Author's Note: Okay, so here's the second chapter. I basically imagine the story flowing like a comic book. I obviously have nothing against Lois Lane; I just really like drama amongst characters lol. I really like Jessica Cruz as a character, and I believe she could be a best friend to anyone. So please read and review. I appreciate comments š
As usual, I do not own DC comics or their characters. I just own Anya Martinez.
Chapter 2 Party Time
"Earth to Anya!"
My head snaps up to Jessica. How long have I been ignoring her? My eyes search all around us and I see darkness has already closed in on us. Lifting my cell phone, I see five unread text messages from Clark.
"You know he's going to be there at the gala tonight, right? He's a reporter and he'll most likely talk to you. You might as well suck it up and hear what he has to say," Jessica says seriously. "You can't ignore him forever; just like I can't ignore John and Shayera. They'll find me within seconds."
"I'm the reason why he and Lois are divorced-"
"You cannot be the only reason why they divorced. They were probably having problems before you came along."
"She kept him grounded on Earth; she kept him in check when his super abilities boosted his ego. I kept him soaring higher and higher in the sky when he would fly me above the Daily Planet just because he wanted to bring a smile to my face. I obviously went against their code of keeping him human whenever possible," I unknowingly raise my voice.
Jessica sighs sadly. "Whether you believe it or not, you brought out the human side of Clark. You gave him a newfound purpose because you're the daughter he never had. Kara doesn't count; she can take care of herself. You on the other handā¦you made him selfless because you needed him and heā¦needed you."
"He shouldn't want anything to do with me. Heā¦worried about me too much," my voice cracks from the harsh reality of what I caused in Clark Kent's lifeā¦and Superman's life, I suppose. "I don't even know what to say to him. Saying sorry times infinity isn't enough. Iā¦caused too much damage."
I remove myself from the balcony to dress for the gala. I decided to go just because Jessica wanted me to go, and I intended to somewhat enjoy myself for the remaining night. I mentally prepare myself for what can happen tonight even if the odds just want to screw me over again and again.
We were approached quickly at the location. A valet took Jessica's green sportscar and leaves us on the red carpet to go park it in the parking lot. Jessica flips her curly dark hair back and smiles at the photographers and reporters ahead of us. She removes her dark jacket and reveals her long, dark green dress with a slit at the side. John Stewart would have a heart attack if he saw her.
"You look really great but I seriously doubt they want pictures of us," I whisper to her. I cover myself with my jacket and walk beside her. "We're nobodies, remember?"
"Who cares? This is the one time I can feel like a celebrity or model or something! Oh dios mio, Anya! Enjoy yourself for once!" Jessica hisses and rips my jacket off me.
The cold air instantly spreads bumps along my flesh. The dress I chose tonight was my party dress; the mini black one I wore when I was rebellious since I couldn't afford a new one on such short notice. The only thing that was different tonight was a push-up bra to make my cleavage moreā¦noticeable, since Jessica insisted we meet guys tonight.
My long dark hair swayed to the side when a breeze hit us. My newfound confidence was extraordinary. I've never felt so beautiful in my entire life.
A limo pulls up behind us as the reporters and photographers surround the vehicle. Jessica exhales dramatically. "There goes our fifteen seconds," she mumbles.
"Who is so important here anyway?" I ask, trying to stand on my toes even though my high heels prevent me from doing so.
"The prince of Gotham, who else?" Jessica answers dryly, and pulls my arm inside the high-class establishment.
Inside is something I could only imagine in dreams. White statues of Greek mythology peoples surround every corner. Marble walls, diamond white and gold chandeliers, and a huge stage at the back coldly whispers at me to leave. I certainly don't belong here.
Jessica and I were surrounded by famous people who certainly didn't know us. A server comes to us with champagne. Jessica takes two glasses for us.
"Who invited us here anyways?" I ask her.
"My mom and dad," she answers and takes a long sip. John and Shayera, her foster parents invited us. Why would they? Where are they anyways?
"What's the purpose of tonight? Children's hospital, random charities, auctions or-"
"Oh, for the love of Gods! Can't you stop asking questions for ONE night and have fun?" Jessica snaps and downs the remaining champagne in her glass. "I'm going to go mingle. Maybe you should too!"
Jessica disappears into the crowds within seconds. Holding my fresh champagne glass in my hand, I move myself to one of the statues to observe the people here. The music the band is playing is jazzy and only some couples are dancing. I wonder what time I can slip away and leave before anyone really sees me.
"There's nobody but fake people here," I mutter under my breath. "They're just a bunch of snotty-ass, selfish, egotistical people who see themselves as Gods. Overall, just fake people."
"Really? Just fake people, huh? I like to consider myself a human being who strives to help people and make the world a better place for everyone to live in," a voice says behind me. The voice is deep yet has a charming tone to it. "I've never once considered myself a God."
I whip around, and I'm immediately face to face with Bruce Wayne; the man Jessica claims is the Prince of Gotham. Standing at 6'2, Bruce's structure resembles Clark's except Clark is more muscular. Bruce's dark hair is gelled and combed to the side except it appears a bit messy and unkempt as if he was in a fight or something. What a ridiculous idea; as if the Gotham's most eligible, billionaire, bachelor was in a fight.
My eyes searched all around him. His eyes were as blue was the ocean; striking and alluring. His cologne was addicting too, everything about this man is addicting.
"The Prince of Gotham," I murmur softly. I barely notice his black tie is loose unlike the other men's.
"I prefer the Son of Gotham, but then again, Bruce is just fine," Bruce says kindly, and lifts my hand up to kiss it. "And you areā¦"
I swallow hard. How can this attractive man be talking to me? I'm nobody! "Anya, Anya Martinez-Kent," I answer, before mentally slapping myself for adding Kent to my last name. How could I be so stupid?
"You're Clark Kent's daughter?" Bruce asks incredulously. "The daughter of the reporter from Metropolis?"
"Adopted," I answer fast. I'm Mexican American and Clark Kent is a Kansas boy; it would be impossible for me to be his biological daughter. "I'm not his real daughter."
As if Bruce could read my mind, he quickly clears his throat. "I didn't mean to offend you, Anya."
I know Bruce Wayne isn't racist. He has been with women of different color (from what I read in the tabloids) but for some reason, I feel as if he's judging me. My cheeks burn and I suddenly feel self-conscious being here. I glance down at my arms and the bumps return from the chill around me. I practically hug myself to cover my chest. I suddenly wish my curve-hugging dress was below the knee.
"Father, I searched all around for the server and I couldn't find the shrimp," a boy speaks as he approaches us. He must be ten, I assume. His spiky dark hair is messy like Bruce's, and it dawns on me that this boy is Bruce's son. "Who is this?"
Before Bruce can answer, I find the courage inside me to speak for myself. "Nobody, it was nice to meet you," I say coldly and remove myself from them quickly.
Their eyes are on me. I can feel them burning into my back. I make my way to the other side of the room to get a drink before a man trips behind me and his notepad and camera slide over to me.
Only one man can fake his clumsiness like this.
Clark Kent.