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scribblinlenoreHere's something else I'm liberating from my hard drive. A long, long, LONG time ago, my dear ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
barely_bean held a Hardy Boys challenge. There was a list of book titles, and you picked one, and wrote a Hardy Boys style story starring Clark and Lex. I chose "The Prime Time Crime" and decided that after Helen breaks up with Lex, he goes on a reality show called "America's Playboy," and ends up being accused of murder. I had 13,000 words of this before I realized that I really didn't know how to make the plot hold together. Bah!
There is this one little bit where Lex learns Clark's secret that I really like.
The Prime Time Crime
By Lenore
The music was sappy, the opening titles gaudy. Everything about the show was so god-awful Clark still couldn't believe he and his parents were huddled around the television with bowls of ice cream watching as if they were about to win the lottery. If you asked him, "America's Playboy" was everything that was wrong with the world today, and the people who invented reality TV ought to be taken out and-- have something really unpleasant done to them.
Cassie Bennett, the requisite perky blonde host, smiled into the camera. "Hello everyone, and welcome to our show. You've seen him on television. Read about him in the papers. And now it's your chance to meet him. He's handsome, successful and looking for a good time. He's Lex Luthor. And he's America's Playboy."
The camera cut to a shot of Lex, impeccably dressed as always in a dark suit and signature lilac shirt, smiling rather wryly.
Clark shook his head. "I still can't believe he's doing this."
The blonde returned, wearing a serious, rules-explaining expression. "Every week, you'll see our playboy connect with some of the country's most beautiful women." The camera panned down a line of smiling contestants, all wearing slinky evening gowns, posing with the exaggerated grace of beauty pageant contenders. "We'll follow them on glamorous evenings out and steamy nights in." Cassie's voice lowered suggestively. "Who will be the lucky lady our playboy chooses? That's what everyone wants to know. And you'll be there for every look, every touch, every moment--absolutely live!"
Great, Clark thought. The chance to watch Lex being pawed over by two dozen drooling gold diggers in primetime.
"This has to be the worst idea for a television show ever," he grumbled.
"I think Lex looks very handsome," his mother said, trying to be upbeat.
"Where did they find these girls anyway? I've never seen a bigger bunch of skanks and bimbos."
"Clark Kent!"
He ducked his head. "Sorry, Mom. But it's hard to watch your best friend making a fool of himself in front of millions of people."
His father grinned cheerfully. "Must-see TV, if you ask me."
"Jonathan!" his mother scolded.
His father went back to his Chunky Monkey, trying to look abashed, not very successfully. Clark fidgeted. It was hard to get comfortable when you were watching a train wreck unfold, and it starred the one person who, despite everything, you still admired and respected more than pretty much anyone else.
"He must have taken the breakup with Helen harder than we thought," his mother said.
"Yeah." Clark swallowed hard.
Not that he *knew*, really. Things had been kind of strained between them lately, and that didn't exactly make for heart-to-heart talks. If he was honest, it wasn't just lately, either. This rift--or whatever it was--had started months ago, maybe even as far back as Desiree. Lex had been different after that. Sure, he'd said passion for friends was still a good thing, but Clark had felt something missing. It certainly hadn't helped when Clark got whacked out on red kryptonite and threatened him. Or that Lex found him passed out in the middle of the road and then down in the caves and Clark wouldn't level with him. Or that Clark had practically accused him of trying to kill Lionel and frame his father for it.
Things really hadn't been going that well for a while now.
The simple fact was that Lex Luthor was the last person Clark should ever have become friends with. Lex was too curious and far too determined, and Clark didn't lie nearly well enough. It was easy to see a hundred different shades of doom hanging over their friendship. But that just made Clark want to dig in his heels, fight that much harder. He hated doom. He really did.
On television, Cassie sidled up to Lex. "So how are you feeling?"
Lex smiled smoothly. "Excited to get started."
"Great!" Cassie beamed. "We can't wait to get to know you better and find out just what makes your perfect woman. But first, we want you to hear a little bit about the beauties who'll be trying to catch your eye. Sound good?"
"Sounds great, Cassie," Lex said, with what Clark hoped was irony.
"Fantastic, Lex! So we're going to ask you to watch from backstage. We wouldn't want to make these lovely ladies nervous, now would we?"
"Not at all."
"Wonderful! Lugo will show you the way." A stagehand stepped forward, and the camera followed them. Backstage, Lugo fitted Lex with an ear piece.
"You ready, Lex?" Cassie asked.
"All set."
"Okay then." Cassie turned her floodlight smile on the women. "Ladies. Let's get comfortable. And get to know one another, shall we?"
The women all tittered kittenishly and took their places on the set, settling onto couches and ottomans and chairs, as if they were actually in a cozy living room somewhere, trading girl talk and secrets.
Cassie Bennet plunked down next to a woman with long wavy dark hair. She reminded Clark a little of Desiree. And Victoria. And Helen, come to think of it. He sighed. She'd probably win. Lex always went for the same type.
Cassie leaned in confidentially. "So, Megan, it says here that you've run into a little trouble with the law."
The audience gasped on cue. Megan turned brilliantly red. Apparently, embarrassing the contestants made for good ratings.
"You want to tell us more about that?" Cassie asked.
Megan ducked her head. "Um, no?"
"Come on, girlfriend," Cassie prompted. "Dish. "
The girl sighed. "It was all a big misunderstanding. I swear. I was trying on this dress. My friend had to go, but then I realized she still had my cell phone. So I ran after her. The security guards totally overreacted."
"That's okay. We understand." Cassie patted her arm. "It's a sickness."
"But I didn't--"
"I'm sure Lex finds that very interesting, don't you, Lex?" Cassie interrupted her.
Megan looked like she wanted to hide. Or possibly punch Cassie in the jaw.
Lex smiled chivalrously. "I find everything about these ladies utterly fascinating."
"You're such a sexy sweet talker." Cassie fanned herself with her index cards. "Okay, then. Next up, we have Alyssa."
The camera panned the set, but no one responded. The girls looked around in confusion.
"Alyssa?" Cassie repeated, frowning slightly. "Where's Alyssa?" She stared pointedly off camera, as if trying to get an answer from her producers. And then her expression twisted into a sly smile. "Well, ladies, it seems one of you has decided to skip the formalities and go right to the action. My sources tell me Alyssa has snuck off to meet Lex."
There was a general outcry of *Not fair!* and *That bitch!*
Cassie looked into the camera with a conspiratorial expression. "An interesting development. Let's check in with Lex and see if there are any sparks flying."
Backstage, though, there was a sense of chaos, people running, shouting, although it wasn't immediately apparent what the problem was.
"Cut back to me, back to me," Cassie Bennett's voice thundered, suddenly sounding a lot less perky.
Before the control room could react, however, the camera fastened on something on the ground. It was Alyssa, sprawled and unmoving, blood pooling beneath her.
"Oh, shit!" Clark said.
"Clark!" his mother admonished.
"Sorry. But--"
The next shot was of Lex, staring wide-eyed with horror. The camera pulled back, and it became clear what Lex was staring at. A bloody knife. In his own hand.
"Shit!" Lex said.
Clark looked to his father, who looked to his mother.
"Shit!" she said, speaking for all three of them.
***
It took a good three hours to drive to Metropolis. Clark could make it in about fifteen minutes when he really turned on the speed. Unfortunately, convincing his parents to actually let him go took far longer than that. He was just about to play the "you can't stop me" card, which none of them really wanted, when his mother finally caved in.
"You call me the minute you get there," she said, sternly.
He kissed her cheek. "I will."
His father still didn't look particularly happy. "Always running after Luthor."
"He's my *friend*, Dad," Clark said, tightening his jaw.
His father sighed and looked away. Clark took off before they could change their minds.
Running was one of Clark's great joys. Almost every evening, he went out into the fields, alone, and just let go. He went through most of his life in the equivalent of first gear, but when he was running, he could really stretch, test his limits, be who he really was.
In Metropolis, he stopped at the first pay phone to make good on the deal with his parents.
"Mom? It's me. I got here fine. I'm just about to head down to the studio."
"Oh good, honey. I'm glad you're okay. And glad you called. They've taken Lex to police headquarters. We just saw it on TV."
"Okay. I guess I'll go there then."
"Just be careful."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too, honey."
Clark had learned the location of police headquarters on previous adventure-filled trips to Metropolis, and he superspeeded there, keeping to alleys and residential streets. The last thing he needed was to end up on the Planet's front page tomorrow.
At the station, he was prepared to argue his case. Or, if worse came to worse, beg to see Lex. But it proved unnecessary. The sergeant behind the desk asked his name and told him to wait. He returned a few minutes later.
"This way," he said.
He was surprisingly civil to someone who had come to visit a suspected murderer. But then, Clark figured there had already been calls from the police chief and mayor's office and maybe even the governor's mansion. They were all hedging their bets, no doubt, in case Lex wasn't guilty. Nobody wanted to end up on the wrong side of a Luthor who wasn't safely behind bars.
Clark couldn't quite imagine Lex in a cell, and he wasn't entirely surprised when he was shown into a conference room instead. Lex was sitting at a battered wooden table, without handcuffs or anybody guarding him. He looked tired, but otherwise all right. No police brutality to worry about when you were the second wealthiest man in Metropolis and heir to the first.
"Clark." Lex looked at him sharply. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh--" He felt himself turning red. "I was in the neighborhood?"
"You should go home. Your parents--"
"Know I'm here. Don't worry." He sat down beside Lex. "How are you?"
Lex made a wry face. "I've had better days."
Clark nodded sympathetically. "Yeah."
"I don't suppose it would do any good to say I didn't do it?"
"To the cops? Probably not. To me? Totally not necessary."
There was a flash of surprise in Lex's eyes, just a momentary disruption/glitch of his usual game face, but, God, it pained Clark. It brought back too many bad memories of the last police investigation they'd gotten tangled up in, when Clark had been so terrified his own father might be to blame that he'd-- Yet another reason he and Lex were on rocky ground these days.
Clark cleared his throat. "So, are you getting out of here any time soon?"
"There's a bail hearing in an hour. The lawyer was just here. And my father's coming down." Lex pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure that will be fun."
"At least you won't have to spend the night in jail."
"If the judge even gives me bail, Clark."
"Hey, you're a successful business owner with significant ties to the community. You're not a flight risk."
"Yes, well, it may be a little more complicated than those 'Law and Order' reruns have led you to believe."
"So-- What happened?"
Lex shook his head. "I really don't know. One minute, I was waiting for Cassie Bennett to ask me what my favorite color is. Then, this redhead runs up to me and says she couldn't wait to meet me. And-- The next thing I know she's bleeding at my feet, and I'm holding the murder weapon."
"You didn't see it happen?"
Lex frowned. "No. I mean, I *should* have. I know. But--" He shook his head. "There was just nothing."
"And how about anyone else? There must have been lots of other people backstage."
Lex nodded. "There were. But from what I could glean from the police officers, none of them saw anything, either. I think that's why I'm here and not in lock up."
"You know that's not possible, Lex. A girl can't just get stabbed in front of a whole TV crew, and nobody saw anything. It's like--"
"Something that might happen in Smallville?"
The hair prickled on the back of Clark's neck. Lex was right. After all, Emily had been able to move faster than anyone could see. Eric made himself invisible. The tattoo gang had been able to walk through walls. That a dozen people failed to notice a murder taking place right in front of their eyes wasn't, finally, the weirdest thing that had ever happened.
"Okay, so something's going on," Clark said. "But we'll figure it out."
"There is no 'we' in this, Clark."
"Lex--"
"I'm serious. I appreciate that you came to visit me. That you want to help. But you can't get involved in this. Your parents would have my ass if I let that happen and for good reason."
"But, Lex, I can--"
"Officer!" The door opened, and a cop poked his head inside. "My friend is ready to leave. Can you show him out?"
"No problem, Mr. Luthor."
Clark sighed heavily and got to his feet. "You don't always have to do things alone, you know."
Lex's expression was unreadable. "Get home safely, Clark."
"I'll see you later, Lex."
***
It wasn't hard for Clark to find out when and where Lex's arraignment would take place. The whole police station seemed to be buzzing with it. Clark slipped into the courtroom and waited while other cases were heard. Finally, uniformed officers escorted Lex to the defendant's table. They unlocked the handcuffs, and Lex rubbed his wrists. He sat down next to an older man in an impeccable suit, no doubt the lawyer Lionel had hired to represent him.
They leaned and conferred until the court clerk called the case. "People vs. Alexander Luthor on the charge of murder in the second degree."
Lex and his lawyer both stood up.
"How does the defendant plead?" the judge asked.
"Not guilty, your honor," Lex answered.
"Bail request, Mr. Easterland?" the judge asked Lex's lawyer.
"We'd ask that Mr. Luthor be released on his recognizance, your honor. The prosecution's case is woefully weak. They have no witnesses despite the fact that numerous people were present. No possible motive. All Mr. Luthor did, in a state of shock at seeing this poor girl, was to pick up the knife used to commit the crime. That's what he's guilty of. If Mr. Luthor were not a member of a well-known family, we wouldn't even be here. This is grandstanding at its very worst on the district attorney's part, your honor."
The judge arched an eyebrow. "Mr. Bell?"
The district attorney stood up. "Your honor, the facts are simple. A young woman is dead. The defendant was caught standing over her dead body with the murder weapon in his hand. As the old saying says, if it's look like a snake and acts like a snake, it is a snake. And Mr. Luthor is a cold-blooded murderer. The people respectfully ask that he be denied bail and remanded into custody."
"Your honor," Lex's lawyer interjected. "Mr. Luthor is a respected member of the community with significant ties. He owns and runs his own corporation. He's not a flight risk."
"The defendant is a wealthy man, who has the means to flee and stay gone for a very, very long time," Mr. Bell argued. "In the interest of justice, he should remain in custody."
"We would be willing to surrender his passport as evidence of good faith," Mr. Easterland countered.
The judge held up her hand. "Enough. Bail is set in the amount of two million dollars, cash or bond, and the passport will be surrendered. Preliminary hearing will be held on July 15. Mr. Luthor, I trust we'll see you back here on that date."
"Yes, of course, your honor. Thank you," Lex said, sounding rather relieved.
Clark got up and waited outside the courtroom. When the Lex and his lawyer to came out, Mr. Easterland pulled Lex to the side to give him some instructions. Lex nodded as he listened, looking very serious. When he noticed Clark lurking down the hall, his expression became even graver.
Finally, Lex shook his lawyer's hand and headed toward Clark. "I thought we decided you were going home," he said.
"Um. No. You decided that. I decided not to let you face the criminal justice system without any support from your friends."
"Clark--"
Clark squeezed his shoulder, changed the subject. "So how are you holding up?"
Lex sighed. "Okay. Better now that the bail hearing is over."
Clark nodded. "Do you have to arrange that?"
"My father's people were standing by. They're taking care of it. And I got permission to go home to Smallville. Usually, I guess you're not allowed to leave the jurisdiction."
"That's good--"
"Shit."
"What?" Clark turned around to look.
Lionel came striding down the hall, looking less than pleased, and joined them. "Lex," he said.
"Dad."
Lionel's gaze swept over Clark. "Young Mr. Kent. Come to my son's rescue again, have we?"
"What brings you down here, Dad?" Lex asked, his voice tight, strained.
Lionel shifted his attention back to Lex, his expression dark with disapproval. "I told you this latest little publicity stunt of yours would backfire."
"I'm glad I always have you to say I told you so."
Lionel scowled at him. "I wouldn't have to if you would learn to comport yourself more responsibly. Do you have any idea what effect this is going to have on business? Not only on that little experiment of yours, but on LuthorCorp stock?"
Lex stood up straighter, his eyes got harder. "It's good to know you have your priorities straight, as always, Dad."
"Oh, don't worry, son. I'll get you out of this mess the same way I did all the others. Although stabbing a girl to death on national television, I have to give you credit. That's going to take some real legal miracle working."
Lex swallowed noticeably, but he didn't answer.
"You have a meeting with your defense team first thing Wednesday morning. Don't be late." Lionel swept away.
Clark moved a little closer to Lex. "Are you--"
"Yes." But he didn't sound all right. "Let's just go home, okay?"
"Sure." He put a hand on Lex's shoulder. "Let's go."
They went out a back exit, and luckily, there was no press lying in wait for them. They made it to the car without incident and took off for Smallville. Lex drove as if it took all his concentration, staring straight ahead, both hands gripping the wheel. Clark stared out the window, but the silence soon started to unnerve him.
He cleared his throat. "So-- why did you do it?" Lex's shoulders stiffened, and Clark realized how that must sound. "Agree to be on that stupid show in the first place, I mean."
But this only seemed to irritate Lex further. "You know, Clark, some people think I have a certain appeal. At least, the producers seemed to."
Clark stared at him, incredulously. "Well, duh. I'm sure they practically peed themselves when you said you'd be their playboy." He rolled his eyes. "I just don't understand what *you* could possibly get out of it."
"You don't think a bevy of beautiful women at my beck and call is enough of an inducement for me?" Lex shot him a sidelong glance, his expression curious.
"Oh, please. You can have any woman you want, anywhere, any time. And that show-- is inane and obvious and inelegant and-- so *not* you."
Lex smiled softly. "You know, Clark, that almost sounded like a compliment."
Clark laughed. "Although hardly a surprise, I would think. I'm a hick from Smallville, Lex. You know you're the most refined person I've ever met. By far."
"You're not a hick," Lex said, firmly.
Clark smiled. "Okay. Whatever. But you still didn't answer my question. About going on the show. I mean, nobody could believe it. My parents just stared at the TV like they thought you'd lost your mind."
"And this would be new how?"
"Seriously, Lex."
Lex shrugged. "I guess there's less to lose when the person you want doesn't want you back, and you don't have any hope that's going to change any time soon."
Clark swallowed hard. "Mom said it was probably something like that."
"Your mother's a very wise woman."
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly. Lex met his eyes sharply. "About Helen."
"Oh." He turned back to the road. "Don't worry about it."
"But-- I never really said anything. And I know it must have been really rough. I don't want you to think-- That I didn't--"
"It's okay, Clark. Honestly."
Lex sounded oddly unconcerned, and Clark doubted he would ever fully understand the twisted inner workings of his friend's brain. Maybe this was some tenet of Lionel's freakish life philosophy--you could admit that your heart was broken as long as you didn't sound like you meant it. Maybe in Lex's world you were never supposed to show how you felt about anything. Maybe that was why Clark had never actually witnessed any passionate connection between Lex and Helen. Lex must have kept that as tightly under wraps as his distress at their breakup.
"So what's our next move?"
"Dropping you off at the farm seems the obvious choice."
"You know what I mean, Lex."
"Yes. And the answer's no."
"I can help."
"Clark, I have the resources to hire professionals. I don't need your help."
Lex's dismissive tone hurt, but Clark wasn't going to be put off that easily. "Are you saying that you're not going to do some digging of your own?"
Lex didn't answer, his jaw stubbornly set.
"So it's okay for you, but not for me."
"This is *my* problem, Clark. I'm the one who was stupid enough to go on that show. My father's right. It was irresponsible. I shouldn't have let--" He shook his head. "It's up to me to fix it now."
"We could solve it together. Remember when you said that?"
"And I also remember that you said no on that particular occasion."
"Lex, I couldn't--" Clark sighed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't able to help you then. But I can now. Give me the chance?"
Lex sighed. "It doesn't even matter what I say, Clark. Your parents would never go for it anyway."
"Let me handle them."
Lex threw him a disbelieving glance. "Have your parents radically changed and I'm just not aware of it?"
"My parents would never want to get in the way of my future. And when I tell them I want to spend a few weeks this summer doing an internship at a television station in Metropolis so I can put it on my application to journalism school, I think they’ll see the wisdom in it."
"Clark, I'm hardly in any position to pull strings at WBJX right now."
Clark smiled. "Not you. Chloe. She has connections everywhere. I promise you. She'll know somebody who knows somebody. She always does."
***
Clark never had any doubt that Chloe would come through for him, but this was even better than he'd hoped, an internship on *America's Playboy* itself. It was rather shocking, not to mention in poor taste in Clark's opinion, that the show had taken a scant week off before going back into production with a new playboy and another beauty to take poor Alyssa's place. Apparently, a death backstage could be quite good for ratings, and the show's producers were hoping to cash in on the American viewing audience's morbid curiosity.
Clark wiped his palms on his new pair of chinos. Despite the fact that he was really only there to gather information to help Lex, he was surprisingly nervous on his first day on the set. He didn't want to look like a green horn and make a fool of himself. But working on the school paper wasn't much preparation for actual broadcasting, even if "America's Playboy" wasn't exactly in the same league as "Dateline" or the evening news.
Clark had to find some way to thank Chloe. When he'd asked her, she'd been really cool about it.
"No problem," she'd said. "My uncle's golfing buddy's wife's daughter works on the show. She should be able to get you in. You might just have to promise to give her an interview if you manage to find something that gets Lex off."
"And what do you want for helping me out?"
She'd just smiled, rather mysteriously, and said she'd let him know when she was ready. They'd been doing much better since Clark's relationship with Lana had fizzled. There were even occasions when it felt like old times, as easy and natural as he remembered their friendship being. Still, Clark knew Chloe well enough to be worried what she had in mind as payback for her help.
The people at the main desk had given Clark a pass and sent him up to the sound stage. He hesitated just outside the double doors, took a deep breath and then went inside.
People were hurrying everywhere, shouting instructions.
"Excuse me--" he said to a young woman with a clipboard, but she didn't stop.
He tried to flag down a guy wearing jeans and a toolbelt. "Can you help me--"
"Sorry. Got to get these lights back up pronto."
"Oh. Um. Okay. Nevermind," Clark said, to the guy's back as he rushed away.
He turned around to try to find backstage and rant headlong into Cassie Bennet.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said. "I was just trying to find--"
"Watch where you're going!" she yelled. "Who the hell are you anyway? And what are you doing on my set?"
Clark could feel himself turning red. "I'm Clark Kent, ma'am. I'm your new summer intern." He held out his hand.
She gave him the once over but didn't extend her hand. Apparently, interns weren't high enough on the food chain for a handshake. Clark awkwardly pulled his hand back.
"I need coffee," Cassie said. "Skim milk. 2 Sweet and Lows. Not too light."
"Oh. Okay. Could you tell me where--"
"Coffee. Now," she yelled. "I don't have all damned day."
"Sure." Clark hurried away, although he had no idea where he was going. His face was now beet red.
"Hey, kid," he heard a whispered voice.
He looked around and saw a member of the crew beckoning him over. The man looked to be in his late forties, with a long, graying ponytail, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. Clark thought he might be a cameraman.
"The hospitality table is over there." The guy pointed. "And don't let Cassie get to you. It's nothing personal. She's tough on everybody, and she has this habit of treating summer interns as her own personal slaves. Just let it go in one ear and out the other. That's what I do."
"Hey, thanks for the advice." Clark gave courtesy a second chance and held out his hand. "Clark Kent."
"Jimmy Watkins." Jimmy smiled and shook his hand. "Good to meet you. And welcome to *America's Playboy.* It should be a very interesting summer for you, Clark." Jimmy shook his head. It seemed he was no bigger fan of the show than Clark was.
"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."
Jimmy nodded. And then he nudged Clark with his elbow. "Hey, you better haul some ass with that coffee. When Cassie says she doesn't like to be kept waiting, she really means it."
"Oh. Yeah. Right. I got that impression. Thanks again, Jimmy."
"No problem, kid."
Clark dashed away to the hospitality table, fixed Cassie's coffee and hurried back to find her. She was speaking with a man in a suit, mid 30s, kind of smarmy looking.
"It is not going back on the promise of the show, Victor," Cassie said, rather loudly, sounding annoyed.
"In the promos, we said--"
"A rich playboy. Beautiful girls. We still have all that."
"Live. It's supposed to be live."
"Who the hell cares? The people sitting around in the living rooms eating Doritos just want to see sex. And they'll get plenty of that."
"We still have to explain--"
"No we don't. Look, I know what I'm doing. Just sit back and watch and learn."
"Fine," Victor said, sounding none too pleased. "But remember whose ass is on the line here, Cassie. You're the one who needs this show to succeed. If it doesn't, don't come crying to me."
Victor stomped off.
"I wouldn't come crying to you if you were the last PR guy on earth," Cassie shouted after him. She noticed Clark standing there and said, "Can you believe him He has no faith in me at all."
Clark stammered, "That's really--"
"And where the hell have you been?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Bennett. You seemed busy, and I didn't want to interrupt."
"Victor is nobody. You're never interrupting me if I'm talking to nobody. In television, you either move fast or get the hell out. Understand?"
"Sure. Of course."
"Good." She appeared to be somewhat mollified. "Now, pay attention. I have a few simple rules you need to know. Do what I say when I say it. If you're not busy doing something for me, then help anyone else on the show who needs you. Stay out of the way otherwise. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And stop calling me ma'am. It makes me feel like somebody's great grandmother."
"Yes, ma-- Miss Bennett."
"Better. Now run back stage to wardrobe. The girls are getting into their outfits. See if anyone needs you to run and fetch anything for them."
"Right away, Miss Bennett." If Cassie wanted him to snap to, he could do that.
"Oh, and Clark," she said.
He stopped and turned around. "Yes, Miss Bennett?"
"I'm sure one of the reasons you wanted to intern on this show is for all the hot babes. But just so you understand, this is a 'look but don't touch' situation. These girls have it in their contracts that they're to have no outside involvements with anyone while appearing on this show. And if I see anything that even looks like fraternization, you're out on your ass."
Clark frowned. "I would never--"
Cassie looked at her watch. "How long is it going to take you to get backstage?"
"Um. I'm going right now." He rushed off.
It took all his self-discipline not to superspeed and show her just fast he could move. He was beginning to understand why everyone on the set seemed so edgy.
He eventually found his way to wardrobe and took a deep breath before stepping inside. He had this image of a roomful of half-naked women, and he wondered if he could still do his job with his eyes closed. But inside, there was so much activity and clamor that even if every woman in the room had been stark naked Clark would barely have noticed, much less have been embarrassed by it.
"Where is my pink blush? It was right here. Who took my damned blush?" a voice rang out, although Clark couldn't see who it was.
"This dress is too plain. I need a scarf. Or something," another voice added to the chorus.
A girl down at the far end of the room was struggling to zip up her gown. Clark snaked his way through the crowd.
"Can I help you with that?" he asked, a little shyly.
The girl turned around. She had long dark hair and almond-shaped eyes that gave her an exotic look. Actually, she sort of reminded him of Lana.
"I'd really appreciate that," she said, smiling at him.
He did up the zipper for her, careful not to touch skin.
"Thanks," she said. "I've been asking someone to help me for, like, the past ten minutes. But everyone's so competitive." She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I can imagine." He thought about Cassie's warning and figured it wasn't a good idea to linger. "Well, good luck."
"Hey, thanks!" She smiled brightly and turned back to the mirror to work on her makeup.
A blonde nearby was holding up a shoe and yelling, "Where the fuck is the other one? I can't find it anywhere."
Clark used his x-ray vision to scan the room. The shoe was hidden behind some shopping bags. He retrieved it and handed it to the woman. "Here you go, Miss."
She took her shoe, looked him up and down. She was pretty enough, with long golden hair and blue eyes, but there was something a little off about her features. Clark wasn't quite sure what, but somehow he thought he'd seen this somewhere before, too.
"Are you going to stand there gawking all day?" the girl asked, with a sneer. "What's wrong? Don't they have women where you come from?"
Clark blushed fiercely. "Um. Sorry." He was only trying to help. God, this was more humiliating than high school.
He made his escape to the hall. Maybe a quick breather would give him the courage to go back and try again.
A young man in his twenties, with a slight receding hairline, dressed in a somewhat Don-Johnson-esque loose fitting white suit, leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette despite all the "do not" signs posted in the hallway.
"There's nothing more terrifying than a pack of women all desperately looking for the right lip gloss, is there?" the man asked, smiling.
Clark let out his breath. "I guess not. I didn't expect it to be so--"
"Dangerous?"
Clark grinned.
"Randolph Haynes." He held out his hand.
"Clark Kent." They shook.
"So you're a--"
"Summer intern," Clark explained. "Basically, I do whatever anybody tells me. And as quickly as possible."
Randolph smiled. "Good to know. I might need to send you out for a pack of smokes later. I'm the new playboy, by the way. I don't know if they told you."
Clark shook his head. "No. They didn't really tell me too much of anything. But that's great. I hope you have fun." He smiled politely.
Okay, so he was biased, but this guy couldn't hold a handle to Lex.
"Oh, I will. Not to worry. But, of course, a man in my position never has any trouble attracting female companionship, if you know what I mean." He winked.
"Um. Yeah. I can imagine." Nope. Not even in the same league as Lex. "Hey, it must be kind of weird, huh? I mean, after all that trouble with the last guy. My mom and dad weren't even sure if they still wanted to me work here after-- you know, what happened."
"Hmm. Yes. It has been an interesting situation." Randolph looked off into the distance, thoughtfully. "You know, Clark, from what I've seen of Cassie Bennett, she's very protective of her show. People around here are pretty tight-lipped because of that. Probably best for you not to bring up the past. Just a word to the wise."
Clark widened his eyes, trying to look hopelessly naive, an expression Chloe always assured him he'd mastered completely. "Oh, yeah. Thanks. I wouldn't want to get on Miss Bennett's bad side."
Randolph smiled. "That's the spirit. Stick with me, Clark. And you're going to learn a lot about handling women."
Clark put on his "oh, golly thanks" smile. He could only imagine what kind of pointers Randolph Haynes might have for him.
***
After the show finished taping, Clark walked home to the penthouse. Lex had offered to send the limo to meet him somewhere away from the studio, but Clark hadn't wanted to risk it. Besides, walking gave him a chance to see more of Metropolis, to get more familiar with it.
Clark had spent most of the day either getting coffee or standing around trying to figure out what was going. But when they were finally ready to tape, Cassie allowed him into the control room, pointed him to a corner and told him not to move. It was pretty cool, he had to admit, watching the producers put the show together.
He couldn't really say he'd picked up anything especially useful to Lex's case. Maybe there was something in that conversation he'd overheard Cassie Bennett having with Victor, the PR guy. He'd have to see if he could find out why she needed a hit so badly. It still bugged him that he couldn't remember who that rude blonde woman reminded him of, not that it had anything to do with the investigation. It was just one of those things that nag at you.
He turned onto Courtland Avenue. Lex's penthouse was only a couple more blocks away. It was a little odd to be staying with Lex, but nice, too. In just the day that Clark had been there, they'd already spent more time together than they had in all the weeks since the wedding. It was funny. After he and Lana broke up, they really didn't see each other very often. But it was Lex Clark had truly missed.
At the penthouse, he smiled at the doorman, who waved him up. Clark had to admit it was kind of cool. Clark had failed to mention to his parents the real reason he wanted to do this internship. He hadn't even told them that he was going to working on *America's Playboy,* just that he'd gotten a job at the TV station. So their biggest concern had actually been that he would be staying with Lex. It wasn't that they thought he was guilty, they'd assured him. Or at least, his mother had. His father wasn't willing to go quite that far out on a limb. But they just didn't want Clark getting caught up in the publicity, worried as always about protecting his secret.
Clark had promised them that Lex's security would be stringent, and he would keep a low profile, not use his powers unless it was a matter of life and death. They'd grudgingly given in. Although his father had warned him not to get too used to the fancy Luthor lifestyle, like it was a joke, only Clark could tell there was a part of him that meant it.
Clark loved his parents. He would never trade his life. But he had to admit, the penthouse was awfully nice.
He got off the elevator, swiped the card key Lex had given him and went inside.
"Hey, Lex. I'm home," he called.
Lex had gone to talk to Jeff Palmer, to see if perhaps he'd been cooking up some more invisibility potion. Lex had been very generous to his family after he'd dismissed Jeff's mother and asked them to leave the castle. But it was still possible there was some resentment there, and Jeff had shown no compunction about hurting women in the past.
Clark found Lex in the kitchen, searching through a cabinet. "Hey. How'd it go today?" he asked.
Lex turned around. There was a dark bruise high on his cheekbone.
"Geez. That well, huh?"
Lex glared at him.
"Come on." He touched Lex's arm. "You need to get something cold on that."
Lex sighed. "I was looking for the ice pack, but I have no idea where anything is around here."
Clark guided him over to a chair. "We'll have to do it the country way then."
"This doesn't involve [something funny], does it?"
Clark grinned. "And a [something else funny]."
He opened the freezer, found a package of frozen broccoli and wrapped it in a kitchen towel. Lex arched an eyebrow at him.
"Works just as good as an ice pack." He tilted Lex's chin up with this fingers and lightly applied the broccoli to his cheek.
"How does that feel?"
"Cold." Lex smiled. "Better."
Clark smiled back. "Good."
He felt Lex's breath on his hand, and it hit him that he was still holding Lex's chin in his hand, still touching Lex's face. Lex looked up at him, his blue eyes intent and curious, but he didn't pull away, hadn't seemed to mind that Clark was crowded into his personal space as if it were his own. And Clark had a sudden, intense moment of consciousness, so intimately aware of Lex's body and his smell and his gaze. He'd never felt anything like it with anyone before.
"Um. Here you go." He handed the makeshift cold pack over to Lex, suddenly feeling awkward. "I guess you can take it from here."
Lex smiled, one of those inscrutable smiles of his that Clark could never guess the meaning of. "Thanks, Clark."
Clark swallowed. "No problem."
Lex watched him another moment, his gaze heavy-lidded and lazy. Finally, he said, "Mrs. Arnold left us dinner."
"Oh yeah? Anything good?"
"Probably. She's a good cook, or my father wouldn't have hired her. It's in the refrigerator, if you want to check it out. She left instructions for warming it up."
Clark checked the fridge. "Beef stroganoff. Yum."
Lex laughed. "I take it you're hungry."
"Have you ever known me not to be?"
"Not that I can think of."
Clark pulled out dinner and undid the plastic wrap. He found Mrs. Arnold's note and followed the directions. Lex pulled out plates, silverware and glasses.
"What do you want to drink?"
"Water."
He poured Ty Nant for Clark, a Scotch for himself.
"Scotch with beef stroganoff?" Clark made a face.
"After the day I've had, I've earned this drink. I don't care what I have it with."
Clark shrugged. Maybe it was just because he was underage or because his parents never drank anything harder than the occasional beer, but Lex's love for single-malt Scotch was really beyond his comprehension.
"Can we eat dinner in the living room?" he asked.
"Why not?"
They settled onto the sofa and pulled the coffee table close for their dishes. Lex fished a remote out of a pile of about twelve and flipped on the television.
A TV anchorwoman appeared on the screen. "District Attorney Allen Bell called the Lex Luthor case an example of how privilege can lead murder, and he vows not to allow any pressure to be exerted on his office that would stand in the way of justice for Alyssa Jamison and her family..."
Beside him, he could feel Lex tense. Clark took the remote from him and changed the channel.
"*America's Playboy*?" Lex rolled his eyes. "Didn't you get enough of this today?"
"You have to see the new guy they scraped up."
"Randolph Haynes." Lex shook his head with bemusement.
"You know him?"
"Went to prep school with him. And he was at Princeton, too. God. He's the biggest geek ever."
Clark gave him a look.
"Yes, Clark, even a bigger geek than I am. A goofy geek. I'm never goofy."
Clark shook his head. "Never.
Lex narrowed his eyes. Clark smiled innocently. It finally felt like old times between them. If only the circumstances were different. They finished watching TV and said goodnight. As Clark was settling down in the bed in the spare room, he thought how nice it was to have Lex just on the other side of the wall.
***
barely_bean held a Hardy Boys challenge. There was a list of book titles, and you picked one, and wrote a Hardy Boys style story starring Clark and Lex. I chose "The Prime Time Crime" and decided that after Helen breaks up with Lex, he goes on a reality show called "America's Playboy," and ends up being accused of murder. I had 13,000 words of this before I realized that I really didn't know how to make the plot hold together. Bah! There is this one little bit where Lex learns Clark's secret that I really like.
The Prime Time Crime
By Lenore
The music was sappy, the opening titles gaudy. Everything about the show was so god-awful Clark still couldn't believe he and his parents were huddled around the television with bowls of ice cream watching as if they were about to win the lottery. If you asked him, "America's Playboy" was everything that was wrong with the world today, and the people who invented reality TV ought to be taken out and-- have something really unpleasant done to them.
Cassie Bennett, the requisite perky blonde host, smiled into the camera. "Hello everyone, and welcome to our show. You've seen him on television. Read about him in the papers. And now it's your chance to meet him. He's handsome, successful and looking for a good time. He's Lex Luthor. And he's America's Playboy."
The camera cut to a shot of Lex, impeccably dressed as always in a dark suit and signature lilac shirt, smiling rather wryly.
Clark shook his head. "I still can't believe he's doing this."
The blonde returned, wearing a serious, rules-explaining expression. "Every week, you'll see our playboy connect with some of the country's most beautiful women." The camera panned down a line of smiling contestants, all wearing slinky evening gowns, posing with the exaggerated grace of beauty pageant contenders. "We'll follow them on glamorous evenings out and steamy nights in." Cassie's voice lowered suggestively. "Who will be the lucky lady our playboy chooses? That's what everyone wants to know. And you'll be there for every look, every touch, every moment--absolutely live!"
Great, Clark thought. The chance to watch Lex being pawed over by two dozen drooling gold diggers in primetime.
"This has to be the worst idea for a television show ever," he grumbled.
"I think Lex looks very handsome," his mother said, trying to be upbeat.
"Where did they find these girls anyway? I've never seen a bigger bunch of skanks and bimbos."
"Clark Kent!"
He ducked his head. "Sorry, Mom. But it's hard to watch your best friend making a fool of himself in front of millions of people."
His father grinned cheerfully. "Must-see TV, if you ask me."
"Jonathan!" his mother scolded.
His father went back to his Chunky Monkey, trying to look abashed, not very successfully. Clark fidgeted. It was hard to get comfortable when you were watching a train wreck unfold, and it starred the one person who, despite everything, you still admired and respected more than pretty much anyone else.
"He must have taken the breakup with Helen harder than we thought," his mother said.
"Yeah." Clark swallowed hard.
Not that he *knew*, really. Things had been kind of strained between them lately, and that didn't exactly make for heart-to-heart talks. If he was honest, it wasn't just lately, either. This rift--or whatever it was--had started months ago, maybe even as far back as Desiree. Lex had been different after that. Sure, he'd said passion for friends was still a good thing, but Clark had felt something missing. It certainly hadn't helped when Clark got whacked out on red kryptonite and threatened him. Or that Lex found him passed out in the middle of the road and then down in the caves and Clark wouldn't level with him. Or that Clark had practically accused him of trying to kill Lionel and frame his father for it.
Things really hadn't been going that well for a while now.
The simple fact was that Lex Luthor was the last person Clark should ever have become friends with. Lex was too curious and far too determined, and Clark didn't lie nearly well enough. It was easy to see a hundred different shades of doom hanging over their friendship. But that just made Clark want to dig in his heels, fight that much harder. He hated doom. He really did.
On television, Cassie sidled up to Lex. "So how are you feeling?"
Lex smiled smoothly. "Excited to get started."
"Great!" Cassie beamed. "We can't wait to get to know you better and find out just what makes your perfect woman. But first, we want you to hear a little bit about the beauties who'll be trying to catch your eye. Sound good?"
"Sounds great, Cassie," Lex said, with what Clark hoped was irony.
"Fantastic, Lex! So we're going to ask you to watch from backstage. We wouldn't want to make these lovely ladies nervous, now would we?"
"Not at all."
"Wonderful! Lugo will show you the way." A stagehand stepped forward, and the camera followed them. Backstage, Lugo fitted Lex with an ear piece.
"You ready, Lex?" Cassie asked.
"All set."
"Okay then." Cassie turned her floodlight smile on the women. "Ladies. Let's get comfortable. And get to know one another, shall we?"
The women all tittered kittenishly and took their places on the set, settling onto couches and ottomans and chairs, as if they were actually in a cozy living room somewhere, trading girl talk and secrets.
Cassie Bennet plunked down next to a woman with long wavy dark hair. She reminded Clark a little of Desiree. And Victoria. And Helen, come to think of it. He sighed. She'd probably win. Lex always went for the same type.
Cassie leaned in confidentially. "So, Megan, it says here that you've run into a little trouble with the law."
The audience gasped on cue. Megan turned brilliantly red. Apparently, embarrassing the contestants made for good ratings.
"You want to tell us more about that?" Cassie asked.
Megan ducked her head. "Um, no?"
"Come on, girlfriend," Cassie prompted. "Dish. "
The girl sighed. "It was all a big misunderstanding. I swear. I was trying on this dress. My friend had to go, but then I realized she still had my cell phone. So I ran after her. The security guards totally overreacted."
"That's okay. We understand." Cassie patted her arm. "It's a sickness."
"But I didn't--"
"I'm sure Lex finds that very interesting, don't you, Lex?" Cassie interrupted her.
Megan looked like she wanted to hide. Or possibly punch Cassie in the jaw.
Lex smiled chivalrously. "I find everything about these ladies utterly fascinating."
"You're such a sexy sweet talker." Cassie fanned herself with her index cards. "Okay, then. Next up, we have Alyssa."
The camera panned the set, but no one responded. The girls looked around in confusion.
"Alyssa?" Cassie repeated, frowning slightly. "Where's Alyssa?" She stared pointedly off camera, as if trying to get an answer from her producers. And then her expression twisted into a sly smile. "Well, ladies, it seems one of you has decided to skip the formalities and go right to the action. My sources tell me Alyssa has snuck off to meet Lex."
There was a general outcry of *Not fair!* and *That bitch!*
Cassie looked into the camera with a conspiratorial expression. "An interesting development. Let's check in with Lex and see if there are any sparks flying."
Backstage, though, there was a sense of chaos, people running, shouting, although it wasn't immediately apparent what the problem was.
"Cut back to me, back to me," Cassie Bennett's voice thundered, suddenly sounding a lot less perky.
Before the control room could react, however, the camera fastened on something on the ground. It was Alyssa, sprawled and unmoving, blood pooling beneath her.
"Oh, shit!" Clark said.
"Clark!" his mother admonished.
"Sorry. But--"
The next shot was of Lex, staring wide-eyed with horror. The camera pulled back, and it became clear what Lex was staring at. A bloody knife. In his own hand.
"Shit!" Lex said.
Clark looked to his father, who looked to his mother.
"Shit!" she said, speaking for all three of them.
***
It took a good three hours to drive to Metropolis. Clark could make it in about fifteen minutes when he really turned on the speed. Unfortunately, convincing his parents to actually let him go took far longer than that. He was just about to play the "you can't stop me" card, which none of them really wanted, when his mother finally caved in.
"You call me the minute you get there," she said, sternly.
He kissed her cheek. "I will."
His father still didn't look particularly happy. "Always running after Luthor."
"He's my *friend*, Dad," Clark said, tightening his jaw.
His father sighed and looked away. Clark took off before they could change their minds.
Running was one of Clark's great joys. Almost every evening, he went out into the fields, alone, and just let go. He went through most of his life in the equivalent of first gear, but when he was running, he could really stretch, test his limits, be who he really was.
In Metropolis, he stopped at the first pay phone to make good on the deal with his parents.
"Mom? It's me. I got here fine. I'm just about to head down to the studio."
"Oh good, honey. I'm glad you're okay. And glad you called. They've taken Lex to police headquarters. We just saw it on TV."
"Okay. I guess I'll go there then."
"Just be careful."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too, honey."
Clark had learned the location of police headquarters on previous adventure-filled trips to Metropolis, and he superspeeded there, keeping to alleys and residential streets. The last thing he needed was to end up on the Planet's front page tomorrow.
At the station, he was prepared to argue his case. Or, if worse came to worse, beg to see Lex. But it proved unnecessary. The sergeant behind the desk asked his name and told him to wait. He returned a few minutes later.
"This way," he said.
He was surprisingly civil to someone who had come to visit a suspected murderer. But then, Clark figured there had already been calls from the police chief and mayor's office and maybe even the governor's mansion. They were all hedging their bets, no doubt, in case Lex wasn't guilty. Nobody wanted to end up on the wrong side of a Luthor who wasn't safely behind bars.
Clark couldn't quite imagine Lex in a cell, and he wasn't entirely surprised when he was shown into a conference room instead. Lex was sitting at a battered wooden table, without handcuffs or anybody guarding him. He looked tired, but otherwise all right. No police brutality to worry about when you were the second wealthiest man in Metropolis and heir to the first.
"Clark." Lex looked at him sharply. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh--" He felt himself turning red. "I was in the neighborhood?"
"You should go home. Your parents--"
"Know I'm here. Don't worry." He sat down beside Lex. "How are you?"
Lex made a wry face. "I've had better days."
Clark nodded sympathetically. "Yeah."
"I don't suppose it would do any good to say I didn't do it?"
"To the cops? Probably not. To me? Totally not necessary."
There was a flash of surprise in Lex's eyes, just a momentary disruption/glitch of his usual game face, but, God, it pained Clark. It brought back too many bad memories of the last police investigation they'd gotten tangled up in, when Clark had been so terrified his own father might be to blame that he'd-- Yet another reason he and Lex were on rocky ground these days.
Clark cleared his throat. "So, are you getting out of here any time soon?"
"There's a bail hearing in an hour. The lawyer was just here. And my father's coming down." Lex pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure that will be fun."
"At least you won't have to spend the night in jail."
"If the judge even gives me bail, Clark."
"Hey, you're a successful business owner with significant ties to the community. You're not a flight risk."
"Yes, well, it may be a little more complicated than those 'Law and Order' reruns have led you to believe."
"So-- What happened?"
Lex shook his head. "I really don't know. One minute, I was waiting for Cassie Bennett to ask me what my favorite color is. Then, this redhead runs up to me and says she couldn't wait to meet me. And-- The next thing I know she's bleeding at my feet, and I'm holding the murder weapon."
"You didn't see it happen?"
Lex frowned. "No. I mean, I *should* have. I know. But--" He shook his head. "There was just nothing."
"And how about anyone else? There must have been lots of other people backstage."
Lex nodded. "There were. But from what I could glean from the police officers, none of them saw anything, either. I think that's why I'm here and not in lock up."
"You know that's not possible, Lex. A girl can't just get stabbed in front of a whole TV crew, and nobody saw anything. It's like--"
"Something that might happen in Smallville?"
The hair prickled on the back of Clark's neck. Lex was right. After all, Emily had been able to move faster than anyone could see. Eric made himself invisible. The tattoo gang had been able to walk through walls. That a dozen people failed to notice a murder taking place right in front of their eyes wasn't, finally, the weirdest thing that had ever happened.
"Okay, so something's going on," Clark said. "But we'll figure it out."
"There is no 'we' in this, Clark."
"Lex--"
"I'm serious. I appreciate that you came to visit me. That you want to help. But you can't get involved in this. Your parents would have my ass if I let that happen and for good reason."
"But, Lex, I can--"
"Officer!" The door opened, and a cop poked his head inside. "My friend is ready to leave. Can you show him out?"
"No problem, Mr. Luthor."
Clark sighed heavily and got to his feet. "You don't always have to do things alone, you know."
Lex's expression was unreadable. "Get home safely, Clark."
"I'll see you later, Lex."
***
It wasn't hard for Clark to find out when and where Lex's arraignment would take place. The whole police station seemed to be buzzing with it. Clark slipped into the courtroom and waited while other cases were heard. Finally, uniformed officers escorted Lex to the defendant's table. They unlocked the handcuffs, and Lex rubbed his wrists. He sat down next to an older man in an impeccable suit, no doubt the lawyer Lionel had hired to represent him.
They leaned and conferred until the court clerk called the case. "People vs. Alexander Luthor on the charge of murder in the second degree."
Lex and his lawyer both stood up.
"How does the defendant plead?" the judge asked.
"Not guilty, your honor," Lex answered.
"Bail request, Mr. Easterland?" the judge asked Lex's lawyer.
"We'd ask that Mr. Luthor be released on his recognizance, your honor. The prosecution's case is woefully weak. They have no witnesses despite the fact that numerous people were present. No possible motive. All Mr. Luthor did, in a state of shock at seeing this poor girl, was to pick up the knife used to commit the crime. That's what he's guilty of. If Mr. Luthor were not a member of a well-known family, we wouldn't even be here. This is grandstanding at its very worst on the district attorney's part, your honor."
The judge arched an eyebrow. "Mr. Bell?"
The district attorney stood up. "Your honor, the facts are simple. A young woman is dead. The defendant was caught standing over her dead body with the murder weapon in his hand. As the old saying says, if it's look like a snake and acts like a snake, it is a snake. And Mr. Luthor is a cold-blooded murderer. The people respectfully ask that he be denied bail and remanded into custody."
"Your honor," Lex's lawyer interjected. "Mr. Luthor is a respected member of the community with significant ties. He owns and runs his own corporation. He's not a flight risk."
"The defendant is a wealthy man, who has the means to flee and stay gone for a very, very long time," Mr. Bell argued. "In the interest of justice, he should remain in custody."
"We would be willing to surrender his passport as evidence of good faith," Mr. Easterland countered.
The judge held up her hand. "Enough. Bail is set in the amount of two million dollars, cash or bond, and the passport will be surrendered. Preliminary hearing will be held on July 15. Mr. Luthor, I trust we'll see you back here on that date."
"Yes, of course, your honor. Thank you," Lex said, sounding rather relieved.
Clark got up and waited outside the courtroom. When the Lex and his lawyer to came out, Mr. Easterland pulled Lex to the side to give him some instructions. Lex nodded as he listened, looking very serious. When he noticed Clark lurking down the hall, his expression became even graver.
Finally, Lex shook his lawyer's hand and headed toward Clark. "I thought we decided you were going home," he said.
"Um. No. You decided that. I decided not to let you face the criminal justice system without any support from your friends."
"Clark--"
Clark squeezed his shoulder, changed the subject. "So how are you holding up?"
Lex sighed. "Okay. Better now that the bail hearing is over."
Clark nodded. "Do you have to arrange that?"
"My father's people were standing by. They're taking care of it. And I got permission to go home to Smallville. Usually, I guess you're not allowed to leave the jurisdiction."
"That's good--"
"Shit."
"What?" Clark turned around to look.
Lionel came striding down the hall, looking less than pleased, and joined them. "Lex," he said.
"Dad."
Lionel's gaze swept over Clark. "Young Mr. Kent. Come to my son's rescue again, have we?"
"What brings you down here, Dad?" Lex asked, his voice tight, strained.
Lionel shifted his attention back to Lex, his expression dark with disapproval. "I told you this latest little publicity stunt of yours would backfire."
"I'm glad I always have you to say I told you so."
Lionel scowled at him. "I wouldn't have to if you would learn to comport yourself more responsibly. Do you have any idea what effect this is going to have on business? Not only on that little experiment of yours, but on LuthorCorp stock?"
Lex stood up straighter, his eyes got harder. "It's good to know you have your priorities straight, as always, Dad."
"Oh, don't worry, son. I'll get you out of this mess the same way I did all the others. Although stabbing a girl to death on national television, I have to give you credit. That's going to take some real legal miracle working."
Lex swallowed noticeably, but he didn't answer.
"You have a meeting with your defense team first thing Wednesday morning. Don't be late." Lionel swept away.
Clark moved a little closer to Lex. "Are you--"
"Yes." But he didn't sound all right. "Let's just go home, okay?"
"Sure." He put a hand on Lex's shoulder. "Let's go."
They went out a back exit, and luckily, there was no press lying in wait for them. They made it to the car without incident and took off for Smallville. Lex drove as if it took all his concentration, staring straight ahead, both hands gripping the wheel. Clark stared out the window, but the silence soon started to unnerve him.
He cleared his throat. "So-- why did you do it?" Lex's shoulders stiffened, and Clark realized how that must sound. "Agree to be on that stupid show in the first place, I mean."
But this only seemed to irritate Lex further. "You know, Clark, some people think I have a certain appeal. At least, the producers seemed to."
Clark stared at him, incredulously. "Well, duh. I'm sure they practically peed themselves when you said you'd be their playboy." He rolled his eyes. "I just don't understand what *you* could possibly get out of it."
"You don't think a bevy of beautiful women at my beck and call is enough of an inducement for me?" Lex shot him a sidelong glance, his expression curious.
"Oh, please. You can have any woman you want, anywhere, any time. And that show-- is inane and obvious and inelegant and-- so *not* you."
Lex smiled softly. "You know, Clark, that almost sounded like a compliment."
Clark laughed. "Although hardly a surprise, I would think. I'm a hick from Smallville, Lex. You know you're the most refined person I've ever met. By far."
"You're not a hick," Lex said, firmly.
Clark smiled. "Okay. Whatever. But you still didn't answer my question. About going on the show. I mean, nobody could believe it. My parents just stared at the TV like they thought you'd lost your mind."
"And this would be new how?"
"Seriously, Lex."
Lex shrugged. "I guess there's less to lose when the person you want doesn't want you back, and you don't have any hope that's going to change any time soon."
Clark swallowed hard. "Mom said it was probably something like that."
"Your mother's a very wise woman."
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly. Lex met his eyes sharply. "About Helen."
"Oh." He turned back to the road. "Don't worry about it."
"But-- I never really said anything. And I know it must have been really rough. I don't want you to think-- That I didn't--"
"It's okay, Clark. Honestly."
Lex sounded oddly unconcerned, and Clark doubted he would ever fully understand the twisted inner workings of his friend's brain. Maybe this was some tenet of Lionel's freakish life philosophy--you could admit that your heart was broken as long as you didn't sound like you meant it. Maybe in Lex's world you were never supposed to show how you felt about anything. Maybe that was why Clark had never actually witnessed any passionate connection between Lex and Helen. Lex must have kept that as tightly under wraps as his distress at their breakup.
"So what's our next move?"
"Dropping you off at the farm seems the obvious choice."
"You know what I mean, Lex."
"Yes. And the answer's no."
"I can help."
"Clark, I have the resources to hire professionals. I don't need your help."
Lex's dismissive tone hurt, but Clark wasn't going to be put off that easily. "Are you saying that you're not going to do some digging of your own?"
Lex didn't answer, his jaw stubbornly set.
"So it's okay for you, but not for me."
"This is *my* problem, Clark. I'm the one who was stupid enough to go on that show. My father's right. It was irresponsible. I shouldn't have let--" He shook his head. "It's up to me to fix it now."
"We could solve it together. Remember when you said that?"
"And I also remember that you said no on that particular occasion."
"Lex, I couldn't--" Clark sighed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't able to help you then. But I can now. Give me the chance?"
Lex sighed. "It doesn't even matter what I say, Clark. Your parents would never go for it anyway."
"Let me handle them."
Lex threw him a disbelieving glance. "Have your parents radically changed and I'm just not aware of it?"
"My parents would never want to get in the way of my future. And when I tell them I want to spend a few weeks this summer doing an internship at a television station in Metropolis so I can put it on my application to journalism school, I think they’ll see the wisdom in it."
"Clark, I'm hardly in any position to pull strings at WBJX right now."
Clark smiled. "Not you. Chloe. She has connections everywhere. I promise you. She'll know somebody who knows somebody. She always does."
***
Clark never had any doubt that Chloe would come through for him, but this was even better than he'd hoped, an internship on *America's Playboy* itself. It was rather shocking, not to mention in poor taste in Clark's opinion, that the show had taken a scant week off before going back into production with a new playboy and another beauty to take poor Alyssa's place. Apparently, a death backstage could be quite good for ratings, and the show's producers were hoping to cash in on the American viewing audience's morbid curiosity.
Clark wiped his palms on his new pair of chinos. Despite the fact that he was really only there to gather information to help Lex, he was surprisingly nervous on his first day on the set. He didn't want to look like a green horn and make a fool of himself. But working on the school paper wasn't much preparation for actual broadcasting, even if "America's Playboy" wasn't exactly in the same league as "Dateline" or the evening news.
Clark had to find some way to thank Chloe. When he'd asked her, she'd been really cool about it.
"No problem," she'd said. "My uncle's golfing buddy's wife's daughter works on the show. She should be able to get you in. You might just have to promise to give her an interview if you manage to find something that gets Lex off."
"And what do you want for helping me out?"
She'd just smiled, rather mysteriously, and said she'd let him know when she was ready. They'd been doing much better since Clark's relationship with Lana had fizzled. There were even occasions when it felt like old times, as easy and natural as he remembered their friendship being. Still, Clark knew Chloe well enough to be worried what she had in mind as payback for her help.
The people at the main desk had given Clark a pass and sent him up to the sound stage. He hesitated just outside the double doors, took a deep breath and then went inside.
People were hurrying everywhere, shouting instructions.
"Excuse me--" he said to a young woman with a clipboard, but she didn't stop.
He tried to flag down a guy wearing jeans and a toolbelt. "Can you help me--"
"Sorry. Got to get these lights back up pronto."
"Oh. Um. Okay. Nevermind," Clark said, to the guy's back as he rushed away.
He turned around to try to find backstage and rant headlong into Cassie Bennet.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said. "I was just trying to find--"
"Watch where you're going!" she yelled. "Who the hell are you anyway? And what are you doing on my set?"
Clark could feel himself turning red. "I'm Clark Kent, ma'am. I'm your new summer intern." He held out his hand.
She gave him the once over but didn't extend her hand. Apparently, interns weren't high enough on the food chain for a handshake. Clark awkwardly pulled his hand back.
"I need coffee," Cassie said. "Skim milk. 2 Sweet and Lows. Not too light."
"Oh. Okay. Could you tell me where--"
"Coffee. Now," she yelled. "I don't have all damned day."
"Sure." Clark hurried away, although he had no idea where he was going. His face was now beet red.
"Hey, kid," he heard a whispered voice.
He looked around and saw a member of the crew beckoning him over. The man looked to be in his late forties, with a long, graying ponytail, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. Clark thought he might be a cameraman.
"The hospitality table is over there." The guy pointed. "And don't let Cassie get to you. It's nothing personal. She's tough on everybody, and she has this habit of treating summer interns as her own personal slaves. Just let it go in one ear and out the other. That's what I do."
"Hey, thanks for the advice." Clark gave courtesy a second chance and held out his hand. "Clark Kent."
"Jimmy Watkins." Jimmy smiled and shook his hand. "Good to meet you. And welcome to *America's Playboy.* It should be a very interesting summer for you, Clark." Jimmy shook his head. It seemed he was no bigger fan of the show than Clark was.
"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."
Jimmy nodded. And then he nudged Clark with his elbow. "Hey, you better haul some ass with that coffee. When Cassie says she doesn't like to be kept waiting, she really means it."
"Oh. Yeah. Right. I got that impression. Thanks again, Jimmy."
"No problem, kid."
Clark dashed away to the hospitality table, fixed Cassie's coffee and hurried back to find her. She was speaking with a man in a suit, mid 30s, kind of smarmy looking.
"It is not going back on the promise of the show, Victor," Cassie said, rather loudly, sounding annoyed.
"In the promos, we said--"
"A rich playboy. Beautiful girls. We still have all that."
"Live. It's supposed to be live."
"Who the hell cares? The people sitting around in the living rooms eating Doritos just want to see sex. And they'll get plenty of that."
"We still have to explain--"
"No we don't. Look, I know what I'm doing. Just sit back and watch and learn."
"Fine," Victor said, sounding none too pleased. "But remember whose ass is on the line here, Cassie. You're the one who needs this show to succeed. If it doesn't, don't come crying to me."
Victor stomped off.
"I wouldn't come crying to you if you were the last PR guy on earth," Cassie shouted after him. She noticed Clark standing there and said, "Can you believe him He has no faith in me at all."
Clark stammered, "That's really--"
"And where the hell have you been?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Bennett. You seemed busy, and I didn't want to interrupt."
"Victor is nobody. You're never interrupting me if I'm talking to nobody. In television, you either move fast or get the hell out. Understand?"
"Sure. Of course."
"Good." She appeared to be somewhat mollified. "Now, pay attention. I have a few simple rules you need to know. Do what I say when I say it. If you're not busy doing something for me, then help anyone else on the show who needs you. Stay out of the way otherwise. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And stop calling me ma'am. It makes me feel like somebody's great grandmother."
"Yes, ma-- Miss Bennett."
"Better. Now run back stage to wardrobe. The girls are getting into their outfits. See if anyone needs you to run and fetch anything for them."
"Right away, Miss Bennett." If Cassie wanted him to snap to, he could do that.
"Oh, and Clark," she said.
He stopped and turned around. "Yes, Miss Bennett?"
"I'm sure one of the reasons you wanted to intern on this show is for all the hot babes. But just so you understand, this is a 'look but don't touch' situation. These girls have it in their contracts that they're to have no outside involvements with anyone while appearing on this show. And if I see anything that even looks like fraternization, you're out on your ass."
Clark frowned. "I would never--"
Cassie looked at her watch. "How long is it going to take you to get backstage?"
"Um. I'm going right now." He rushed off.
It took all his self-discipline not to superspeed and show her just fast he could move. He was beginning to understand why everyone on the set seemed so edgy.
He eventually found his way to wardrobe and took a deep breath before stepping inside. He had this image of a roomful of half-naked women, and he wondered if he could still do his job with his eyes closed. But inside, there was so much activity and clamor that even if every woman in the room had been stark naked Clark would barely have noticed, much less have been embarrassed by it.
"Where is my pink blush? It was right here. Who took my damned blush?" a voice rang out, although Clark couldn't see who it was.
"This dress is too plain. I need a scarf. Or something," another voice added to the chorus.
A girl down at the far end of the room was struggling to zip up her gown. Clark snaked his way through the crowd.
"Can I help you with that?" he asked, a little shyly.
The girl turned around. She had long dark hair and almond-shaped eyes that gave her an exotic look. Actually, she sort of reminded him of Lana.
"I'd really appreciate that," she said, smiling at him.
He did up the zipper for her, careful not to touch skin.
"Thanks," she said. "I've been asking someone to help me for, like, the past ten minutes. But everyone's so competitive." She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I can imagine." He thought about Cassie's warning and figured it wasn't a good idea to linger. "Well, good luck."
"Hey, thanks!" She smiled brightly and turned back to the mirror to work on her makeup.
A blonde nearby was holding up a shoe and yelling, "Where the fuck is the other one? I can't find it anywhere."
Clark used his x-ray vision to scan the room. The shoe was hidden behind some shopping bags. He retrieved it and handed it to the woman. "Here you go, Miss."
She took her shoe, looked him up and down. She was pretty enough, with long golden hair and blue eyes, but there was something a little off about her features. Clark wasn't quite sure what, but somehow he thought he'd seen this somewhere before, too.
"Are you going to stand there gawking all day?" the girl asked, with a sneer. "What's wrong? Don't they have women where you come from?"
Clark blushed fiercely. "Um. Sorry." He was only trying to help. God, this was more humiliating than high school.
He made his escape to the hall. Maybe a quick breather would give him the courage to go back and try again.
A young man in his twenties, with a slight receding hairline, dressed in a somewhat Don-Johnson-esque loose fitting white suit, leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette despite all the "do not" signs posted in the hallway.
"There's nothing more terrifying than a pack of women all desperately looking for the right lip gloss, is there?" the man asked, smiling.
Clark let out his breath. "I guess not. I didn't expect it to be so--"
"Dangerous?"
Clark grinned.
"Randolph Haynes." He held out his hand.
"Clark Kent." They shook.
"So you're a--"
"Summer intern," Clark explained. "Basically, I do whatever anybody tells me. And as quickly as possible."
Randolph smiled. "Good to know. I might need to send you out for a pack of smokes later. I'm the new playboy, by the way. I don't know if they told you."
Clark shook his head. "No. They didn't really tell me too much of anything. But that's great. I hope you have fun." He smiled politely.
Okay, so he was biased, but this guy couldn't hold a handle to Lex.
"Oh, I will. Not to worry. But, of course, a man in my position never has any trouble attracting female companionship, if you know what I mean." He winked.
"Um. Yeah. I can imagine." Nope. Not even in the same league as Lex. "Hey, it must be kind of weird, huh? I mean, after all that trouble with the last guy. My mom and dad weren't even sure if they still wanted to me work here after-- you know, what happened."
"Hmm. Yes. It has been an interesting situation." Randolph looked off into the distance, thoughtfully. "You know, Clark, from what I've seen of Cassie Bennett, she's very protective of her show. People around here are pretty tight-lipped because of that. Probably best for you not to bring up the past. Just a word to the wise."
Clark widened his eyes, trying to look hopelessly naive, an expression Chloe always assured him he'd mastered completely. "Oh, yeah. Thanks. I wouldn't want to get on Miss Bennett's bad side."
Randolph smiled. "That's the spirit. Stick with me, Clark. And you're going to learn a lot about handling women."
Clark put on his "oh, golly thanks" smile. He could only imagine what kind of pointers Randolph Haynes might have for him.
***
After the show finished taping, Clark walked home to the penthouse. Lex had offered to send the limo to meet him somewhere away from the studio, but Clark hadn't wanted to risk it. Besides, walking gave him a chance to see more of Metropolis, to get more familiar with it.
Clark had spent most of the day either getting coffee or standing around trying to figure out what was going. But when they were finally ready to tape, Cassie allowed him into the control room, pointed him to a corner and told him not to move. It was pretty cool, he had to admit, watching the producers put the show together.
He couldn't really say he'd picked up anything especially useful to Lex's case. Maybe there was something in that conversation he'd overheard Cassie Bennett having with Victor, the PR guy. He'd have to see if he could find out why she needed a hit so badly. It still bugged him that he couldn't remember who that rude blonde woman reminded him of, not that it had anything to do with the investigation. It was just one of those things that nag at you.
He turned onto Courtland Avenue. Lex's penthouse was only a couple more blocks away. It was a little odd to be staying with Lex, but nice, too. In just the day that Clark had been there, they'd already spent more time together than they had in all the weeks since the wedding. It was funny. After he and Lana broke up, they really didn't see each other very often. But it was Lex Clark had truly missed.
At the penthouse, he smiled at the doorman, who waved him up. Clark had to admit it was kind of cool. Clark had failed to mention to his parents the real reason he wanted to do this internship. He hadn't even told them that he was going to working on *America's Playboy,* just that he'd gotten a job at the TV station. So their biggest concern had actually been that he would be staying with Lex. It wasn't that they thought he was guilty, they'd assured him. Or at least, his mother had. His father wasn't willing to go quite that far out on a limb. But they just didn't want Clark getting caught up in the publicity, worried as always about protecting his secret.
Clark had promised them that Lex's security would be stringent, and he would keep a low profile, not use his powers unless it was a matter of life and death. They'd grudgingly given in. Although his father had warned him not to get too used to the fancy Luthor lifestyle, like it was a joke, only Clark could tell there was a part of him that meant it.
Clark loved his parents. He would never trade his life. But he had to admit, the penthouse was awfully nice.
He got off the elevator, swiped the card key Lex had given him and went inside.
"Hey, Lex. I'm home," he called.
Lex had gone to talk to Jeff Palmer, to see if perhaps he'd been cooking up some more invisibility potion. Lex had been very generous to his family after he'd dismissed Jeff's mother and asked them to leave the castle. But it was still possible there was some resentment there, and Jeff had shown no compunction about hurting women in the past.
Clark found Lex in the kitchen, searching through a cabinet. "Hey. How'd it go today?" he asked.
Lex turned around. There was a dark bruise high on his cheekbone.
"Geez. That well, huh?"
Lex glared at him.
"Come on." He touched Lex's arm. "You need to get something cold on that."
Lex sighed. "I was looking for the ice pack, but I have no idea where anything is around here."
Clark guided him over to a chair. "We'll have to do it the country way then."
"This doesn't involve [something funny], does it?"
Clark grinned. "And a [something else funny]."
He opened the freezer, found a package of frozen broccoli and wrapped it in a kitchen towel. Lex arched an eyebrow at him.
"Works just as good as an ice pack." He tilted Lex's chin up with this fingers and lightly applied the broccoli to his cheek.
"How does that feel?"
"Cold." Lex smiled. "Better."
Clark smiled back. "Good."
He felt Lex's breath on his hand, and it hit him that he was still holding Lex's chin in his hand, still touching Lex's face. Lex looked up at him, his blue eyes intent and curious, but he didn't pull away, hadn't seemed to mind that Clark was crowded into his personal space as if it were his own. And Clark had a sudden, intense moment of consciousness, so intimately aware of Lex's body and his smell and his gaze. He'd never felt anything like it with anyone before.
"Um. Here you go." He handed the makeshift cold pack over to Lex, suddenly feeling awkward. "I guess you can take it from here."
Lex smiled, one of those inscrutable smiles of his that Clark could never guess the meaning of. "Thanks, Clark."
Clark swallowed. "No problem."
Lex watched him another moment, his gaze heavy-lidded and lazy. Finally, he said, "Mrs. Arnold left us dinner."
"Oh yeah? Anything good?"
"Probably. She's a good cook, or my father wouldn't have hired her. It's in the refrigerator, if you want to check it out. She left instructions for warming it up."
Clark checked the fridge. "Beef stroganoff. Yum."
Lex laughed. "I take it you're hungry."
"Have you ever known me not to be?"
"Not that I can think of."
Clark pulled out dinner and undid the plastic wrap. He found Mrs. Arnold's note and followed the directions. Lex pulled out plates, silverware and glasses.
"What do you want to drink?"
"Water."
He poured Ty Nant for Clark, a Scotch for himself.
"Scotch with beef stroganoff?" Clark made a face.
"After the day I've had, I've earned this drink. I don't care what I have it with."
Clark shrugged. Maybe it was just because he was underage or because his parents never drank anything harder than the occasional beer, but Lex's love for single-malt Scotch was really beyond his comprehension.
"Can we eat dinner in the living room?" he asked.
"Why not?"
They settled onto the sofa and pulled the coffee table close for their dishes. Lex fished a remote out of a pile of about twelve and flipped on the television.
A TV anchorwoman appeared on the screen. "District Attorney Allen Bell called the Lex Luthor case an example of how privilege can lead murder, and he vows not to allow any pressure to be exerted on his office that would stand in the way of justice for Alyssa Jamison and her family..."
Beside him, he could feel Lex tense. Clark took the remote from him and changed the channel.
"*America's Playboy*?" Lex rolled his eyes. "Didn't you get enough of this today?"
"You have to see the new guy they scraped up."
"Randolph Haynes." Lex shook his head with bemusement.
"You know him?"
"Went to prep school with him. And he was at Princeton, too. God. He's the biggest geek ever."
Clark gave him a look.
"Yes, Clark, even a bigger geek than I am. A goofy geek. I'm never goofy."
Clark shook his head. "Never.
Lex narrowed his eyes. Clark smiled innocently. It finally felt like old times between them. If only the circumstances were different. They finished watching TV and said goodnight. As Clark was settling down in the bed in the spare room, he thought how nice it was to have Lex just on the other side of the wall.
***
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