor led everyone to believe. As we all have learned over the course of the last several days, Mr. Luthor paid his secretary to bomb the building and then pocketed the insurance money, constituting insurance fraud. My client suspects that only minimum structural enhancements will be needed, such as the rebuilding of the printing department, lobby, and some stairwells. Most of the building, my client believes to be still in sound condition,” Ms. Riviera said.

“May I?” Stern asked, pointing to the envelope upon which her fingers remained.

“Only if you seriously wish to consider my client’s offer am I to let go of this envelope,” Ms. Riviera returned.

“How can I do that without reading the contents of this envelope?”

“By guaranteeing, prior to looking at my client’s asking price, that should you agree to buy the Daily Planet company and building, that you will also agree to all the terms set by my client, no matter how extraordinary they may be,” said Ms. Riviera. She didn't look to be the sort of woman who liked dealing with extraordinary requests by clients. “That is the sticking point on giving you this price. Should you agree to this price, know that you are also agreeing to all the terms set forth by my client.”

“I understand,” Franklin said, more out of curiosity than the belief that any deal could be so sweet that he would actually consider undertaking terms for the sale.

Ms. Riviera removed her hand and Franklin pulled the envelope towards him. Tearing open the end, he pulled out the enclosed sheet. He read it through five times before the hand holding it dropped to his desk.

“Ms. Riviera, you are quite sure that your client does exist?” he asked.

“I am.”

“And that ownership has been verified?”

“My client presented me with the ownership documentation upon hiring me, and then I too upon hearing the demands for the sale, verified them a second time,” she replied. “I would have dropped this client should I had learned fraud was apparent. I pride myself on my integrity.”

“May I ask why the quickness of the sale?” Franklin asked.

“My client would like the Daily Planet newspaper to be back in circulation by the end of the summer and to do so, the sale must be expedited.”

“That seems fair enough. May I ask why your client doesn’t want to retain ownership and rebuild himself?” Franklin asked.

“My client can hardly afford my attorney fees, which is why they have been included as part of the asking price,” Ms. Riviera responded, nodding to the note he opened just a minute before. “If money were no object, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Fair enough,” he said, tapping the letter with his finger. “But if money is desired, why ask for so little?”

“As I stated before, money is not my client’s wish in coming to you or in selling the Daily Planet. My client believes that you would be a fair and just owner of the company. By accepting this offer, you are agreeing to take upon the financial burden of repairing and rebuilding the newspaper and building, and rehiring any former staff Editor-in-Chief White deems worthy to return. My client feels that you are already shouldering enough expense and, therefore, does not wish to add to your burden the cost of buying the company for a large sum as well,” she said.

“Well, I’m certainly interested. What are your client’s other terms?” he asked. “Besides a desire to remain anonymous.”

Ms. Riviera removed a second envelope from her briefcase. “My client believes the Daily Planet was mismanaged by the previous owners, and clearly by its greedy board, and that given good leadership the newspaper would be profitable once more. If you agree to the terms, outlined here in more detail,” she stated, handing over the terms letter to him, “— you and my client will have a good relationship.”

Franklin wondered why he should have a relationship with the previous owner of a company he purchased. He opened the second letter and once more read it through several times before responding. “Your client is expecting me to do a lease-to-own sale?” he said.

“No. No, you would own it and run it as you see fit, but should you decide to sell the company or the building within the first five years of ownership, the original sale will be invalidated and the ownership of the Daily Planet would revert to my client.”

“That’s preposterous!” Franklin said, rising to his feet. “Why would I ever agree to that?”

If Ms. Riviera was surprised by his outburst, she didn’t show it. “My client feels that anyone interested in the welfare of the Daily Planet as a business, should consider it part of the family. One shouldn’t adopt a child or a pet, and then give it up at the first upset. A business and its employees should be given the same consideration. If your only interest in the Daily Planet is to flip it for a quick profit, you aren’t the owner my client seeks. My client is searching for an owner who is honest and loyal. Your name is first on the list, but not the last.”

He looked down at the terms letter again. “And after five years, I need to obtain your client’s approval of any prospective new owners?”

“My client doesn’t wish for a repeat of the sad occurrence that happened with Mr. Luthor. My client only wishes to investigate any prospective new owners to make sure they aren’t a subsidiary of another crime boss,” Ms. Riviera said, raising her shoulders as if to state ‘if it happened once’.

Right. He glanced over the terms again. “Your client seems to care for the Daily Planet very much.”

Ms. Riviera nodded.

“How did your client convince Mr. Luthor to turn over the property and business, then?” he asked, sitting back down.

“That will be revealed in time,” Ms. Riviera said. “Let’s just say that the gift of the Daily Planet was highly unexpected to my client, though not unwelcome, but unfortunately due to my client’s occupation, less than advantageous.”

His brow furrowed in thought. That Lex Luthor would give such a valuable gift to anyone who might appreciate it seemed unheard of for the man, unless of course he was being coerced or blackmailed. Although, everything that was being rumored in Financial Alley since Luthor’s death indicated that had someone been stupid enough to blackmail or threaten Luthor that person would have ended up floating in Hob’s Bay.

“I have one more question regarding these terms,” he said. “Your client wishes me to make an anonymous donation to the Superman Foundation each year during the first five years of my ownership in the amount of either ten thousand dollars or ten percent of the net operating income for the building and company, whichever is higher.”

“And your question is?”

“Ten thousand dollars seems quite low for a net operating income for a newspaper of this size,” Franklin clarified.

“My client understands that the net income for the first couple of years might be off-balanced by the cost of repairing the Daily Planet building, its reputation, and its circulation,” she replied. “And your question is?”

He leaned towards her over his desk and whispered, “Is your client Superman?”

Ms. Riviera burst into a surprising smile. “No, Mr. Stern, just a big fan.”

***

Clark stood impatiently by the security checkpoint.

Jimmy had neither returned the night before nor met up with him at the hotel this morning. Clark had been forced to pack up his friend’s belongings and check out without him. As it was, he would be pushing it to make it to the gate on time.

Not that it technically mattered if he himself missed the flight. Clark hadn’t checked any baggage and he could fly back to Metropolis on his own, which actually would be his preferred method to return to Lois. Such a flight would take seconds as opposed to hours. Additionally, he wouldn’t have to sit in a hollow metal cigar or in a cramped and uncomfortable seat. However, flying across country in broad daylight dressed as Clark Kent wouldn’t do Superman’s reputation any good if he were spotted or photographed. Clark didn’t want to blow his carefully crafted secret identity in order to see Lois five hours earlier. No matter how tempted he was.

Clark glanced down at his watch. Five minutes longer and he would have to start to head to the gate. He noticed that his foot had begun to tap on the floor and he stopped it, but strangely, the tapping noise didn’t stop. He scanned the people flowing into security and saw Jimmy and Jenny running hand in hand towards him. Sure enough, true to Jenny’s prediction from the night before, Jimmy sported a black eye.

“Sorry about being late, CK,” Jimmy gasped. “We overslept and must have just missed you at the hotel.” He bent over and set his hands on his knees in order to catch his breath.

“I’m glad to see that you’re still alive,” Clark said, despite knowing where his friend had been the entire time. Realizing that he sounded like one of his bitter foster mothers, Clark softened the words with a big grin and a bounce of his eyebrows.

Jimmy was oblivious. He had already turned back to Jenny. “I wish I didn’t have to run off on you like this,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I only just found you.”

“Then don’t go,” she said. “Stay.” Then she pressed her mouth to his in a manner that required Clark to avert his gaze.

He uncomfortably cleared his throat. “I hate to be a third wheel, but our plane leaves in a half an hour and you still haven’t checked in.”

“I know. I know,” Jimmy murmured, with a quick glance back over his shoulder at him. “I just… don’t want to go.” His words were mostly aimed at Jenny.

Clark dropped Jimmy’s backpack off his shoulder and down at his friend’s feet, holding out Jimmy’s plane ticket. When Jimmy didn’t notice, Clark stepped around Jenny and stuck the ticket in Jimmy’s intertwined hands behind her back.

“Jimmy, we still have to pass through security, get to our gate, which as luck has it is at the end of the concourse, and check you in. The plane will start boarding in ten minutes,” Clark said. “Jenny, it was nice meeting you. I’m sorry, but I’m not missing this flight. Jimmy, I’m getting in line.” He wished he didn’t sound so judgmental, but Jimmy was acting like a horny teenager. He waved at the couple and went to go stand in the security checkpoint line.

Jimmy met up with him when Clark was second in line to walk through the metal detector.

“Hey, CK.”

“Hey,” Clark replied. This wasn’t the time or place for a discussion about Jenny. They had a five-hour flight ahead of them for Jimmy to bore Clark on every little detail about his new love. “Nice shiner. Want to tell me about it?”

Jimmy gave Clark a thousand watt smile.

Wow. How could he smile that brightly with tears in his eyes?

“Jenny calls me her Superman.”

I really didn’t need to know that. “Uh-huh,” Clark replied, setting his bag on the conveyor belt, and placing his keys and coins into a tray. He passed through the checkpoint, glanced back at the security officer who waved him through. As he picked up his overnight bag, he saw that Jimmy was forced to go through the scanner twice. He waited for Jimmy to pick up his backpack and join him in the concourse. “Have a good time last night?”

He might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Jimmy wasn’t listening as he craned his neck to see if Jenny left. She hadn’t. When Jimmy caught sight of her, his face burst into smiles again and he started to wave with both of his arms.

“Ah, young love,” Clark murmured.

“I’m only six years younger than you, CK,” Jimmy retorted.

Ten years, Clark almost corrected him before recalling that in this dimension he wasn’t thirty-two, but twenty-eight. His birthday might be the same, but he was four years older. No wonder Jimmy’s actions seemed so young. Had he ever been that young and naïve?

Then he recollected that he had been Jimmy’s age when he had followed Lana back to Smallville like a puppy after college, so that was a definite ‘yes’.

Clark nudged Jimmy with his elbow to remind him of their impending departure at the other end of the concourse.

“Right!” Jimmy said and pantomimed through the glass wall that he would call Jenny. When they were finally on their way to the gate, he said, “She’s the greatest.”

“Uh-huh,” Clark said, awaiting the onslaught of gushing. “Had a good time, did you?”

“The best,” Jimmy said with a dreamy grin. “We talked until dawn, falling asleep in each other’s arms.” He gave a huge yawn to back up this story.

“So…” Clark said, nodding towards his black eye.

“So what, CK?” Jimmy snapped, pointing at him. “If you think I’m going to spill any details or give you a blow-by-blow of what happened last night, you’re sorely…”

Clark interrupted him by pointing to his own eye. He didn’t want to know of the details of Jimmy’s night. Thank you very much.

“Oh, right. Um… This guy grabbed Jenny’s arm and tried to pull her into the alley as I was walking her home last night,” Jimmy explained. “Apparently, there’ve been lots of muggings off the Strip lately, which is why she asked me to walk her home. It’s possible the guy has been watching her, getting to know her patterns.” He stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh, my God! I can’t leave. What if he attacks her again tonight?” He shook his head, and then started walking again. “No, wait. She doesn’t work tonight. She promised me that she’d talk to the police about last night. Um… in all the excitement, we forgot to call them last night.”

“Uh-huh.” And there was the corroborating evidence that Jimmy and Jenny hadn’t ‘talked’ all night.

Jimmy continued to ramble on about how Jenny had just graduated from the UNLV with a B.A. in Art. She was an abstract painter. She lived in a large two bedroom apartment and used her living room as her studio. Her roommate was a “slut,” his definition not Jenny’s, who Jenny just wanted to move out because her dates didn’t treat Jenny’s art seriously. Her art was so deep, even Jimmy didn’t get it… but he really, really wanted to. Jenny loved Star Wars, just like him. Wasn’t Jenny the most beautiful woman in the world? Thankfully, a rhetorical question. Jimmy was so in love.

All this information Jimmy conveyed to him during the jog to their gate.

Clark prayed that their flight wouldn’t be delayed. It already would be a long five hours to Metropolis. Maybe Clark would luck out and they wouldn’t sit next to one another.

***

Bill Henderson entered his office, only to find it occupied. He stopped, did a double take, and then continued on to his desk. “While the District Attorney’s office and I appreciate all the tips the former employees of the Daily Planet have given us in regards to Lex Luthor, I do not appreciate that you consider my office as your new home base.”

The tall, leggy, auburn haired beauty stood up and extended her hand. “Good morning, Inspector Henderson. I am Catherine Grant of the Houston Chronicle. Do you have time for a few questions?”

Bill shook her hand, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re leaving our fair city, Ms. Grant?”

“The Chronicle said that they might have something for me if I brought them another big scoop besides my Luthor sex scandal. How about paying back your dear friend with some information, Bill?” she said, sitting back down.

She swished her hair in a manner that he felt in his gut. He glanced down at his wedding ring and rotated it around his finger. “Off the record, out of all you Planet newshounds, you’ll be the one I’ll miss the most, Catherine.”

She smiled. “And rumor has it that the police in Houston won’t be as sweet to work with as you are.” She gave him a wink. “I’m sure my husband would be the first to remind me not to believe all the rumors I hear about Texas.”

Bill cleared his throat, gazing down at her hands. They were resting on her knee and, sure enough, he saw that she now wore a wedding band. Maybe she had worn it when he saw her a few days before, but he hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t something he usually looked for on the hands of his acquaintances after their first meeting, especially a woman known for accessorizing. Either people were married or they weren’t, and it was of little consequence to him unless it became pertinent to a case. If they wanted him to know their marital status, or the change in status, he would be told.

He reminded himself that Catherine had just informed him. He hoped some unintentional and ungentlemanly behavior on his part hadn’t prompted her to do so. Surely, he would have recalled if she had told him of getting married recently. She had never spoken about a serious boyfriend or an upcoming wedding, or anything personal in fact. Then, again, with him she had always been all business… except during that first meeting out on the docks when he had wondered if she were going to jump. What had stuck in his memory, besides her poetic description of watching the darkness rise over the bay, was her saying that it was a pity all the good ones were married. Maybe his life would be different if he had corrected her then.

His wife had moved out at the beginning of the year and, while he had been trying to convince her to return to him, he had met Catherine. He had felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time that night. She might have been one of the sexiest ladies of his acquaintance, and in his profession that was saying a lot, but it was more a kindred spirit kind of feeling. They had understood each other at first sight.

Neither of them had been available, apparently, so it was best that he had never acted on those feelings. In another time or place perhaps…

A month after meeting Catherine, his wife had finally admitted that she wanted a man who thought more of her than of criminals. According to their teenage daughter, who had moved back in with him and brought her mother’s “Dear Bill” letter with her, she had found one. The divorce papers had arrived via special messenger last week from his wife’s lawyers. Bill hadn’t even opened the package, choosing to dive into his work, instead. There was always more work.

“Bill?” Catherine asked, waving a fingers.

He blinked the sleepers out of his eyes. “Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days. Congratulations, Catherine. I didn’t know,” he said, giving her a smile. “I wish you the best. He’s a lucky man.”

“Thank you, Bill,” she said, her smile deepening. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Lois that you like me better.”

“I’d appreciate it. I’m beginning to feel that I’ve been too nice to her of late. She’s calling me night and day, treating me like her bestest best friend,” Bill replied with a roll of his eyes. “That woman just won’t take ‘no comment’ for an answer. I don’t need that in my life.”

Catherine laughed. “Don’t worry; Clark’s coming back to town today. If he can’t distract her from her unrequited love for the Metropolis Police Department, nobody can.”

“So, what kind of quote do you want from me, Catherine?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingertips together. “A ‘no comment’ per chance?”

“No. No. It isn’t a Luthor story. I know I talked to you about this months ago, but you haven’t heard anything more about that string of missing persons after Nightfall Minor, have you?” she inquired. “Have any of them come out of hiding? I’m hoping to give Claire Dawson some news before I leave. I hate to leave her hanging.”

He should have told her that it wasn’t his department, but instead he merely asked, “Who?”

“Brenda Muldoon’s sister. Dr. Muldoon was the OB/GYN who stole all those ova and pregnancy drugs from Met Gen before disappearing into the void,” Catherine said. “It was just too weird… end of the world weird as if she was preparing for the next coming.”

“Well, lots of people thought it was the end of the world,” Bill reminded her. “And for good reason.”

Catherine laughed. “Hell, yeah. Luthor even built himself a Noah’s…” Her eyes locked with his. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Probably not, he thought as his heart started racing. She really shouldn’t look at him like that. He needed to get some decent sleep. That was all this was. Lack of sleep.

Cat grinned as if she was the Cheshire cat and he was a dish of cream.

Bill gulped. So much for sleep.

She pointed at him. “You better let me know when you open Luthor’s bunker. I told you about it first. It’s my story. I deserve the exclusive, not Lois,” she said before standing up. “But for now, I have a date with Detective Coltrane down in Missing Persons.” She waved goodbye to him with her fingers and disappeared out his door.

Bill rubbed his temples as he wished he knew what had just happened. As usual, he was once more a step behind that woman. Lois Lane he could understand; he had dealt with driven reporters his entire career. Catherine Grant, on the other hand, was a complete mystery.

***

Five and a half incredibly long and Jenny-filled hours later, Clark and Jimmy disembarked in Metropolis. Now, Clark knew almost as much about Jimmy’s new lady friend as Jimmy must know himself.

Lucky him.

It had taken an abundance of self-control for Clark not to reveal his secret to everyone on the flight by opening the emergency exit three and a half hours earlier and diving out into the blue Jenny-free sky.

Clark had already set his watch to the correct time on the plane. Fortunately, a two-day trip meant they hadn’t checked any luggage. Unfortunately, they had arrived back in the city for the three to seven evening traffic jam.

“I have to call Jenny,” Jimmy said, spotting a bank of payphones. “Until that mugger is caught, I don’t want her covering any more night shifts.”

If Jenny was anything like the self-assured Ms. Lane, Clark was sure Jimmy was about to get an earful for his concern. “Can’t you wait until we get back to the apartment?”

Jimmy gave him a sour look. Then Clark recalled that Jimmy had said something similar to him when they arrived in Vegas.

“You don’t want to seem too clingy,” Clark clarified. “Women hate that.”

Jimmy held out his hand, and said, “Yo, Pot, can you lend Kettle here your phone card?”

Clark guessed he still owed his friend, and handed over the phone card he had barely used in Las Vegas. He had tried to call Lois at six that morning but she hadn’t picked up when he left a message on her machine. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a quarter and dropped it into the slot of the payphone next to Jimmy’s and dialed Lois’s number. Clark had forgotten to ask Lois if she wanted him to meet her at her place or his.

Once more, Lois’s machine picked up. Clark recalled Lois saying that she was screening her calls to avoid the tabloid press, and started speaking after the beep, “Hi, Lois. It’s Clark.” He waited for the count of three seconds and when she still hadn’t answered, he said, “Oh, I guess you’re still not home. Jimmy and I have just arrived in Metropolis. We’re going to take the E train into the city and should get to my apartment about…” He glanced at his wristwatch. “About five, five-thirty. I’ll call you again then and we can discuss when and where we’ll meet up.” He paused again, still hoping that Lois might pick up. “Bye, minha.” He hung up the receiver with a frown.

Where was Lois?

His heart beat faster with the idea that perhaps she came to meet him and Jimmy at the airport. Clark tilted down his glasses a notch and scanned the exit from the arrivals concourse, and then shifted his gaze down and checked out near the baggage carousels. He didn’t see her, but there were so many people it was possible he had missed her.

Clark sighed and glanced back at Jimmy who was having an animated and rather lovey-dovey conversation with Jenny. From what he had inadvertently overheard, Jenny had been hanging by her phone for the last half-hour hoping her ‘little Superman’ would call. Deciding that this was going to take a while and if he heard any more of their conversation Clark would probably end on the sick list again.

He reached back into his slacks pocket and took out another quarter, dropped it into his payphone, and dialed a second number.

“Hello?” a male voice answered.

“Hi, Phil. It’s Clark,” he said, still feeling a bit guilty for his impromptu visit to Cat’s the other night.

“Hey, Kent. Back from Vegas already, huh? How are you feeling?” Cat’s husband asked.

“Better,” Clark said. He wished he could say he was one hundred percent, but he wouldn’t know that for sure until he saw Lois. At least, physically he was back up to where he should be.

“Good. Good,” Phil said vaguely.

“You?” Clark asked.

“I’m raring to get back to Houston and settle into that new house of ours,” Phil said. “The sooner we leave Metropolis, the better.”

“Uh-oh,” Clark murmured. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Cat tripped over some new angle to some old story and has been out working on it all day,” he said. “I’m afraid she skipped lunch. She certainly hasn’t packed a single box since yesterday. Will it always be like this?”

Clark chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll slow down in about six months or so.”

“Slow down? She better come to a complete halt!” Phil groaned.

Clark heard the rattle of keys and a lock being unfastened through the phone line.

“Here she is now,” Phil said, and Clark could hear the contentment in his tone. “Hi, dumpling.”

“Come here, my sexy cream…”

“Kent’s on the phone,” Phil quickly interrupted. “He’s better.”

“Hi ya, Sugar Boots,” Cat said, clearly having stolen the phone away from her husband.

Clark rolled his eyes.

“You calling about your laundry?”

“As a matter of fact, I called to talk to my best friend,” Clark retorted. “And see how she’s faring.”

“Liar,” Cat said, but she didn’t seem to mind. “All cleaned and pressed. You don’t mind a bit of starch in your shorts, do you?”

“Ha-Ha,” he said. “Thank you, Cat. I owe you…” He thought about the number of times she had rescued him over the last year. “At least twenty favors, don’t I?”

“Don’t worry, Clark. I have the exact number written down somewhere. Although, after this weekend, let’s just call it an even hundred.”

He smiled weakly. “Deal.”

“Swing by anytime to pick it up,” Cat said, and then growled in a feline tone, “Unless you hear the bongo drums.”

Bongo drums?

Suddenly, his ears filled with the familiar sound of jungle drums. He pulled the phone away from his head. How could he forget?

“Consider it my sock on the doorknob,” Cat purred. “I’ve got to go and eat my…”

“Thanks again, Cat!” Clark said quickly before she could finish. “Bye.”

“— dinner,” Cat said, and then added in a teasing tone, “Mr. Kent, you have a dirty, dirty mind.” She laughed and turned down the drumming music.

Clark flushed.

“I’d invite you over later, but I know you want to spend tonight with your favorite reporter, which for some odd reason isn’t me,” she said. “We’ll do dinner in a few days. I want to hear all about Rachel.”

Clark blanched and ran a hand through his hair.

Cat laughed. “Tootles, Clarkie,” she said and hung up.

How did Cat know about Rachel?

***End of Part 189***

Part 190

Comments welcome.