Standup and Be Counted - 8/13 - 02/20/18 09:31 PM
The show the next night didn’t start very well.
Lois knew she’d hit her marks. She also knew that Clark had been late picking up on his cues several times and had stepped on her lines twice. His timing was way off and his mistakes had nearly ruined three of the routines. He’d even forgotten to use their signature “what page are you on” aside. It was fortunate that there was nothing to report to Perry about this club.
But Clark was still way off-stride and it showed. She’d had to prop him up and carry the show almost by herself all night. And there were too many reps from other clubs there that night to blow an entire show because he was upset – even if she fully understood why.
Even if she sympathized with him.
Just before they began the funeral home routine, while the club’s stagehands were prepping the stage, Lois gently tugged Clark to one side and pulled him close as if hugging him. “Get it together, Farm Boy!” she hissed with a smile.
“Sorry, Lois, I’m just not in the mood tonight.”
Still wearing a smile for the audience, she whispered, “I don’t care. We’re professionals and we do our best no matter how we feel. We’ve rehearsed this bit and we both know it forward and backward. You get this routine right or so help me I’ll smack the crap out of you right here on stage!”
He smiled at her. “I don’t think you should try that.”
“Then we have to nail this routine. We’ve been working on it for a week and it’s ready. If you want to go back to the Planet, you’ll be hysterically funny.”
His smile faded and he turned his head toward the stage backdrop. “I just got married yesterday. I should be happy. You know why I’m not.”
“Once again, I don’t care. We need to make these people laugh like they’ve never laughed before and send them out the door with huge smiles. Now you pull yourself together or I will clobber you.”
Before he could respond, she broke away and walked to the chair beside the desk. She sat down, grabbed a huge flowered handkerchief from the top of the desk, and began bawling ostentatiously.
After a moment, Clark walked to center stage and sat behind the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sheaf of paper. It was her cue to weep even louder.
He put a sad but business-like expression on his face. “Mrs. Loudermilk?”
She wailed in pitches she’d never before allowed him to hear.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Loudermilk?”
Without looking at him, she nodded with her entire upper body.
“I’m Paul Cooper, Mrs. Loudermilk, and I’ll be your grief guy this afternoon.”
“Th-thank you, Mr. Pooper.”
The audience chuckled. Without breaking character, he said, “That’s Cooper, if you please.”
“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“That’s quite all right. Your first name is Deborah?”
“Yes. I’m – I’m Deborah.”
“May I call you Debbie?”
She stopped and stared at him. “Debbie?”
“Yes, Debbie.”
“Brenda – Brenda used to call me Debbie!” she wailed again. More histrionics ensued.
The audience laughed a little uncertainly, as if they couldn’t decide if the subject matter was appropriate for a comedy routine. Clark waited until Lois calmed down a bit, then gently patted her on the shoulder. “There, there, Deborah. May I call you Deborah?”
She nodded. “Y-yes. Nobody calls me – Brenda never called me Deborah!”
And the weeping started again.
He waited as she slowed down a bit. “Very well, Deborah. How can we help you today?”
Sniff-sniff. “I – I saw your ad. I’m interested in the $199.95 funeral.”
“Okay. Would that be for yourself?”
The audience was startled into laughter. “Me? No, it – it’s for Brenda!” She turned toward him and leaned toward the desk, then started crying again. After a moment, she managed to say, “I – I’m sorry! It’s just that – Brenda—”
“Yes, I understand. Tell me, please, where you saw that ad?”
“On – on the side of the 23rd street bus.”
“Thank you.” He bent over the desk and wrote something down. “We’re just doing a little market research here, you understand, so we’ll know where our trade comes from. Um, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”
“Oh – yes, of course.”
“Can you give me Brenda’s full name?”
“Yes, it – it was Brenda Louise Seymour-Breen.”
“Okay. Is that hyphenated?”
“It was, yes.”
They waited for the chuckle to die down, then he asked, “And what was Brenda’s address?”
Sniff-sniff-wipe. “441118 Southeast Huguenot-Walloon Drive.”
“Very well. What is your relationship to the deceased?”
She lifted her head and stared at him. “Deceased,” she said sadly. “That’s such a final word.”
“Yes, well, we are in a funeral home.”
“Oh, right. Yes, I’m her sister.”
“I assume that you’re married?”
“Oh, no.”
“You’re not married?”
“No. Brenda was married. That’s why her last name is – was hyphenated.”
He frowned in confusion. “But the name you gave our receptionist was Mrs. Loudermilk.”
“I’m a widow, Mr. Pooper.”
“That’s ‘Cooper,’ if you please.”
“Oh, your name is fine with me.”
He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it to wait for the snorts of laughter to fade. “Of course. Well, the cost of the service you’ve requested is $199.95.”
She dug in her purse until she found a piece of paper. “Yes, just a moment, I’ll find it, here you are, the check’s already made out. Thank you so much.”
She began to stand and he stopped her. “Before you go, Mrs. Loudermilk, I was just wondering if you would be interested in some extras for your loved one?”
She sat down again and tilted her head in confusion, then asked, “What kind of extras?”
“Well – how about a casket?”
The audience was once again startled into laughter, then kept laughing at Lois’ baffled expression. “Uh – isn’t that included in the price?”
He smiled gently and said, “No.”
She waved her hands in surprise. “We have to have a casket!”
“Yes. It looks better.”
They waited for the laughter to fade a bit, then she asked, “How much?”
He picked up a sheet of paper and pointed to the top section. “We have three prices, actually. $1,463, $868, and $19.99.”
“Oh. May I ask what those prices get me?”
“The first one is for a mahogany casket with solid brass handles.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The second one is for oak with wooden grab bars.”
“Oh – well – that’s not so bad. What about the third option?”
“The third uses recycled sheetrock from a commercial demolition site.”
The audience roared. Lois all but stuffed the kerchief in her mouth to keep from breaking character. The script mentioned the third option, of course, but Clark had startled her by improvising on the details. She glanced up at him and saw that he was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.
At least he was finally working the bit correctly.
She finally got enough control to keep going. “Recycled sheetrock, huh?” He nodded somberly. “What kind of handles does it have?”
“They’re recycled kitchen drawer pulls from a home remodeling site.”
“Tell me, what—” she waited for the laughter to fade a bit “—what kind of appearance does that make?”
He opened his mouth closed it, frowned in apparent thought, then said, “Cheap.”
“Cheap?”
“Positively dreadful, actually.”
The audience broke up and the kerchief went back in her mouth. After a long moment she pulled it out and said, “I – I’ll take the oak.”
He leaned over the form and wrote something. “Oak, yes, a fine choice.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else?”
“Well, yes, there is. Please understand, Mrs. Loudermilk, I deeply regret asking these necessary questions in the midst of your grief, but – how had you planned to get Brenda down here to us?”
This time it was Clark who almost broke up in laughter as Lois put on a befuddled face and appeared to think by waving her hands around. Finally she looked at him and asked, “Cab?”
The audience roared again. Lois busied herself with the kerchief while Clark shuffled papers until he regained control of his face and the laughter eased off. After several seconds he shook his head and said, “You’re going to have to give the driver an enormous tip.”
After a few more seconds of loud laughter, she asked, “You don’t happen to have a hearse, do you?”
“Oh, yes, we do. For $188.50, I can give you an excellent Cadillac Slumber Wagon.”
“Oh. I – I thought you’d have three prices.”
“We do, actually. The Slumber Wagon is the middle choice. Would you like to hear the other two?”
“Well – just for comparison purposes.”
“Of course. We have one option for $389.95, which is a horse-drawn caisson like the ones used for state funerals.”
“That’s a bit ostentatious, don’t you think?”
“For some, I suppose it is.”
“What’s the third option?”
“For a flat fee of $25, a sub-chief of the Chippewa tribe will transport the deceased from the current location to our facility on a single horse-drawn travois.”
The audience spluttered. “Wouldn’t that take a long time?”
“He does it late at night.”
Lois waited for the chuckles to ease, then said, “Okay, let’s go with the Slumber Wagon.”
“Excellent. Now, how about someone to drive it?”
Her jaw dropped and she blinked several times. “You mean that’s not included?”
His somber face reappeared. “No, I’m afraid it isn’t.”
“Oh, all right, we have to have a driver, I can’t drive it myself.”
“No, of course not. It’s a Hearst shifter.”
“That’s ‘Hearst’ with a ‘t’ at the end, right?”
“Of course, yes. Otherwise it would just be redundant.”
The audience groaned. She turned, put her elbow on the desk, and leaned toward him. “How much is the driver?”
“We have three choices—”
“Oh, naturally!”
“Naturally?”
“Naturally.”
“So I throw the ball to Naturally?”
The audience exploded. “Can you at least do one routine at a time?” she growled. He nodded, chastened. Lois waited for the laughter to die down again, then asked, “I don’t suppose you could share them with me, could you?”
“Of course. Now, you understand that these costs are set by the union, not by us.”
“At this point I don’t care if a hen sets on them! What are the three choices?”
“Very well, Mrs. Loudermilk. The first choice is a liveried limousine driver licensed by the state. That cost is $275. The second one is an out-of-work cabbie licensed by the city. That cost is $140.” He paused. “Do you want to hear the third option?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I might as well. Just for—”
“Comparison purposes, I understand. That cost is $37.62.”
“Uh-huh. And what does that get me?”
“The owner’s fifteen-year-old niece.”
“Fifteen? Isn’t that a bit young?”
“Yes, but she’s scheduled to take her learner’s permit test in five weeks.”
The audience tittered. “And the $37.62 is for what?”
“Makeup and a phone book to sit on.”
Lois dropped her head into her hands as the audience laughed again. “I’ll take the limo driver. Brenda can afford it. Now is that everything?”
“Just one more item, and this is the last one, I assure you. I’m truly sorry to intrude on your grief in this manner, but it is my job, after all.”
“Yes, yes, what is it?”
“Had you planned at all on burying Brenda?”
The audience roared with laughter. Lois almost fell off the chair, then straightened herself and made a fist as if she wanted to take a swing at him. “Buster, that was the reason I gave you the $199.95!”
“Of course. Do you happen to have a plot?”
“No, but I’m sure you do!”
“Yes, we do. We have—”
Lois said “three prices” in unison with him, then nodded her head in resignation.
“They are, in order, $979.95, $525 even, and $14.95.”
“Fourteen ninety-five?”
“Yes, that’s the third option.”
She began pulling the kerchief through the fingers of one hand with the other. “I’m just curious.” She waited while the audience chortled in anticipation, then asked, “What happens for $14.95?”
He shifted in his chair and straightened. He looked like he’d just tasted bourbon when he was expecting chocolate milk. “Um – for $14.95 – we – er – we have two men who would take Brenda away on an oxcart and – and I’ve never had the courage to ask what they do next.”
She flipped the kerchief up in the air and said, “I’ll take the $525 option, okay?”
“Of course, Mrs. Loudermilk. If you’ll just sign here – thank you. Please take some of our business cards and pass them out to your friends. If five of them use our service, you’ll get a fifteen percent discount on your next purchase.”
She jumped up and ran offstage as the audience broke up again. After a moment, Clark gathered the business cards in one hand and offered them to the audience. After another long moment of laughter with no takers for the cards, he smiled and walked offstage to the side opposite the one where Lois had exited.
The audience cheered and clapped and called for an encore. After a brief interval, Lois came to center stage and bowed to the crowd, then turned and gestured for Clark to come back. He walked out with his head down and his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you, thank you all,” Lois called. “We hope you enjoyed hearing us as much as we enjoyed doing the show.”
“Speak for yourself, Lois.”
“Yes, we – what did you – wait a minute! What do you mean by that?”
“Well, we got married yesterday afternoon, and as much as I like it when we can make people laugh, it’s not exactly the way I thought I’d be spending my time tonight.”
She leaned against his shoulder and grabbed his arm. “Aw, honey, you know we had this show scheduled! We couldn’t disappoint all these nice people.” She leaned closer and said in a loud stage whisper, “Besides, doing this pays the bills, remember?”
He shrugged as sporadic applause broke out. “As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point.”
“Of course I do.”
“So from now on, what do we do with all the hotel keys women throw at me?”
She gave him a sharp frown and waited for the chortles to fade. “There aren’t that many keys, Clark.”
A middle-aged woman in the second row called out, “There don’t need to be that many for him to score big!”
Many of the women in the audience laughed hard. Not many of the men did. They knew that the majority of them didn’t compare favorably to Clark in the good looks department.
Lois gave the heckler a brittle smile. “Careful, sweetheart. Your scoreboard doesn’t count that high.”
The second laugh was split fairly evenly between male and female voices. The heckler waved at Lois as if dismissing the comeback and laughed with the rest. “I’m just funning with you, girlfriend. You take that man home and show him a honeymoonin’ good time, okay?”
Lois smiled at the woman in the audience. “That’s an excellent suggestion – girlfriend. I think I ought to implement your suggestion.” She turned to her husband and kissed him square on the mouth. “What do you think about that suggestion, dear?”
Clark looked startled for a moment, then put his hands on Lois’ waist and nodded. “Right now I’m wondering why we’re still here.”
The audience broke up again, then stood and applauded enthusiastically. They walked offstage hand-in-hand, waving to their newly-won admirers.
*****
Lois opened the locks on the door to their apartment and stepped inside, knowing that Clark would close and secure the door before he came down the short flight of steps. It was still early for them – the club gig was done for the night, Louie had some business to take care of at the pool hall, and Kim was at her office meeting with a client. There was nothing preventing them from talking or making dinner or – or doing anything else.
The thought of “anything else” sent a warm chill down her spine. On the one hand, the thought of making love with Clark as her husband made part of her want to trip him and pull off her clothes before he could get up. On the other hand, the lack of tender touches or passing kisses between them gave her the distinct impression that she was coming close to wearing out her welcome, even if the lack of them had been her idea in the first place. She felt as if she were being pulled apart by forces she could neither influence nor control.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps to Clark’s – to their living area. Maybe if she stood directly in his way, he’d at least put his hands on her shoulders to move her. Maybe he’d even brush her hair with a brief kiss. If she were really lucky, he’d move in front of her and give her one of those electric smiles. If he did, she was sure she’d have the energy to activate the flux capacitor and go a few months back in time and let him tell her what he was going to tell her that first day when Perry had sent them undercover.
He glided past her without touching her and went to the kitchen.
“You hungry?” he asked. “I can put something together pretty quickly.”
“N-no,” she managed. “I don’t want anything.”
He opened several cabinets, looked in the refrigerator, then sighed. “It’s just as well. I really need to go shopping. Should have gotten it done this morning like I said I would.” He plucked a windbreaker from the coat tree beside the front door and slipped it on. “There’s an all-night bodega about six blocks from here. Is there anything you want me to pick up?”
She shook her head without looking at him. “No, nothing I can think of.” Unless you know where to find a really great guy who loves me as much as I love you, she thought.
“Okay. I’ll be back before too long. Keep the door locked and don’t let any bad guys in.”
And he was gone.
She waited a beat before moving to the door and securing it with everything except the chain. Then she turned and headed for the linen closet. It was her turn to take the couch.
She was starting to hate that blasted couch.
It didn’t look any better through her sheen of tears.
*****
Clark walked to the alley a block away, pulled off his glasses and checked them as if he were deciding whether or not to clean them, then spun into the Suit and took off. He hadn’t made enough night patrols lately, and it was getting harder rather than easier to slip away from Lois to make the ones he did get in. He also hadn’t talked to his parents in over a week.
What would he say to them? “Hi, Mom, hi, Dad, Lois and I got married but it’s just for the undercover assignment we’re on and right now we’re living in the same apartment but once we’re done with the story we’ll get an annulment and I’m thinking about moving to Outer Mongolia and making some Kryptonite earplugs so I don’t have to hear her tell me how she can’t wait until she’s single again.”
He flew higher and began scanning the darkened city. Come on, muggers, he thought, here’s your chance to meet a sexually frustrated Superman who’d love to release some tension all over your fragile, crushable little heads.
She was so beautiful, so vulnerable, so trusting, that keeping his hands to himself was almost painful. It was as difficult as trying to move the Nightfall asteroid again to walk past Lois and not touch her, not kiss her, not take her in his arms and fly her around the room and the city and the country and set her down on some unoccupied mountain peak in the Rockies and tell her that she could either make love to him right then and there or walk to civilization.
And that train of thought was extremely unproductive, unless he wanted a surplus of unresolved tension crammed into his bright red outside underwear.
A fleeting thought that he could release some tension with another woman sneaked its way past his mental filter, but he banished it as quickly as he could. Not only did he not want just any woman – just Lois – there was no way he could be intimate with any woman unless there was a permanent relationship in the offing. That sort of encounter would be way beyond awkward for him.
He could see the National Inquisitor’s headline now. Superman Rescues Beautiful Woman from Mugger Then Seduces Her. The subheading might read, The Whole Story From The Woman Who Eased Superman’s Weary Mind. Right now, any story like that – and there had been several over the months since he’d first flown in the Suit – would be easy for him to deny. But he could never lie to the press as Superman. Doing so, even about such a private matter as this, would lead him down a dark path he feared more than Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring shunned Mirkwood.
While it might be a catharsis for him – as Clark – to be there when Lois first read that headline, it would also be mean-spirited and spiteful of him. There was no scenario he could envision which contained that sight where his father wouldn’t be deeply disappointed with his actions and his mother wouldn’t rip his ear off.
And Lois would eventually read that tabloid story. Superman could never reveal his feet of clay to her in that crass manner. The hero meant too much to her.
Besides, he loved Lois. With everything that resided within his soul, he loved her.
He wished that weren’t true. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel as if it were cracked and leaking all manner of things. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel torn asunder by the twin desires to go back to the apartment to be with her and the need to stay away so she wouldn’t impale his soul with every jagged, brutal glance in his direction.
He decided to cut his patrol short. Not only had he not found anyone rolling a drunk or breaking into a parked car or assaulting an innocent victim, there weren’t even any good car wrecks where he was really needed. The only ones he found were fender-benders or were being handled quite well by police and other emergency personnel. The city didn’t need Superman at the moment.
And he had shopping to do.
As Clark, he could walk around the store at midnight and not be noticed, except by the store owner who was ever alert for shoplifters or thieves who might rob the register. His cart was getting full, so he cut off his shopping spree and walked to the front to pay for his purchases.
But as he stood in line behind an older lady with three cans of soup in her basket, he glanced up and saw the ice cream freezer. Lois would love some Blue Bunny Fudge Chocolate. Maybe it would bring a smile to her face. It would be something to ease his torture, even just a tiny bit.
With four paper bags filled nearly to overflowing and one plastic bag holding the quart of ice cream dangling from his wrist, he knew he had to go straight back to the apartment. But he still managed to shadow the older lady as she shuffled home – without incident, fortunately.
*****
Lois lay in flickering darkness, the comforter pulled up around her neck and the TV sound turned so low it was almost muted. The old black-and-white movie, a romantic comedy from the 1930s with some serious overtones whose title she’d missed, played to a disinterested observer on the couch.
She didn’t know what do to. She’d stopped Clark from telling her that he loved her twice, and now that she would have welcomed his declaration with all the enthusiasm she could muster, it appeared that he wasn’t willing to get slapped down again. Once again she’d jumped into the deep end without checking to see if the pool held clear water or freshly hatched and hungry tiger sharks. She was starting to think that moving in with him had been a huge, huge mistake from the very beginning.
What would she do when Clark came back? Would she wimp out and pretend to be asleep so he couldn’t reject her again? Would she stay on the couch under the comforter as it lied to her about whether its name mirrored its function? Would she get up and help him put the groceries away?
If she did get up, would she risk her heart again? Could she be close to him – beside him in the kitchen and dining area – without either attacking him or breaking down in tears? Or both? Did she have the courage it would take to storm a beach under enemy fire and share her heart with him?
Maybe she should just throw the Hail Mary and walk out of the shower in the morning without wrapping a towel around herself, dripping all over the carpet and squeezing her hair in her hands to show off her figure to its best advantage and walk up to him and wrap herself around him and try to induce a heart attack. If it worked, she’d show him just how much she loved him, assuming he survived.
If it didn’t work, she could go up to the roof and silently jump and hope Superman wasn’t passing by.
A sudden thump on the door rattled her. “Lois?” someone whispered from outside the door. “Lois, are you awake?”
That had to be Clark. An attacker wouldn’t approach the apartment like that.
She got up and reached for the locks, then had the frightening thought that a really smart bad guy might do exactly that. She lifted herself up on her toes and looked through the peephole.
A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw Clark standing in the hallway laden with his grocery burden. As she looked, he reached out and tapped the door again with his foot and stage-whispered, “Come on, Lois! These things are getting heavy!”
A small smile crept over her lips as she flipped on the light, then released the locks and opened the door. “Need some help?” she asked.
He all but threw one bag into her arms. “Oh, all I can get, thanks.”
She closed and secured the door as he plodded toward the table and set down his bounty. “There. That ought to keep us fed for a few days.”
She glanced at the clock. “I see why it took you this long. Did you leave anything for the next customer?”
“Depends on how hungry he is.” He lifted the plastic bag on his wrist. “Here, take this. I saw it and thought of you.”
She put her bag on the table, then peeked into the plastic one he’d offered to her and smiled wider. The little dear really had thought of her after all.
She’d risk her heart to him tomorrow. Right now there was a pint of Fudge Chocolate ice cream calling her name. And while ice cream might add a couple of pounds to her frame, it wouldn’t rip her heart out of her chest and run it through the shredder.
*****
The next night at the Palm Tree, they put on a great show. Everything had clicked, they’d delivered the coded message to Cat, and the manager had given them two thumbs up from the wings. The audience was still laughing and applauding.
As soon as they cleared the stage, Kim grabbed Clark’s hand and shook it hard, then released it and embraced Lois. “You guys were hysterical! Everything was perfect! And Clark, I really liked that little aside to the girl who left and came back. Lois, you handled the hecklers really well. Those two things seem to set the two of you apart from other comics and make people remember you.”
“Thanks, Kim,” Lois grinned. “You think we have an act now?”
“Oh, absolutely! You guys keep doing that classic stuff with the modern touches and you’ll hit the big time in no time at all!”
Clark smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I just hope our booking agent feels the same way.”
“Are you kidding? Dad can’t keep up with the demand!” Kim lowered her voice and gestured both Clark and Lois closer. “I really shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s working on a live TV broadcast from the Argosy Theater in Gotham City. It’s only average money for you guys, but the exposure will be priceless. You can’t buy publicity like that without killing someone.”
Kim didn’t quite understand why the two of them exchanged a look instead of laughing out loud.
*****
As the two of them walked out through the stage exit door, two large men in expensive suits followed them down the alley. Lois grabbed Clark’s arm, put her face beside his ear and whispered, “Thugs at six o’clock.”
He turned his head and kissed her on the cheek. “Saw them,” he whispered back. “Just act normal.”
She giggled and turned to face him. “Oh, yeah, it was great! And the girl who ran out – uh, hi, guys, what’s up?”
The two big men stopped about six feet from Lois. Clark turned to face them and unobtrusively slid between Lois and the men. “Can we help you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” growled the one shaped like a fire hydrant. “We want to book you for a private party.”
Clark frowned. “Who’s giving this party?”
“Mister Smith,” the second, more refined-looking one replied in a surprisingly clear tenor voice.
Lois decided to think of them as Thing One and Thing Two just to keep them straight in her mind. She stepped up to Clark’s side. “All of our bookings go through our manager Louie. I can give you his phone number.”
“We’re presenting this opportunity to the two of you, not to Louie,” grunted Two. “This booking is – off the books, you might say.”
The two men both chuckled as if Two had just told a joke. “Mister Smith needs your answer pretty soon,” added Two.
“How soon?” Clark asked.
“Tonight, if you please,” said One.
As one, Clark and Lois shook their heads in the negative. “We can’t cut Louie out of the booking loop,” Lois said. “He’s the reason Mr. Smith has heard of us. You’ll have to talk to him.”
Two took a step forward and growled, “We ain’t talking to no fake—”
“Hang on.” One put a hand on Two’s elbow and gently pulled him back. “All we were instructed to do was ask. They’ve given their answer. We need to take this to Mister Smith and let him decide what to do.”
Two answered One without taking his eyes off Clark. “We was told to get them booked and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
“No.” One’s response was gentle but firm. “We have to report back. We can’t force them to take the job.”
Two glared at Clark for a long moment, then relaxed slightly and stepped back. “Fine. We report in.” Then he pointed a thick index finger at Lois. “Don’t think this is finished, honey.”
A few months before – with the resources of the Daily Planet directly behind her – Lois would have popped off with a snarky crack about his personal habits or his taste in clothing. But now that she was out at the end of the branch by herself, she felt exposed and bereft. Things One and Two walked past them to the end of the alley and waved to someone, and within seconds a big black sedan pulled up in front of them.
After they piled in and left in the car, Lois let out a breath she’d been holding. “That was a little scary.”
“Yeah. I wonder who Mister Smith is, and why they kept saying ‘Mister’ like it was a title instead of an honorific.”
Before Lois could answer, she heard shoes clicking on the alley floor behind them. A husky alto voice said, “You two okay?”
Lois spun to see Cat Grant standing under one of the two working streetlights. “What are you doing here?”
Cat opened her purse with her left hand, then lifted her right hand from the folds of her skirt. Then she put a small revolver in the purse and snapped it shut. “I saw those wise guys following you and decided you might need some reinforcements.”
Clark nodded. “Thanks. I’m glad you saw what happened. And I’m very glad you didn’t shoot either of them.”
“I wasn’t planning on pulling the trigger unless they pulled weapons on you. My next move would have been to shout ‘Hold it!’ and cock the hammer. That usually stops idiots like them.”
Lois exhaled through her nose. “I’m still glad you were here. You need a lift?”
Cat smiled and flounced past them. “No thanks. I told my date that I’d meet him at the front door.” She stopped and turned to face them, her smile gone. “You two be real careful for a few days. I don’t think these guys play within the rules.”
*****
Clark was worried about Lois. She fidgeted behind the steering wheel all the way back to the apartment. No one would ever call her a smooth driver on her best days, but Clark had to remind her of red lights twice and alert her about a pedestrian crossing against the light once. All three times she’d slammed on the brakes and skidded slightly, and she watched her mirrors more than the road before them during the entire trip back. Her hands turned white on the wheel and stayed that way until she pulled into the parking space.
Those men had frightened her despite her previous experiences with danger. He had to force down his anger against them just to stay with her all the way to their front door.
Clark opened the apartment door and nearly had it ripped out of his hand when Lois burst through. She all but ran to the kitchen and flattened herself against the wall out of sight of any windows.
He set all the locks, then picked up a dining chair and jammed it under the doorknob. “Lois?” he called softly. “It’s okay. Nobody’s getting in tonight.” He walked to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. “Lois?”
“Wh-what?” she stuttered.
She was scared. Anyone could see that. The encounter with the two thugs had frightened her badly, and he was once again overcome with fury at the two men who’d done this to her.
“Lois, it’s okay. I’ll protect you.”
She wiped her face with her hand. “I know. It’s just – they—”
He slowly reached out and touched her shoulders, then drew her close to his chest. “You’re safe with me, Lois. You know you are.”
“Yeah,” she sniffed. “Safe with you like I’d be safe with Superman. I – I shouldn’t be scared. You wouldn’t let anyone get to me if it meant your life.”
“No,” he breathed, “I wouldn’t.”
Her breathing slowed and deepened and she seemed to relax against him. “It’s just – just that – I felt so alone.”
“You weren’t alone, Lois.”
Her smile shone through the darkened apartment. “I know. I was safe with my best friend. But – but the Planet wasn’t with me.”
He nodded slowly. “I understand.”
She slipped back but didn’t let him go. “Every time I’ve been threatened before, I knew that the Daily Planet would be there. Even if I didn’t survive, someone from the paper would push the police to find my killer and bring him or her to justice.”
“But not tonight?”
Her hair danced around her face as she shook her head. “Not tonight. I was sure Thing Two was going to kill me and leave my body in a dumpster and I’d end up in a landfill and no one would know what happened to me including you because they’d have to kill you too because you were a witness and the only thing I could hope for was to be buried next to you when someone finally found us and—”
“Shh. It’s okay.” He wrapped her up in his arms. “I would not have let that happen, Lois. No way would I let that happen.”
She returned his hug and stood there for almost a minute. Little by little, he felt the tension seep out of her body until she was almost back to normal.
It was nice. He was pleased that she trusted him with her safety. He would have liked it better if she’d said that she was safe with her husband, though.
He was starting to hate the Friend Zone.
And this silent embrace had to end before he did something stupid. “Lois?”
“Yes, Clark?”
“What did you mean by Thing Two?”
A laugh burst out and he knew she was herself again. “Dr. Seuss’s ‘The Cat In The Hat’ had characters named Thing One and Thing Two in it. I used to read it to Lucy when she was in pre-school. That story just popped into my head and the labels seemed appropriate.”
He chuckled with her. “Good choice. Hey, are you hungry?”
She shook her head again. “I’m more tired than I am anything else. How about we just hit the hay?”
“Sounds good to me. It’s my night on the couch, isn’t it?”
She tensed against him. “Actually – I was hoping that – that you’d stay with me tonight. In the bed, I mean.”
He loosened his arms and leaned back a little. “Huh?”
“Not for sex! No, I – we made a deal when we got married and I’m not asking you to go back on it now. I just – I’d sleep better if you were there with me.”
He wanted to sleep next to her. He’d wanted to sleep next to her since she’d all but forced herself into the apartment. It would be heaven to wake up beside her.
It would also be agony to sleep beside her knowing that he couldn’t touch her.
But he also knew that she wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t been so frightened. So he pasted a smile on his face and nodded. “Of course, Lois. I’ll even let you have the bathroom first.”
“Thanks, Clark. You’re wonderful.” She started to slide past him, then stopped, stood on her toes, and briefly pressed her lips to his.
The quick kiss she gave him was both agony and ecstasy for him.
But he knew it was born out of her fear, not love for him. The two thugs might have frightened her badly enough to want some human contact tonight, but they couldn’t have scared her enough to love him. Life just didn’t work like that.
Especially not his life.
Lois knew she’d hit her marks. She also knew that Clark had been late picking up on his cues several times and had stepped on her lines twice. His timing was way off and his mistakes had nearly ruined three of the routines. He’d even forgotten to use their signature “what page are you on” aside. It was fortunate that there was nothing to report to Perry about this club.
But Clark was still way off-stride and it showed. She’d had to prop him up and carry the show almost by herself all night. And there were too many reps from other clubs there that night to blow an entire show because he was upset – even if she fully understood why.
Even if she sympathized with him.
Just before they began the funeral home routine, while the club’s stagehands were prepping the stage, Lois gently tugged Clark to one side and pulled him close as if hugging him. “Get it together, Farm Boy!” she hissed with a smile.
“Sorry, Lois, I’m just not in the mood tonight.”
Still wearing a smile for the audience, she whispered, “I don’t care. We’re professionals and we do our best no matter how we feel. We’ve rehearsed this bit and we both know it forward and backward. You get this routine right or so help me I’ll smack the crap out of you right here on stage!”
He smiled at her. “I don’t think you should try that.”
“Then we have to nail this routine. We’ve been working on it for a week and it’s ready. If you want to go back to the Planet, you’ll be hysterically funny.”
His smile faded and he turned his head toward the stage backdrop. “I just got married yesterday. I should be happy. You know why I’m not.”
“Once again, I don’t care. We need to make these people laugh like they’ve never laughed before and send them out the door with huge smiles. Now you pull yourself together or I will clobber you.”
Before he could respond, she broke away and walked to the chair beside the desk. She sat down, grabbed a huge flowered handkerchief from the top of the desk, and began bawling ostentatiously.
After a moment, Clark walked to center stage and sat behind the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sheaf of paper. It was her cue to weep even louder.
He put a sad but business-like expression on his face. “Mrs. Loudermilk?”
She wailed in pitches she’d never before allowed him to hear.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Loudermilk?”
Without looking at him, she nodded with her entire upper body.
“I’m Paul Cooper, Mrs. Loudermilk, and I’ll be your grief guy this afternoon.”
“Th-thank you, Mr. Pooper.”
The audience chuckled. Without breaking character, he said, “That’s Cooper, if you please.”
“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“That’s quite all right. Your first name is Deborah?”
“Yes. I’m – I’m Deborah.”
“May I call you Debbie?”
She stopped and stared at him. “Debbie?”
“Yes, Debbie.”
“Brenda – Brenda used to call me Debbie!” she wailed again. More histrionics ensued.
The audience laughed a little uncertainly, as if they couldn’t decide if the subject matter was appropriate for a comedy routine. Clark waited until Lois calmed down a bit, then gently patted her on the shoulder. “There, there, Deborah. May I call you Deborah?”
She nodded. “Y-yes. Nobody calls me – Brenda never called me Deborah!”
And the weeping started again.
He waited as she slowed down a bit. “Very well, Deborah. How can we help you today?”
Sniff-sniff. “I – I saw your ad. I’m interested in the $199.95 funeral.”
“Okay. Would that be for yourself?”
The audience was startled into laughter. “Me? No, it – it’s for Brenda!” She turned toward him and leaned toward the desk, then started crying again. After a moment, she managed to say, “I – I’m sorry! It’s just that – Brenda—”
“Yes, I understand. Tell me, please, where you saw that ad?”
“On – on the side of the 23rd street bus.”
“Thank you.” He bent over the desk and wrote something down. “We’re just doing a little market research here, you understand, so we’ll know where our trade comes from. Um, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”
“Oh – yes, of course.”
“Can you give me Brenda’s full name?”
“Yes, it – it was Brenda Louise Seymour-Breen.”
“Okay. Is that hyphenated?”
“It was, yes.”
They waited for the chuckle to die down, then he asked, “And what was Brenda’s address?”
Sniff-sniff-wipe. “441118 Southeast Huguenot-Walloon Drive.”
“Very well. What is your relationship to the deceased?”
She lifted her head and stared at him. “Deceased,” she said sadly. “That’s such a final word.”
“Yes, well, we are in a funeral home.”
“Oh, right. Yes, I’m her sister.”
“I assume that you’re married?”
“Oh, no.”
“You’re not married?”
“No. Brenda was married. That’s why her last name is – was hyphenated.”
He frowned in confusion. “But the name you gave our receptionist was Mrs. Loudermilk.”
“I’m a widow, Mr. Pooper.”
“That’s ‘Cooper,’ if you please.”
“Oh, your name is fine with me.”
He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it to wait for the snorts of laughter to fade. “Of course. Well, the cost of the service you’ve requested is $199.95.”
She dug in her purse until she found a piece of paper. “Yes, just a moment, I’ll find it, here you are, the check’s already made out. Thank you so much.”
She began to stand and he stopped her. “Before you go, Mrs. Loudermilk, I was just wondering if you would be interested in some extras for your loved one?”
She sat down again and tilted her head in confusion, then asked, “What kind of extras?”
“Well – how about a casket?”
The audience was once again startled into laughter, then kept laughing at Lois’ baffled expression. “Uh – isn’t that included in the price?”
He smiled gently and said, “No.”
She waved her hands in surprise. “We have to have a casket!”
“Yes. It looks better.”
They waited for the laughter to fade a bit, then she asked, “How much?”
He picked up a sheet of paper and pointed to the top section. “We have three prices, actually. $1,463, $868, and $19.99.”
“Oh. May I ask what those prices get me?”
“The first one is for a mahogany casket with solid brass handles.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The second one is for oak with wooden grab bars.”
“Oh – well – that’s not so bad. What about the third option?”
“The third uses recycled sheetrock from a commercial demolition site.”
The audience roared. Lois all but stuffed the kerchief in her mouth to keep from breaking character. The script mentioned the third option, of course, but Clark had startled her by improvising on the details. She glanced up at him and saw that he was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.
At least he was finally working the bit correctly.
She finally got enough control to keep going. “Recycled sheetrock, huh?” He nodded somberly. “What kind of handles does it have?”
“They’re recycled kitchen drawer pulls from a home remodeling site.”
“Tell me, what—” she waited for the laughter to fade a bit “—what kind of appearance does that make?”
He opened his mouth closed it, frowned in apparent thought, then said, “Cheap.”
“Cheap?”
“Positively dreadful, actually.”
The audience broke up and the kerchief went back in her mouth. After a long moment she pulled it out and said, “I – I’ll take the oak.”
He leaned over the form and wrote something. “Oak, yes, a fine choice.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else?”
“Well, yes, there is. Please understand, Mrs. Loudermilk, I deeply regret asking these necessary questions in the midst of your grief, but – how had you planned to get Brenda down here to us?”
This time it was Clark who almost broke up in laughter as Lois put on a befuddled face and appeared to think by waving her hands around. Finally she looked at him and asked, “Cab?”
The audience roared again. Lois busied herself with the kerchief while Clark shuffled papers until he regained control of his face and the laughter eased off. After several seconds he shook his head and said, “You’re going to have to give the driver an enormous tip.”
After a few more seconds of loud laughter, she asked, “You don’t happen to have a hearse, do you?”
“Oh, yes, we do. For $188.50, I can give you an excellent Cadillac Slumber Wagon.”
“Oh. I – I thought you’d have three prices.”
“We do, actually. The Slumber Wagon is the middle choice. Would you like to hear the other two?”
“Well – just for comparison purposes.”
“Of course. We have one option for $389.95, which is a horse-drawn caisson like the ones used for state funerals.”
“That’s a bit ostentatious, don’t you think?”
“For some, I suppose it is.”
“What’s the third option?”
“For a flat fee of $25, a sub-chief of the Chippewa tribe will transport the deceased from the current location to our facility on a single horse-drawn travois.”
The audience spluttered. “Wouldn’t that take a long time?”
“He does it late at night.”
Lois waited for the chuckles to ease, then said, “Okay, let’s go with the Slumber Wagon.”
“Excellent. Now, how about someone to drive it?”
Her jaw dropped and she blinked several times. “You mean that’s not included?”
His somber face reappeared. “No, I’m afraid it isn’t.”
“Oh, all right, we have to have a driver, I can’t drive it myself.”
“No, of course not. It’s a Hearst shifter.”
“That’s ‘Hearst’ with a ‘t’ at the end, right?”
“Of course, yes. Otherwise it would just be redundant.”
The audience groaned. She turned, put her elbow on the desk, and leaned toward him. “How much is the driver?”
“We have three choices—”
“Oh, naturally!”
“Naturally?”
“Naturally.”
“So I throw the ball to Naturally?”
The audience exploded. “Can you at least do one routine at a time?” she growled. He nodded, chastened. Lois waited for the laughter to die down again, then asked, “I don’t suppose you could share them with me, could you?”
“Of course. Now, you understand that these costs are set by the union, not by us.”
“At this point I don’t care if a hen sets on them! What are the three choices?”
“Very well, Mrs. Loudermilk. The first choice is a liveried limousine driver licensed by the state. That cost is $275. The second one is an out-of-work cabbie licensed by the city. That cost is $140.” He paused. “Do you want to hear the third option?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I might as well. Just for—”
“Comparison purposes, I understand. That cost is $37.62.”
“Uh-huh. And what does that get me?”
“The owner’s fifteen-year-old niece.”
“Fifteen? Isn’t that a bit young?”
“Yes, but she’s scheduled to take her learner’s permit test in five weeks.”
The audience tittered. “And the $37.62 is for what?”
“Makeup and a phone book to sit on.”
Lois dropped her head into her hands as the audience laughed again. “I’ll take the limo driver. Brenda can afford it. Now is that everything?”
“Just one more item, and this is the last one, I assure you. I’m truly sorry to intrude on your grief in this manner, but it is my job, after all.”
“Yes, yes, what is it?”
“Had you planned at all on burying Brenda?”
The audience roared with laughter. Lois almost fell off the chair, then straightened herself and made a fist as if she wanted to take a swing at him. “Buster, that was the reason I gave you the $199.95!”
“Of course. Do you happen to have a plot?”
“No, but I’m sure you do!”
“Yes, we do. We have—”
Lois said “three prices” in unison with him, then nodded her head in resignation.
“They are, in order, $979.95, $525 even, and $14.95.”
“Fourteen ninety-five?”
“Yes, that’s the third option.”
She began pulling the kerchief through the fingers of one hand with the other. “I’m just curious.” She waited while the audience chortled in anticipation, then asked, “What happens for $14.95?”
He shifted in his chair and straightened. He looked like he’d just tasted bourbon when he was expecting chocolate milk. “Um – for $14.95 – we – er – we have two men who would take Brenda away on an oxcart and – and I’ve never had the courage to ask what they do next.”
She flipped the kerchief up in the air and said, “I’ll take the $525 option, okay?”
“Of course, Mrs. Loudermilk. If you’ll just sign here – thank you. Please take some of our business cards and pass them out to your friends. If five of them use our service, you’ll get a fifteen percent discount on your next purchase.”
She jumped up and ran offstage as the audience broke up again. After a moment, Clark gathered the business cards in one hand and offered them to the audience. After another long moment of laughter with no takers for the cards, he smiled and walked offstage to the side opposite the one where Lois had exited.
The audience cheered and clapped and called for an encore. After a brief interval, Lois came to center stage and bowed to the crowd, then turned and gestured for Clark to come back. He walked out with his head down and his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you, thank you all,” Lois called. “We hope you enjoyed hearing us as much as we enjoyed doing the show.”
“Speak for yourself, Lois.”
“Yes, we – what did you – wait a minute! What do you mean by that?”
“Well, we got married yesterday afternoon, and as much as I like it when we can make people laugh, it’s not exactly the way I thought I’d be spending my time tonight.”
She leaned against his shoulder and grabbed his arm. “Aw, honey, you know we had this show scheduled! We couldn’t disappoint all these nice people.” She leaned closer and said in a loud stage whisper, “Besides, doing this pays the bills, remember?”
He shrugged as sporadic applause broke out. “As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point.”
“Of course I do.”
“So from now on, what do we do with all the hotel keys women throw at me?”
She gave him a sharp frown and waited for the chortles to fade. “There aren’t that many keys, Clark.”
A middle-aged woman in the second row called out, “There don’t need to be that many for him to score big!”
Many of the women in the audience laughed hard. Not many of the men did. They knew that the majority of them didn’t compare favorably to Clark in the good looks department.
Lois gave the heckler a brittle smile. “Careful, sweetheart. Your scoreboard doesn’t count that high.”
The second laugh was split fairly evenly between male and female voices. The heckler waved at Lois as if dismissing the comeback and laughed with the rest. “I’m just funning with you, girlfriend. You take that man home and show him a honeymoonin’ good time, okay?”
Lois smiled at the woman in the audience. “That’s an excellent suggestion – girlfriend. I think I ought to implement your suggestion.” She turned to her husband and kissed him square on the mouth. “What do you think about that suggestion, dear?”
Clark looked startled for a moment, then put his hands on Lois’ waist and nodded. “Right now I’m wondering why we’re still here.”
The audience broke up again, then stood and applauded enthusiastically. They walked offstage hand-in-hand, waving to their newly-won admirers.
*****
Lois opened the locks on the door to their apartment and stepped inside, knowing that Clark would close and secure the door before he came down the short flight of steps. It was still early for them – the club gig was done for the night, Louie had some business to take care of at the pool hall, and Kim was at her office meeting with a client. There was nothing preventing them from talking or making dinner or – or doing anything else.
The thought of “anything else” sent a warm chill down her spine. On the one hand, the thought of making love with Clark as her husband made part of her want to trip him and pull off her clothes before he could get up. On the other hand, the lack of tender touches or passing kisses between them gave her the distinct impression that she was coming close to wearing out her welcome, even if the lack of them had been her idea in the first place. She felt as if she were being pulled apart by forces she could neither influence nor control.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps to Clark’s – to their living area. Maybe if she stood directly in his way, he’d at least put his hands on her shoulders to move her. Maybe he’d even brush her hair with a brief kiss. If she were really lucky, he’d move in front of her and give her one of those electric smiles. If he did, she was sure she’d have the energy to activate the flux capacitor and go a few months back in time and let him tell her what he was going to tell her that first day when Perry had sent them undercover.
He glided past her without touching her and went to the kitchen.
“You hungry?” he asked. “I can put something together pretty quickly.”
“N-no,” she managed. “I don’t want anything.”
He opened several cabinets, looked in the refrigerator, then sighed. “It’s just as well. I really need to go shopping. Should have gotten it done this morning like I said I would.” He plucked a windbreaker from the coat tree beside the front door and slipped it on. “There’s an all-night bodega about six blocks from here. Is there anything you want me to pick up?”
She shook her head without looking at him. “No, nothing I can think of.” Unless you know where to find a really great guy who loves me as much as I love you, she thought.
“Okay. I’ll be back before too long. Keep the door locked and don’t let any bad guys in.”
And he was gone.
She waited a beat before moving to the door and securing it with everything except the chain. Then she turned and headed for the linen closet. It was her turn to take the couch.
She was starting to hate that blasted couch.
It didn’t look any better through her sheen of tears.
*****
Clark walked to the alley a block away, pulled off his glasses and checked them as if he were deciding whether or not to clean them, then spun into the Suit and took off. He hadn’t made enough night patrols lately, and it was getting harder rather than easier to slip away from Lois to make the ones he did get in. He also hadn’t talked to his parents in over a week.
What would he say to them? “Hi, Mom, hi, Dad, Lois and I got married but it’s just for the undercover assignment we’re on and right now we’re living in the same apartment but once we’re done with the story we’ll get an annulment and I’m thinking about moving to Outer Mongolia and making some Kryptonite earplugs so I don’t have to hear her tell me how she can’t wait until she’s single again.”
He flew higher and began scanning the darkened city. Come on, muggers, he thought, here’s your chance to meet a sexually frustrated Superman who’d love to release some tension all over your fragile, crushable little heads.
She was so beautiful, so vulnerable, so trusting, that keeping his hands to himself was almost painful. It was as difficult as trying to move the Nightfall asteroid again to walk past Lois and not touch her, not kiss her, not take her in his arms and fly her around the room and the city and the country and set her down on some unoccupied mountain peak in the Rockies and tell her that she could either make love to him right then and there or walk to civilization.
And that train of thought was extremely unproductive, unless he wanted a surplus of unresolved tension crammed into his bright red outside underwear.
A fleeting thought that he could release some tension with another woman sneaked its way past his mental filter, but he banished it as quickly as he could. Not only did he not want just any woman – just Lois – there was no way he could be intimate with any woman unless there was a permanent relationship in the offing. That sort of encounter would be way beyond awkward for him.
He could see the National Inquisitor’s headline now. Superman Rescues Beautiful Woman from Mugger Then Seduces Her. The subheading might read, The Whole Story From The Woman Who Eased Superman’s Weary Mind. Right now, any story like that – and there had been several over the months since he’d first flown in the Suit – would be easy for him to deny. But he could never lie to the press as Superman. Doing so, even about such a private matter as this, would lead him down a dark path he feared more than Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring shunned Mirkwood.
While it might be a catharsis for him – as Clark – to be there when Lois first read that headline, it would also be mean-spirited and spiteful of him. There was no scenario he could envision which contained that sight where his father wouldn’t be deeply disappointed with his actions and his mother wouldn’t rip his ear off.
And Lois would eventually read that tabloid story. Superman could never reveal his feet of clay to her in that crass manner. The hero meant too much to her.
Besides, he loved Lois. With everything that resided within his soul, he loved her.
He wished that weren’t true. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel as if it were cracked and leaking all manner of things. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel torn asunder by the twin desires to go back to the apartment to be with her and the need to stay away so she wouldn’t impale his soul with every jagged, brutal glance in his direction.
He decided to cut his patrol short. Not only had he not found anyone rolling a drunk or breaking into a parked car or assaulting an innocent victim, there weren’t even any good car wrecks where he was really needed. The only ones he found were fender-benders or were being handled quite well by police and other emergency personnel. The city didn’t need Superman at the moment.
And he had shopping to do.
As Clark, he could walk around the store at midnight and not be noticed, except by the store owner who was ever alert for shoplifters or thieves who might rob the register. His cart was getting full, so he cut off his shopping spree and walked to the front to pay for his purchases.
But as he stood in line behind an older lady with three cans of soup in her basket, he glanced up and saw the ice cream freezer. Lois would love some Blue Bunny Fudge Chocolate. Maybe it would bring a smile to her face. It would be something to ease his torture, even just a tiny bit.
With four paper bags filled nearly to overflowing and one plastic bag holding the quart of ice cream dangling from his wrist, he knew he had to go straight back to the apartment. But he still managed to shadow the older lady as she shuffled home – without incident, fortunately.
*****
Lois lay in flickering darkness, the comforter pulled up around her neck and the TV sound turned so low it was almost muted. The old black-and-white movie, a romantic comedy from the 1930s with some serious overtones whose title she’d missed, played to a disinterested observer on the couch.
She didn’t know what do to. She’d stopped Clark from telling her that he loved her twice, and now that she would have welcomed his declaration with all the enthusiasm she could muster, it appeared that he wasn’t willing to get slapped down again. Once again she’d jumped into the deep end without checking to see if the pool held clear water or freshly hatched and hungry tiger sharks. She was starting to think that moving in with him had been a huge, huge mistake from the very beginning.
What would she do when Clark came back? Would she wimp out and pretend to be asleep so he couldn’t reject her again? Would she stay on the couch under the comforter as it lied to her about whether its name mirrored its function? Would she get up and help him put the groceries away?
If she did get up, would she risk her heart again? Could she be close to him – beside him in the kitchen and dining area – without either attacking him or breaking down in tears? Or both? Did she have the courage it would take to storm a beach under enemy fire and share her heart with him?
Maybe she should just throw the Hail Mary and walk out of the shower in the morning without wrapping a towel around herself, dripping all over the carpet and squeezing her hair in her hands to show off her figure to its best advantage and walk up to him and wrap herself around him and try to induce a heart attack. If it worked, she’d show him just how much she loved him, assuming he survived.
If it didn’t work, she could go up to the roof and silently jump and hope Superman wasn’t passing by.
A sudden thump on the door rattled her. “Lois?” someone whispered from outside the door. “Lois, are you awake?”
That had to be Clark. An attacker wouldn’t approach the apartment like that.
She got up and reached for the locks, then had the frightening thought that a really smart bad guy might do exactly that. She lifted herself up on her toes and looked through the peephole.
A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw Clark standing in the hallway laden with his grocery burden. As she looked, he reached out and tapped the door again with his foot and stage-whispered, “Come on, Lois! These things are getting heavy!”
A small smile crept over her lips as she flipped on the light, then released the locks and opened the door. “Need some help?” she asked.
He all but threw one bag into her arms. “Oh, all I can get, thanks.”
She closed and secured the door as he plodded toward the table and set down his bounty. “There. That ought to keep us fed for a few days.”
She glanced at the clock. “I see why it took you this long. Did you leave anything for the next customer?”
“Depends on how hungry he is.” He lifted the plastic bag on his wrist. “Here, take this. I saw it and thought of you.”
She put her bag on the table, then peeked into the plastic one he’d offered to her and smiled wider. The little dear really had thought of her after all.
She’d risk her heart to him tomorrow. Right now there was a pint of Fudge Chocolate ice cream calling her name. And while ice cream might add a couple of pounds to her frame, it wouldn’t rip her heart out of her chest and run it through the shredder.
*****
The next night at the Palm Tree, they put on a great show. Everything had clicked, they’d delivered the coded message to Cat, and the manager had given them two thumbs up from the wings. The audience was still laughing and applauding.
As soon as they cleared the stage, Kim grabbed Clark’s hand and shook it hard, then released it and embraced Lois. “You guys were hysterical! Everything was perfect! And Clark, I really liked that little aside to the girl who left and came back. Lois, you handled the hecklers really well. Those two things seem to set the two of you apart from other comics and make people remember you.”
“Thanks, Kim,” Lois grinned. “You think we have an act now?”
“Oh, absolutely! You guys keep doing that classic stuff with the modern touches and you’ll hit the big time in no time at all!”
Clark smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I just hope our booking agent feels the same way.”
“Are you kidding? Dad can’t keep up with the demand!” Kim lowered her voice and gestured both Clark and Lois closer. “I really shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s working on a live TV broadcast from the Argosy Theater in Gotham City. It’s only average money for you guys, but the exposure will be priceless. You can’t buy publicity like that without killing someone.”
Kim didn’t quite understand why the two of them exchanged a look instead of laughing out loud.
*****
As the two of them walked out through the stage exit door, two large men in expensive suits followed them down the alley. Lois grabbed Clark’s arm, put her face beside his ear and whispered, “Thugs at six o’clock.”
He turned his head and kissed her on the cheek. “Saw them,” he whispered back. “Just act normal.”
She giggled and turned to face him. “Oh, yeah, it was great! And the girl who ran out – uh, hi, guys, what’s up?”
The two big men stopped about six feet from Lois. Clark turned to face them and unobtrusively slid between Lois and the men. “Can we help you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” growled the one shaped like a fire hydrant. “We want to book you for a private party.”
Clark frowned. “Who’s giving this party?”
“Mister Smith,” the second, more refined-looking one replied in a surprisingly clear tenor voice.
Lois decided to think of them as Thing One and Thing Two just to keep them straight in her mind. She stepped up to Clark’s side. “All of our bookings go through our manager Louie. I can give you his phone number.”
“We’re presenting this opportunity to the two of you, not to Louie,” grunted Two. “This booking is – off the books, you might say.”
The two men both chuckled as if Two had just told a joke. “Mister Smith needs your answer pretty soon,” added Two.
“How soon?” Clark asked.
“Tonight, if you please,” said One.
As one, Clark and Lois shook their heads in the negative. “We can’t cut Louie out of the booking loop,” Lois said. “He’s the reason Mr. Smith has heard of us. You’ll have to talk to him.”
Two took a step forward and growled, “We ain’t talking to no fake—”
“Hang on.” One put a hand on Two’s elbow and gently pulled him back. “All we were instructed to do was ask. They’ve given their answer. We need to take this to Mister Smith and let him decide what to do.”
Two answered One without taking his eyes off Clark. “We was told to get them booked and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
“No.” One’s response was gentle but firm. “We have to report back. We can’t force them to take the job.”
Two glared at Clark for a long moment, then relaxed slightly and stepped back. “Fine. We report in.” Then he pointed a thick index finger at Lois. “Don’t think this is finished, honey.”
A few months before – with the resources of the Daily Planet directly behind her – Lois would have popped off with a snarky crack about his personal habits or his taste in clothing. But now that she was out at the end of the branch by herself, she felt exposed and bereft. Things One and Two walked past them to the end of the alley and waved to someone, and within seconds a big black sedan pulled up in front of them.
After they piled in and left in the car, Lois let out a breath she’d been holding. “That was a little scary.”
“Yeah. I wonder who Mister Smith is, and why they kept saying ‘Mister’ like it was a title instead of an honorific.”
Before Lois could answer, she heard shoes clicking on the alley floor behind them. A husky alto voice said, “You two okay?”
Lois spun to see Cat Grant standing under one of the two working streetlights. “What are you doing here?”
Cat opened her purse with her left hand, then lifted her right hand from the folds of her skirt. Then she put a small revolver in the purse and snapped it shut. “I saw those wise guys following you and decided you might need some reinforcements.”
Clark nodded. “Thanks. I’m glad you saw what happened. And I’m very glad you didn’t shoot either of them.”
“I wasn’t planning on pulling the trigger unless they pulled weapons on you. My next move would have been to shout ‘Hold it!’ and cock the hammer. That usually stops idiots like them.”
Lois exhaled through her nose. “I’m still glad you were here. You need a lift?”
Cat smiled and flounced past them. “No thanks. I told my date that I’d meet him at the front door.” She stopped and turned to face them, her smile gone. “You two be real careful for a few days. I don’t think these guys play within the rules.”
*****
Clark was worried about Lois. She fidgeted behind the steering wheel all the way back to the apartment. No one would ever call her a smooth driver on her best days, but Clark had to remind her of red lights twice and alert her about a pedestrian crossing against the light once. All three times she’d slammed on the brakes and skidded slightly, and she watched her mirrors more than the road before them during the entire trip back. Her hands turned white on the wheel and stayed that way until she pulled into the parking space.
Those men had frightened her despite her previous experiences with danger. He had to force down his anger against them just to stay with her all the way to their front door.
Clark opened the apartment door and nearly had it ripped out of his hand when Lois burst through. She all but ran to the kitchen and flattened herself against the wall out of sight of any windows.
He set all the locks, then picked up a dining chair and jammed it under the doorknob. “Lois?” he called softly. “It’s okay. Nobody’s getting in tonight.” He walked to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. “Lois?”
“Wh-what?” she stuttered.
She was scared. Anyone could see that. The encounter with the two thugs had frightened her badly, and he was once again overcome with fury at the two men who’d done this to her.
“Lois, it’s okay. I’ll protect you.”
She wiped her face with her hand. “I know. It’s just – they—”
He slowly reached out and touched her shoulders, then drew her close to his chest. “You’re safe with me, Lois. You know you are.”
“Yeah,” she sniffed. “Safe with you like I’d be safe with Superman. I – I shouldn’t be scared. You wouldn’t let anyone get to me if it meant your life.”
“No,” he breathed, “I wouldn’t.”
Her breathing slowed and deepened and she seemed to relax against him. “It’s just – just that – I felt so alone.”
“You weren’t alone, Lois.”
Her smile shone through the darkened apartment. “I know. I was safe with my best friend. But – but the Planet wasn’t with me.”
He nodded slowly. “I understand.”
She slipped back but didn’t let him go. “Every time I’ve been threatened before, I knew that the Daily Planet would be there. Even if I didn’t survive, someone from the paper would push the police to find my killer and bring him or her to justice.”
“But not tonight?”
Her hair danced around her face as she shook her head. “Not tonight. I was sure Thing Two was going to kill me and leave my body in a dumpster and I’d end up in a landfill and no one would know what happened to me including you because they’d have to kill you too because you were a witness and the only thing I could hope for was to be buried next to you when someone finally found us and—”
“Shh. It’s okay.” He wrapped her up in his arms. “I would not have let that happen, Lois. No way would I let that happen.”
She returned his hug and stood there for almost a minute. Little by little, he felt the tension seep out of her body until she was almost back to normal.
It was nice. He was pleased that she trusted him with her safety. He would have liked it better if she’d said that she was safe with her husband, though.
He was starting to hate the Friend Zone.
And this silent embrace had to end before he did something stupid. “Lois?”
“Yes, Clark?”
“What did you mean by Thing Two?”
A laugh burst out and he knew she was herself again. “Dr. Seuss’s ‘The Cat In The Hat’ had characters named Thing One and Thing Two in it. I used to read it to Lucy when she was in pre-school. That story just popped into my head and the labels seemed appropriate.”
He chuckled with her. “Good choice. Hey, are you hungry?”
She shook her head again. “I’m more tired than I am anything else. How about we just hit the hay?”
“Sounds good to me. It’s my night on the couch, isn’t it?”
She tensed against him. “Actually – I was hoping that – that you’d stay with me tonight. In the bed, I mean.”
He loosened his arms and leaned back a little. “Huh?”
“Not for sex! No, I – we made a deal when we got married and I’m not asking you to go back on it now. I just – I’d sleep better if you were there with me.”
He wanted to sleep next to her. He’d wanted to sleep next to her since she’d all but forced herself into the apartment. It would be heaven to wake up beside her.
It would also be agony to sleep beside her knowing that he couldn’t touch her.
But he also knew that she wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t been so frightened. So he pasted a smile on his face and nodded. “Of course, Lois. I’ll even let you have the bathroom first.”
“Thanks, Clark. You’re wonderful.” She started to slide past him, then stopped, stood on her toes, and briefly pressed her lips to his.
The quick kiss she gave him was both agony and ecstasy for him.
But he knew it was born out of her fear, not love for him. The two thugs might have frightened her badly enough to want some human contact tonight, but they couldn’t have scared her enough to love him. Life just didn’t work like that.
Especially not his life.