Dance With Me
Clark leaned in to listen to Henderson as he gave instructions to the uniformed officers with him. “I want all of the club employees detained onsite and questioned here. All the guests can leave as long as we have their names, addresses, and phone numbers. Anyone who doesn’t want to cooperate will have to wait to leave after we finish up with the club employees – Hey! You! Yeah, you with the glasses and dark hair! What are you doing?”
Clark realized that Henderson was pointing at him. “Me? Nothing! I’m just waiting for you to ask me whatever questions you wanna ask me so I can go looking for another job. I think this one’s pretty much done for.”
Henderson didn’t twitch an eyelash. “Are you ready to give us your statement, sir?”
“Sure. Who do I give it to?”
The detective looked around and gestured to a young uniformed officer. “Jones, I want you to take this man’s statement. Just find an unoccupied office and let Sergeant Abernathy know where you are. And take, um, take Ybarra with you. She can use the experience.” He turned to Clark. “And you’d better tell him the truth, sir, or you’ll deal directly with me. You understand?” Clark looked into the detective’s eyes, seeking some kind of message, but found only police blue. He nodded. “Good. Go with Officer Jones.”
Clark looked into the boy’s face and wondered how much experience Jones had. Then he saw a tiny young Hispanic girl detach herself from the other officers and come to stand beside Jones. If this was Officer Ybarra, she made Jones look like a grizzled veteran counting the days until his pension kicked in.
She glanced at Clark and asked Jones, “Bobby, am I supposed to go with you two?”
Jones nodded to her. “Sir, this is Officer Lillian Ybarra. She and I will take your statement. If you’ll follow me, please?”
Clark followed Jones as the diminutive Officer Ybarra, her shotgun almost as long as she was tall, completed the brief parade. Jones finally found an open area behind the coat check room and pulled out a writing pad as they sat down.
“Your full name, please, sir?”
He hesitated, then decided that Henderson would want his true identity on record. Besides, he still wanted to protect Lois’ Wanda Detroit identity. “My name is Clark Kent. I’m a reporter on an undercover assignment from the Daily Planet. My name is on the Metro Club employee register as Charlie King. I’ve been working here for nine days. What do you want to ask me about first?”
Jones’ mouth dropped open and he goggled. “You – you what?”
Ybarra recovered faster than Jones did. “You’re Clark Kent?” she gushed. “Wow! I’ve read your stories in the Daily Planet! You’re great! Oh, wow! You’re undercover?”
Clark leaned back. The girl looked almost like a groupie about to tackle her idol. “Hey, take it easy! I’m just doing my job.”
She took a deep breath and almost dropped her shotgun. “Yeah, but – “
Jones finally snapped out of his shock. “Lilly, watch your attitude! Be professional! You’re here for the experience, remember?”
She shot him a dirty look, then stepped back and assumed a more dignified demeanor. Jones turned to Clark. “I assume that you provided some of the information that prompted this raid tonight?”
“Some of it, yes. Detective Henderson has everything the Planet had as of this morning.”
“I see. Does that mean that you have gathered more information since then?”
The kid isn’t completely dumb, thought Clark. “The only thing I can add to it is that Johnny thought that Lois wouldn’t be able to play tonight. He told me just before the show started not to be surprised if the Mountaintops only put four on stage tonight.”
Jones scribbled in his notebook for a moment. “Anything else?”
“Nothing that would constitute evidence.”
“You’re sure about that? Sometimes there are little things that add up, things that don’t make sense by themselves.”
“I know. I’m a reporter, remember? I promise you that there’s nothing else I can tell you.” Not without revealing my biggest secret, he mused, along with Lois’ biggest secret.
Jones nodded. “Hey, Bobby,” asked Ybarra, “why are we even talking to this guy if we already know everything he does?”
“Good question, Lilly. I think we’re talking to Mr. Kent here to deflect suspicion from him. If the guys we don’t arrest notice that he’s getting special attention from us, it’s entirely possible that they’d decide that he’s a rat and try to take him for a ride.”
Clark’s grin flickered. “A rat? Take me for a ride?”
Jones shrugged. “I watch old gangster movies. Sue me.”
Ybarra stifled a giggle and Clark lost the battle to control his own smile. “I think you guys have a good handle on things here,” he said. “The only thing I would caution you to do is to watch out for Toni Taylor. She doesn’t look it, but she’s just as ruthless as her brother is. She’s just more polished.”
The two officers nodded. “We understand,” said Jones. “I think we should keep you in here for a few more minutes, then we’ll walk out and tell our boss how tragically uninformed you really are.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” answered Clark. “So, what do you think about the Lakers-Knicks game tomorrow? Will either of them make the finals this year?”
Jones shrugged as if to say he either didn’t know or didn’t care, but Ybarra took a step towards him. “Are you kidding? The Lakers are old and slow! The Knicks will run them off the court, now or in June! It’s a guaranteed blowout!”
Clark leaned forward. “So you think the Knicks can handle Vlade’s passing and outside shooting?”
“Pfft!” she hissed. “Outside of Divac, the Lakers don’t have any post presence, and he’s a garbage guy under the bucket! He’s more of a four than a five.”
Clark looked back at Jones. “I think the lady knows what she’s talking about.”
“She should,” replied Jones. “She was the pointy guard on – “
She thumped him lightly on the back of his head. “Point guard, you Neandertal! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Okay, point guard on her college team. They went to the women’s Final Four three years ago. And she’s the captain of our charity team at the precinct.” Jones lowered his voice. “We win a lot.”
Clark smiled at them. “I’ll just bet you do.”
*****
The brown-haired elegant man approached the stage as two officers asked Shamika to dismantle her drums so they could check them for illegal substances. That drew Lucy’s attention, since the drumset was actually hers and she didn’t want to have to clean them and then retune them from scratch after “a bunch of thumb-fingered stumblebums smeared donut grease all over them.” Of course, that comment meant that every drum, whether on stage or off, had to be disassembled before the band could pack up, much less leave for the evening.
Ramona rolled her eyes and sighed. It was going to be a long night, and she doubted she’d be able to call the Styles club to try to move up their booking before the next day. She knew that the publicity generated by their engagement in the Metro Club had spread through the circuit of managers, at least on the East Coast, and that they could negotiate from a position of strength for the next few months. All they needed to keep the buzz going was the national exposure generated by a fresh album release, which she hoped would be a reality soon. And the man smiling at the cacophony and chaos on the stage might be their entry point into that reality.
The man gestured to Ramona, who stepped closer and smiled. “Hello, sir. How did you like the show tonight? What little there was of it, anyway.”
The man smirked, then smiled more warmly. “I liked it a great deal, Ms. Wilcox. And I have enjoyed the other occasions where I have heard your group play.” He draped his coat over a nearby chair and put his hands on his hips. “I am Lex Luthor, the man who is interested in signing you ladies to a promotional contract.”
He seemed almost disappointed when Ramona didn’t jump up and down with glee and clap her hands together. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Luthor. Let me come down there and we can talk.”
He looked around. “It’s a bit public for a business discussion, don’t you think?”
She measured him with a look. “We’re not signing anything tonight, if that’s what concerns you. All I want to do is talk generalities.”
He gestured towards the table beside him. “Very well. I await your arrival.”
Ramona turned and caught Lois’ gaze, then gestured for Lois to follow. “Is that the money guy?” Lois asked.
“Yes. His name is Lex Luthor, and before you bring it up, we’re not signing anything before we get a lawyer to look at the contract. You remember what happened to John Fogarty and CCR?”
Lois shuddered. Fogarty, along with the other three members of Credence Clearwater Revival, had signed terrible contracts with Fantasy records, contracts which threw ownership of Fogarty’s songs into legal limbo and put Fogarty in the position of defending himself in court against the accusation that he’d plagiarized one of his own songs. The ill-advised contracts – which were not checked by an attorney before being signed – haunted the band to that day. “Oh, yeah, I remember,” said Lois. You think this Luthor guy knows more about the entertainment business than the guy at Fantasy did?”
“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking our heads in his noose. Assuming, of course, that he has a noose ready for us.”
They skipped down the steps to the dance floor beside each other. “Good. Hey, I just had a thought.”
“Hope it’s another good one.”
“Me too,” Lois grinned. “You remember Angela Winters? The lawyer who represented Lucy when the police questioned her about Christie?”
“Of course. But what does that have to do with this?”
“She has a partner who does civil law and entertainment law. I invited her to come and hear us, but I don’t know if she made it. Maybe she’d take a look at the contract.”
Ramona frowned. “We’d all have to approve that and you know it.”
“Of course I do. Besides, it’s just a suggestion.”
“Yeah? I’m starting to like your suggestions. Maybe we will talk to this lady tomorrow.” She looked around as they approached the table where Luthor stood. “Assuming we can get out of here at a halfway decent hour. I think the police are going to be up past their usual bedtimes, too.”
Luthor smiled at them. “I believe that we will have as much time to converse as we all might desire. Will you join me?”
Ramona nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He held chairs for each of them in turn, then sat beside Ramona but far enough around the curve of the table so that he and Lois could also see each other.
Ramona took the lead. “All right, Mr. Luthor, let’s talk turkey. Do you have investment experience with musicians?”
He grinned. “That’s an interesting question. I confess that I did not anticipate being interviewed this evening.”
“We’ll try not to upset you too much. Have you invested in the careers of other musicians?”
He leaned back in his chair. “No. This is my first dip into the water, so to speak.”
Ramona nodded. “Is there any particular reason you picked us?”
“You are talented, you work together very well, you present yourselves with polish and skill. And you have enough experience to understand both the business side and the performance side of your chosen careers. You understand the costs involved.”
Lois leaned forward. “So you’re saying that you didn’t pick the Mountaintops because we’re five poor, bereft, lonely ladies who need a gallant protector and kindly male sponsor?”
His eyebrows rose. “You are quite direct, aren’t you?” Neither woman responded. “Very well. That is a fair question. No, I have no romantic or sexual fantasies or unfulfilled musical dreams concerning my association with the band. I intend that my involvement will be completely professional and totally above board on all levels. And profitable for me, of course.”
“Of course.” Ramona put her chin in her hand. “What we’re looking for is a chance to record our own material and get some national distribution and publicity. We’ve been pushing the one album we’ve done since Lois and Lucy joined us early last year, but it’s only about half original material and it was recorded on a tight budget. We haven’t scored a distributor, and it looks like we’re not going to, not without another product to sell.”
“I can understand that. My people who know more about such things than I do tell me that you would have a better chance to succeed if you either trimmed your roster by one person or if you changed your name to place one of you in front of the entire group. Are you – “
“No.”
Lois’ abrupt declaration – which preceded Ramona’s own denial by the blink of an eye – seemed to startle the man. “Ladies, you must understand that – “
This time Ramona interrupted. “No, Mr. Luthor. You sign us as a group or you don’t sign any of us. We’re all agreed on this. And before you suggest that we break up the group, you need to know that the Mountaintops are incorporated and that each of the five of us is both an equal shareholder in and an employee of that corporation. We also have non-compete clauses in our employment agreements which forbid us from joining another band or performing live either alone or with others for a year after severing our relationship with Mountaintops Incorporated.”
Luthor blinked, then smiled. “It seems that I have been anticipated.”
“We’ve had some experience with situations like this. We’re not babes in the woods.”
“It is obvious that you are not.” He crossed his arms. “I take it, then, that you would prefer that your attorney examine any documents I might produce before you sign them?”
Ramona sighed, sure that she’d talked them out of yet another sugar daddy. “Yes, we would. I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”
He frowned. “I am nothing of the kind. If you will have your attorney contact my office either tomorrow or the next day, we can schedule a time to sit down and discuss this relationship.”
Lois goggled. “You – you mean you still want to sign us?”
He smiled. For some reason, he reminded Ramona of a nature show she’d seen somewhere about Australian salt-water crocodiles and how dangerous they really were. “Of course I still want to do business with you,” he said. “Lex Luthor does not quickly abandon an opportunity to make money. I believe that you ladies are destined for great things, and if I can help you accomplish those things while earning a profit for myself, then I am more than willing to discuss the possibility.” He pulled a card from his shirt pocket and stood. “Here is the number for my entertainment division. I will tell them to expect your call and to set up a meeting as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” said Ramona. “But why the rush?”
He looked around with an oddly satisfied smirk. “I doubt that the Metro Club will be open for a few days, and musicians who do not play do not get paid. You will need to move on to your next engagement as soon as possible, and I don’t like long distance negotiations. I prefer to conclude my business agreements face-to-face.”
He is dangerous, thought Ramona. I hope Lois’ attorney friend is on top of her game.
She stood and put out her hand. “Mr. Luthor, I hope we can do profitable business together. Just don’t get your hopes up too far. The music business can be a real meat grinder.”
He took her hand and kissed it European style. “I have few illusions left, Ms. Wilcox, but I believe we can indeed create success together. Until we meet again.”
He picked up his coat and slipped it on, then walked to another table where a tall and distinguished white-haired man sat. When Luthor passed the man’s seat, he stood and followed at a discreet but consistent distance.
Ramona turned to Lois. “Well. He’s slicker than fresh snot on a doorknob, isn’t he?”
Lois snorted. “Yeah. Do you trust him?”
“About as far as I can throw him. I think he could give the snakes in the music business lessons on how to cheat musicians.”
Lois nodded. “Clark thinks so, too. He warned me about Luthor.”
“Really?” Ramona leaned back and lifted her eyebrows at her friend. “You’ve been holding out on us, Lois. Just how well do you know this Clark Kane?”
“His last name is Kent, not Kane.” Lois colored slightly. “And we’re not – involved in anything – anything physical, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s a great guy, but neither one of us is into one-night stands.” She colored a bit more. “We haven’t had time for anything else.”
Ramona smiled. “You and Lucy are about the only women I know in this business who can still blush. I think it’s cute.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I think. Why don’t we use this time to pack up what we can?”
Ramona looked at the stage. Both Lucy and Shamika were disassembling drums as fast as they could and growling at the three officers checking the drums. Another pair of uniforms was checking the guitar cases, while another one was looking and feeling inside the amplifiers. Still another one was checking the guitars themselves for secret compartments or suspicious bulges or hollow spaces. “I hope they don’t ask Lucy or Connie if they can take the guitars apart. We’ll really have problems then.”
Lois shook her head. “I think the cops are just making sure they look everywhere. See, there aren’t any detectives or high ranks over here, just uniformed patrolmen. They’re getting experience and making the department look good at the same time. I think we’ll be fine as long as Lucy doesn’t lose her temper.”
Ramona nodded. “Yeah. I’d hate to see a repeat of that night in Boise.”
Lois frowned. “We did get that judgment paid off, didn’t we?”
*****
Jones and Ybarra took Clark to the front door when they finished talking about basketball. The two officers did very nice imitations of disgusted cops who’ve been wasting their time when they told Henderson that the bartender was new and didn’t know his elbow from a hole in the wall, or something to that effect. Henderson glared at him for a moment, then nodded for the officers at the door to let him go.
“Wait,” he said. “I need to talk to the band for a minute.”
Jones shook his head, but Henderson sighed and nodded. “Okay, but just for a minute. And don’t leave my sight.”
“Yessir! I’ll be right back.”
He made his way to the middle of the room before he spotted Lois on stage, watching the officers check their instruments. He walked up close and called, “Lois? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She turned and her face fell for a moment, then froze into a fake smile. “Sure. Be right there.”
She retraced the path she and Ramona had taken to meet Luthor. Her steps were sure and straight, her head was held high, yet she seemed to want to be anywhere else at that moment but where she was.
He reached out to grab her hand, but she kept it away from him. “Lois? Have I done something wrong?”
Her eyes closed and she drew in a deep breath. “No,” she said. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Just – never mind.”
He stepped closer and she slid to one side. “I don’t understand. What’s the matter?”
She looked around, then sighed. “We’re leaving in a few days, with or without an album deal. You’re staying here. I can’t do a long-distance thing with you. I wouldn’t be able to stand not seeing you, not touching you, not – “
She broke off and looked away. He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. But believe me, I understand how you feel.” He glanced around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, then he said, “I haven’t had the chance to tell you about all the interesting things I can do. For example – “
“Interesting!” she burst out. “That’s a nice euphemism.”
This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped it would. “I can fly, Lois. I can fly very fast. And I can meet you anywhere. I can find you wherever you are.”
Her face pinched and she sniffed once. “Oh – really? Just how do you propose to find me when you’re here and I’m somewhere in Dallas or Miami or Los Angeles?”
“The same way I knew you were in trouble earlier today. I can hear your heartbeat.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! Right, I – I kinda forgot about that, what with all the other stuff going on.”
He looked around again. “I don’t have time to explain the whole thing, but I can hear your heartbeat. Ever since the second night I ran sound for the band, I’ve been able to pick your heartbeat out of a crowd.” He smiled and leaned closer. “Except when the band is playing, of course.”
She blinked twice. “Oh. Yeah. That would make it harder.”
He looked towards the door and frowned. Officer Jones was stalking towards him with a determined look on his face. “Look, I have to go, but if you’ll call me at my office and let me know when you’re leaving, I’ll see you off. And we’ll try to get together between now and then. Okay?”
“Clark, I don’t think – “
“I know you don’t think we can do this! But we’ll never know unless we try! Don’t you want to try?” He reached for her hands again, and this time she didn’t pull away. “Please, Lois. Let me try.”
“How, Clark?” She glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them, then continued quietly, “Are you planning to just show up at all our shows? Don’t you think someone might get suspicious?”
“No one has to see me. We can keep this private.”
“From the rest of the band?” She shook her head quickly. “No. I wouldn’t keep a secret like that from them even if I could, and I doubt it would keep for long. We’d have to either let them in on your secret and tell them that you’re – you’re some kind of – of super-man or risk tearing the band apart.”
“Lois, please!” He leaned closer and pleaded, “I don’t want to lose you!”
She sniffed once. “There’s not much to lose at the moment.”
“You’re wrong.” He cupped her face with the palm of his hand. “I may have known you for only a few days, but I already know that you’re the best part of me. And if I were to lose you, I’d lose more than I could ever say.” He kissed her gently. “Please? Can we just take this one step at a time and not borrow trouble from tomorrow?”
She shook her head, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll let you know when we’re taking off for Gotham. And I’ll try to make time to have lunch or dinner or something with you before then, okay?”
He grinned. “Great! I’ll wait for your call.”
At that moment, Officer Jones took Clark’s sleeve and began leading him to the exit. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, Mr. King. Time to go.”
He looked back over his shoulder and saw Lois wearing a wan smile. He waved once, and she waved back. Then they were at the door.
“Good night, Mr. King. Call before you come back. I’m sure the club will pay you whatever salary they owe you.”
The door slammed and he was on the sidewalk. Several pedestrians pointed at him and a man with a microphone attached to a camera moved in his direction, but he darted away and lost them in the growing crowd. Perry would kill him if he showed up on the late TV news before he filed his story at the paper.
He walked slowly around the building opposite the club and spotted the dirty white FBI surveillance van. When he stopped to take a better look, a shadow detached itself from the dark side of the van and waved at him. “Good work, young man,” the shadow called. “Now go do what you have to do before I send Tiffany after you again.”
Clark grinned and waved back, then set off at a strong pace to the Daily Planet building.
*****
The article was finished and saved to his local hard drive, to his archive storage on the paper’s LAN, and printed out to put on Perry’s desk. The night editor glanced through it and nodded. “Good work, Clark. This ought to win you a Kerth nomination next fall.”
“Thanks, Vic. You have anything for me tonight?”
“Nah. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll leave word for Perry that you’ll be in after lunch. Oh, you’ll need to move out of your cheap apartment tomorrow, too. We haven’t told the manager that he’s losing a tenant yet, so you need to get your stuff out of there before he changes the lock.”
Clark grinned. “Will do. I’ll see you – well, not in the morning, but soon.”
“Yeah.” He waited until Clark had walked up the ramp and pushed the elevator button. “Hey, Clark?”
“Yeah, Vic?”
“You put Linda King’s name on the byline. You didn’t have to do that.”
The door slid open. He held it as he looked back at Vic. “She worked hard. Really. And this story cost her something. It was the least I could do for her.”
Vic smiled. “Most guys wouldn’t have done that much. You’re a nice guy, Kent.”
Clark nodded and stepped into the car. “Thanks.”
Being called a nice guy felt nice. He hoped Lois liked nice guys.
