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Disappointed	By : Milk-Bunny Category: DC Verse Comics > Superman Views: 4626 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The author does not own SUPERMAN or any afilliated trademarks or copyrights. This story is intended for the free public use of adults only.

Chapter List
- 1-Disappointed
- 1
Disappointed
I'd come to Metropolis a few months previously. It isn't that much different from where I was from. All tall buildings look tall, you know? Like people. They don't change from one coast to another, not like you might think they would. It's sort of a disappointment, really.
But life's full of disappointments. I learned that early. Real early, like the first time my daddy taught me how to play 'mommy' with him. Disappointment and pain, oh yeah. It took me three tries in four years to get it right, but I finally ran far enough fast enough that Daddy couldn't rescue me.
I bet he's disappointed.
Anyway, this ain't about my problems. Bartenders who spill don't get tips, that's lesson number one. And I need all the tips I can get, you know?
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I picked up the bottle from under the bar and poured another slug for the guy, it was only his third but he was light. He was older than me, late twenties maybe, and handsome or so I judged if he was cleaned up. Maybe even pretty with his bright blue eyes, high cheeks and softly pouting lips. His hair was black and cut fashionably short with just the barest hint of a cowlick, irrepressible and boyish and utterly sexy.
But he wasn't cleaned up. He was slouching, bent over the bar on his elbows. Wearing a rumpled gray suit, his shirt no longer starched and white, a striped tie hanging around his neck like a noose. His eyes were bright, the rye hadn't clouded them so completely yet, but they burned cold with precious little life. He was dying, this handsome man, right before my eyes.
I watched as he lifted the glass to his mouth, tilting his whole body back, the way inexperienced drunks did it. A little shiver as the whiskey burned it's way low, down into the trenches of whatever battle the man was fighting. He held the glass a second, eyes closed, and then set it down carefully.
"Another…" He kept his eyes closed and when I hesitated they opened, fixing on me with such pain that I involuntarily took a step back. "Please, Miss…"
"Ivy." I recovered. "My name is Ivy and I'm not sure you need…"
"Ivy," he repeated, smiling as if he should have known that already. "Need…" he seemed to pause, searching for the right words, "…has nothing to do with it, Ivy."
I shrugged and looked away. Looking into that man's eyes were like looking into my own life, my own soul. It hurt and confused me. I concentrated on pouring him another drink.
"How old are you, Ivy?" he asked, watching my hands intently.
"Old enough." I smiled, but didn't look up. I corked the bottle and left it on the bar this time.
The man rotated the little shot glass slowly, his thumb and fingers working it round and round. "No, really. I want to know."
"I'm twenty-two." I glanced down the bar, checking my three other customers and they seemed okay. I was kind of looking for an excuse to get away because I thought I knew what was coming.
"Hmmm…" He smiled to himself, so slightly that I barely caught it. "Every number has a meaning. When I was twenty-two I saved the world. Twice." The man chuckled. "Twenty-two is how many times old Mrs. Daley's cat got stuck in her tree, and how many times I got it down. And twenty-two…twenty-two…" He looked up suddenly, catching me by surprise, staring into my soul with those eyes. "That's how many times I told her..." His voice drifted softly away beneath his gaze.
"Uh…" I looked away, finding my bar towel.
"You're a beautiful young woman, Ivy." He drank his shot, grimacing in the mirror as I watched. "Good bartender too."
"Thanks." I wasn't sure what else to say. Most guys are easy to talk to, or easy to ignore, but not him.
"Who are you?" He caught my look as I refilled his glass. "I mean, when you're not here. Who are you, Ivy?"
I shrugged and smiled weakly. "I'm still me."
"You're not a bartender all the time," the man insisted. "Are you?"
"No. I'm an actress, sometimes." I picked up my little towel and worried it. "I mean, off Broadway, you know. Little things."
"Oh." He sounded vaguely disappointed by that and it almost made me angry.
"How about you?" I challenged him. "Who are you? When you're not a drunk, who are you?"
"You mean really?" The way he said it made me wonder if I truly did want to know. Like it was a secret. A secret of the most dangerous sort.
"Yeah," I said softly just to reassure myself, then to him. "Yeah, really. I really wanna know."
The man lifted his drink, looking into the darkness before tilting it back with a smile. "I'm Superman," he said softly, setting his glass down and reaching inside his suit coat for his wallet. He pulled out two twenties, laying them on the bar with an extra little pat. He stood up, a bit unsteadily and looked around. "Where's the men's room, Ivy?"
"Back there," I pointed. "First door on the left."
He nodded and started walking slowly.
"You're not, you know," I called after him. He just waved over his shoulder and continued on.
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The place was a dive, just a little hole in the wall off 127th street in the garment district. Busy time was afternoon, by eight the place was dead. By nine there were just the regulars, my little trio at the end of the bar. They were security guards for some of the warehouses and liked to get braced for their shift. Once in awhile a bum would stumble in, or somebody lost maybe. But this part of town was largely empty after the sun went down, lifeless and cold.
The guy who owned it was in my acting class. He owned a lot of little properties around Metropolis, but none of them made him any money. Just enough to pay for his lessons, he said, and that was enough. He had dreams of making it, being on the stage in a Broadway musical. His name was Mel and he was 72 years old. He told me he'd never been disappointed in his life, but I didn't believe him. I didn't want to.
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I was setting my regulars up with another round when the man came back, walking slowly and holding his hands out a little.
"You're out of paper towels," he said, sitting down in front of his bottle. I hadn't touched his money, but I'd poured him another drink.
"Most guys who come in here wouldn't notice." I laughed and grabbed a clean bar towel. "Here."
He looked down the bar at the three men and nodded. "I believe you."
I stood back and poured myself a Diet-Coke, sipping it while he dried his hands. "So what happened to you?" I asked.
"Huh?" He turned his eyes on me again and I looked down.
When I looked up again he was drinking his whiskey, giving a little shake of the shoulders as it went down. "I mean the booze. What's a guy like you crawling into the bottle for?"
"Maybe I like to drink," he said sullenly, putting his glass down with a heavy thud and reaching for the bottle.
"My job." I smiled and grabbed it before he could. I spoke slowly as I poured, "You get fired or something?"
He seemed to find that funny and he chuckled softly as I grabbed a basket of old popcorn out of the machine, putting it on the bar for both of us. I've always liked popcorn when it was just a little stale.
"Oh, right." I laughed too. "I forgot who you were. Okay, so you didn't get fired. Um…Your best friend died?" I was talking as if to myself, like I was solving a crossword puzzle out loud. "No, couldn't be that…" I glanced at him and snapped my fingers. "Girl trouble!"
"What?" He looked up sharply and for the first time I saw something, a little spark of interest in his eyes. This time I didn't look away, but he did. Staring down into his drink.
"You wanna talk about it?" I offered, knowing that he did.
"No." He picked up his drink, sipping it slowly so it burned.
"Hey, look…sometimes it helps, you know? Talking to a stranger, a female to boot. It might give you a whole new perspective." I smiled supportively. "Believe me, I know about these things."
"You…You got it all wrong," he sighed. "My problem isn't like that."
"Like what?" I prompted, refilling his glass. "Excuse me. How you guys doing down there?" I looked at my regulars and they waved they were fine and I turned back to him. "Okay. Start at the beginning."
"Her name is…Lois. We work together and…"
"Wait. You work together? I thought you said you're Superman, so who's she…Superwoman?"
"No…Uh-uh. I work at the Daily Planet, she's…she works there too. I'm a reporter and, well…It's hard to explain. I just want a normal life too, and so I work and…"
"So, you're like a cross-dresser? Okay, got it." I giggled, trying to imagine Superman working a nine-to-five like a regular Joe.
"No. Come on!" But he was smiling and he sort of blushed, just a little I thought. "Anyway. We work together and I like her a lot. I mean, I really like her as…as who I am at work."
"The normal you," I nodded as though it made sense.
"Yeah. No." He made a face. "Superman's the normal me. This…" He looked down at himself. "Anyway, Lois, she likes me as Superman and, well she likes me at work too, but she doesn't…"
"Love you?" I finished and he nodded, looking up with appreciation.
"Right. She loves Superman," he sighed. "At work she thinks…Lois thinks I'm a joke."
"Why?"
"Because I have to act different, sort of clumsy and not very strong or brave. I…well…I can't use my powers or anything." He picked up his drink. "It's my disguise." He swallowed it down and licked his lips. "That and, uh…These." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses.
"That's your disguise?" I asked, maybe a little incredulously and the man gave me a look. "Wait a sec. Now this Lois, she works with you every day, right?"
He nodded. "Right."
"And she's seen Superman, right? Like close-up and personal?"
"Uh-huh. We've, uh, we've kind of gone out…uh, flying and stuff." He smiled a little sheepishly. "I've rescued her a lot."
"And this woman, she doesn't know you and Superman are the same guy?" I admit that there were certainly a number of things about the man's story that were hard to believe. Not the least of which was that Superman would be sitting in my bar getting drunk, but this was too much.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Lois can't tell. Nobody can."
"Put on the glasses." He did. "Take them off." He did. "Put them back on." He did it again and I shook my head. "You look like you with big black glasses on."
"Well, I comb my hair a little different," he shrugged. "And the outfit, you know, the cape and the big S on my chest, they kind of distract the eye, so maybe…" his voice trailed off.
"So maybe she's an idiot," I said and I poured him another drink.
"No! No, she's…" he started protesting and I waved him off.
"Forget I said that." I munched a little popcorn thoughtfully, not wanting to point out the obvious too quickly. "Why don't you just tell her the truth?"
"That I'm Superman?" He reached for some popcorn too.
"Yeah," I shrugged. "She's gonna be pissed when she finds out you've been lying, but if she really loves you, she'll get over it."
"I've thought about it, believe me." He sounded wistful. "But I can't. She wouldn't be safe then. I can't put Lois in danger, I just can't. People would try to use her against me."
"Ohhhhkay." I pursed my lips. "Sounds like you have a real problem then."
He nodded. "Well, not really. Not anymore."
"Oh?" I tilted my head a little, the way I do when my curiosity is piqued. "What do you mean?"
"She, uh…Lois is…" He set his square jaw for a moment and then shook his head. I could see him wrestling with the desire to get whatever was bothering him off his chest and I sympathized, I really did. But I love gossip too.
"Here." I picked up his drink and pressed it into the man's hand, smiling secretly inside as he threw the whiskey back without a moment's hesitation. It was time for some courage and I was curious.
"Thanks." He blinked rapidly and I quickly refilled his glass.
"Sure." I smiled my best sisterly smile. "You were saying Lois is…"
He took a deep breath. "She's a slut."
"Really?" I narrowed my eyes a little, not entirely sure what the problem was.
He nodded solemnly. "Lois is a…a whore." He stared down at his drink. "I just found out today, by accident from…from…"
"Who?" I urged gently, reaching out to rub the man's broad shoulder. "Just let it out, all of it, you'll feel better. I promise."
"Jimmy. Jimmy Olsen is a photographer at work. Just a cub, you know? Just a kid and, well…He's my friend too. And Superman's friend…I thought." He tensed noticeably.
"This…Jimmy…He and Lois?" I asked softly.
"Yeah. I was looking for Jimmy, about an assignment, and I went in the darkroom, where he develops his pictures." The man shook his head. "Jimmy wasn't in there, but his pictures were. Fresh ones, still drying like…like diapers on a clothes line and…and they were pictures of her."
"Of Lois?"
"Yeah. Lois and Jimmy together." The man's sweet blue eyes, wet with pain stared into mine. "It was unbelievable how…how they were doing it. In her…her mouth and in her…you know..." He choked back a little sobbing sound. "…back there…"
"In her ass?" I offered.
He nodded. "Yeah. Her…ass. Everywhere. Jimmy Olsen, my friend. My best friend…" he spat the words out, "…he…used her. And she let him!"
I glanced down the bar, since the guy was getting loud, but my regulars were gone. I hadn't even noticed. "Well, some girls like that sort of thing and it doesn't make them whores…"
"No!" He shook his head in confusion. "Not Lois. She was pure and I…I thought she was the one. I've never…I mean…" He was blushing gently. "I'm from Smallville and…"
"Not a whole lot of sodomy in Smallville, eh?" I reached out and touched the back of his hand.
"No…Not like that. Not unless the girl is a whore." He shook his head, lifting his eyes to my face. "You're not…I mean, you don't let men…"
I sighed inwardly. This guy was a certified virgin, alright. He needed a woman on a pedestal badly or he was gonna self-destruct. When torn between the painful truth and comfort, I always lied.
"No, of course not." I managed a blush of my own, as though the very idea were enough to frighten me. He smiled at that little bit of hope, so I pushed for more. "Finish your story. What happened next?"
He swallowed hard, nodding slightly and I knew this little confession was doing him good. "I…I went a little crazy then. I turned the office upside down, you know? The darkroom, Jimmy's desk, everything and…"
"You found more?" I asked, really feeling sorry for the guy. His shoulders were stooped, his head down and his voice faltering. Whoever this guy was, he was in trouble, I thought.
"Lots more." He took another shot, gunning it down without pleasure and I refilled his glass. "He had photo-albums full of her, of them, going back for years. Doing it every chance they got, I guess. And Jimmy. Little red haired Jimmy, with his freckles and big teeth, skinny little arms and scrawny legs…My friend Jimmy was taking pictures the whole time."
I shook my head in shocked sympathy.
"You know what he told me once?" The man looked at me. "Jimmy said, 'Supe, you're my hero.' He said that after I rescued him and Lois from an airplane that was about to crash into the ocean." He nodded to himself. "It was going straight down and I caught it, picked it up and carried it on my back for a thousand miles. After I put it on the ground, Lois gave me a big kiss and told me she loved me."
He swallowed his shot and gave me a nod, holding up his glass for more.
"Guess what I found in one of those photo-albums." He gave me a sad smile, his brow knitted with irony. "I found pictures of Lois and Jimmy joining the mile high club. Yeah, that's right. On that same flight," he sighed. "I thought her lip gloss tasted funny."
"That's awful!" I sighed with him.
"But that's not the worst thing." His lower lip trembled.
I was afraid to ask, but I did anyway. "What else?"
"The worst is…they joined after the engines blew up." I watched a single tear roll down his cheek. "While I was carrying the plane to safety they were…inside…they were…doing it."
I dabbed at a tear of my own, feeling my heart breaking for this poor man. How could anyone be so cruel? What sort of woman would do that to…to…Superman?
"What…?" I asked, mostly to myself.
That was when I finally got it.
"Oh brother." I frowned and the guy looked up, sensing something was wrong.
What was I doing? This guy wasn't Superman! For crying out loud, I'd seen Superman before. Everyone has. Big glossy pictures in Time magazine, interviews on TV. Throwing out the first pitch at the World Series last year. Everybody knew Superman and this guy wasn't him, glasses or no, I'd be able to tell. Anyone would. And a regular job? A girlfriend? Come on! This guy told a hell of a story, I'd give him that. It almost worked, but he pushed it just a bit too hard right at the end. If he thought he was getting into my panties with that crap, he was very much mistaken!
"Okay, that's enough." I took the bottle away. "The bartending association has a rule, if you start crying you stop drinking."
"But…" He looked at me as if I'd just slapped him, which was maybe what he needed.
"No buts, it's closing time. I have a casting call at 7am tomorrow, so I need some sleep, huh? It's been real and it's been nice…" I rang up his forty dollars, not bothering with change.
"But…" he tried to interrupt as I stepped around the bar and pushed him towards the door.
"But it hasn't been real nice." I smiled and waved as he stepped into the night. "Bye-bye! Thank you. Come again."
"But…"
I closed the door on his but and locked it. "God! I'm such a sucker!" I told myself with a heavy sigh. "What a disappointment."

the end
- 1
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Disappointed