From Part 7:
Lois had her hand on the conference room’s doorknob when Clark thought of one more thing. “Hold on a minute, Lois.” She turned to face him, and he asked, “Can I see a copy of the interview before it goes to print?”
“You want a preview?” her frown told him she wasn’t inclined to grant that request.
“Not to edit it or anything. It’s your story.” He gave her a sheepish half-smile. “Truth be told, I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink tonight if I don’t get to see what you’ve come up with before it hits the newsstands tomorrow.”
Lois smiled. He was absolutely adorable—so strong, so confident in the interview, yet with these little glimpses of insecurity. She loved it. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come over to my apartment tonight at seven and I’ll show you the final write-up. I’ll get Chinese take-out.”
Clark broke into a wide grin. “It’s a date. But let me bring the take-out.”
*****And now, part 8*****
Five minutes later, Superman walked sedately out of the front door of the Daily Planet building and lifted off into the bright October sky. He flew slowly south-east for a few miles for the benefit of any Superman-watchers who might have spotted him. He tried to vary the direction to keep the press and the rumor-mongers guessing. Pete thought he should stick to due North and start dropping hints about an Arctic refuge, but Clark thought that was going a bit far. Once he was over open water he doubled back at a faster speed and landed as quietly as he could in the back alley of a large downtown bookstore. One quick dash into the men’s room window, and no one would question seeing Clark Kent emerge and stroll leisurely back to the Jade Inn. He knew that the customers recognized him, but they were usually too polite to bother him. And since he’d already done one three-hour book signing there and was scheduled for another before his tour ended, the staff left him in peace as well.
Pete and Lana were seated at one end of the suite’s dining table when Clark arrived. They both looked up as he entered.
“You’re just in time for lunch,” Lana greeted him. “You want orange chicken or Szechwan beef?”
“Thanks, but I’m having Chinese for dinner tonight,” Clark answered. “Is there any lasagna left in the fridge?”
“I think so. Take a look. I’m pretty sure the salad’s gone, though.”
“That’s okay,” Clark’s muffled voice came from the depths of the refrigerator, “There’s still some broccoli salad from Monday.” It sounded like an odd combination to Lana, but Clark ate like a teenage boy to begin with, so she wasn’t really surprised.
Clark finally joined them, bringing his plate and a tall glass of lemonade. As he sat down, Pete said, “Lana and I were just discussing the tail that I had to shake the night of your Lois Lane interview. I guess I should say your *first* Lois Lane interview,” he amended. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since, so I’m thinking it was just Luthor or some other local crime boss checking out the new guy in town. I don’t think we need to worry about it for now.”
“No, I suppose not,” Clark agreed around a mouthful of lasagna. “Luthor might initially have been worried that the publicity bookings were a cover for a new Clark Kent investigation, but I think he’s convinced by now that they’re legit. Besides, he’s too busy harassing Superman to pay much attention to Clark Kent these days.”
“We’re agreed, then. Speaking of Lois Lane, how’d the interview go?”
“Which one?” Clark stole a dumpling off Lana’s plate and got his wrist slapped for his trouble. “The official Superman exclusive, or the one before that where she told me that she knows I’ve been on Earth for years?”
“What?!” The exclamation came in stereo.
“It’s okay. She’s not going to print it,” Clark hastened to assure them.
“Really?” Pete sounded skeptical. “The most ambitious reporter on the East Coast is just going to sit on a huge story about the world’s biggest celebrity?”
“You really think Superman is the world’s biggest celebrity?” Clark asked.
Pete rolled his eyes in frustration. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes, Clark, I’m sorry to tell you that you are now bigger than you. Can we please focus here?”
Clark speared a bite of broccoli with his fork and said, “I’m really not worried, Pete. We had a whole conversation about it, and she’s not going to publish her theory. Besides, even if she wanted to—which she doesn’t—she has no proof. I’d just deny it if she tried.”
“Superman would lie outright?” Lana interjected.
“To protect you two and my folks, absolutely.”
But Pete focused on another part of Clark’s remark. “You said her theory. So you didn’t confirm it?”
Clark hesitated. “Not in so many words.”
“Which means…” Pete pressed.
“I didn’t tell her my name or give her any details. But I did admit that Superman is a cover that lets me use my abilities and still have a normal life.”
“And how is that not confirming it in so many words?” Pete almost shouted.
Clark’s sheepish look said that he wasn’t going to argue the point. With a visible act of will, Pete switched from panic mode to damage control. “Okay, so Lois Lane knows that you have another identity, but she claims she’s not going to publish that fact.”
“She won’t, Pete. I don’t expect you to understand, but there’s something special about her. I trust her,” Clark insisted.
“I hear you, Clark, but just because you trust her doesn’t mean I have to. Just let me think, will you?”
Clark complied by polishing off his lasagna in silence. By the time he drained his lemonade, Pete had a plan.
“Here’s what we’ll do: let me run a background check on her. There’s got to be something we can use for blackmail material if we really need to. Nobody gets as far as she has without making enemies along the way. And if I can’t find anything on her, there’s bound to be some scandal in her family.” Pete stopped when he noticed Lana’s shocked stare and Clark’s deepening scowl.
“Pete, do you hear what you’re saying?” his wife put in. “That’s not like you. What would possess you to even think of such a thing?”
“Your safety, Lana, that’s what. Do you realize what would happen to us if it became known that we are close associates of Superman?”
“We’re already known associates of Clark, and he’s got his own enemies,” Lana countered.
“Superman is bigger than Clark Kent, Lana. And he’s bound to make even bigger enemies. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep you safe, and that scares me to death!”
Clark’s scowl disappeared as quickly as it had come. His friend’s fear was real, and not entirely unfounded. Nonetheless, Clark wouldn’t allow him to hurt Lois by digging up whatever skeletons might be hiding in her family closet.
“Pete,” he tried to make his voice sympathetic as well as firm, “I won’t let you or Lana get hurt. That’s a promise. But I’m telling you right now, Lois is off limits .”
There was a brief staring match between the two men, but Pete knew his friend well enough to know when to back down. The very fact that Clark felt this strongly about Lois Lane told Pete more than maybe Clark himself yet realized. “Okay,” was his only reply.
Clark could tell that his friends were still worried. And why shouldn’t they be? They hadn’t been there during either of his recent conversations with Lois. They didn’t know her the same way he did. Nor were they likely to any time soon. Clark was looking forward to seeing Lois that night, but he still had no intention of telling her who he really was. That would be the fastest way possible to kill whatever chance he might have with her.
No, Lana and Pete were just going to have to trust Clark since they couldn’t be expected to trust Lois.
“Don’t worry, guys. I know I can’t expect you to trust her, but you can trust me. I’ll keep an eye on her.” His face brightened at that thought. “Actually, I’m having dinner with her tonight. I’m picking up carry out from Tsung Yeh’s.”
“I thought she didn’t like you,” Lana began, then, “Wait a minute. Did you say Tsung Yeh’s? As in Shanghai? You’re going to see her as Superman?!”
Pete had now lost the power of speech entirely and simply waited for Clark to respond.
“Well, yeah. She likes Superman. It’s Clark she can’t stand .”
“But Superman isn’t real,” Lana protested.
“No, he’s not,” Clark agreed. “But then again, neither is Clark. And the man that Lois really likes is neither of them.” Clark flashed his friends a satisfied smile. “He’s just me.”
*****
Lois checked her watch for the third time in the last ten minutes. She still shuddered whenever she recalled how she must have looked when Superman arrived at her apartment on Monday evening to find her having a temper tantrum over the disappearance of the evidence in the Bureau 39 warehouse. This time would be different.
Everything was ready. The table was neatly set for two. A bottle of white wine was chilled and waiting. Ella Fitzgerald’s Greatest Hits was playing softly in the background. Lois had two copies of the interview article printed out and sitting neatly on the corner of her desk. She had changed out of her work clothes into a well-fitted pair of slacks and a sleeveless knit top. Her make-up and hair were freshened. She was reclining in what she hoped was a casual-looking manner, curled up in one corner of her sofa with the latest Clark Kent novel . When Superman flew through her window, he would find her calm, cool, and collected.
Just as Lois was about to check her watch for the fourth time, her doorbell rang. Oh, great! Superman would be here any minute, but first she had to get rid of whoever had the audacity to be ringing her doorbell right when she was expecting a guest that no one else was supposed to know about. It was probably Jimmy. Who else would show up at her apartment unannounced at the most inconvenient time possible?
Lois was so sure that her uninvited caller must be her young office mate that she didn’t even bother to check through her peephole. She just worked her way down her array of locks as quickly as she could. As she opened the door, she was already beginning her ‘Get lost, Jimmy’ speech.
“Look, Jimmy, this isn’t a good…” she began. Then she stopped. The man gaping at her in surprise wasn’t Jimmy after all. It was a stranger dressed in black casual slacks, a grey t-shirt that hugged his quite impressive chest, and a black leather jacket. His dark hair curled loosely around his ears and the back of his neck, one curl falling over his forehead in a way that begged to be brushed back.
“I’m sorry,” Tall, Dark, and Handsome said. “Didn’t we say seven?”
It was then than Lois noticed the stack of bamboo steamers he held in one hand and the white paper bag in the other.
“Oh my God! It’s you! I can’t believe it!”
“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, still looking slightly confused.
“What? No! No, I just wasn’t expecting you to come through the door.”
Superman gave a quick glance up and down the hallway. “Uh, maybe I’d better come in.”
“Oh! Yes! Yes, of course! Please!” Lois stepped back and opened her front door wide in a welcoming gesture.
Superman came in and gave a quick look around the apartment. “Where would you like these?” he asked, holding up the still-steaming containers.
Lois finally put her brain back into gear and directed him to the table. As she walked into her small kitchen she asked, “What can I get you to drink? I’ve got some wine chilled, or there’s soda if you prefer. I don’t know whether you even drink wine.”
Superman smiled, a relaxed, friendly smile that set something alight in his rich brown eyes. “Wine sounds great.”
Lois reached to open the bottle, but quickly realized that she had forgotten to get out the corkscrew. She opened her utensil drawer and started digging around as inconspicuously as she could.
She was finding it very difficult to focus at the moment. She just couldn’t get over how different he looked without the tight suit and the hair gel. Then, in one of those intuitive leaps that she prided herself on, it came to her. ‘People see what they expect to see.’ At the same moment, her hand landed on the corkscrew. She stood up straight, looked Superman in the eye, brandished the corkscrew with a grin, and proclaimed triumphantly, “Clark Kent!”
