Reasons Why
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a picture of Josh Hartnett and a pack of
cigarettes. (I don't own anything in this story)
In the quiet solitude of the evening night, a lone figure stood alone at the corner of Fourth and Main. He was wearing a light gray button down shirt hidden behind a sweeping black jacket that brushed the ground when he walked. His shoes were made of the finest leather and had Italian written all over them. His attire made him stand out in the low-income neighborhood, and he would have felt less confident if he didn't have a .45 tucked into the back of his grossly over priced slacks.
His pale skin shone in the moonlight and the glow around his bald head made the few drivers that passed slow down and peer at him, thinking that perhaps he was some sort of heavenly creature who had been placed on this earth to relieve man of his suffering. However, all thoughts of angelic saviors were quickly diminished when they noticed his eyes. They were like pools of blue water that had been frozen over and after many years had simply given up any possibility of being thawed. There was no fire in this man. If there ever had been it had been doused out long ago and the chance to rekindle it was slowly slipping away.
To the average person he looked like any other 19 year old, red-blooded American. It was, however, only a mask put on before the play. He played his part well. Line for line he easily slipped into the character he was supposed to be. At times it was necessary that he play the part of the well loved son of a millionaire. If stock was suffering he and his father would attend a charity function and give excessive amounts of money to a throng of smiling reporters. He and his father would hug, smile at each other, exchange a few words and the stocks would go back up. It was all a calculated performance that came to a shattering end as soon as the curtain fell. The audience would applaud and depart leaving the man alone at center stage, standing in the lime-light with a million words to say and no one left to hear them.
He was empty and alone staring in a mirror at a reflection he hardly recognized. He was empty and alone searching for something to hold onto. He was a child forced to grow up in a world of lies and deceit. Which was why he was now standing on the corner of Fourth and Main. A black Porsche pulled up to the intersection and flashed its lights once. The man leaned his head to the side and moved toward the car. The .45 moved, making a small circular motion against his back and gave him a sickening feeling of steel comfort. He pulled the door open and nodded at the driver "James."
"It's good to see you again." James smiled and put his hand out in a gesture of welcome but quickly pulled it back when he saw the glint in the young mans eyes.
"Do you have the stuff," he nearly growled, his demeanor changing from cool and collected to that of a man who hadn't eaten in months.
"Jesus, you really need to lay off. This is the third deal in as many weeks. I'm not looking to lose business and if they find you in a gutter somewhere.." James trailed off noticing that the man leaning into the car really didn't care if they found his body. For all he cared he was already dead. "It's in the back. Where's the money?"
The young man pulled out a cell phone and spoke quickly and sharply into the receiver. He snapped it shut and snatched the packet out of James' hands. "Five thousand transferred into your Caiman accounts. Thanks as always. It's been a pleasure."
The hostility in the man's voice struck something inside James that he hadn't felt in years. He was a dealer and he wasn't supposed to feel remorse for his customers. Yet, there was something about this boy - this child - that made him hate his job. James closed his eyes and composed himself. He turned to see the man already halfway down the block. He called out the window and the man stopped and turned, his coat flapping around his ankles.
"Be careful." The man simply smirked and turned his back on the shiny Porsche. "Oh and Lex. Don't get caught."
Lex didn't even turn around. His simply took one breath in, let it out slowly and resumed walking.
The following week James sat in a corner diner eating watery eggs and coffee that was strong enough to eat through concrete. He flipped casually through the morning paper until a headline caught his eye.
"LUTHOR HEIR CAUGHT WITH DRUGS SETENCED WITH A MINIMUM ONE YEAR REHAB"
It was at the back of the paper and James knew that the Luthor money had a lot to do with its placement. This was front-page news that was crammed in between the obits and the funnies. James sighed and placed a hundred-dollar bill on the table. "Keep the change," he noted to the stunned waitress.
One Year Later
There was absolutely nothing worse than spending ones twenty-first birthday in rehab. It almost made Lex grateful for the sight of his father at the checkout counter: almost.
"Son," Lionel greeted him coolly.
"Father." Lex couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice. During his whole stay his father had only come to visit him once and it was to tell him that LuthorCorp was doing well. "What's new?"
"I've got some work for you," Lionel smirked as though he knew something Lex didn't.
"Good. I've been waiting to get back to work," he said deciding to play off his wariness. He smirked as his father handed him a folder. Flipping it open he thumbed through the documents. "What's my job description."
"I need you to be head of operations at the Smallville plant. I just lost Thompson to some sort of family emergency." Lionel let out a harsh laugh at the irony of 'family emergency' as he glanced around the hall of the drug rehab.
"Smallville. I'm better than that. I was running the offices in Metropolis. You can't degrade me to Smallville."
"Really son. Do you know how much it hurt the stocks when that little article was published? I'm not degrading you to Smallville. You earned it." Lex was shocked at the anger in his father's words. He saw the fury in his eyes and felt his heart break for the last time when he realized that the only reason his father was so upset was because stocks were hurt.
"Smallville it is." The defeat in his voice was quickly masked by his trademark smirk. "Smallville it is."
LEX LUTHOR HEIR TO A FORTUNE EXILED TO SMALLVILLE
James folded up the paper tucked it under his arm and smiled as he walked down the crowded avenue. Smallville would be the safest place in the world for Lex.
In the quiet solitude of the evening night, a lone figure stood alone at the corner of Fourth and Main. He was wearing a light gray button down shirt hidden behind a sweeping black jacket that brushed the ground when he walked. His shoes were made of the finest leather and had Italian written all over them. His attire made him stand out in the low-income neighborhood, and he would have felt less confident if he didn't have a .45 tucked into the back of his grossly over priced slacks.
His pale skin shone in the moonlight and the glow around his bald head made the few drivers that passed slow down and peer at him, thinking that perhaps he was some sort of heavenly creature who had been placed on this earth to relieve man of his suffering. However, all thoughts of angelic saviors were quickly diminished when they noticed his eyes. They were like pools of blue water that had been frozen over and after many years had simply given up any possibility of being thawed. There was no fire in this man. If there ever had been it had been doused out long ago and the chance to rekindle it was slowly slipping away.
To the average person he looked like any other 19 year old, red-blooded American. It was, however, only a mask put on before the play. He played his part well. Line for line he easily slipped into the character he was supposed to be. At times it was necessary that he play the part of the well loved son of a millionaire. If stock was suffering he and his father would attend a charity function and give excessive amounts of money to a throng of smiling reporters. He and his father would hug, smile at each other, exchange a few words and the stocks would go back up. It was all a calculated performance that came to a shattering end as soon as the curtain fell. The audience would applaud and depart leaving the man alone at center stage, standing in the lime-light with a million words to say and no one left to hear them.
He was empty and alone staring in a mirror at a reflection he hardly recognized. He was empty and alone searching for something to hold onto. He was a child forced to grow up in a world of lies and deceit. Which was why he was now standing on the corner of Fourth and Main. A black Porsche pulled up to the intersection and flashed its lights once. The man leaned his head to the side and moved toward the car. The .45 moved, making a small circular motion against his back and gave him a sickening feeling of steel comfort. He pulled the door open and nodded at the driver "James."
"It's good to see you again." James smiled and put his hand out in a gesture of welcome but quickly pulled it back when he saw the glint in the young mans eyes.
"Do you have the stuff," he nearly growled, his demeanor changing from cool and collected to that of a man who hadn't eaten in months.
"Jesus, you really need to lay off. This is the third deal in as many weeks. I'm not looking to lose business and if they find you in a gutter somewhere.." James trailed off noticing that the man leaning into the car really didn't care if they found his body. For all he cared he was already dead. "It's in the back. Where's the money?"
The young man pulled out a cell phone and spoke quickly and sharply into the receiver. He snapped it shut and snatched the packet out of James' hands. "Five thousand transferred into your Caiman accounts. Thanks as always. It's been a pleasure."
The hostility in the man's voice struck something inside James that he hadn't felt in years. He was a dealer and he wasn't supposed to feel remorse for his customers. Yet, there was something about this boy - this child - that made him hate his job. James closed his eyes and composed himself. He turned to see the man already halfway down the block. He called out the window and the man stopped and turned, his coat flapping around his ankles.
"Be careful." The man simply smirked and turned his back on the shiny Porsche. "Oh and Lex. Don't get caught."
Lex didn't even turn around. His simply took one breath in, let it out slowly and resumed walking.
The following week James sat in a corner diner eating watery eggs and coffee that was strong enough to eat through concrete. He flipped casually through the morning paper until a headline caught his eye.
"LUTHOR HEIR CAUGHT WITH DRUGS SETENCED WITH A MINIMUM ONE YEAR REHAB"
It was at the back of the paper and James knew that the Luthor money had a lot to do with its placement. This was front-page news that was crammed in between the obits and the funnies. James sighed and placed a hundred-dollar bill on the table. "Keep the change," he noted to the stunned waitress.
One Year Later
There was absolutely nothing worse than spending ones twenty-first birthday in rehab. It almost made Lex grateful for the sight of his father at the checkout counter: almost.
"Son," Lionel greeted him coolly.
"Father." Lex couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice. During his whole stay his father had only come to visit him once and it was to tell him that LuthorCorp was doing well. "What's new?"
"I've got some work for you," Lionel smirked as though he knew something Lex didn't.
"Good. I've been waiting to get back to work," he said deciding to play off his wariness. He smirked as his father handed him a folder. Flipping it open he thumbed through the documents. "What's my job description."
"I need you to be head of operations at the Smallville plant. I just lost Thompson to some sort of family emergency." Lionel let out a harsh laugh at the irony of 'family emergency' as he glanced around the hall of the drug rehab.
"Smallville. I'm better than that. I was running the offices in Metropolis. You can't degrade me to Smallville."
"Really son. Do you know how much it hurt the stocks when that little article was published? I'm not degrading you to Smallville. You earned it." Lex was shocked at the anger in his father's words. He saw the fury in his eyes and felt his heart break for the last time when he realized that the only reason his father was so upset was because stocks were hurt.
"Smallville it is." The defeat in his voice was quickly masked by his trademark smirk. "Smallville it is."
LEX LUTHOR HEIR TO A FORTUNE EXILED TO SMALLVILLE
James folded up the paper tucked it under his arm and smiled as he walked down the crowded avenue. Smallville would be the safest place in the world for Lex.