Part 2 of my epic NaNoWriMo novel. *lol*
I may have forgotten to mention, but there is an A-plot to this story. There are no super-villains or any other super-heroes in there, though. Oh, well, I do mention Batman quite a few times throughout the story, but the most he's ever going to do is... uh... wait! I can't tell you yet. *lol* Don't worry, he doesn't battle bad guys. Heck, I don't even have Superman coming to blows with anyone. In reality, the sole purpose of this A-plot is to help the B-plot along. Seriously.
~.~.~.~
Part 2
"How are things progressing?" Lex Luthor asked the burly man who sat across from him.
They were meeting in the same dirty little diner they always did. The pretty waitress, the one with the long sandy hair, had ordered their usual breakfast the second she had seen them walk in. And she'd hurried with their coffees, just as she always did. Lex appreciated the fact that she was quick and efficient, just as much as he did the fact that she never came over to try and make conversation as so many other waitresses liked to do.
The man took a sip from the steaming cup in front of him. "As usual," he said after swallowing the hot beverage.
Lex looked at him, anger boiling in his veins. As usual... This is what he always said. This was the man's answer to everything. Not "as planned" or "as we hoped" or anything that would give him any real insight on the progress of the operation. No. As usual. As if he should read the man's mind or magically understand what this all meant. It took all his strength to refrain from slamming his fist on the table and demanding that he be given a proper answer. One that held some sort of actual meaning. Luthor wasn't a fool. He knew that no matter how angry he was, yelling at this man would get him nowhere. Besides, considering the difference in their build, it was likely the man could break all his bones in just a few quick blows. And this... well, it would make conducting business much harder in the future, wouldn't it? So he himself took a sip of coffee and tried to relax as he felt the searing liquid descend slowly from his mouth all the way to his empty stomach, like a flow of burning lava.
"Then everything will be set in time?" he asked his counterpart after a moment.
"As long as you keep your end of the bargain, they will," the man assured him.
Lex nodded. Of course he would keep his end of the deal. His word was as good as gold; everyone knew that. The man grunted his approval.
Just then, the pretty waitress arrived and set their breakfast on the table. Lex let his hand wander not so subtly on her thigh. She gave him an embarrassed smile and left in a hurry.
Both men ate in silence, as they always did. Twenty minutes later, they had left the diner, each of them going their separate way and in a different direction. The waitress came over to clean up their table and picked up the twenty-dollar bill that had been left for her there. She stuffed it in her back pocket with a happy sigh. The short slender man might have had arms like an octopus, but if his advances never went past that, it was definitely worth enduring, she thought. She needed that money to provide for her son - he was all that mattered anyway.
~.~.~.~
"Hey! Good morning, rookie!" Lex greeted his partner as he walked past her desk.
He was rarely in the office this early in the morning. What's more, he wasn't ever in this good a mood when he walked in the newsroom. Lex Luthor might have been good at his job, but he barely ever gave anyone the impression that he liked doing it. Especially if he had to come in the office before noon. Lois immediately knew that something was up. She guessed that, whatever it was, it probably didn't bode well for her day...
"I really wish you'd stop calling me that, Lex!" she remarked, interrupting her typing to look at him.
Ever since they'd started working together, he had called her "rookie". It annoyed her to no end, although in a way, it was still better than to be called "darling" or "honey" as he did every other woman in the newsroom. At least "rookie" wasn't half as sexist and demeaning. Perhaps it even held just a tiny bit of respect.
"So what have we got on the horizon today?" he asked.
In all honesty, he couldn't have cared less. Fate had given him a partner whom he could now dump all the work on. Lucky for him, she was bright enough to do the job right - sometimes even better than he would have done himself - and smart enough to know that complaining about it to the editor wasn't a good idea. Life was good, he thought. Things were finally going his way. He could only hope it would stay this way for a good long while.
"Well, I've just gotten some more information on the..." she started.
"Wonderful! Then you'll take care of it, right? I have this thing I need to attend this morning. But I'll be back sometime before this afternoon. If you need me, you can just page me. Okay? And do let me know when you've got enough to start writing the piece; I'll give you a hand so it's in tip top shape before we send it off to the editor."
"Right... of course. Yes, I'll do that," Lois answered, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her computer screen and started typing again.
Once more, her instinct had been right; Lex had something other than work on his agenda for today and she was stuck covering his pretentious little butt. For a second, Lois wondered what exactly would happen if she didn't "take care of it" and never got around to writing the piece. She wasn't really sure she wanted to find out, though. In theory, yes, she'd very much like to know. However, after having seen some of the people this man seemed to hang around with, Lois had started to think that perhaps playing tricks on him was not the safest thing to do. She shrugged. At least she still got some credit for all the work she did - not as much of it as she deserved, but she figured that some credit was still a lot better than none at all. For a second, she found herself wondering whether this was how Robin felt, working with Batman. It had to be a lot better than being Lex Luthor's sidekick, though, she thought. She giggled as she imagined herself running around town in a flashy spandex suit.
It didn't matter anyway, she told herself. Lois knew that once she managed to get that interview with Clark Kent, things would take a turn for the better. So for now she would cover for Mr.-I-think-I'm-so-much-better-than-you Lex Luthor and use whatever free time was left to work on getting the interview that no one else had ever gotten.
~.~.~.~
As lunchtime finally rolled around, Lois grabbed her purse and left the newsroom. She stopped over at her favorite take-out place, got herself something to eat and then made her way to Centennial Park. She picked a nice little spot where she wouldn't be disturbed and then took out the copy of "Across the Dunes" from her purse. Finally, she thought. She'd been waiting for this moment since last night.
She dove back into the story and followed the hero on his continuing trek through the Sahara.
~excerpt from "Across The Dunes"~
There was a sandstorm during the night. I managed to find a place to hide, but I fear that some of my travel companions have not. Against my better judgment, I hid here and waited for dawn like a coward, convinced that, even if I had tried, there is no way I would have seen them through the sand. For hours, all I heard was the rush of the wind; all I saw was sand dancing in the air.
I find myself wondering how long it would take for my clothing to come to shreds if I had been standing out there. It's pointless, I know, but there's nothing else to do. I've constantly been trying not to think of days to come; of decisions I need to make. I do not feel strong enough to make them. I am not man enough. Instead, I run. And running has landed me here, where the world is but a cloud of sand whirling madly around me. I must have lost my mind somewhere on this journey.
As the sun comes up and the wind finally dies down, I step out from under the rock formation which sheltered me. I immediately catch a glimpse of Ahmed. He seems to be digging through the sand. I run over and find that someone is trapped there and he's desperately trying to get them out. I dig with him with all the speed and strength I can willingly put into the task. We finally manage to get the man out from under all the sand he was covered with. Sadly, all our efforts are in vain. He's already dead. He's probably been dead for hours.
Once more I kick myself for hiding when I might have been able to help. I may not have been able to see the man through the sand, but I could have heard him... Then again, even if I had, who's to say I could have made it to him in time? Who's to say I could have found a place to hide again afterwards?
Ahmed notices my expression, which I can only imagine looks dark and tortured now. I tell him what's on my mind. His face lights up with the wise expression I have come to recognize as the precursor of some sort of philosophical adage, which I never truly understand.
"A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it," he says.
He tells me it's from a 17th century French poet: Jean de La Fontaine. For once he's quoting someone I've actually heard of before. But this by no means signifies that I really comprehend the sense of these words, however. Ahmed's wisdom is lost on me again as I cannot figure out if he means this about the man or myself. I'm afraid to ask; he's going to try to explain it with several other sayings and proverbs which I'm likely not going to be able to understand either.
We round up the rest of our little group and start planning our trip to Wadi Halfa. This is the last Sudanese city we're going to be in. The next stop we make after that will be in Egypt. From there I will travel alone once more.
I have not been with these people very long - a few weeks, I think. I've lost track of time, here in the desert. It will be hard to part company with them once we reach Egypt. Making friends along the way is always simple; having to leave them behind is the complicated part. I keep hoping to find a place to call home for good. But I know I won't find it here anymore than I have anywhere else yet.
Once I reach Alexandria, I will stop running, I tell myself. I'll go back to London and face my responsibilities. I'll never be the man my parents thought they had raised if I don't. Once I reach Alexandria... Part of me hopes that perhaps I won't make it there at all. She deserves so much better than this; so much better than what I can offer.
Mounting my motorbike, I take my usual stand at the lead of the pack. My heart isn't into it; it rarely is anymore. I wonder if it's ever been, sometimes. But I've promised I would help these people out as long as I could and so, no matter what happens, I will. The truth, though, is that I need them far more than they do me. Their inner strengths are much greater than my physical abilities ever will be.
~end of excerpt~
On a few occasions, Lois had taken out her notepad and jotted down a few names of places that were described in the book. Some day maybe she would go there and see for herself if it was anything like the book said. For the first time in her life, Lois was really getting an urge to travel and see the world. She smiled. Here she was, actually enjoying an adventure novel, and not only that but now the author had her dreaming about going on her very own adventure there. She had to hand it to him, Clark Kent was definitely good at what he did! This only made her want to meet the man even more....
As her lunch hour came to an end, Lois put the book away reluctantly again. She sighed. It was so easy to get lost in this story and forget about time and real life. She wondered if the author had visited all the exotic places that he'd been writing about.... She grabbed her notepad and jotted down the question. This was definitely something interesting to ask about during their interview. Perhaps he'd even lived some of these adventures? That might explain why the descriptions were so vivid and detailed, she thought. She'd have to ask about this too.
Getting up to go back to the Star, Lois walked past a couple of elderly women who appeared to be sharing gossip.
"You know... the rich author?" the silver-haired lady asked the other, who nodded back. "Well Mr. Nichols, the postman, says that his assistant isn't the only other person living in the house."
"Really? Tell me!" her companion answered.
Lois halted, hoping to be able to get a little bit of information out of their exchange. It might be just gossip, she knew, but often times hearsay had a good measure of truth behind it.
"Seems he's got a groundskeeper, too," the silver-haired lady explained. "A very handsome looking one at that. Tall, dark and nothing but muscles. Mr. Nichols says when he went there the other day, he briefly saw the man doing some gardening work. You know what I think? He must be the assistant's husband. I hear she's quite a looker, that girl. With long auburn hair and green eyes the postman says are brighter than jade. I tell you, it's a good thing Mrs. Nichols isn't the jealous type or she'd be furious by now.... Her husband hasn't stopped talking about this girl since he's first seen her."
The women giggled and pretty soon they were too far for Lois to understand the rest of their conversation.
So there was a groundskeeper, huh? Well if she wasn't able to get the assistant to cave, perhaps a little flirting with tall-dark-and-muscular would help get her that interview. She smiled and started walking towards the office again.
~.~.~.~
The next couple of days had pretty much consisted of the same old routine. Lois got up, went to work, barely saw any of her partner yet ended up sharing his byline every single day. Then after leaving the newsroom, she would head to the library and pour over old newspapers in search of any bit of information she could possibly find about Clark Kent. Most of the time coming up empty handed. When she finally got home at night, exhausted from her day, she would dive right back into "Across the Dunes".
Lois giggled as she realized that in a strange way, she was now spending all her evenings with Clark Kent and that it was the highlight of her day. If her sister Lucy were here, she'd tell her what a pitiful life that was and that she should be going out at night and meeting real actual men, instead of the make-believe kind. Sure it was sad that all the male characters in the book were hundreds of times more interesting than most of the living ones she'd ever encountered, but that didn't mean that Lois had lost all hope of meeting one that would rock her world, so to speak. She just didn't have time to go looking for that right now. But once she was certain that her career was on a good, solid path, then she would be at leisure to find the ever-elusive perfect man. For now, he - or any other guy for that matter - would have been just a distraction from her work and her objectives. She didn't want that. Not for her or for a possible male companion, either. Because if she ever did manage to meet Mr. Right, she wasn't going to just brush him off, she fully intended to put all her energy into making such a relationship last. And now just wasn't the right time for it, she had no energy to spare for this sort of thing.
She almost laughed as it occurred to her that while she wasn't chasing after a potential mate, all of her energy was still very much concentrated into chasing after a man right now. One that was probably just as hard to catch, she knew. She shook her head as she realized that she was actually much more interested in meeting Clark Kent than she was in meeting Mr. Right. How pathetic!
Lois picked up the phone to make "the call" again. She wondered how Lana Lang was going to try to get rid of her today.... So far, she hadn't been very creative in her arguments. It was hard to imagine that this woman worked for one of the world's most celebrated novelists. Apparently, imagination wasn't part of the woman's job description.
When Lana answered, Lois started her usual little speech again. She would introduce herself, exactly the same as is if she'd never called there before, and then ask in her sweetest possible tone whether it was possible to arrange a meeting with Clark Kent.
"Miss Lane, as I have explained to you several times before," Lana Lang had told her, in a slightly less polite tone than usual, "Mr. Kent does not give interviews. It doesn't matter what newspaper you work for. There will be no interviews. You'll just have to live with it, Miss Lane. I'm sorry."
"But I never said I wanted to interview him," Lois retorted. "I simply said that I would like to meet him. There is a difference..."
She knew perfectly well that this was a lame comeback, but it was the only thing that came to mind at the time. Besides, she felt as though Lana Lang was getting really close to losing her temper. That was when she would move in for the kill and get her to agree to set up an interview with her boss. Lois had used that tactic on so many secretaries and assistants before, she could tell just when it was starting to work. As soon as they got past the point where they were seriously annoyed with her for harassing them, they would agree to anything, just to get rid of her once and for all!
"Not for a reporter there isn't," Lana replied acidly. "Goodbye, Miss Lane."
Lois stared at the receiver for a second. She shrugged and hung up the phone.
"Learn to live with it?" she thought to herself. "Is that the best she can do?"
Apparently, this one assistant was a tougher nut to crack than what she'd expected. She shrugged. Maybe it was time to move on to plan B instead... flirting with the groundskeeper.
~.~.~.~
Lana had all but slammed the phone down in frustration. For the fourth day in a row, she had had to tell Lois Lane the exact same thing. She was trying to be polite about it, but her patience was wearing thin.
"Reporters, huh?" Clark asked as he walked into the office. "How do they ever manage to get the phone number, anyhow? We've barely been here for a month."
"Ah! Your publisher willing gives it to them," Lana explained, "I think it's supposed to be payback for you never going on promotional tours that would surely make him quite a bit richer than he currently is. Anyway, I'm sure they could get their hands on it easily enough. The number being unlisted doesn't mean much anymore.... Most reporters take a hint after calling a couple of times, though. Except this one. This Lois Lane person is unusually persistent! If she calls again, I'm afraid I might end up screaming at her. She's starting to be very annoying!"
"Oh? That bad, huh?" he smiled at her. The thought of her yelling at anyone over the phone was just so strange. Lana was anything if not a patient woman. "I'm sure she'll stop pestering you soon enough, Lana. I'm sorry that you have to play bulldog with these people. I didn't expect people to be so nosy."
"Come on, Clark, don't be so naive! You're one of the richest men in the world and by far the most secretive. Of course they want to know more about you! They'd want to know everything there is to know even if you weren't anywhere near as successful - or wealthy. It's exactly because you are being so secretive that they're interested. Everyone's heard of you, but no one knows anything about you. It makes it that much more interesting for journalists to try and get information on you. If they should happen to get any, it would likely constitute the high point of their career. Surely you realize that!"
"It hadn't occurred to me at the time, you know... I wish it had. And I sincerely had no idea my books would sell so well, to tell you the truth. Not to mention I most definitely never meant for you to have to take all the heat from these people."
"First off, you need to stop doubting yourself! Everything you've ever written has always been just... magical. I've been telling you this for years and you know full well I'm not just saying that because of... well... you know."
He nodded.
"And second," Lana continued, "If I really did mind fending off these people for you, don't you think I would have said so before?"
"I know... I'm sorry. I just wish they'd stop thinking there's anything to report about."
Lana raised her eyebrows. "Clark, the more you hide, the more they think there is something to report about. I've told you before, some secrets are best kept when people act as though they don't exist instead of trying to hide them at all costs."
"Why do we always end up having this discussion over and over and over again, Lana?" Clark asked, with a frustrated sigh. "I am not going to go out there and pretend that I'm just as normal as everyone else is. I'm not. I can't. I can't do it to them; make them think I'm just like them. There's no way I could pull it off for very long anyhow and you know this as well as I do. You have no idea what it's like to be me, Lana. Don't even try. And don't tell me how I should live. I've tried fitting in countless times before and it just doesn't work. I'm not going to try again. It's not worth it! You, on the other hand, have every right to go out and have a life of your own. A real one, Lana. You don't need to stay here. I know why you do it, I know why you're staying, but there's no need for that. You do not have to take care of me. Mind you, I don't think I'd be able to manage all the daily stuff without you, but other than that, Lana... I've told you a million times before, you shouldn't feel obligated to stay here twenty four hours a day. There's no reason for you to."
"Clark... I stay because I want to, not because I feel I need to. I owe a lot to you, yes. But that's got nothing to do with the fact I'm sticking around. I don't feel like I need to be here because I have a need to repay you. I used to think you were my savior, but I was a kid, then. And trust me when I say I'm not staying around because I don't know where else I could go."
"Some savior I am... unless you've forgotten, it's my fault if..."
"It is not your fault, Clark!" Lana interrupted. "Would you please stop blaming yourself. It's been over ten years, Clark. Could we please move on? I have. You need to do the same. I beg you; please stop living in the past. I don't know if you realize what it's doing to you. I don't think I should be the one to explain it to you either, but I can tell you one thing: it's killing me. It's killing me to see you carry around the blame of my parent's death on your shoulders when you have had absolutely no part in that. Oh, and don't even think of saying that you should still have been able to prevent this from happening. You couldn't and nobody blames you for it. Nobody."
"Yes, but..."
"I swear, Clark, if you finish that sentence..." she warned him, pointing her index finger to his face in a menacing sort of way.
He sighed. "Yes, ma'am," he said as he hung his head. "I'm just... I'm sorry. You know?"
"Yes," she said softly, "I do."
Clark gave her a sad smile and left the room.
There was nothing in the world that Lana hated more than having to be tough with Clark like this. It wasn't even in her nature to be like that, but she didn't know how else to convince him that he shouldn't blame himself for the death of her parents. It just broke her heart to see him so miserable, so unable to move on. She'd kept hoping that one day, he would stop thinking that everything was his fault, but she was starting to think this was just as improbable as it would be for him to stop living like a hermit. She loved him dearly, he was the closest thing to family that she had left in the world, but sometimes... sometimes he could be so dense and so frustrating that she wished she was strong enough to wring the man's neck!
Lana shook her head at the thought and laughed softly. Wringing his neck! Even if she was strong enough and, by some miracle it did hurt him just the tiniest bit, she doubted it would do him any good.
~.~.~.~
To Be Continued...
