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The Cat and the Trap part 2/2
by Tank Wilson


Part Two;

Lois walked briskly down the sidewalk. The breeze blew her hair in front of her face. She reached up and tucked an errand strand behind her ear. She had walked out of Cindy's. As her friend had approached her, Lois had realized that she couldn't cut her hair because she thought Superman might notice her because of it. That wasn't who she was.

That wasn't to say that she would never cut her hair. She held no romantic notion of the power and beauty of a woman's long hair. Not that long ago she had contemplated cutting her hair very short for her undercover work when she broke the car theft ring story. If she hadn't noticed that some of the other young boys who were employed by the thieves had long hair; she'd probably have done it. Instead she had opted for a fake mustache and goatee.

The simple fact was, if she felt she needed, or wanted to cut her hair for whatever reason, she would. There would be no histrionics, no remorse, it would just be... gone. The decision though, would have to be hers. If the mood should happen to strike her that she wanted to try a short hair cut, she would, but she would make the choice, not someone else. If Superman didn't like her the way she was, then, tough.

She sighed. Well, maybe if he were to mention to her that he'd like to see her in a shorter style, she might consider it. But she wasn't going to do it based on a comment she'd overheard from some interview. She hadn't been there. She hadn't seen him give his answer. Maybe his concept of short hair was different than hers? Whatever the reason for Superman's comment, the bottom line was... Lois didn't want to cut her hair short, so she wouldn't.

Lois had been so involved in her mental argument that she wasn't watching where she was going, and that proved to be unfortunate.

Before she realized that it was in front of her, she had run smack into a large ladder that had been propped up against the store front she'd been passing.

"Hey, watch out!" Lois grabbed onto the ladder, keeping it from falling over.

Suddenly she was struck on the head by a plastic bucket, as bright green paint splashed over her head and shoulders. She jumped back, sputtering in shock and confusion.

"What the..."

"Are you all right, Miss? Are you hurt?" Suddenly a young man was beside her wiping the paint off her face using a large rag.

Lois was still stunned. "What happened?"

The fellow pointed toward the building. "I'm a sign painter. You ran into my ladder and knocked my paint bucket off. You're lucky you weren’t hurt."

"Lucky!" Lois grabbed the rag from the young man's hand. "Look at me! My jacket and blouse are ruined. I've got green paint all over my face and in my hair." She wiped furiously at her face, getting most of the paint off, though there were still several smears along her jaw line. "I'm going to be showering all night to get this out of my hair... what?"

He seemed quite nervous as he took a couple of steps back. "Well, about that. I hope you are close to home because if that paint dries, you're screwed."

Lois' glare changed to a look of wariness. "What do you mean?"

He pointed to the empty bucket that rested on the green splattered sidewalk. "That's a paint designed especially for outdoor signage. It's waterproof. If you don't get it washed out while it's still wet, it won't come out... ever."

Lois' eyes grew wide in horror, then, while muttering barely audible curses at the fates, and at butter-fingered painters, she set off at a dead run.

****************

It was a disconsolate Lois Lane who sat at her kitchen table staring at nothing in particular. She was still dripping water from her latest shower... her sixth. Her hair was still mostly green.

She had tried to flag down a taxi in an effort to get home quickly, but after the third one who'd stopped drove off, not wanting to get paint all over the inside of their cab, she gave up.

She next looked for a public restroom in which to try and wash off as much paint as she could, but she encountered the same problem. None of the store owners would let her into their establishments as long as she was still dripping paint. After being asked to leave the fifth place of business she realized the futility of her quest and just headed home... on foot. It took her nearly an hour. Of course, by then the paint had dried.

Still, she wasn't about to give up without a fight. Stripping off her clothes and throwing them directly into the trash, Lois grabbed all sorts of cleaning supplies, some of which weren't actually meant for use on people, and headed for the bathroom.

It had been a frustrating two and a half hours, but she had been able to get rid of some of the paint. She had gotten it all off her face and hands. She was sure that was due in part, to the fact that she had wiped most of it off with that rag while the paint was still wet. That, and the fact that she had to resort to scouring power to get that last bits off. Her face was still sore in spots.

She had also managed to get some of the paint out of her hair. The bright green scum clogging her shower drain at the moment attested to that. But in the end, the paint had won out. She still had mostly stuck together clumps of green painted hair.

She glanced over at her reflection in the glass of her living room window. She knew what she had to do. With a sigh of resignation, she reached for the phone and dialed.

"Cindy, hi, this is Lois. Sorry to bother you at home, but I have a big favor to ask. Can you come over to my place? You can? Thanks... oh, and bring your kit."

******************

Cindy arrived at Lois' apartment within a half an hour. Lois unlocked her door and let the woman in. She'd obviously come right over at Lois' request. She was dressed in an old ragged sweatshirt. The kind that's so beat-up that you'd never wear it in public, but you still keep it to wear around at home because it's so comfortable. She also carried what looked to be a gym bag.

"Omigod, Lois, what happened?" Cindy appeared shocked when she first spied Lois.

"Don't ask." Lois moved over and dropped down onto a kitchen chair. "Just tell me that you have something in that magic bag of yours that can fix this." She pointed at the green mess that had earlier been her dark brown locks.

Cindy walked around Lois. She reached out and lifted up a few of the green clumps of stuck together hair, clicking her tongue as she did so. Lois kept clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Well, can you do something, or not?"

Cindy nodded as she unzipped the gym bag. "I think I have just the thing."

"You do?"

"Yep." She reached in and pulled out a pair of barber's shears.

Lois just stared at the scissors as Cindy made a play at slipping her thumb and finger in and snapping the shears open and closed several times as if testing them.

"Crap."

***********************

Lois was nervous as she checked herself out in the mirrored walls of the Planet's elevator. She still couldn't get used to how she looked. Her hair was short, really short. It was a lot shorter than any of the styles she'd been considering when she'd looked through the magazines back at Cindy's shop. But it wasn't like she'd had any real choice.

Cindy had spent what had seemed like hours cutting away the clumps of green paint covered hair. Lois had watched as the trash can she'd set in front of her had collected more and more of her emerald locks, until she was afraid that before Cindy was through she'd look positively... Kryptonian.

She reached up and patted the short dark locks, then mentally scolded herself for her apprehension. She was Lois Lane and how she wore her hair was nobody's business but her own. If her co-workers didn't like it, that was their tough luck. Still, when it came right down to it she had to admit that she did care what some people might think; well, two people. She hoped that Clark wouldn't hate it. And if the 'accident' had any beneficial effects when it came to her and Superman, well, she couldn't complain about that could she?

The five floor ride, which usually seemed to take so long, was over before she'd even had a chance to completely compose herself. The bell chimed, and the doors opened. She stepped into the newsroom. The bullpen was its usual bustle of activity and people rushed back and forth about their varied tasks. Nobody was stopping and pointing at the funny looking woman with the short haircut.

"Whoa, Lois! What gives with the new do?"

Lois just glared at Jimmy until he raised his hands in defense and quickly scurried away. Lois continued her determined march toward her desk. Once she reached it she sat down and focused her attention on booting up her computer. She didn't look around; she kept her eyes on the screen. That was why she was a bit startled when Clark appeared next to her desk.

He had a slight smile on his face. "Will you bite my head off if I ask the reason behind the new haircut?"

She frowned at him. "Why do I have to have a reason? I felt like it was time for something different. Is that a crime?"

Clark chuckled. "No, it's not a crime, but the Lois Lane I know always has a reason for everything she does. It usually has to do with a story. Is that what this is? You cut your hair for a story?"

Lois felt disappointment at Clark's comments. "You hate it don't you."

Clark shook his head. "No, Lois. Why would you say that?"

"Well, it's obvious. You can't accept that I might have wanted to try something different. I mean, why would Lois get such an unflattering haircut if there wasn't some hidden agenda involved."

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, Lois. I will admit that it was kind of a surprise when I first saw you this morning. It is quite a change for you."

"Yeah, so what are you saying? Do you like it or not?" Lois stared at her partner for a few moments, then angrily turned away. "Oh, why am I asking you? I don't really care one way or the other if you like it or not. It's my hair and if I want to chop it all off, then I will."

Clark placed his hand on Lois' arm. "Lois, I don't..."

Suddenly they were interrupted by a shriek that came from the opposite side of the room. "I knew it!"

They both looked up to see Cat Grant running toward them. "I knew it! I knew it!" Cat stopped next to Lois' desk and rubbed her hand over Lois' head. "I was right. I knew you'd cut your hair for him."

"Cat, what are you going on about?" Lois could tell that Clark was confused, but she, unfortunately knew what Cat was talking about.

"It's not was you think, Cat." Lois spat the words out and tried to dismiss the hovering gossip columnist by beginning to type on her keyboard.

"Oh isn't it?" The woman wouldn't go away. "I know you listened to the tape, Lois. You forgot the rewind it." Lois stopped typing for a second, but then, without looking at Cat, she resumed. "I knew you'd do practically anything to get Superman to notice you. That's why I set this little trap."

Lois stopped typing again and looked up at Cat. The woman had a smug smile on her face. "What do you mean... trap?"

The smile got larger and more smug. "Superman never actually said those things about short hair. I edited the tape to make it sound like he had. The whole interview was just a ploy."

Clark grabbed Cat's arm and turned her to him. "Just what are you talking about? What do you mean the interview was just a ploy?"

Lois noticed that Cat had the decency to look a bit chagrinned. "I'm sorry that I had to use you to get that interview with Superman, Clark. But, like everyone else around here, I'm just so tired of Lois whining about Superman that I just had to do something to take her down a peg."

"But, what..." Clark was still confused.

Lois put her hand on Clark's arm. "What Cat's trying to say is that she thinks I cut my hair because I heard Superman say he preferred short haired women on her interview tape."

"But Superman would never have said such a thing." Clark seemed really angry.

"Of course he didn't. I see that now. Cat doctored the tape to make it sound like he had." Lois turned her attention to Cat. "The laugh is on you though, Cat. I didn't cut my hair because of your tape. I cut it because of an accident. A sign painter dropped a bucket of paint on my head and it dried before I got home. It wouldn't wash out so I had to get it cut out."

"Yeah, right, Lois. Like I believe that." She patted Lois on the head once again, then the smug columnist turned and walked away, confident in her assumption of victory.

Lois watched Cat walk away, shrugged, then shook her head. Her attention was directed back to Clark. The man had a wary look on his face. "What?"

"So, what are you planning to do, Lois?"

"Do?"

Clark nodded toward Cat's desk. "About Cat. What are you going to do... to her?"

Lois looked over to where the gossip columnist was reveling in her victory. She turned back and captured Clark's eyes. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Excuse me; I was talking to Lois Lane here a minute ago."

Lois gave him a mock glare, then shook her head. "I hate to admit it, but I think she may have done me a favor."

Clark raised his brow. "You're going to have to explain that one to me."

Lois smiled. "In one respect she was right. I can see now that I was close to becoming
pathetically obsessed with Superman."

"Close?"

"Don't go there, Kent." She wagged her finger at him. "I can guess how my attempts at getting Superman to notice me might have been viewed by others, but I can't help the way I feel about the man." She chewed on her lower lip for a few moments. "Still, this little incident has been sort of a wake up call for me." She stared down at her hands for a few breaths, then looked back up at Clark. "Do you know that I had actually gone to my stylist's shop with every intention of getting my hair cut short because I thought that Superman would like me better that way?"

Clark nodded. "I can understand that. If you have feelings for someone, you want to do things that you think they'd like, but..."

"But you have to be true to who you really are. It isn't really about a haircut. It's about acceptance, acceptance for what and who you are. I'm Lois Lane, warts and all, and I can't, and won't, try to be someone I'm not just to please a man, even Superman. If he can't accept me for who I am, then there is nothing I can do about it."

"That makes a lot of sense, Lois. But you do know that Cat is going to spread her version of this incident all around. Everyone will think you cut your hair because she tricked you into thinking it would please Superman."

Lois shrugged. "I know, but I don't really care what other people think, and in a way, the truth is even crazier than Cat's story will be." Suddenly it was important to Lois that Clark believe what had really happened. "You believe me, don't you?"

Clark smiled. "Yes, Lois, I believe you." He glanced up at her newly cropped locks. "Was the offending paint, by any chance... green?"

Lois was surprised by Clark's comment. How had he known? "Yes it was. How did you know? I don't remember saying what color it had been."

Clark laughed softly as he gently brushed his hand through her short tresses. "Well, I can see a few touches of green still shining out amongst the dark brown."

Lois' hands flew to her head. "Oh god, if Cindy finds out she'll take the clippers and shear me down to stubble for sure." Lois began to paw through her purse looking for a mirror. "How bad is it?"

Clark laughed out loud. "Don't worry, Lois. No one will see anything unless they are specifically looking for it. And even then, they'd have a hard time. I just have great eyesight."

She frowned. "You wear glasses."

"Exactly."

Lois decided not to pursue that line of reasoning any further. Instead, having found her compact, and its mirror, she gave herself a quick once over, finger combing her hair into place as she did so.

"So, Clark, you never did answer my question. How much do you hate it? How bad does it look?"

Clark sat down on the corner of her desk and placed his finger under her chin, tilting her eyes up to meet his. "I hate to burst your bubble, Lois, since you seem so determined to be a martyr here. The truth is, I don't hate it at all. In fact, the more I get used to it the more I like it. Short hair seems to suit you."

"Really? You mean that?"

He laughed. "Of course I mean it. Why would I lie?"

"Because you are a nice guy, you are my partner, and you are... my friend."

"And as your friend I'm telling you that the haircut looks good on you. You can't escape the fact that you are still a beautiful woman, Lois."

Her answering smile was almost shy. "Thanks, Clark. The strange thing is, at first, I hated it. But as I've gotten more used to it, and how it looks on me, the more I find that I like it too. And, of course, there is the incredible ease of taking care of it." She flashed Clark a brilliant smile. "Heck, I may just decide to postpone growing it out for awhile... a long while."

Just then Ralph came oozing up to her desk. He gave his typical leer, which she supposed he thought was a smile. "Hey, Lane, is it true that you chopped off your hair because you heard that Big Blue liked skirts with cropped tops?"

Lois turned to Clark, her eyes beseeching him. He laughed as he held up his hands.

"I'm afraid you're on your own here, Lois. I have to get back to work." Still chuckling, Clark left, heading toward his own desk.

Lois turned her attention back to the misanthrope standing next to her. "Go away, Ralph, I don't have time to deal with Inspector Henderson right now."

"What's Henderson got to do with anything?"

"Well he's going to want to question me about your murder." Ralph got the hint and left without any further snide comments.

Lois glanced over at Cat's desk. Maybe she had been a bit hasty in her decision to let Cat off the hook for what she'd done. She was definitely going to have to rethink that one. After all, what's good for the goose...

Fin.