Poor
Baltimore – 10th Avenue Free Clinic – 9 years ago
The waiting room was standing room only. Jonathan was finally back seeing a doctor about his high blood pressure and hopefully to get a refill on his pills. Clark found a seat for his mother and stood next to her. They had been here 3 hours already. Most of the people around them had been waiting just as long. It was one of the things you learned when you're poor. The world runs on other people's time. You're constantly reminded that their time is more valuable then yours.
The Kent family or whatever name they were using that week, were poor. Even back on the farm things had been tight, but since hitting the road they hadn't gotten tighter. They both worked and now that Clark was 13 he pitched in where he could, mostly odd jobs that didn't check too closely his age. The family had adjusted to their circumstances, but it was hard going.
There is no shame in being poor, or at least there never used to be. The overwhelming majority of people since the beginning of time were poor. They still are. In fact the idea of a middle class is a relatively new concept. For most of human history you were either rich or poor, with the overwhelming likelihood being you were poor. If you're reading this, consider yourself one of the lucky ones. You're probably not poor.
That isn't to say hurrah for being poor!
It's just the way things are. No one wants to be poor, but most of the people that are really don't have a choice in the matter. Lately it seems some people have forgotten that. They rail against the poor as takers not makers, or free loaders gaming the system. There's always a lot of talk about personal responsibility and pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. They hold up one example as sort of anecdotal evidence that if this person can do it, then everyone should. They take the bold stand in favor of cutting food stamps or drug testing welfare recipients. They talk a lot about reigning in entitlements as fiscally responsible, yet those on the other end of the spectrum, the corporations and wealthiest one percent pay less in taxes then they ever have.
The problem with standing up for the poor is there's no money in it.
A single person household on Welfare will show an expected average of up to $200 per month, with an additional $133.08 per month in food assistance per person. If that's gaming the system, it's a weak job of it.
Some conservative scholars argue that the government must stop "coddling" the poor with welfare benefits and often attribute the prevalence of inequality and working poverty to overregulation and over taxation. Of course liberal scholars have a different opinion. It is interesting that no matter which side they are on, those scholars offering solutions have one thing in common. None of them are actually poor, quite the opposite really, so all their theories really have no real world consequences for them if they're wrong. It also makes you wonder about those advocating for certain programs or advocating reducing welfare benefits and enacting less stringent labor laws. Who are they really interested in helping?
Follow the money.
One of the euphemisms for being poor is disadvantaged. In many senses that comes close to explaining a lot. Bill Gates learned computer coding in his junior high school in the 1960s. Most poor school districts didn't even see a computer until the 1980s or 1990s. Now that's a disadvantage.
If you're poor the likelihood that someone you know or someone in your family being in jail is high, as is the likelihood someone else close to you has a drug problem. So at the bottom end of the economic spectrum what you had is a poorly educated, violent, drug filled world with little or no chance at any upward mobility that's getting larger all the time. It's surprisingly easy to slip into being poor, but much harder to climb back out.
Of course there are those abusing the system. That happens with every system and always will. Does 200 bucks a month, plus another 140 in food stamps really sound like you're getting one over on anybody?
These probably weren't the thoughts going through a 13-year-old Clark's mind at the time. They were more the silent sorts of lessons we all experience as we grew up in relation to our status in society. Without putting it into words society reinforces roles and views towards all of us in a million little ways we're not always conscious of. When you're poor those assumptions come fast and furious. Add in being illegal and people can say pretty much anything they want about you and get away with it. Others views of you get shaped by those assumptions and words, so even if they aren't true, they become the prevailing view. That's how stereotypes are born.
What a 13-year-old Clark was thinking about was the same thing most 13-year-old boys think about, girls. There were a couple of girls around his age in the waiting room and occasionally they would look over and smile at him. He'd noticed, but so had Martha Kent. Her son was becoming a handsome young man and it seemed more and more young women were noticing. Like most mothers she both liked that thought and didn't like that thought. He was her little boy after all. She worried about when that noticing turned into something more. She knew there were certain things no matter how much a mother might not want them to happen, they always do happen. She thought perhaps it would be best if she were there the first time he did more than just notice girls. They were waiting anyway, so now seemed as good a time as any.
"Why don't you say hello to them, Clark?"
His head snapped around like it was on a swivel.
"Wh-What?"
"Those two girls that have been smiling at you and you've been smiling back at,' Martha explained. "Why don't you go talk to them?"
"No." He tried to sound as adamant as his 13 year old voice could on the subject.
"Oh, don't be shy, honey,' Martha said. "How about I invite the over here, then?"
"Definitely, NO."
"Are you sure?" She asked. "I could just wave them over and introduce you. How does that sound?"
"Like a nightmare. Please, please, don't embarrass me, Ma,' he pleaded.
"Embarrass you?" Martha replied. "I'm not, I promise. I just thought you might need a little help meeting them. Is that so bad?"
"Having my mom call over two girls and introduce me? Yeah, that's embarrassing,' he replied. "I'm okay with this, really. I don't need any help, Ma."
"Oh really?" Martha said with surprise. "Are you saying you've already talk to girls?"
Now he wasn't sure what to say. Thankfully, Jonathan emerging out of the back rescued him.
"Pa's done, we should get going,' Clark quickly said.
"We're not done talking about this,' Martha said as she got up and moved towards her husband. "So what did the doctor say?"
"My blood pressure's a little high, but he gave me another prescription,' Jonathan said. "I'm also supposed to watch what I eat."
"Did you ask him about the weight loss?"
"Yes, he said it was probably stress, but that it wasn't anything to worry about right now."
"Stress? That's all he said?' Martha asked. "Did he run any tests or anything?"
"No, but he did set me up for an X-ray at the hospital,' Jonathan replied. "So why don't we get out of here. We've been here long enough."
"Sounds good,' Clark replied, heading for the door.
"We need to talk about something concerning him, John,' Martha whispered.
"What? Did something happen while I was in the back?"
"Yes."
"Trouble?"
"Yes,' Martha replied. "Girls."
"Oh."
Martha didn't see the small smile that came to Jonathan's face as they exited.
Metropolis – Now
Most of the landscaping crew was around Clark's age. So when he got them their money, all of their money and tipped them off to the raid, they felt like celebrating. Being 22, hitting the clubs and perhaps meeting someone sounded pretty good to Clark, so he joined them. They all piled into the vintage Chevy Impala and headed out for a night on the town.
While Clark and the rest of the crew had all grown up poor, that didn't mean that everything was a grind. There were good times, just like everyone else. While the world from the bottom up may be loud, violent, angry and dangerous, it's also where most of the modern culture comes from. Music, fashion, language, it doesn't come from the top down, but from the bottom up. When cool hunters go out looking for the next big thing to rip off, they head for the street not the picket-fenced suburbs.
Tonight, as the Impala rolled down the streets of Metropolis, a mix of Latin flavored hip-hop blasting from the speakers they were heading towards a hot club that would be the talk of the Metropolis' elite in-crowd in six months. Besides the music the car was filled with laughter and talk about what they were going to do. It was filled with hope for what the very near future would bring.
Detroit – Now
Two miles below the A.R.G.U.S. field office was something only those with the highest clearance even knew existed. They called it the Circus. It was basically a prison run by A.R.G.U.S. for beings they called Breachers. Breachers were beings from other dimensions and other worlds that had arrived on Earth. Amanda Waller was in charge of the project. At the moment she was no happy. Steve Trevor, the official head of A.R.G.U.S. had just found out about the Circus's existence after being on the job for five years. He wasn't happy either. He'd shown up at the Detroit office, demanding to see it. After some general confusion, Amanda had arrived and reluctantly agreed to show him the facility. They were currently two miles below ground and she was showing him around.
"So as you can see, each pod is specifically designed to hold the Breacher and neutralize their abilities,' Amanda said as she gestured to the containment areas. "Any other questions, Steve?"
"I have about a million questions, Amanda,' he replied.
"I'm on a tight schedule, Steve, so why don't you hit the most important ones?"
"Why?"
"Because these creatures invaded Earth,' Amanda explained. "They are violent and had to be put somewhere for the time being."
"How did they get here?"
"It's sort of in the name, Steve, they breached dimensions," Amanda replied. "We've noticed over the past few months there has been a weakening in the divide more than usual. As a result of this more of these creatures have been arriving all the time."
"So this is some sort of inter-dimensional prison?" Steve asked. "Why wasn't I told about this before? I am supposed to be in charge of A.R.G.U.S. Amanda."
"And I'm still your boss,' she replied. "It was on a need to know basis. It was decided you didn't need to know. Some questions have been raised about your attitude towards this sort of threat."
"This is about that boy, isn't it?" Steve grumbled. "It's been five years, Amanda and you still haven't found him. He hasn't done anything to threaten Earth in all that time. Doesn't that tell you anything? I suppose you have a cage all ready for him down here too?"
"Yes, it's has something to do with that boy, as you call him, Steve, but that's not the only concern,' Amanda stated. "Your new meta girlfriend, Wonder Woman and your continued championing of her raised questions too."
"If you're all so worried about me, why not just fire me?" He asked.
"Because you're good at your job, Steve,' Amanda explained. "Your experience is a valuable commodity and might be needed in the future."
"Always practical, aren't you, Amanda?" Steve said, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm.
"Let me ask you, Steve, this new group your girlfriend has just joined, the Justice League,' Amanda said. "They've only been together a short time, but they've already demonstrated their abilities. What happens if they get out of hand? Who's going to stop them if they do?"
"What are you talking about, Amanda? The Justice League came together and saved us all from those supervillians plans to take over the world,' Steve stated. "The President is honoring them right now!"
"Yes, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Cyborg, Shazam, Aquaman and Green Lantern stopped the threat this time, but it only showed us that we need a team of our own,' Amanda replied. "They are affiliated with no one and so far answer to no one. Our government sees them and the rise of other Meta threats as a warning that the game's changing. We need our own team."
"And how does that have anything to do with this place?"
"Think of this as a recruiting ground for our team,' Amanda said with a smile.
"You're going to use these aliens for that?"
"Some of them, perhaps."
"The boy?"
"He's hardly a boy anymore, Steve,' Amanda replied. "Yes, there's been talk about it when we find him, but most are more worried about him than anything else. He's been able to blend in all this time and that makes him more dangerous than the others. That's another aspect of this place. We're using some of the aliens to find the aliens that have slipped through the cracks. Your boy is a perfect example."
"He'll never work for you, Amanda,' Steve stated. "I don't know anything about him, but what he's been through already makes your chances nil at recruiting him. You represent the people who killed his family. He's not going to forget that."
"Then he'll stay in the cell specifically designed for him, Steve." Amanda replied. "Now if there are no more questions, I'm late for another appointment."
Steve just shook his head and followed Amanda as she headed towards the elevator back to the top. As they were walking, Steve noticed a massive titanium door that resembled a bank vault except on a much bigger scale with a large Omega symbol on the door.
"What or who is that for?" He asked.
"That's project Omega, Steve,' Amanda said. "That's definitely not something you need to know about."
Baltimore – 9 years ago
Martha and Jonathan had discussed their son's interesting in girls and it was decided, actually Martha decided, that it was time for Jonathan to have a man-to-man talk with Clark. Jonathan wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, but he'd been married to Martha long enough to know he wouldn't win this argument. Reluctantly he stepped out the backdoor of the small house they'd rented and walked over to their son. Clark was currently under the hood of the old truck.
"Clark, what are you doing?" Jonathan asked.
When his dad used his real name, Clark knew something was up. He'd also heard his parents' discussion earlier.
"I, um, I'm fixing the truck,' he replied. "I read a book about it and thought I could save us some money if I fixed it myself."
"Good thinking,' Jonathan said. He was always impressed with his son's abilities. "So how's it going?"
""Okay,' Clark wearily replied. "The truck is in pretty good shape."
"Good, good,' Jonathan said with a nod. He really wasn't sure how to start this particular conversation.
"Mom wants you to talk to me, doesn't she?' Clark said.
"You heard that, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Well, it's just that you're getting older now, Clark and she, well, we feel it's time we discussed what that means.' Jonathan fumbled to say.
"I know about sex, Pa,' Clark replied, still under the hood of the truck.
"Yeah, I figured you're read a book about that too,' Jonathan replied. "The way you can remember stuff you could probably tell me some things I don't know."
Clark didn't respond. Jonathan glanced back at the house and knew Martha was watching. He figured he might as well get this over with. First though, he wanted to clarify something before they began.
"When you said you know, you don't mean you have, did you?"
"No," Clark admitted, blushing just a bit.
"Okay then,' Jonathan replied, a bit relieved at that. He'd been thrown for a moment, but now he felt like he was back on solid ground. "Clark, come out from under the hood and let's talk."
Clark closed the hood and slowly walked over to his father. It always amazed Jonathan how someone who could move as fast as Clark could move so slow when he wanted to.
"Sit down, son."
The two of them sat down in two of those cheap plastic patio chairs you see at the discount stores. Jonathan rubbed his hands together, while Clark sat back and just waited.
"I'm not really good at this,' Jonathan admitted. "The only advice my father gave me was to be like Mr. Heinz and sample all 57 varieties. Your grandfather wasn't the sort that liked to talk about these sorts of things."
"We don't have to either, Pa,' Clark offered hopefully. ""I do understand how everything works, really."
Jonathan smiled at this. It seemed Clark was more like him than he'd imagined.
"Well, understanding is different than doing, son." Jonathan glanced back at the house. "Some times sex is the easiest part of being in a relationship, trust me."
"It is?"
Jonathan turned his attention back to his son. He hadn't meant to say that, but it was out there now. He had always tried to be honest with Clark so now didn't seem like a time to stop.
"Well, yes,' Jonathan admitted. "The problem is too many fellows think that's all there is to it, Clark. I don't want you to be one of them. It's like anything else; a man has to accept the consequences of his actions. If sex is all you want from a girl, you're almost better off paying for it."
"Jonathan Kent!" Martha shouted from the house.
He realized he'd probably said too much. The look on Clark's face told him he had. Jonathan realized he should have prepared something instead of just winging it.
"Okay, let's just forget that last part,' he said to Clark. He rubbed his hands together, even more uncomfortable than he was before. Growing up in a small town conservative family there just were some things you didn't talk about.
"This was your mother's idea." Jonathan leaned in and said to Clark, hoping to ease the awkwardness. The backdoor opened and then slammed as Martha Kent came marching towards them. Jonathan quickly added, "Which I completely agreed with, Clark."
"Nice save, John," Martha said with a roll of her eyes. She turned to look at her son. Her first instincts were to have this conversation with him herself, but judging by his reaction at the clinic Martha didn't want to mortify her boy. She knew there were certain things a boy doesn't want to talk to his mom about, and this was probably at the top of the list. She knew the sort of private man Jonathan was, so this was obviously hard for him too. She felt like she was going to have to start the conversation for them.
"Clark we're just worried you're going to have sex before you're ready,' Martha said. "If you were to get one of these young girls pregnant, you'd be responsible for that. I'm sure you have urges, son, but there are other ways of taking care of them."
"MOM!' Clark gasped, mortified by all of this. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was at that moment.
"Martha,' Jonathan said, stepping in front of his wife and gently running his hands up her arms. "You're making him uncomfortable. Hell, you're making me uncomfortable. Let me handle this, okay?"
"You're the one that brought up paying for it, John,' Martha fired back.
"Okay, I admit that was a mistake, but please, just let me handle this,' he replied. "Okay? Please?"
Martha didn't like it, but the look on her son's face told her it was probably for the best.
"Oh, all right, but think before you speak, John.'
"I will, I promise."
Martha nodded and reluctantly headed back into the house. Jonathan waited until she was back inside before sitting back down next to Clark.
"I think we both dodged a bullet there,' he mused.
"Do we have to talk about his, Pa?"
"I think we do,' Jonathan admitted. "I want you to feel you can talk to your mother and me about anything, Clark, even if you're uncomfortable about it or we are. Well, mostly me, but you understand what I mean. don't you?"
"Yeah."
"You're going to want to date soon, Clark, if you haven't already thought about it,' Jonathan continued. "That's perfectly natural, so you shouldn't be embarrassed by it. I just want you to make sure you're doing it for the right reasons."
"What do you mean?" Clark asked.
"I mean you don't have to do something just because you can,' Jonathan explained. "If you ask a girl out, do it because you genuinely like her and want to get to know here better, not because she's the prettiest or most popular or has a reputation. Treat her with respect, but make sure she respects you too. Some fellows treat it like a game, trying to score as often as they can regardless of whom it might hurt, but they're missing out on what it's really about. Finding someone that's right for you, that fits and you're right for too, is so much better than just a string of meaningless encounters."
Jonathan looked at his son and realized what he was taking about was for later in Clark's life, not now. Now he needed to hear some practical advice to help start him on his way.
"Look, I wish I had all the answers, son, I don't,' Jonathan admitted. "I made more than my share of mistakes when I as your age and you will do. It's part of figuring it all out. It did work out for me though and I found the right one."
Jonathan glanced at the house and saw Martha in the doorway.
"I guess the best advice I can give you is to treat everyone as you'd want them to treat you. Show them respect and honesty. Don't force them to do anything they aren't ready to do and don't do anything you don't feel ready to do,' Jonathan offered. "You're going to make mistakes and get hurt, everyone does. You just have to try and learn from those mistakes. Like I said, I don't have all the answers. I grew up a farmer's son, Clark, in a very small town. I had people judge me because of that and I've heard all the names, hick, hayseed, you name it. Some people aren't going to wait to get to know you before they judge you. Try not to do that yourself and things should work out okay."
"You mean because we're poor?" Clark asked. "It already has, Pa."
Jonathan saw the pain flash across his son's young features and it made his own heart hurt that he'd been exposed to it already.
"I know these last few years have been hard on all of us, Clark, but they've also been a gift."
"How?"
"When I was your age I liked to believe that good people came in all shapes, colors and sizes, rich and poor,' Jonathan explained. "If we'd never left Smallville I'd still believe that, but since we've been traveling around I've come to know it's a fact. Knowing is always better than believing, son. Us moving so much has allowed us to meet people from all over, different kinds of people, both good and bad. I like to think it's stripped away any prejudice we might have and now we see people for who they really are, without worrying about whether they're rich or poor, whatever shape, size or color they are. That's the gift of seeing the world clearly and you can't put a value on that."
"I guess,' Clark offered.
"Keep that in mind when you start to date, son, it should help,' Jonathan said. "Oh and one more thing."
"More?" Clark groaned. Jonathan smiled.
"This is the easy part,' he said. "When you're out there, don't be afraid to talk to the pretty ones and most of all try and have fun."
"How am I supposed to have fun if I got to remember all that other stuff,' Clark grumbled.
Jonathan laughed and put his arm around his son.
"You'll figure it out, people always do,' he said. "Now let's go in for dinner."
Before they reached the porch, Martha had come outside and was waiting for them. She liked what Jonathan had said, but she just wanted to add a couple of things of her own.
"What?" Jonathan said as she saw her.
"I just wanted to add something, that's all,' she said.
"More?" Clark groaned again.
"Yes, more,' Martha replied. "Clark, if you're going to be dating there are some simple things to always remember. Don't be a jerk and don't put up with jerks, male or female. Be willing to accept no as an answer and don't let anyone treat you like you don't want to be treated or treat them badly either. And like your father said, have fun, just not too much fun, you're only 13 after all."
"Yes, Mom, can we eat now, please?"
Metropolis - Now
5Four70 resided in what used to be the meatpacking district of Metropolis. It was a study in angles and curves. The dance floor was on the lowest level and was referred to as the Pit. Plexiglas walls surrounded it curving inward as they rose, almost funneling the music back towards the dancers. The music ranged from hip-hop to techno. Surrounding the dance floor on two levels were tables, with two bars on each level. The walls were covered in some sort of aluminum foil replica wallpaper, reminiscent of Warhol's Factory. Large framed pictures of anonymous people's arms hung haphazardly at different eye levels. Flat screens lined the walls behind the bars randomly switching between stations. Because of the design it was possible to speak at a normal tone of voice, so at once you were inside the action, yet outside as well.
Kat Grant was in her second year as gossip and entertainment reporter at the Daily Planet. Like the three friends she was with, all reporters with the paper, she was young and ambitious. The others, Jennifer Chapman, who worked on the foreign desk, Lindsay Cole, who worked the business and economics beat and Lois Lane of the Metro desk were all 25 and had been at the paper since they graduated from college. Each had been tagged as someone to watch and if the rumors were true about Edge Communications buying the Planet then whole new horizons were just about to open up for all of them.
Many considered they cocky or arrogant, the word bitch had been used to describe each of them at one time or another, but then most aggressive, successful women tend to run into that. All except Kat came from money. Jennifer and Lindsay were from old school money families and had attended the best schools. The families had been a little surprised by their choice in careers, but they saw the writing on the wall. The entertainment and new industry was consolidating and expanding into new territories and having a background in print journalism brought with it a certain cache. Most thought of Lois Lane as an Army brat, but her father was a General. Generals make very good money and while she had traveled around a lot as a child, she always ended up in the best schools.
Cat Grant had worked her way through Metropolis University. She'd parlayed her interests into a career and in many ways her future might be the brightest. Understanding the relationship between gossip, celebrity, entertainment and news and how more and more of the media seemed to be heading that way, gave her an advantage over those in the straight media.
So when Cat proposed a girls night out at one of the hottest new clubs in town it seemed like a perfect opportunity to celebrate. They were young, attractive, something of local celebrities, financial independent and on the verge of bigger things, so it was understandable if they a little abrasive and dismissive of those they judged as beneath them. Even reporters come with preconceived notions about the world around them, especially young, successful ones.
"Kat how did you even find this place?" Lindsay asked.
" A reporter never reveals her sources, Lindsay, I thought they taught you that in that fancy school you went to,' Kat teased.
"A reporter, yes, but again, how did you find it?" Lindsay replied, the snark plain in her tone.
"Save it for the undesirables, ladies,' Jennifer interjected.
"The undesirables?" Lois asked.
"This place is filled with guys," Jennifer replied glancing around. "There are the ones you'd definitely talk to, those you might talk to, those that once you start talking to you realize you don't want to talk to, the ones you know immediately you don't want to talk to and those you would never talk to. The ones you'd never talk to you are the undesirables."
"Wow, and they call me cynical,' Lois said with a laugh.
"It's just the way clubs work, right Cat?' Jennifer countered.
"Well, yeah, sort of, I guess,' Kat replied.
"It's like those guys over there at the bar that probably think they're playas,' Jennifer explained. "They are undesirables, so it's best to shut them down hard the first time or they'll keep coming back.
"Plus they're probably poor,' Lindsay added. She glanced over at the guys at the bar again. "Those guys are definitely poor."
"The tall one's kind of cute," Kat offered.
"They think their playas, trust me,' Jennifer said, dismissively. "Don't waste your time with them."
"I think I saw some celebrities over there,' Lois said, a note of sarcasm in her voice.
"Where?"
The players, the poor guys the four were talking about at the bar included one Clark Kent, although his friends tonight knew him as Kal. He was having a beer, checking out the club and the other patrons when something caught his eye on the flat screen behind the bar. The sound was low so normally it couldn't be heard over the music, but that wasn't a problem for him.
It was a ceremony in Washington with the President and the newly formed group called the Justice League. He'd seen some of it on the news, how they had fought some collection of criminals with high tech weapons that were trying to New York. They had stopped the criminals' plans and saved the city. Everyone was hailing them as heroes, even the President it seemed. One by one the President introduced them to the cheers of the large crowd assembled. Collectively they were called The Justice League, Earth's heroes.
Earth's human heroes, Clark mused. People seemed so eager to embrace them. Even the one they called Wonder Woman, who was supposed to be some sort of Demi-Goddess that had seemingly stepped out of some mythology book. While there had been some resistance at first, the public and apparently the government had come around on their view of her. Being from Earth and human seemed to make all the difference he observed, not your actions. Batman was a vigilante, Green Lantern was a cop for an intergalactic police force, Aquaman was the ruler of some underwater kingdom, yet the fact that they were humans seemed to override everything else.
Clark knew deep down he could do anything they could do; he just wouldn't get the chance. They would never let him. He'd learned only too well what the people in charge thought of him at the cemetery five years ago. They probably hadn't even realized that the whole time Martha Kent was in custody, he'd been close enough to listen in on everything they said. He was a thing to them, something to lock in a cage and experiment on. If they couldn't use him, they'd kill him. Clark knew first hand from the cemetery they didn't care who they hurt along the way.
He'd lived pretty much all his life on Earth, but that didn't matter. He felt his anger rising, but then remembered his promise. He tried to push those thoughts away and tuned back into what his friends were talking about. Jhonny, probably the most confident of the bunch, was currently telling the others that he was going to ask the four hot young women sitting at the table to dance.
"Dude, they've been shooting down everybody,' Mario said. "I don't think they're interested. You're going to flame out, big time with them."
"I'm just going to ask them to dance,' Jhonny replied. "What do you think, Kal?"
Clark glanced over at the table and saw the women were laughing. The brunette had a sharp tongue and had just dismissed another guy that had approached them.
"I don't think they're interested, Jhonny,' he replied. "Maybe you should ask somebody else."
"Look you guys are just afraid to step up to the plate and take a chance,' Jhonny said. "I ain't trying to marry them, just dance with them. They say no, cool, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Now watch a pro in action."
Cat, Lindsay, Jennifer and Lois were on their third Bikini martini, coconut rum, vodka, pineapple juice and grenadine. They were feeling good and laughing.
"I can't believe you called that guy, Captain Comb-over, Lois,' Cat said between giggles. "That was so harsh."
"He called me Toots,' Lois said in her defense. "I mean who talks like that? Toots, really?
"Heads up, ladies, here comes another one,' Jennifer said. "One of the playas at the bar decided to make their move. Wonderful."
They exchanged looks and took another drink as Jhonny walked over to their table,
"Hi, ladies,' Jhonny started, but was cut off by Lindsay.
"Look, Rico Suave, no offense, but not interested."
"Um, my name isn't Rico, it's Jhonny,' he replied. "With an H."
"With an H, like that matters," Jennifer scoffed. "We're still not interested."
"Look, I just wanted to see if you'd like to dance, that's all,' Jhonny said, as some of his confidence disappeared, but he soldiered on. "I've got some moves."
He did a quick dance step, but it didn't impress them.
"Take a hint, Jhonny with a H, go away,' Lindsay replied.
"Lindsay, come on,' Lois said.
"Okay, okay, no hard feelings, Jhonny with an H, we're just not interested in what you're selling, all right?"
"I wasn't selling anything, I just wanted to see if you'd like to dance. That's all."
"The answer is still no, but how about this, Jhonny with an H,' Jennifer said. "If you can tell me what continent Rhodesia's on, we'll buy you and your buddies a round. No hard feelings."
Jhonny didn't have an answer.
"How about who's in charge of the Federal reserve? Same deal,' Lindsay said.
Jhonny didn't have an answer for that either.
"Okay, I think you made your point,' Cat said, but the others weren't finished.
"How about something really simple. Can you name who made my purse? The brand?"
"No answer, how about who's on the hundred dollar bill? Even a playa like you should know that one."
Jhonny just stood there. He knew they were mocking him, but he didn't know the answers to any of their questions.
"Maybe you should just go, Jhonny," Lois offered, her voice softer than before.
Not sure what else to do, Jhonny turned and headed back towards his friends. In the time-honored tradition of all young men, his friends razzed him mercilessly for striking out. He smiled, but didn't say anything.
Lois looked at her friends.
"I kind of feel sorry for the guy." She admitted.
"You should, you all should,' a voice said. "That wasn't necessary."
They turned to see one of Jhonny's friends standing next to them. He was tall, 6'4' and well built. Thick black hair that was barely under control topped his head and the bluest eyes any of them had ever seen stared out of his tanned, handsome face. He was dressed in faded jeans, a very white tee shirt and old, worn leather jacket and work boots, polished to a shine.
"Who are you?" Lindsay asked.
"Why? So you can make fun of my name like you did Jhonny's?" He replied. "He was only trying to ask if you wanted to dance. A simple no would have been enough; you didn't have to humiliate him. I heard what you said earlier. You're right we are poor, but after watching and listen to you four I see that money doesn't buy manners or class."
"Hey, we told him no,' Jennifer offered. "Besides, who the hell are you?"
"To you, I'm nobody. Yes you said no, but then you had to humiliate him too, didn't you with your questions? Benjamin Franklin's on the hundred. Ben Bernanke is currently in charge of the Federal. Your bag is a HERMES Birkin 35, but it's a knock off. A good one, but a knock off, just like your friend's Jimmy Choo shoes. Oh, and Rhodesia isn't a country it was an unrecognized state from 1965 to 1979 when it officially became just a part of Zimbabwe. We're poor but you just assume we're stupid too. You're wrong, but you probably don't care about that any more than you did Jhonny's feelings,' he said. He then turned to the bartender. "A round for my guys on the 'ladies' tab."
The four of them didn't know what to say. It was Lois that finally looked over to the bartender and nodded yes, they would cover the round. They all watched as the young man walked back to his friends.
"He's the one I thought was cute,' Cat finally said.