It's Valentine's Day here in Australia, so here is my Valentine's Day story.
I'm not going to say anything about setting or timing because I'm sure you'll work it out.
Many thanks to my wonderful trio of BRs - Iolanthe, Lynn, and Vicki.
I'm not sure about a posting schedule - I should be able to manage at least 1 part a week. Perhaps more once I finally get OB fully posted. I'm not even completely sure about the 7 parts. It could be 8. We'll see.
Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this little story about a wedding.
I don't own any recognisable characters.
The Wedding
Part 1"All finished?" Perry White asked brightly as his star reporter marched into his office. He'd heard her footsteps approach his door, and their clipped nature had alerted him to the fact that she was far from happy.
Lois Lane slumped into his guest chair. "Yep," she replied. "I just sent you the story. It's all there. Quotes. Supporting evidence. Specific details about how the Senator was skimming a private slush fund from public monies, how he tried to hide his trail, how he blackmailed two of his assistants to secure their silence, a history of his gambling addiction, and a list of associates I can prove were up to their ears in his shady deals."
Perry gave her his brightest smile. "Lois," he said with heartfelt admiration and more than a dash of gratitude. "You're a gem."
"Thanks, Perry," she said glumly.
"You got the story," he exclaimed. "It will be all over the front page tomorrow - an exclusive, no less. Every other paper in the country will be chasing the Planet's tail, which is exactly how I like it."
Her return smile was too vapid to disperse the cloud of gloom that clung to her like dandruff on a black velvet coat.
"You worked hard for weeks," Perry said. "You started with a scrap of information that most reporters would have dismissed as too vague to be worth investigating. You did all the leg work. You probably did a few things I shouldn't know about." He grinned to show her he was OK with that. "You got the story, Lois. And that's what makes you the best."
"Thanks, Chief."
"It'll win you a Kerth," he said. "And probably a nomination for a Pulitzer."
Even that prediction wasn't enough to melt her despondency.
"Are you all packed?" Perry asked, dropping his eyes to the papers on his desk in an effort to appear casual.
"Yep."
"Early flight tomorrow morning?"
"Yep."
"Lo-is," Perry said with a little spurt of frustration. "It's a wedding; not a funeral."
"I wish I hadn't said I'd go."
"Why not? The timing is perfect. You haven't had a day off since the first whisper of corruption in the Senator's office, and that was a month ago. You deserve a break."
"A break?" Lois said, sounding as if she didn't fully comprehend that word.
"Relax a little. Have some fun."
"I can't see anything relaxing about travelling halfway across the United States squashed into a tin can with three hundred strangers," Lois said.
Her expression made Perry wonder if the words 'fun' and 'relax' had disappeared from her vocabulary. "Take an extra day," he offered. "A couple of days. The entire week, if you want."
Her upper lip curled. "And what exactly do they do for
fun in Des Moines?"
Perry had nothing to offer. "After the wedding, perhaps you will have unwound enough to be able to appreciate a few days vacation," he said, although he figured there was more chance of Elvis walking into his office than Lois finding anything enjoyable in her trip.
"If I were going on a vacation, the last place I would go is Iowa," she said. "And the absolute last thing I would choose to do is attend a wedding."
"Surely you're looking forward to witnessing your friend's happy day."
"It's a wedding," Lois said with frosty disdain. "An out-dated convention that is little more than an excuse for men to drink and women to cry." She rolled her eyes. "I just can't see any point in paying a fortune for hired clothes and making public promises with the intention of keeping them forever, only to conveniently disregard them a few short years later."
"Lois, not all marriages are like that."
"Name one that isn't."
"Alice and me."
"That's only because you're never home," Lois said.
Perry winced. She was right, but it said a lot about her state of mind that she was willing to state it so openly. "Perhaps these two people really love each other," he said, needlessly shuffling some papers on his desk.
"Pfft."
"When was the last time you saw the bride?"
"Five years ago. She was in college with me. Same major, but she was a couple of years behind me."
"You were friends?"
"Nope," Lois said. "That's the strange thing. I don't actually remember speaking one word to her. But I get a Christmas card from her every year. When I landed the job at the Planet, she sent me a note, congratulating me and saying I had always been her inspiration."
"There you go," Perry said. "She's trying to thank you by inviting you to her wedding."
"More likely she doesn't have enough friends to fill up half a church in a hick town." Off Perry's stern look, Lois continued, "Well, she's a mouse of a person, Perry. Quiet. Colourless. Uninspiring. Meek. Eminently forgettable. I can't imagine how she would ever get a story unless it fell into her lap. And as for how she found someone who wanted to marry her …"
"Maybe she has changed," Perry said, which was his non-inflammatory way of saying that maybe Lois hadn't taken the time to get to know the young woman.
"Her name is 'Jane'," Lois said. "And she's marrying Shane McVane. Can you believe that? I'm surprised the wedding isn't on the top of a crane in Maine, just to set everything off perfectly." She scowled. "That's probably why I got an invitation. It's the 'Lois
Lane' that did it. Shoulda changed my name before it was too late."
"Why did you say you'd go if you're so against the whole idea?"
Lois snorted disgustedly. "In last year's Christmas card, Jane mentioned that she was engaged to some guy she'd met at the inconsequential country paper where she works. I sent her a return card and doubled my usual output of words by adding, 'Congratulations on your engagement'. I thought that if I didn't ask any questions, she would realise I wasn't interested."
"I think it was a nice gesture to send you an invitation."
"You don't have to fight your way through the crowds at Metropolis Airport tomorrow morning, tolerate two hideously long flights in order to achieve the dubious pleasure of arriving in Des Moines, Iowa, be condemned to two nights in a hotel possibly infested by local vermin of either the human or animal kind, maintain a smile through all the nauseating corniness of the wedding ceremony, and pretend you're swept up in the fairy tale of true love. Only to have to do it all again in reverse, just to return to civilisation."
Perry grinned, despite knowing his amusement wouldn't be well-received. "You could stay here," he said. "Run the paper, try to squeeze something printable from Ralph's attempts to emulate a second grader, negotiate with the suits upstairs, answer a few million questions when the police want details of evidence, and field threats of ligation from one very irate Senator's office … while I take Alice to Iowa for a vacation."
"Don't tempt me," Lois said sourly.
Perry stood. "Go," he said, shooing her away. "Go, and have some fun. And try to remember that you can't spend your entire life chasing stories."
"Why not?" Lois fired back at him. "At least I'm good at that."
"You need to be good at relaxing as well," Perry said. Lois hauled herself from his chair with such abject misery that Perry stepped closer to her and said, "You're all right? You'd tell me if this is more than your aversion to anything that doesn't involve a story?"
His best reporter managed a weak smile. "I'm fine, Chief," she said. "I'm just tired and terminally grumpy. And I no longer believe in true love or happy endings."
With that, she trudged from his office.
||~||
Metropolis Airport was as bad as Lois had predicted, made worse because the cab she'd ordered failed to show up at her apartment until after her third call. When she finally arrived at her gate, boarding had officially closed, and only some quick talking and a loudly stated intention to call management got her to her seat - where she was rammed against the window, sharing the row with an elderly couple who had to shout at each other to make themselves heard.
When her second flight was delayed, Lois called ahead to Jane to say she would get a cab from the airport and go directly to the wedding-eve party. Lois exaggerated the delay, hoping to give herself an hour in her hotel room to recuperate and prepare for an evening of fabricated excitement as she gushed over the bride and groom.
Two further delays eroded her 'hotel-first' plan. When she finally boarded the plane, she discovered she was seated next to a balding man in his forties who seemed to think she would appreciate his efforts to help pass the time by bombarding her with his unlimited supply of sexist, ribald, and exceedingly unfunny jokes.
Lois spent over half of the flight at the rear of the airplane pretending to stretch out the bad back she had invented.
As she climbed into the cab in Des Moines, she would have given half her Kerth awards for a quiet evening alone in her apartment. Instead, she was a required guest at a wedding-eve party for a bride she couldn't actually remember speaking to face-to-face.
Lois would know no one else.
That could work to her advantage.
She was required to put in an appearance, congratulate the bride, meet the groom, and pretend to be heartily socialising with people who would never mean anything to her, but if she snuck away to her hotel room after a short time, there was every chance her absence would go unnoticed.
After she'd paid the cab driver, she stood at the door of the hall, groaning at the loud and bustling atmosphere leaking from inside. She entered with more caution and greater trepidation than she had when she'd broken into the Senator's office a week ago. Standing at the door, feeling like an alien invader, she surveyed the crowd of about fifty people.
They were carrying off the charade well - laughter regularly exploded from the steady thrum of manifold conversations. Lois searched the faces for Jane and found a woman who seemed to resemble her nebulous memories of the quiet girl she'd seen drifting around the college like a grey shadow.
Jane was in a group of four, chatting with two other young women and a -
Lois's breath jammed in her throat as surprise bubbled up like shaken soda.
Standing next to Jane was the guy who had to be Shane.
He was gorgeous.
Breath-stoppingly, heart-racingly, muscle-vaporisingly gorgeous.
He was 'Tall, Dark, and Handsome' in the flesh.
How had No-Personality Jane snared herself a man whose looks were sufficiently stratospheric to turn the head of every woman in every room he entered?
Did Jane know what she was marrying?
Trouble, Lois predicted. The good-looking ones were always trouble.
Shane was listening to one of the women in the little group, his expression one of mannerly interest as a courteous smile hovered on his stunning mouth.
Lois stared, transfixed. She knew she was being rude. That didn't bother her much. However, the certain knowledge that she was probably just one of many women whose brain had been reduced to pulp by Shane McVane was less easy to swallow.
At least Lois now understood how quiet, shy Jane had managed to lure so many young, female 'friends' to her pre-wedding party.
They'd come to ogle the groom!
Lois's lungs started to gripe, and she sucked in a hasty breath.
As she did, Shane's head turned - his smile still lingering - and his eyes crashed into hers.
Lois groped behind her and found the wall, collapsing into its comforting solidity.
No wonder Jane had sounded so happy.
No wonder she looked as if her cheekbones were in danger of pressing into her eyeballs, so wide was her smile.
Shane was staring at Lois, his lower jaw adrift, his mouth frozen to the shape of the bygone smile.
Lois swallowed. Breathed. Blinked.
He was still there. Still staring.
From somewhere outside the universe that had room for only him and her, Lois heard a squeal of delight. "Lois! Lois! You're here." Jane rushed up and encompassed her in a hug. "Oh, Lois," she said. "You'll never know how much it means to me that you came all this way for my wedding."
"It's … it's a … I was pleased to be invited," Lois stammered, pinning her gaze on Jane's slightly flushed cheeks because she didn't dare look at Shane again.
"You must meet my fiancé," Jane said, pawing excitedly at Lois's arm. She looked around the hall. "He was here a moment ago."
Shane was at the drinks table. His jacket emphasised the breadth of his shoulders. His grey pants covered his long legs, falling elegantly -
"Ah, here is he," Jane said. "Shane, come and meet Lois, my friend from college."
Lois reluctantly dragged her eyes away. A tall, lanky man with springy blond hair and an intermittent moustache that looked as if it would be well suited to a cartoon character had placed his arm around Jane's shoulders and was smiling down at Lois.
"This is my fiancé, Shane," Jane said with pulsating pride.
"
Shane?" Lois squeaked. "Ah … Shane. Of course. It's nice to meet you."
"Lois," Shane said with a wide and cheesy grin. "Jane has told me so much about you. How you blazed the trail for her to follow."
"Have you eaten?" Jane said. She took Lois's suitcase from her hand. "Shane, could you put this in the back room, please, darling?" She gave Lois a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "It'll be safe there."
"Ah … thank you," Lois said as the groom walked away with her suitcase.
"You must help yourself to the food," Jane said. "And you don't have a drink yet."
"I only just arrived," Lois said.
"What would you like? Juice? Soda? Wine? A beer?"
"Oh," Lois said with a fake laugh. "So many choices. I -"
"Would you like some punch?"
The voice was deep, whispering across her heart like silk ribbons. Lois turned. He was standing just a few inches from her. He smelled … amazing. His smile fluttered - a brief, tantalising appearance that liquefied the ligaments in her knees. "Ah …"
"Lois," Jane said. "This is Clark Kent. He's a colleague of ours at the paper. Clark, this is Lois Lane - she was my inspiration in college."
He wore glasses, Lois realised, but they didn't detract from his looks. Instead, they drew her gaze to eyes the colour of dark caramel.
Somehow, her hand found his. Or perhaps, his hand found hers.
His skin was surprisingly warm, considering he'd been holding a cold glass a moment ago. His grip enclosed her hand, sending flurries of sensation through her wrist and up her arm.
He recovered before she did. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Ms Lane," he said. The pressure of his fingers increased slightly, and then, his hand slipped away.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Kent."
Her statement - fumbling and inane though it had been - earned her a full-bodied smile, lobbed like a hand grenade from dangerously close range. "Clark," he said. "Please call me 'Clark'."
"I'm 'Lois'."
"Would you like a drink, Lois?" He offered her the glass of punch in his other hand.
"Thank you," Lois said, taking it. Her fingers butted against his, igniting mini-explosions that skittered across her skin.
"Here's your drink, Clark." It was Jane who had spoken.
Clark took the glass without looking at either it or Jane. "Thanks," he said.
"We should mingle with our guests, darling," Jane said to Shane, who had reappeared at her side. "Clark, would you look after Lois, please?"
"Sure," he said.
The almost-married couple faded away, leaving Lois with Clark in a bubble of solitude that the noisy and crowded room couldn't penetrate.
Caught in those incredible brown eyes, Lois could find nothing to say, although her mind was abuzz with a warm flow of wordless sentences.
"Hi," he said, breaking into the hum of silence. His smile unfurled slowly, stretching to utter magnificence.
"Hi." Echoing him was about the limit of her conversational abilities right now.
"I'm so glad you could come. Jane wasn't sure you'd be able to make it."
"I … I'm … busy, you know? I have a full life."
Clark sipped from his punch, moistening his lower lip, which inexplicably made her wonder how he would taste if he kissed her. "Jane told me you work at the Daily Planet," he said.
"Yes," Lois said, dragging her mind away from the enthralling prospect of kissing him. "You work with Jane?"
"And Shane. We're at the Des Moines Register."
"How long have you been there?"
"A couple of years."
"What do you write? Sports? Travel?"
"I like sports and travel," he replied. "But I'm a general reporter."
Lois couldn't imagine what a general reporter would find to write about in Des Moines, Iowa. "Crime? Environmental issues? Local politics?"
"All of those."
"Really?" She'd tried to stifle her surprise, but realised her failure immediately and held her breath in anticipation of a stinging retort.
His smile made a fleeting appearance. "You ask a lot of questions, Lois."
Her name floated from his mouth on waves of sound that caused an answering flutter through her stomach. "I'm a reporter," she said without a trace of the tempestuousness that usually accompanied that statement. "It's what I do."
"I'm a reporter, too," he said, his eyes crinkling. "Does that mean I can ask questions?"
"I guess so," she said, agog at what questions he might want to ask of her.
"You're not wearing a wedding ring."
"That's not a question."
He grinned at that. "The question was implied," he said. "Are you married, Lois?"
The solemnness of his delivery caused her heart to abandon its normal rhythm in favour of a helter-skelter dash to breathlessness. "No," she said. "No, I'm not married."
"Dating someone?"
"No."
A dazzling, no-holds-barred smile lit up Clark's face. "Oh, good," he said.
"Good?"
His smile retreated. His eyes dropped before bounding back to her face. He swallowed. His mouth opened. "Lois …"
"Yes?"
"Would you go out with me?" he asked. "On a date?"
