A/N: All right. This has been an idea I've been working on for years. It's been a very, very long time. So, lots of credit to go around. Thanks to Queenie, who gave me the original shot of inspiration from her Bizarro Evil May challenge (looked it up-- this was way back in 2013). Thanks to everyone who's provided input over this very long period of time. Thanks to my first beta, AngelFinally, who helped me pace out a lot of my ideas. And above all, to folc4evernaday, for being the most amazing beta/person to bounce ideas off of and who literally went over this whole piece with a fine tooth comb. You're my hero. There's no way I would have finished this horribly long piece without you.
Of course, this work is
disclaimed. Thanks to DC and Warner Brothers for providing this universe to play in. No profit was made, etc, etc.
Rated PG-13
*****LnC*****
Act One: Sinnerman”If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other books. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.”
—Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning*****LnC*****
Chapter 1: The tremor didn’t come back until after her act ended. She stepped away from the microphone, gave a little bow, and stepped off stage. She breathed through it, shaking off the nerves. A showstopper she was not, but she could carry a tune, and she could flirt with the best of them. And with the club’s smokey, seedy atmosphere, those two things would get her far enough. She took a moment to breathe backstage, ran a finger under each eye to make sure her makeup was intact.
“Hey, Lola! Good set, but you gotta work the floor a little. Get back out there.”
She shot Johnny a dark scowl.
“And ease up on the attitude a little.”
He wisely ducked away before she could reply to that, but his words left her stewing with anger. She knew this wasn’t the best of places, but she honestly couldn’t believe this guy. Part of her wished that he would get raked over the coals by these so-called Toasters. He was lucky she had her own job to do. Lois gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, cocked her hip to the side and plastered on a dazzling smile.
Showtime.
She waltzed back out there, a suggestive sway to her hips, and took command of the room once again. A thrill chased up her spine as she absorbed the atmosphere of the club and exuded the same sort of unearned confidence. The dingy bar, smells of expensive smoke and cheap perfumes all swirled together. The almost palpable excitement that bustled through everyone in the room.
Well, not everyone. Tall dark and handsome in the corner over there at the bar seemed too broody for the club tonight, not at all like most of their other patrons. He sat, swirling his three fingers of scotch, deep in thought. Suddenly, he seemed to become aware of her staring, and dark, fascinating eyes stared back at her through thick glasses frames. There was something hidden in them— a kind of spark, but not the kind you read about in romance novels— a kind of intellect, a sharpness to them that as hard as he tried to keep hidden it simply couldn't be dulled.
Lois shuddered as his gaze dropped down to the rest of her body and the rather obvious lack of attire. She suddenly wished that she had worn something a little less skimpy for her act tonight— something that didn't essentially boil down to a one-piece swimsuit and some pantyhose along with what her sister would designate as stripper heels. And at the same time, when his gaze met hers once again, a warm feeling flooded through her bones and part of her was glad that she didn't. Lust knifed through her brutally, and if she were in any other circumstances, she was worried with how she would react to such a feeling. As it was, his gaze was intoxicating.
She was compelled to approach him, why she did not know. Something about him just screamed that they should meet, would meet, had met before. It would almost be eerie, if it weren't downright exciting. She lightly smacked a grabby hand out of the way as she weaved through the smokey crowd to his side.
He watched her carefully as she approached him, seeming to size her up as though he wasn't sure whether to show interest or run away. Something in her expression must have loosened him, though, and he turned to face her more fully when she reached his side. Lois smiled encouragingly. "Hey there, stranger."
He glanced at her face briefly before picking up his scotch once again and taking another sip. "Hey yourself."
Okay, so strike one. She'd get him to open up yet. He was a story, she just hadn't figured it out yet. "Why the long face?"
A sour look crossed his expression before he turned away from her completely. "Sorry. I'm not here for that kind of companionship tonight."
Lois was about to fire back a smart retort, asking who it was he thought she was when she suddenly remembered herself and bit her tongue. She allowed herself to take a few calming breaths before deigning to reply. It was hard to remember sometimes; the role was just so easy to absorb.
It frightened her how easy it was.
Instead she gulped back her indignation and spoke up. "Hey, I didn't say I was offering anything more, now did I? I just asked a question, that's all. You looked lonely. A gal like me knows what that's like. Now, you gonna talk or what?"
The man seemed surprised at the amount of fire and passion in her before remembering his melancholy state and closing in on himself as he downed the rest of his drink. Lois sighed and tapped the counter of the bar. "Hey Joey, could I get some neat scotch for my friend over here? On me." The bartender gave her a curt nod and quickly fulfilled her task. She passed him the drink with a smile. "There you go."
"Thanks..." he frowned, as if waiting for her to fill in the blank with her name.
"Lola," she supplied rather easily. "Lola Dane."
"Lola," tall dark and dangerous repeated, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome. Now, were you gonna tell me what brings you here on this fine Sunday evening?"
He looked down at the countertop, and for a moment Lois feared that she had lost him again when he finally spoke. "My... my father. It's the ten year anniversary of his death."
Lois was suddenly awash with pain for the stranger. He only looked maybe a year or so older than her, but there was so much depth to those features. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
He grimaced. "It's okay. We weren't all that... close for a while."
"Do you mind if I ask how it happened?" She spoke timidly, almost afraid to speak up.
The man shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He's gone now. And it's probably for the best anyway."
That certainly was a 180 pivot, Lois observed. His reaction didn't match his response. So of course she probed more. "How is your mother handling it?"
He scoffed at that, taking her by surprise. "I wouldn't know. Haven't seen her in... about as long." He scowled bitterly into his scotch, not at all remorseful for what he'd just said.
Lois was taken aback. He seemed so nonchalant about it, but there was still that something there, lurking in his eyes, behind those heavy glasses frames. And it was the exact opposite of nonchalant and unaffected— lying somewhere on the spectrum between anger, sadness and cold calculation.
And as nice as he looked and as genuinely sad as he seemed, it gave him a sharp, almost dangerous edge. Lois wasn't quite sure what to make of it all, and yet somehow with all of that going on, she still found herself somewhat attracted.
You always do this, Lane. Don't fall for the bad boys.She gave him a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't have the most stable of relationships with my parents, either, but that really sucks."
He gave a small scoff. "Yeah. Anyway, I'm over it."
No, he wasn't. Lois gave him a dubious look, but didn't verbalize her thoughts on the matter. You never knew how someone was going to react. Especially someone who was already giving off a don't-mess-with-me vibe.
"So that's pretty much my story. What's yours, Lola?"
Suddenly the tables had turned and Lois wasn't prepared. She didn't know how to respond to that— after all, she was undercover here at the club, and she was waiting for her date to come and rescue her, to help the act flow smoothly without interruption. "Oh, you could probably guess. I had a troubled childhood. My mom went crazy when I was young and left us in my horrible father's capable hands. I got thrown out of the house at sixteen, been doing my best to make it in the city. You know, the usual."
A quizzical look crossed his face for a moment before he replied. "That is the usual, but it's not what I would have guessed."
Lois felt her pulse quicken. "No?"
He shook his head before tilting it and looking out at her sideways. "No. I'd wager that you grew up in the city. You might have had a troubled past and an abusive father, but unfortunately you grew up with both parents— which made your home worse. And most of all, I don't think you belong here."
Lois' mouth was dry out of fear. "Boy, you sure know how to sweet talk a girl," she blanched. He couldn't possibly know that, she told herself. It was a good guess and nothing more. And even though her mother did leave when she was 13 for a rehab facility and never returned, somehow arming him with that information in an attempt to correct him felt like the wrong choice.
He smirked. It was a delicious, toe-curling thing that Lois fought her body on tooth and nail. How could she go from scared witless that he'll blow her cover or worse to hopelessly turned on in a matter of mere seconds? "Yeah, well, I've had a little bit of experience in the matter."
"Have you now?" Lois asked, feigning disinterest. She had to get some distance from this man.
But the man didn't respond. In fact, he didn't acknowledge he'd heard he at all. He had gone totally stiff, straightening up and narrowing his gaze on someone behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at, only to find her beau, her rescuer just walking in the bar. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. Lois turned back to find her current companion scowling at the man, and wondered what could have provoked such a reaction out of him.
After all, Lex Luthor was the biggest philanthropist in Metropolis.
She shook herself of the thought. This was her out. "Looks like my regular's arrived. If you'll excuse me—"
He seemed to consider for a moment before he nodded. "Of course. I'll let you get back to work, Miss Dane."
Slightly bristling and not quite sure why, Lois made her way away from the stranger and to her boyfriend who was putting on quite a good show of getting comfortably settled in his environment, like it was something he did every single day. No one would question him, no one would question her with him, and the strange man would be out of her mind.
Briefly she gave one last look back and saw him practically glaring at herself and Lex.
It made her shudder.
*****LnC*****
The glass made a satisfying thunk as it hit the counter. The bartender's eyes darted over to him at the sound, discretely trying to assess whether he was at a point where he'd have to be cut off. Clark laughed at himself. He was a good ten thousand glasses away from that. This was quite literally just a waste of money.
And yet, he tapped the rim again anyways, trying to get the bartender's attention for a refill. The man acquiesced with a nod, and turned to grab the top shelf scotch. Clark almost smiled at the man as the amber liquid splashed against the confines of the glass. He told himself he would savor the flavor of this one longer, appreciate it. Sure he had more money than god, but that didn't mean he had to draw so much attention to himself.
That was his father's voice, slicing through his head like a hot knife. Clark winced, took another sip. Back to the reason he was here. If only it was so easy to forget. He swished the drink between his teeth as if it were mouthwash, the thickness of it coating his tongue and momentarily distracting him once again, even if the alcohol didn't do much of anything.
Clark was doing his very best to keep his composure. This was the closest he had come to Lex Luthor in public in a very long time. It put him slightly on edge. And the woman—
He didn't know quite what to make of her. She couldn't possibly be who she said she was. He had eyes on Luthor for a while now, and never once did he recall Luthor making a stop at this club. So he wasn't a regular, and there's no way this woman should know him as such. Unless she was his cover for something else— what he had no idea. In that case, Lola Dane was nothing more than an alias.
Whoever she was, though, she was smokin' hot. As in drop dead gorgeous. Clark took the time to appreciate her figure once more. He had been with many different women before, all beautiful and from numerous places across the globe, but for some reason, this one was different. There was this air about her that went farther than just looks, deeper than just intelligence. That must have been how she got him to open up so much. She was a mystery, a challenge.
Clark loved a good challenge.
He finished his drink and debated whether or not to have another when he decided he had better things to do than literally waste his money. He slammed the glass down and tossed a couple of bills on the countertop effortlessly before getting up and putting on his jacket.
Joey, the bartender, came by and picked up the glass and the cash. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he saw what was left. "Um, sir? I don't think you meant to leave—"
Clark waved a hand at the kid. "Keep it. From what I hear of your boss, you guys don't get paid nearly as much as you should for what you put up with."
The bartender's eyebrows rose to his hairline, and Clark watched with a smirk as all the pieces fell into place. Rich man, wearing glasses, making snarky comments about a man that
no one dared talk about behind his back.... "M-Mr. Kent?"
Clark raised a finger to his lips and the young man shut up instantly. "I don't need anyone else knowing I'm here. In fact, I'd prefer it if you forgot, too."
The kid nodded fiercely. "Yes, sir, Mr. K— er—"
"King. Charlie King," Clark corrected as he made his way towards the door.
"Right. Mr. King. Have a good evening." The kid looked down once more in shock at the hundred dollar bills he had in his hands before shoving them in his back pocket. Clark smiled as he heard the man whisper with awe under his breath. "Clark freakin' Kent.”
He hunkered his shoulders down a little as he walked past, trying to pass by unnoticed, only to pause briefly at the door and give Lex Luthor and his assumed escort one last glance. His gaze staying longer on the latter. Only this time, he wasn't looking purely for recreational purposes. It was with a cold calculation he evaluated her. Beautiful, of course. And her voice— that sultry voice wrapped around his heart like a vice. But there was something more to it than that. The way Lex looked at her, as though he were in love with her; the way she seemed in control and unaffected by his attentions.... Not to mention, of course, the way that something inside him was drawn to her, as if she was the piece to a puzzle that he hadn't known was missing.
She changed things. Always before, it had simply been about Luthor and taking him off his pedestal. But now, it wasn't enough to just destroy the man's financial empire, or his reputation, or his business or even the man himself.
No. Now, he wanted Lex Luthor's girl.
With a silent vow to himself that he would find out who she was, Clark Kent strode out of the Metro Club and into the brisk night air.
