“Partners!” Perry proclaimed. “Bernstein & Woodward!” “If he compares us to Bernstein & Woodward one more time—” Lorry muttered to Clark.
“Better than Regis and Kathy Lee,” Clark said, and Lorry laughed.
For all his snark, Lorry was in a good mood, and Clark wanted to don his Superman suit and race to the moon and back. He felt like a stupid teenager (he likes me—he really likes me!).
He grinned at Lorry, only to see the other man’s smile fade when Perry said, “You’re going to cover the upcoming boxing match.”
“I don’t do sports,” Lorry bit out.
Perry gave him a look composed of sympathy and decisiveness. “You’re the best person to cover this particular story.”
Lorry scowled and hunched his shoulders. Perry eyed him guardedly and turned to Clark. “Fighters out of Menken gym are setting up amateur bouts. A kind of semi-legal fight club thing—there are rumors of under-the-table gambling.”
Lorry stomped away. Clark and Perry watched him collect his bag from his desk and march towards the elevators.
“Coming, Kent?” he called without looking back.
Perry muttered, “Good luck.”
 |
| This came up for "Superman |
| boxers"--I couldn't help myself. |
Clark waited until he and Lorry were outside heading for the gym. He commented on the weather. He pointed out a potential human-interest story of vendors by the park: how did they pick their spots? He wondered if he should break into song. He could handle belligerent, sarcastic Lorry. Withdrawn, quiet Lorry unsettled him.
Lorry said abruptly, “My dad is a doctor. Orthopedics. He performs work on boxers at Menken gym.”
“So he’s our ‘in’?”
“With a son who’s out.”
Clark’s chest constricted. Lorry’s tone was impossibly dry. His eyes were shuttered. So that announcement hadn’t gone well.
Clark was fairly sure that his parents would support him if he came out. Probably. Most likely. They’d supported him through everything else.
But wasn’t it asking too much? After the alien-thing and the superpowers-thing? The worries he knew they had whenever a natural disaster was on the news and Superman flew off to help?
Which didn’t mean that Lorry’s parents shouldn’t fully support him. Lorry deserved it.
He said, “Your dad—ah—"
“He didn’t throw me out on the street to starve,” Lorry said. “He was, what’s the phrase he used, profoundly disappointed.”
Clark couldn’t fathom it—who could possibly look at smart, funny, handsome, independent, informed Lorry and be disappointed? Profoundly or otherwise?
But of course, there was the Grand Canyon-sized gap between people’s public image and their family's and friends’ private expectations. Clark remembered way too many high school and college bull sessions where his peers declared the importance of being honest with themselves, their parents, the world. Be who you really are!
Clark never knew how to respond. Yeah, lying was bad, and he never did it. Except for every moment of every day that he absolutely did. So, sure, he was hiding being gay. He was hiding everything else.
I’m a precious moments doll.
He said, "I don't think Perry should have asked you—"
"Give me a break. Of course, he should have. It's a story. I have a source. Perry doesn't coddle."
A freakin' precious moments doll. Clark sighed.
They arrived at Menken Gym, where Lorry began to rattle off facts and statistics about boxing as soon as they entered. At some level, Lorry must have anticipated this assignment.
Or so Clark assumed until one of the trainers—a short, stocky man of sixty—strode up, face flushed with pleasure, and shouted, “Lorry!”
Lorry gave him a hug before introducing him to Clark.
“This is Ali.” They shook hands, Ali giving Clark a speculative glance. Apparently, he had no issues with Lorry’s orientation and anticipated being introduced to a boyfriend.
“My partner at the paper,” Lorry said quickly, and Clark quelled a pang of disappointment. He had no right to claim Lorry. He tried not to wonder how he was going to react the day Lorry did bring a boyfriend around.
* * *
Lorry hated mixing family and business. He hated having to break off Ali's reminiscences with questions about the gym and his dad. He hated having to watch his dad’s careful responses to his questions about the boxers’ unusual strength, hated his father’s mix of reserve and placating wistfulness (“Hey, I’m trying to get along with my gay son.”).
You treated me like a bigger disappointment than one of your downed athletes.
He was grateful for Clark’s unassailable, patient presence and then pissed because of course, Perry had guessed that Lorry would welcome a partner—buffer—in this case. Manipulator.
The phone rang and Lorry hit speaker to keep his hands free. At the sound of Ali’s voice, he picked up the phone to give them more privacy.
“Hey, kid, I think I got something you should know.”
They arranged a meeting. It never occurred to Lorry that Ali might be in danger, that he should have started shouting for Superman the second he answered the phone and heard Ali’s voice. Because Ali never made it to the meeting.
“Victim of a hit and run,” the police officers told Lorry.
Bit of a coincidence. Lorry didn’t say it. He wasn’t in the mood for his own snarkiness. He huddled on a chair in the hospital waiting room, wishing that Perry and his father and the whole world would vanish into a deep dark hole.
A hand touched his shoulder. Clark settled beside him. He’s warm, Lorry thought in bemusement. It’s like he soaks up heat and radiates it throughout the day.
Clark said, “Superman got there too late.”
Clark sounded flattened, subdued. Guess he’s as susceptible as the rest of us to the Superman craze.
“If he’d gotten there in time—”
“Hey,” Lorry said. “Superman is a fast, strong man, person, alien-guy. He’s not God. Crime has gone down since he got here. It hasn’t vanished.”
The big guy relaxed and Lorry let Clark loll against Lorry’s side, knees knocking slightly, arms brushing. Right—I’m letting him.
Clark said, “I think you’re the only person I know who doesn’t think Superman should do more.”
“Idiots,” Lorry said without his usual rancor. “They should try remembering life before he got here—you know, six months ago.”
“I’m–he’s still sorry. About Ali.”
“Ali was a friend,” Lorry said, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against Clark’s shoulder. “He accepted me, gay gene and all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Gotta love the way my dad’s associates solve their problems.”
“You think—?”
“Don’t you?” Lorry said, too tired to fix Clark with a blistering gaze.
“Your dad may not know what he’s gotten into,” Clark said gently.
Always trying to save people from themselves.
So, okay, yes, if having a partner meant having Clark there, then it wasn’t all bad. Which didn’t let Perry off the hook.
In the end, Lorry’s dad did the right thing: he confessed to performing semi-illegal medical enhancements on the boxers and turning a blind eye to the gym’s off-the-book gambling. Lorry had no time to feel gratified since he was kidnapped by Max, the head of the gambling consortium.
He stood in a dank alley thinking, What the hell is my life? First Ali. Then me. Do I shout for Superman or hope Clark called the cops? Then Lex Luthor stepped out of the shadows and confronted Max. Max’s gun jerked up, Lex shot first, and Lorry stared down at a dead body.
Well, here’s a story, he thought before glancing up at Lex. And Lorry would definitely never be good enough for Superman (or Clark, if Clark wasn’t straight) because the next thing he thought was, Maybe I’ll get an interview with Lex now.
