Happy Today to all the Mothers out there. We celebrate you.
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Pride, Prejudice & Jimmy Choos
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[-3-]
“Erruk-a Reerruh Ruuuuh!”
Squeezing her eyes tight, Lois frowned. “Aww hells no!” she groaned. “It’s not even time yet!”
Two days had passed since she’d arrived at the farm and Martha’s warning about not needing an alarm clock had been proven correct the very next morning. It seemed that the farm had its own resident bell tower—in the form of a male chicken who seemed to enjoy roosting on the windowsill across the room from the bed.
“Erruk-a Reerruh Ruuuuh!”
“Shut. Up!” she answered, using one hand to press a pillow closer to her head and the other to feel around the floor near the bed for a weapon. She was exhausted and she could have sworn that she had *just* gone to bed. If she had been willing to release her tenuous hold on the possibility of going back to sleep, she would have pulled out her phone to check the time. She lifted the object her searching hand had landed on and prepared for launch.
“Erruk-a Ree… Gaaaaawk!”
Smiling to herself, Lois was just beginning to relax when a sudden thought caused her to sit straight up. “My baby!”
Jumping out of bed in a rush, she promptly fell to the floor because her legs were still tangled in the sheets. Scrambling to her feet, she yelped as her progress was impeded by the introduction of her shin to the small living room table. She hopped to the side, stumbling over the suitcases and clothes she had strewn all over the place and made it to the window just in time to see her feathered nemesis trotting off with one of her 700 dollar handmade satin buckle pumps.
“Rosco!” she yelled, tumbling through the obstacle course once again to get to the door. When she made it to the porch, she watched in defeat as the rooster ducked into the chicken coop. Getting closer to being awake, she decided to relieve herself before taking on the poultry version of Moulin Rouge.
Brushing her unruly bangs away from her eyes, she made her way into the tiny bathroom only to be jolted fully awake by the feel of cold water where it wasn’t expected.
“You have *got* to be kidding me!”
Slowly lifting herself out of the toilet bowl, she sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
~\s/~
Martha turned as the screen door separating the kitchen from the porch snapped shut. “Lois?” She was surprised to see the young woman for a couple of reasons. The first was because it was early—in the previous few days that she had been there, Lois had never been a happy riser. The other reason for Martha’s surprise was Lois’s appearance. She was still wearing pajamas, her hair was all over the place, and there were feathers peeking out from every possible location.
Smiling broadly, Lois lifted her hands. “I’ve got eggs!”
Martha’s eyebrows lifted as Lois handed her the aforementioned items. Three of them to be exact. “Um… Thank you?”
Nodding proudly, Lois turned toward the table where Clark was sitting and looking at her oddly.
“I thought you were deathly afraid of chickens,” he commented.
Lois arched an eyebrow. “You never know what you’re capable until it comes down to saving Jimmy Choo.”
Clark frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Smirking, Lois reached out and fondly rubbed the collar of his flannel shirt. “I know you don’t.” She let her eyes travel down and up again. “But I can fix that for you.”
Realizing what she was doing, Clark shifted out of her grasp. Flicking a glance over Lois’s shoulder, he narrowed his eyes when he saw that his mom wasn’t looking. “Mom asked me to take a look at your toilet this morning. Everything working all right?” he asked smugly.
Lois’s expression immediately sobered. She was working up a response when Martha arrived at the table with two heaping plates.
Clark smiled at her sudden speechlessness.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
~\s/~
An hour later, Lois had changed clothes and was angrily following Clark into the barn. “What was the toilet thing all about?” she demanded, fisting her hands against her hips.
Clark grimaced and rubbed his forehead with his forearm.
“Well?” she asked when he didn’t answer quickly enough to satisfy her.
He sighed. “You were flirting with me.”
Lois scoffed. “Most boys like it when a pretty girl takes an interest,” she said demurely.
“You were flirting with me so I would do your chores,” he countered.
Lois tilted her head thoughtfully as she contemplated telling him that he was wrong. “Oookay,” she finally assented, shrugging. “And…?”
“And I did your chores so you’d stay out of my hair.”
Lois bristled at the insinuation that her flirting was ineffective. “Fine. I can live with that.” Really, she couldn’t, but she would concede that for now. “That’s how it worked yesterday and the day before that. What’s different today?”
“Today you get to do your own chores.”
Horrified at the thought, Lois quickened her pace so that she could jump in front of him. “Wait, what? Why?”
“Because today you had an epiphany and so did I.”
“A what? I did not!”
Clark chuckled. “Yes you did. It got you eggs.”
Lois’s opened her mouth and then closed it—then opened it again, having decided on a new tactic. “Oh, I get it. You want me near you.” She moved closer and smiled up at him. “It’s okay. You can admit that you’re tired of fighting it.”
Clark looked at her for a moment. Then, without speaking he lifted the metal pail he’d been holding and pushed it into her hands.
Lois looked down at the pail in confusion, then called after him as he walked away. “What is this for?”
“Milk,” he answered over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Lois laughed sarcastically. “Oh, no no no,” she said, following him toward the sound of irate mooing. “Do you see what I’m wearing?”
Clark glanced at her as he grabbed the milking stool off of the side table. “Clothes?”
Sighing, Lois shook her head. “The jeans, Kent. These are Hudson jeans.”
Clark looked at her flatly. “Like the bay?”
“Custom couture,” she continued, not even bothering to address his question. “Uniquely embellished by Ni-jean St. John…” She paused, waiting a beat for effect, “…The artist. You don’t,” she frowned toward the small line of cows waiting to be relieved, “*milk* in these jeans.”
Clark set the stool down next to the nearest Holstein. “So go change.”
“These are the only jeans I have,” she retorted.
Shrugging, Clark walked over and took her by the shoulders, leading her to the cow and pushing her down onto the stool. “Then they look like cow milking jeans to me.”
~\s/~
After a full day-and-a-half of farm chores, Lois was way past the novelty of the whole thing. Her exhaustion the previous mornings had been from staying up late texting friends and scouring the internet on a tiny phone screen. Her exhaustion that morning was from carting full pails of milk across what felt like acres of pathway.
The trip to Kansas wasn’t Hawaii but she had been starting to deal. She had been fed incredible food and had been spending her days lounging. All in all, there was no ocean view, but it had turned out to be a rustic version of a day spa. At least, that had been the case when she didn’t have to do chores.
Now she was feverishly trying to think of an escape plan.
“Heads up.”
Lois turned at the sound of the voice, flinching as a pitchfork landed on the ground next to her. “You could have killed me!”
“You were supposed to catch that,” Clark informed her as he walked by.
“Catch it?” Lois asked incredulously, leaning down to pick it up by its wooden handle. “Ow! I got a splinter!”
Clark sighed and turned around. “Where are your gloves?”
“They were dirty so I put them in the laundry bin.”
He shook his head. “They’re gloves. They’re *supposed* to be dirty.” He pulled his pair off and handed them to her. “Here.” When she scrunched her nose at them instead of taking them, he added, “You’re going to want them. We’re making fertilizer.”
“We’re making *what*?!”
“Fer-ti-lizer. You *do* know what that is, right?”
Lois snatched the gloves away from him. “Oh, I know what it is! I also know where the main ingredient comes from!”
Clark smiled sarcastically. “Great! That saves me from an awkward explanation.”
Whimpering in protest, she trailed behind him as far as the door to the stables. “Clark, listen.” She fanned her face with her hand and pulled at the neckline of her shirt. “We’ve been working nonstop for two days…”
“*I’ve* been working nonstop for longer than that,” he inserted, looking at her from over the wall of an empty stall.
“My point exactly,” she agreed. “All this hard work—we should take a break. Take a day to relax. Don’t you ever just want to let your hair down a little?”
Clark paused in his stall mucking actions long enough to glare at her.
“Proverbial hair,” she amended. Sighing, she shrugged out of the faded button-down shirt she had gotten from Martha when the older woman had judged her clothing to be unfit. She tied the sleeves of the shirt around her waist and stretched her arms above her head, emphasizing the curves that were now observable with the remaining tank top. “Come on. There has to be *something* you like to do to detox.”
She positioned herself against the doorframe. “I like to go riding,” she said in a sultry voice. She internally pouted when he didn’t seem to notice. “You know, the Hiltons have horses. Paris and I used to share a box at the Derby.” She waited for a response. “Oh, here’s something I bet you didn’t know. Ashton is afraid of horses,” she said with a chuckle. “He says he’s too tall to ride, but Demi told me that he won’t go near anything bigger than he is. That must be Tyra’s deal, too. You know, she has a thing with giraffes.”
Lois tilted her head and studied Clark’s apparent indifference. She had been dropping story after story of big A-list names around him every chance she got but he never seemed to care. It was just another example of how fish-out-of-water she was. It was like the plot to movie. She mentally tucked the thought away to email the idea to Mercy that night.
“You like music, right?” she asked, fully expecting to not get an answer. “Well, you would love going to Coachella. I don’t miss it. There’s nothing more surreal than hanging out with the Boss, the Artist, and The Fray all at one time.” She turned her head so she wouldn’t appear to be watching his reaction to her next statement even though she totally was. “Lola Dakota is performing this year.”
When his face morphed into one of disgust at the mention, she crossed her arms angrily. That was not quite the reaction she had expected… “You’ve got a problem with Lola?” she asked, completely abandoning the pretense that she wasn’t watching for his response.
Clark didn’t even stop mucking to answer her. “No. I’m just not into music that is sung while the so-called-artist prances around the stage in circus get-up.”
Lois frowned. “Haven’t you ever heard of thematic costumery?”
Clark snorted. “I’m pretty sure costumery isn’t a word, but I don’t have to have heard about it to know that I don’t like the music.”
“What’s wrong with the music?”
“Why do you care what I think about that no-talent publicity pawn?”
Lois’s back straightened indignantly. “Because *I* am…” she started. Then catching herself, she cleared her throat and continued, “…a friend of hers. One of her best friends, in fact, and I happen to like her music.” She frowned, not entirely satisfied with the way the exchange was going.
“A friend of hers,” Clark repeated flatly. “Of course you are.” Finally, he sighed and looked up at her. “Hey, do you think you can talk while you work, or is that one of those walk and chew gum type things for you?”
She was about to sarcastically agree with the latter when the sound of a large engine pulled her attention to the main drive. With a triumphant expression, she turned back to Clark. “Oh look! Hay delivery. I guess the fertilizer will have to wait!”
Clark tossed his shovel down on the ground and inhaled heavily, wiping his hands on his jeans as he followed her out of the barn. His eyebrows rose at seeing her greet the young man driving the truck. By the time he reached them, Lois had the sandy-haired boy practically standing at attention.
“Johnnie Walker,” she gushed. “I love that name. You’re parents must have a great sense of humor.”
The young man chuckled. “Yeah, either that or they really like their scotch.”
“Either way, they’re my type of folks,” she answered, laughing and reaching out to put a hand on Johnnie’s arm.
“Hey John,” Clark greeted as he sidled up next to the two. “I expected to see your dad this morning.”
Johnnie reached out to accept Clark’s offer of a handshake as he replied, “Yeah, I offered to take the run this morning. Everybody’s been buzzing about your houseguest since Louie dropped her out here.” He flashed Lois a wide grin. “I wanted to come and see for myself.”
Lois bit on her lower lip. “So what’s the verdict?” she asked, lowering her chin and looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Appropriately flustered, Johnnie stammered out a response. “Ah, he ah, didn’t do you justice.”
Clicking her teeth, Lois moved to tuck her arm around Johnnie’s elbow and turned so they both were facing Clark. “Hear that, Farm boy? I’m stunning.”
“And conceited,” Clark muttered under breath.
Shooting Clark a glare, she returned her attention to her new friend. “So, Johnnie… what do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?”
tbc...
