<edited to remove fashion faux pas>
Table of Contents Ideas for parts 20 and beyond:
1. Place canon in a large bowl.
2. Mix well.
Previously, on Part 19:
“Lois, Lex Luthor’s personal assistant is on the line to make final arrangements. Can you take the call?”
Lois cockily quirked her eyebrows up. “Well? Did you hire me for my research, or were you really hoping for something more from me?”
Perry sighed and made the decision. “Go ahead. But *bring* *me* *that* *story*.”
Lois picked up the appropriate line and made the arrangements.
“Mr. Luthor will send a car to pick you up. Where do you live?”
Lois thought quickly. If Luthor sent a limo to the dorm it would invite chaos. As much as she loathed shallow men who wanted a pretty face to interview them, she needed to make a good impression until the interview was in the bag.
“He can find me at The Daily Planet,” she decided.
And now, Part 20:
_________________
He picked up the phone on the first ring. “Clark Kent,” he announced.
“It’s me--Lois. I need a favor.”
“Anything,” he promised and meant it.
“My tape recorder picked the worst day to die,” Lois moaned.
“No problem. I’ll drop mine off at the dorm on the way home,” he promised.
“Just leave it on your desk,” she instructed. “He’s having a car pick me up at The Planet.” Clark could practically see her roll her eyes.
“You’re not planning on getting all gussied up, then taking the bus. Are you?”
“I’m not wearing the seven veils, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She was laughing at him, but he persisted. “What if the bus is late? Let me give you a lift.”
“I thought you walked to work,” she pointed out.
“You noticed?” he wondered.
“Maybe. What’s the point?”
“The point is that just because I like to walk doesn’t mean I’m not a good driver. What time should I pick you up?”
“Five-thirty. And Clark?” she hesitated.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
He grinned. “Don’t mention it.”
~*~
“Be there in a minute,” Lois yelled through her closed door.
Clark backed across the hall and leaned against the wall. He had only had enough time to run home and change into a golf shirt and a pair of jeans before setting out to pick up Lois. Not enough time to relax.
“Just a sec.”
He stood as he heard Lois futzing with the lock.
The door opened. Clark gaped.
Lois was still pulling her shoes on. She seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on him.
Lois was striking in her day-to-day work clothes. She was attractive in the seven veils costume they had joked about earlier—dangerously attractive. But here in her bedroom dressed in a basic black cocktail dress, she was the essence of his every fantasy.
“I’m running a little late,” she admitted. “I was cramming the man’s life history, trying to get ready. Come here and help me.”
Clark’s feet managed to figure out how to walk into her room. His hands closed the door. Still, he was incapable of intelligent thought.
Lois smiled, timidly. “I never get nervous about these things. But look at me. I’m a mess.”
“First big interview,” Clark heard himself say.
“I’ve done countless stories, but I’m always uncovering scandals or covering wars. This is different. Lex Luthor is just a rich guy. There’s no scandal there and certainly no war. And yet this could be just the break my career needs.”
She examined her face in the mirror. “Come here.” She held up a necklace, arranging it into place. The gold chain kissed her collar bones while a spray of pearls dangled toward her cleavage. Clark took a deep breath.
“My hands are shaking,” she confessed. “Can you close the clasp?”
For a moment Clark was afraid his would shake as well, but when he took the tiny chain in his hands he was relieved to see they were as steady as always.
“How do you do this? Oh, never mind. I’ve got it.” His hands lingered on the bare skin at the back of her neck, enjoying both the look and the feel of her upswept hair. He caught her eyes in the mirror, taking in every detail--the strand or two of hair curled down over her face, the colors of her makeup offsetting the brown of her eyes, the upturn of her mouth. “You look fantastic,” he gushed.
Her smile lit up her face. “Thanks, Clark.”
“You’re going to do great,” he reassured her.
“You think so?”
She slid Clark’s tape recorder into an elegant handbag, alongside a notepad and pen, a tube of lipstick, a roll of breath mints and a set of keys. “Let’s go.”
She slipped her hand through Clark’s proffered arm and allowed him to lead her from the room. His hand felt warm on the small of her back as he turned to lock her door and close it behind them.
Clark felt like Prince Charming himself as he escorted Lois down the hallway. Yet a single overheard comment from some guy he had never met brought him crashing back to reality.
“You see that guy? See the way he’s dressed? And the way she’s dressed? It’s like she’s on a different date than he is. That guy just doesn’t get it.”
He had to admit to himself that he just didn’t get it. Work or not, he was about to deliver the most beautiful woman in the world into the hands of another man. For an ‘interview.’ Right.
~*~
Clark left his Jeep parked at The Planet. Tonight, he needed the walk. He needed the time to reflect. Perhaps he needed to be needed, as well. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and meandered along, just looking for any excuse to use his gifts.
He was open to anything, anything at all. Unfortunately, the night was uncharacteristically quiet.
A smarter man would back off and give Lois the space to choose him. But Clark was never a believer in absence making the heart grow fonder. There was always the chance that out-of-sight meant out-of-mind.
Not that he wanted Lois thinking of him tonight. On the contrary, he wanted her to write up the best interview of her life.
But maybe later, when it came time to celebrate, she would remember to include Clark in her festivities. After all, they were friends. At least, they were almost friends. Friends shared dreams, fears, and secrets. They hung out and lived life together. He’d done all that with Lois—at least, a little bit.
But friends also felt at home with each other, trusted each other, and looked forward to being with each other. With Lois, that all seemed miles away.
Clark quickened his pace. Didn’t anyone in this god-forsaken town need help tonight?
Unfortunately he walked all the way to the mom ‘n pop diner near his home without incident. He ordered one of his favorite sandwiches and selected a chair with a nice view through the store-front windows.
“You’re here awfully late tonight,” the owner noticed as he swept up nearby. “And not your usual cheerful self, either. Tough day at the office?”
“I’ve had worse,” Clark stated, unwilling to whine even as his spirits sagged.
“But I bet you’ve had better,” the older man urged him to talk a little more.
Clark shrugged noncommittally.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you. You were the one that sent the critic out here; weren’t you?”
Clark smiled and nodded. “Aaron? Yeah, he’s a new reporter in the Food section, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to point him your way.”
“I appreciate it. I didn’t even know he was in here until he wrote that article last Saturday. Business really picked up last week, thanks to you. We needed it, too. With all the vacant lots around here, I don’t get the foot traffic I got even last year.”
“That’s a shame. This is a nice neighborhood,” Clark pointed out.
“It used to be. I’ll tell you what. Dessert’s on me tonight. What can I get you?”
“Oh, you don’t have to…”
“Nonsense. It’s my pleasure. Trish cooked up a mean raspberry cobbler this evening. Can I get you some? A la mode?”
“Sure,” Clark finally agreed. He was happy he did. Trish cooked cobbler almost as good as his mom’s. Though Mom’s cooking was only a couple of days away, a little taste of Kansas was always good for what ailed him.
The last few bites dribbled across his the front of his shirt. He consoled himself that at least he had changed out of his shirt and tie. Raspberry was certain to stain silk, though it might just blend in with the red tie he had worn today—although it was merely coincidental that he wore a red tie only a day after Lois commented on how much she liked that color on him. The unisex bathroom in the back was locked, so Clark leaned against the hallway wall as he waited his turn to rinse the berries off before the stain became permanent.
He gazed out the window absently. If it weren’t for the guilty way the kid outside looked around before running down the alley, Clark might not have noticed him. But there was something strange about the beeping contraption the kid was holding that made Clark’s Spidey senses tingle. Call it reporter’s instinct, if you would, but something didn’t feel quite right.
Moments later, an explosion rocked the old brick building. The blast cracked the glass across from Clark. With a little flick of his finger, he cleared the glass away and jumped outside to trace the kid’s route to the alley.
Fire obstructed his path. He blew until the flames disappeared.
A quick lowering of the glasses and a desperate search found the kid lurking in front, checking his handiwork through the plate glass near where Clark had eaten dinner.
With a move reminiscent of the glory days on the Smallville Cheetahs football squad, Clark brought the small-time thug to the ground. He pinned the kid’s arm behind his back.
“Someone, call 9-1-1!” he screamed. “I got the guy who started the fire!”
~*~
The wait at the police department stretched near the two hour mark. Clark fervently hoped that Lois was having a good time despite his own boredom.
She had planned on skimming some information on Luthor before she left, so Clark wasn’t sure when the interview was scheduled to begin. But surely they were long past appetizers and the soup or salad course. Perhaps she’d already enjoyed dessert and had moved to the study for her long-awaited conversation with the self-made billionaire.
“Is Clark Kent here?” a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Clark stood and approached the petite blonde who had summoned him. He extended his hand as he greeted her. “I’m Clark Kent.”
“Hi, I’m Mayson Drake, Deputy District Attorney. It’s nice to meet you.” Her smile lit up her face as she shook his hand. “I’ve been going over your statement, and I have a few questions for you. Are you willing to testify against Baby Rage?”
Clark glanced back to the kid who had started the fire, the kid who now hollered angry curses and demands to the room at large. Clark couldn’t help but smile, knowing he was doing society a favor by putting the juvenile delinquent behind bars.
“Whatever I saw, I will tell in court, Miss Drake,” he promised.
The smile beamed a notch brighter than before. “Mayson,” she corrected. “Please, call my office in the morning, and I’ll arrange a deposition,” she instructed as she scribbled some notes on a business card, “and if you need to reach me after hours my home phone number’s on the back.”
Her home phone and not her work cell. Clark picked up the not-so-subtle hint. He paused a beat as he accepted the card with its tacit invitation.
It felt nice—very nice—to have a woman show interest in him, particularly after Lois’s continual rejections. But then again, Mayson probably breezed through the rich girl’s life that stereotypically preceded law school. She didn’t have Lois’s colorful and painful past.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a crime to spend an uncomplicated evening enjoying the company of a woman who clearly liked him. That wouldn’t be betraying Lois. Would it?
Yes, she’d probably see it as betrayal, despite the fact that they had never defined their relationship as anything beyond friendship. Her trust was fragile that way.
“We’ll talk soon?” Mayson asked.
“Yeah,” he answered automatically. They would talk about the deposition certainly. He could decide the rest later.
“Okay,” she agreed, leaving him with one more of her killer smiles.
