CHAPTER ELEVEN: PROPOSAL
See Chapter 1 for story headers.


This was Lois's second meeting of the afternoon.

"...Essentially, the theme centers on the inevitable demise of colonialism as an instrument of Western imperialism…blah, blah, blah…"

Lois's mind had wandered in and out of the last hour of the film she'd just watched and she was mentally absent from this subsequent lecture. Sure, she was as interested in art house cinema as much as the next broad (which was not much). But somewhere amidst the dialog of La Battaglia di Algeri, thoughts of her meeting with Perry kept coming back to mind. She had lost battles with him before, but never like that. Simply put, she had bored him, and for the first time in her career, for a part of a second, Lois had felt...irrelevant.

It probably didn't help that she was operating on little sleep. Lois had stayed up virtually all night debating whether or not to accept Lex's invitation. But, sure enough, it was 4:43 PM (too late to go back to the office for sure), and here she was, emerging from his home theater.

"In today's world economy," Lex continued, "of course, that feels like Monday-morning quarterbacking. Your average nineteen-year-old econ major today knows that to be a world presence, to truly dominate the international markets, one cannot take a single cog of the world infrastructure for granted."

Lois was sure her concerns had been founded. Meeting with Lex out here in Midvale had to be akin to communing with the Devil in the bowels of Hell. Still, lost somewhere in the middle of his monologue, she was wondering if she really had anything to worry about.

"My father would be a prime example. He casually overlooked the engine of world finance -- the economic land of promise, a nation with the single biggest concentration of consumers in the world. China. Of course, you couldn't exactly blame him -- everyone was ignoring them back then. But that mainstream oversight was my father's folly."

"Folly?" Lois echoed. "Your father was a multimillionaire a hundred times over."

"I'm a billionaire," Lex reminded her. "And the one with the most toys wins."

Is this guy serious?, Lois thought to herself. Then Lex turned around, flashing a smirk over his shoulder that confirmed he actually wasn't. He opened the hallway door that exited to his veranda and motioned for her to exit first. He poured himself a lemonade from a nearby cart, offering her a glass as well, which she declined. She sat down.

"The truth is, Ms. Lane, economics is my passion. I am a man of passions."

"This is all fascinating Mr. Luthor," Lois began. She'd heard enough. "But um..."

"I insist, call me Lex. Really," Lex interrupted, insistent. Lois, not inclined to let her guard down, met his eyes with some hesitance. Lex was the first to turn away, distracting himself with the gate. "You know, you called me 'Lex' rather easily in times past."

"I…know," Lois conceded. And in an instant, it felt like Lex had gone from distantly rambling to whispering in her ear. She didn't even notice when he suddenly appeared standing across from her.

"But, alas, those days are gone, and you would rather align yourself with the 'good' people of the world, who hate everything Luthor and love everything Kent." He handed her a saucer of olives.

"Mr.--" Lois began, and then paused, "I don't know all the details of what happened between you and Clark, but...um." And now she was very uncomfortable. Lex let her squirm a moment before coming in.

"I understand. After the fallout, allegiances had to be made. You were one of the people I lost in the divorce."

"Lex --" Lois said before she could catch herself.

"No, don't worry about it. I understand your reasoning. Why take a chance on an eccentric capitalist boogeyman with a growing number of enemies and dubious ethics when you could stay in a safe relationship with a trusted friend," Lex said. Lois didn't reply. "I made the same choice myself once...I hope it works out better for you."

"Mr. Luthor," Lois said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Why did you bring me here today? I'm sure it wasn't to reminisce on the past."

"You supposed correctly," Lex said, putting his ever present glass down, and joining Lois on the couch. "A little bird told me that you aren't happy at The Daily Planet."

"Then the little bird lied," Lois replied, involuntarily grabbing her purse.

"Fair enough. But let's just say that you were unhappy at The Planet; would you ever consider a position on the editorial board of The Inquisitor."

Lois barely stifled a laugh. "Is it even yours to give?"

"Why -- are you interested?" Lex asked.

"I'd rather give Mayer Sackett a tongue bath. Please tell me you have something better than that."

"A negotiator worth his salt never plays his trump card first," he said, rising and taking a folder from the table. "What do you think about TV?"

"I don't. The various branches of the media tend to regard each other with a long stick. Why?"

"This year marks the twentieth anniversary of the internet boom. Personal devices have literally brought mind-numbing amounts of information to people's fingertips. Cable networks have all but flooded home viewers with every sort of news minutia twenty-four hours a day. Television, internet, music—it's all on demand. We no longer wait for primetime to roll around to be informed or entertained. Your typical news consumer relies on a news cycle of less than six hours. Print media have been playing second fiddle to live broadcasting for years, and, in some circles, are only consulted for their editorial content. Newspapers are struggling to stay alive."

"Is there a punch-line to this joke?" Lois asked.

"A friend of mine, or rather an associate, is trying to create a competitive news market right here in Kansas. You might have heard of him: Fred Dohrmann." Lois nodded. Of course she had. "He's a media genius, and has already left his fingerprint in seven other states, creating competitive markets in the middle of cotton fields. He's scouting for an experienced journalist who is respected in the news field, but unknown in the TV circuit, to anchor a cutting-edge news program he's developing. This could be a career defining chance for a ambitious reporter to get into a promising venture from the bottom floor." He paused. "Know anyone who might be interested?"

"I can't leave The Daily Planet," Lois replied. "The Planet is my home."

"Oh, I failed to mention the starting salary." He scribbled a figure on a paper and handed it to Lois. She couldn't believe her eyes: it was three times her already comfortable salary.

"Wow," she whispered, and then had a thought. "What would be in it for you?"

"Why do you think something would be in it for me?" Lex asked. Lois gave him a steely stare. "Okay, I admit I've thought of the benefits. It's no secret that I've had trouble getting accurate press coverage." Lois rolled her eyes. "Despite our...differences...I do respect your work Ms. Lane. And with you on board, this would be an opportunity for me to be represented correctly," he popped an olive into his mouth. "Because we both know that public perception, regardless of the truth, is very important."

Lois glanced at the slip of paper in her hand again.

"Actually, the truth is all there is," Lois said. She'd made her decision, and rose to leave. "I thank you for your offer, but I'll have to decline."

"Oh, I didn't think you would come to a decision so soon anyway," he said, rising as well and handing her the folder. "Take this, sleep on it, think about it. Decide what's best for you."

Lois reluctantly took the folder and was almost at the door when Lex suddenly spoke.

"Good night Ms. Lane," he said. Lois slowed a moment and then spoke.

"Good night, Mr. Luthor," she replied and left.