Ripley part 9
7/25/06 12:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyThe Talented Miss Ripley
A post-mpreg fiction
Fandom: SV
Pairing: hmm….
Rating:2
what went before
Uncle Jordan picked her up the Saturday before Dad’s week began.
They went to the park, to watch people and most importantly, to eat ice cream. And hot dogs. And chips in those little paper trays, the kind they covered with lukewarm fake cheese. And soda, in the giant huge take out cups she wasn’t allowed at home.
Jordan watched her and shivered. “How can you eat that crap without throwing it right back up? And so much of it. Shi—shoot, you’re like your dad, a walking appetite. With no taste.”
She grinned at him and chewed through the bottom of her waffle cone, sucked melted ice cream nosily. “Ooo, look, UncaJor, they have cinnamon pretzels! I love them!”
“Good thing I’m rich,” Jordan muttered, and reached for his wallet. Again.
She swallowed her last bite of ice cream cone, and very casually asked, “So, UncaJor, what’s the deal with you and Pop? You call him like, every night—are you guys dating?”
Jordan jerked to such an abrupt stop that Ripley had to do a little two-step behind him, to keep from running into his back. “What the hell—girl, are you crazy?” He looked shocked, and—something else. “Your dad would kill me. Shi—dang.”
She laughed, and he groused, “Do you get this tendency towards asking really personal questions from your Pop?”
She shrugged. “ Well, that’s just as likely to come from you. And this pretty color too,” she said matter of factly.
Jordan paled, and stuttered, “Well, um...we’re not really, really---shit, you must be trying to kill me today,” he muttered.
“You’re not really my uncle—I know. And you’re more than a family friend. And you know that. Don’t you?” She folded her arms, tilted her head up to look him in the eye. “Pop explained everything to me a while ago. Really secret secret, two billion and one.”
“Hunh?” He said weakly.
“It’s this thing Poppa told me a long time ago, that I’d have to keep a bazillion secrets, that I had so many to keep I needed to start out knowing, and grow up with them. I mean, can you imagine having a billion secrets suddenly dumped in your lap all at once?
“Oh, yeah. Your dad had everything dropped on him all at once…I can see where this is better, but….”
She patted his hand “Hey, it’s so cool isn’t it, you being kind of a—a--co-dad, as far as Pop’s crew of captive scientists can figure. We’re just one big happy family, right?”
Jordan snorted, a cross between a frown and a smile flitting over his lips, worry still wrinkling his brow. She touched his hand again, smiling at him and he hugged her hard.
“I didn’t know until a few years ago, when Lex—your pop--decided I needed to know. Didn’t matter, I always loved you, y’know? I used to listen to you, when your dad thought I didn’t know.” He pulled back and rubbed his face. “ It was…pretty fuckin’ weird at first, ‘scuse me, sweetie but yeah. I was in love with him, and then, I was in love with you.”
She stared at him, tears blurring her view. “Did you—weren’t you afraid? Grossed out?”
“Your dad…” He shook his head. “Some day, you’re going to meet someone who’s gonna be the most important person in the world to you, and if they have a good soul, nothing they do, or are, will frighten you.”
“I love you, Uncle Jordan.”
“Of course, you do.” He stood, “Time to walk off some of that –that--*stuff* you ate. Damn you can eat! It’s some scary how much you can pack away. C’mon, girl—run!”
He jogged off, and she made sure she didn’t catch him right away.
******
Ripley peeked out of the school doors and yes, there he was, with that awful red monster of a Ford truck, huge and ugly and older than her—it was rumbling and snorting in a line of sleek, purring Mercedes and BMW’s, and how embarrassing was that? No one drove a hulking ugly second-hand farm truck…except Dad. Besides, he didn’t have to pick her up; she was old enough to take a cab by herself to the apartment. It was awful. It was horribly embarrassing. Oh god, now he was beeping and waving and he had that dorky big grin. Oh craaaaap--he was getting out of the truck….
Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the ninth grade girls were giggling and running into each other trying to look at Dad. They were acting like some movie star had just pulled up the school. She gave Dad a hard look. Okay, he wasn’t ugly...not handsome like Poppa but yeah…he was kind of cute. Maybe. Sort of. He could use a haircut. She shouldered her bag and took one step out the doors and her phone rang. Of course.
She fished it out of the bottom of her bag. “Hello Poppa.”
*I’m certain I explained to those people that you were to be allowed to carry your phone at all times. I don’t care what their ridiculous policy is—especially in regard to you, you’re a Luthor.*
“Poppa. You *are* aware that you just implied—no—*stated*--that the rules don’t apply to us?”
*Yes? We’re Luthors.*
Sigh. “Kent-Luthor, Poppa, *Kent*-Luthor. And Dad’s here, I have to go.”
*Kent-Luthor, yes, I know. And I see he has the decency to be on time, for once.*
He’s always on time, Lexie thought, but saved herself the argument. Poppa considered being a nano-second past the appointed time being late. She pitied his employees.
*And tell him I told him to stop calling you Ripley. It’s awful and childish.*
“How did you know—I mean—he does not!”
*He does, and I know because I called you Ripley twice last night and you didn’t react—it’s such a terrible name.*
“It’s funny and besides, Ripley was the hero, not the alien.”
*Lexie. Don’t say that.*
“Do you want me to pretend I’m not—that? I don’t have a problem with it, and I was under the impression you didn’t either--”
Poppa sighed deeply, heavily *Alexandra. It has nothing to do with that at all…* His voice faded away, sounding tired and sad, and she felt bad for making him feel that way, even if she didn’t understand how.
“Pop…”
*Daddy’s waiting for you, Lexie. I’ll talk to you later. Behave please.*
“I promise. I love you.”
*I love you more than anything in the world and most stuff outside of it. We’ll celebrate your birthday when you come home, just you and me, okay? Thirteen—where has the time gone—all right, now I sound like an old fart. Bye, sweetheart. Love you.*
She grinned as he hung up, and then Dad was there, giant and warm and hugging her like he hadn’t seen here in years instead of weeks, and talked to her nearly everyday. She stepped back and looked up at him, his red cheeks and green eyes, his shaggy hair. He still had a lot of that kid in him, she thought. That dorky guy that wrote love notes to his crush, and hid it in the closet. She snorted. “Nothing,” she said, when Dad cocked an eyebrow at her. He grinned and threw an arm around her.
“Come on Rip, Anna’s got hot chocolate and cookies waiting at home. And that’s totally a bribe to like me best.”
Her eyes lit up at the thought, but she felt she had to make at least a token protest. “Dad, that only makes me like the cook best. And besides, you know what Poppa says. Empty calories are bad.”
“Yes, but he’s no fun and what he says is stupid.”
“Dad!” she whacked him in the ribs and he coughed and bent. She was the only one who could whack him hard enough to make him wheeze--it always made him laugh.
‘Well, it’s true…no, no, it’s not. I’m just being a bitter old ex. Don’t pay attention to me.”
“As if.” She hopped into the truck. There was a guy sitting in it, but he had sense enough to be sitting on the bench seat in the back. A new boyfriend, she guessed. He was cute enough but she could smell that he wasn’t going to be around longer than a minute.
‘Hi, you must be Alexandra,” he said, “My name is--”
“Don’t bother,” she said and stared out the window, and Dad blushed. “Please don’t be rude, Alexandra.”
She huffed and stared at the streets rolling by, watched kids walking with each other or their parents. She glared at them as they went by. Stupid normals. Stupid dads.
Dad begged her to behave because he felt guilty demanding it, Poppa expected her to behave and made her feel guilty if she didn’t. They were both pains in her ass. Butt. Whatever. She sighed. Oh well. She glanced back at the guy in the backseat, and wondered if he’d be coming to dinner. That would be…not what she wanted, but she’d promised to behave—twice now. She glanced at Dad quickly, he was concentrating on driving, and she glanced back again at the sucker. She bared her teeth and he looked startled. She smiled sweetly at him and he looked confused.
Dad and his bimboyfriends.
Rip had a theory about that. She figured Dad picked guys who were pretty but not over-burdened with smarts because number one, he didn’t want them smart enough to get hurt by being dumped and number two—he didn’t want any of them to remind him of Poppa. People seemed to kind of expect him to go out with eye candy; they tended to think of him as eye candy himself…most people underestimated him. Dad said it hurt him when he was with Poppa, but now, he used it to his advantage. Rip smiled. He’d learned a lot from Poppa.
***
To no one’s surprise except maybe nameless guy, he was gone before the week was out. Oh well. Another one gone with the wind, and there’d be another after that, and after that, until he finally admitted to himself he didn’t want anyone except her pop. Poor old Dad. He was hurting so much. She reached over and patted his knee, and he smiled at her, and ruffled her hair.
They were watching a personal favorite of Ripley’s, The Parent Trap, the old one, not the new one. Dad rolled his eyes every time, and teased her all the way through it, but she could tell he liked it as much as she did. That was one of the cool things about him. He liked a lot of the same things she did, movies and TV and stuff, and not in that kind of arch ironic way Poppa did, or that kind of desperate ‘I’m still cool’ way some adults had--Dad just…liked it.
They laughed at Haley playing twins and grinned at each other, though Dad had to do it around a mouthful of popcorn smushed in his teeth, because he was a cornball.
“Ah, ha, so very funny. Blaaaarh,” she stuck out her tongue, covered with a soggy wad of chewed up popcorn, and Dad made a face.
“Gross—whose kid are you?”
‘My parents are world famous, one’s a bald billionaire, and one’s an alien. And one’s a basket-ball star.” She waited, trying to look casual while she waited to see what the effect of her words would be on Dad.
He coughed, choked—in fact, choked so hard, that if he’d been human, she would have been worried.
“What! I mean—what? I mean—that would make three parents, hah…”
“Dad, please, remember—the tapes, the whole truth? Not hiding stuff from me—remember?” She’d told him that she’d found the tapes. He’d looked a little sad and said that he’d planned on giving them to her, much, much later but…did it help, he asked and she assured him that they’d helped a lot. He looked at her so sadly that she couldn’t bring herself to ask the million questions that begged to be asked.
“Stupid tapes,” he grumbled. “You should have heard them when you were grown, with kids of your own.”
He grumbled on and Rip grinned. *Nice way to try and change the subject, Dad*. Besides, those tapes—with all the weird crap in her life, those sweet, dumb, sad and wonderful tapes--helped to keep her anchored sometimes.
“Look poppa says that I need to know everything about me, that I need to understand as much as possible to keep safe--all the stuff about me—us. It’s about family and Uncle Jor is family. It’s just that he’s closer than I thought, is all.”
Dad looked at her like she had grown a second head.
“What?”
“There’s no way you can be that casual about it…” he looked stunned. “Lex had no right to tell you that, not without…”
“I’ve had lots of time to think it through. And he does have every right—he’s my pop and he loves me just as much as you do. He’s with me every step of the way, Dad. Just like you are.”
“I—I—Jordan was a wonderful help to me when I needed it. He was a good friend to me. I didn’t know…you know. What happened. How. Not really.” He blushed red, and Rip’s heart warmed. He was so cute….
“I guess when we--”
She interrupted quickly. There would be no Discovery Channel conversation here, not if she could help it. “No need to go on, oh father, Poppa explained more than I ever wanted to know about alien biology…and so did Dr. Toby…and Dr. Chang…” She shivered. “God—I thought for a minute he was going to tell me the story of life through interpretive dance.”
Dad snorted and relaxed a bit. “Yeah, he is kind of intense, hunh?”
“Don’t worry about Uncle Jor, Dad. We’re family. We’re just weird and unusual family. He loves us.” She glanced at him and turned her attention to the movie. Very casually she mentioned, “And I think it’s so nice of him, the way he makes Poppa take a break from time to time.”
Clark stiffened and glared at the set and just as casually, said, “Oh?” And crammed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Mufeally? Fow nife?”
“Oh, he’s been really…swell. He takes Poppa out to dinner and lots of time he brings dinner to us. Isn’t that sweet?”
“He—he--Oh yeah, sweet, really sweet, and be sure you *tell* him *I* think it’s really sweet.”
Riley lay back against the couch cushions. Wow, she had no idea Dad could look so angry—gee, even dangerous.
She really hoped she hadn’t screwed up…maybe she should warn Unc Jor?
Dad muttered darkly. “Dinner, hunh?”
******
The next few weeks Dad piled up papers and magazines in the apartment, obsessively checking for photos of Poppa and oh gosh, occasionally, Uncle Jor would be in the picture with him and those nights, they had burned lasagna and take out. He began talking about Poppa in a way he hadn’t for a long time, and she congratulated herself, and wondered why she hadn’t thought about this before….
The day that there was a really nice photo of Poppa, hand spread wide on Uncle Jordan’s chest and a huge, a ‘really, really, great big, showing every sparkling tooth’ huge grin on his face, Dad spent a lot of time apologizing for the small flash fire, and they went shopping for curtains and a new coffee table and a new TV and some fire extinguishers.
Her plan was rolling right along. One thing though. She *really* better warn Uncle Jordan.
*****
*Girl, I’m going to tell you one time—He. Will. Kill. Me. Tell him there ain’t no such thing, you hear?*
“But Uncle Jooordan--it’s working! All he can talk about is Poppa---and he’s hardly gone out with anyone else!”
*Alexandra Janine Kent-Luthor! Do you *want* them to bond over my body?* There was silence on the line and Jordan squawked, “Alexandra---Rip!”
“No, no, of course not. I’ll tell him it’s a mistake. Sorry.”
*No you’re not.* He hung up.
She folded her arms and glared at the phone. “Oh yes I am. You have no idea how sorry.” She headed into the library. “I still say it would have worked.”
TBC!
A post-mpreg fiction
Fandom: SV
Pairing: hmm….
Rating:2
what went before
Uncle Jordan picked her up the Saturday before Dad’s week began.
They went to the park, to watch people and most importantly, to eat ice cream. And hot dogs. And chips in those little paper trays, the kind they covered with lukewarm fake cheese. And soda, in the giant huge take out cups she wasn’t allowed at home.
Jordan watched her and shivered. “How can you eat that crap without throwing it right back up? And so much of it. Shi—shoot, you’re like your dad, a walking appetite. With no taste.”
She grinned at him and chewed through the bottom of her waffle cone, sucked melted ice cream nosily. “Ooo, look, UncaJor, they have cinnamon pretzels! I love them!”
“Good thing I’m rich,” Jordan muttered, and reached for his wallet. Again.
She swallowed her last bite of ice cream cone, and very casually asked, “So, UncaJor, what’s the deal with you and Pop? You call him like, every night—are you guys dating?”
Jordan jerked to such an abrupt stop that Ripley had to do a little two-step behind him, to keep from running into his back. “What the hell—girl, are you crazy?” He looked shocked, and—something else. “Your dad would kill me. Shi—dang.”
She laughed, and he groused, “Do you get this tendency towards asking really personal questions from your Pop?”
She shrugged. “ Well, that’s just as likely to come from you. And this pretty color too,” she said matter of factly.
Jordan paled, and stuttered, “Well, um...we’re not really, really---shit, you must be trying to kill me today,” he muttered.
“You’re not really my uncle—I know. And you’re more than a family friend. And you know that. Don’t you?” She folded her arms, tilted her head up to look him in the eye. “Pop explained everything to me a while ago. Really secret secret, two billion and one.”
“Hunh?” He said weakly.
“It’s this thing Poppa told me a long time ago, that I’d have to keep a bazillion secrets, that I had so many to keep I needed to start out knowing, and grow up with them. I mean, can you imagine having a billion secrets suddenly dumped in your lap all at once?
“Oh, yeah. Your dad had everything dropped on him all at once…I can see where this is better, but….”
She patted his hand “Hey, it’s so cool isn’t it, you being kind of a—a--co-dad, as far as Pop’s crew of captive scientists can figure. We’re just one big happy family, right?”
Jordan snorted, a cross between a frown and a smile flitting over his lips, worry still wrinkling his brow. She touched his hand again, smiling at him and he hugged her hard.
“I didn’t know until a few years ago, when Lex—your pop--decided I needed to know. Didn’t matter, I always loved you, y’know? I used to listen to you, when your dad thought I didn’t know.” He pulled back and rubbed his face. “ It was…pretty fuckin’ weird at first, ‘scuse me, sweetie but yeah. I was in love with him, and then, I was in love with you.”
She stared at him, tears blurring her view. “Did you—weren’t you afraid? Grossed out?”
“Your dad…” He shook his head. “Some day, you’re going to meet someone who’s gonna be the most important person in the world to you, and if they have a good soul, nothing they do, or are, will frighten you.”
“I love you, Uncle Jordan.”
“Of course, you do.” He stood, “Time to walk off some of that –that--*stuff* you ate. Damn you can eat! It’s some scary how much you can pack away. C’mon, girl—run!”
He jogged off, and she made sure she didn’t catch him right away.
******
Ripley peeked out of the school doors and yes, there he was, with that awful red monster of a Ford truck, huge and ugly and older than her—it was rumbling and snorting in a line of sleek, purring Mercedes and BMW’s, and how embarrassing was that? No one drove a hulking ugly second-hand farm truck…except Dad. Besides, he didn’t have to pick her up; she was old enough to take a cab by herself to the apartment. It was awful. It was horribly embarrassing. Oh god, now he was beeping and waving and he had that dorky big grin. Oh craaaaap--he was getting out of the truck….
Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the ninth grade girls were giggling and running into each other trying to look at Dad. They were acting like some movie star had just pulled up the school. She gave Dad a hard look. Okay, he wasn’t ugly...not handsome like Poppa but yeah…he was kind of cute. Maybe. Sort of. He could use a haircut. She shouldered her bag and took one step out the doors and her phone rang. Of course.
She fished it out of the bottom of her bag. “Hello Poppa.”
*I’m certain I explained to those people that you were to be allowed to carry your phone at all times. I don’t care what their ridiculous policy is—especially in regard to you, you’re a Luthor.*
“Poppa. You *are* aware that you just implied—no—*stated*--that the rules don’t apply to us?”
*Yes? We’re Luthors.*
Sigh. “Kent-Luthor, Poppa, *Kent*-Luthor. And Dad’s here, I have to go.”
*Kent-Luthor, yes, I know. And I see he has the decency to be on time, for once.*
He’s always on time, Lexie thought, but saved herself the argument. Poppa considered being a nano-second past the appointed time being late. She pitied his employees.
*And tell him I told him to stop calling you Ripley. It’s awful and childish.*
“How did you know—I mean—he does not!”
*He does, and I know because I called you Ripley twice last night and you didn’t react—it’s such a terrible name.*
“It’s funny and besides, Ripley was the hero, not the alien.”
*Lexie. Don’t say that.*
“Do you want me to pretend I’m not—that? I don’t have a problem with it, and I was under the impression you didn’t either--”
Poppa sighed deeply, heavily *Alexandra. It has nothing to do with that at all…* His voice faded away, sounding tired and sad, and she felt bad for making him feel that way, even if she didn’t understand how.
“Pop…”
*Daddy’s waiting for you, Lexie. I’ll talk to you later. Behave please.*
“I promise. I love you.”
*I love you more than anything in the world and most stuff outside of it. We’ll celebrate your birthday when you come home, just you and me, okay? Thirteen—where has the time gone—all right, now I sound like an old fart. Bye, sweetheart. Love you.*
She grinned as he hung up, and then Dad was there, giant and warm and hugging her like he hadn’t seen here in years instead of weeks, and talked to her nearly everyday. She stepped back and looked up at him, his red cheeks and green eyes, his shaggy hair. He still had a lot of that kid in him, she thought. That dorky guy that wrote love notes to his crush, and hid it in the closet. She snorted. “Nothing,” she said, when Dad cocked an eyebrow at her. He grinned and threw an arm around her.
“Come on Rip, Anna’s got hot chocolate and cookies waiting at home. And that’s totally a bribe to like me best.”
Her eyes lit up at the thought, but she felt she had to make at least a token protest. “Dad, that only makes me like the cook best. And besides, you know what Poppa says. Empty calories are bad.”
“Yes, but he’s no fun and what he says is stupid.”
“Dad!” she whacked him in the ribs and he coughed and bent. She was the only one who could whack him hard enough to make him wheeze--it always made him laugh.
‘Well, it’s true…no, no, it’s not. I’m just being a bitter old ex. Don’t pay attention to me.”
“As if.” She hopped into the truck. There was a guy sitting in it, but he had sense enough to be sitting on the bench seat in the back. A new boyfriend, she guessed. He was cute enough but she could smell that he wasn’t going to be around longer than a minute.
‘Hi, you must be Alexandra,” he said, “My name is--”
“Don’t bother,” she said and stared out the window, and Dad blushed. “Please don’t be rude, Alexandra.”
She huffed and stared at the streets rolling by, watched kids walking with each other or their parents. She glared at them as they went by. Stupid normals. Stupid dads.
Dad begged her to behave because he felt guilty demanding it, Poppa expected her to behave and made her feel guilty if she didn’t. They were both pains in her ass. Butt. Whatever. She sighed. Oh well. She glanced back at the guy in the backseat, and wondered if he’d be coming to dinner. That would be…not what she wanted, but she’d promised to behave—twice now. She glanced at Dad quickly, he was concentrating on driving, and she glanced back again at the sucker. She bared her teeth and he looked startled. She smiled sweetly at him and he looked confused.
Dad and his bimboyfriends.
Rip had a theory about that. She figured Dad picked guys who were pretty but not over-burdened with smarts because number one, he didn’t want them smart enough to get hurt by being dumped and number two—he didn’t want any of them to remind him of Poppa. People seemed to kind of expect him to go out with eye candy; they tended to think of him as eye candy himself…most people underestimated him. Dad said it hurt him when he was with Poppa, but now, he used it to his advantage. Rip smiled. He’d learned a lot from Poppa.
***
To no one’s surprise except maybe nameless guy, he was gone before the week was out. Oh well. Another one gone with the wind, and there’d be another after that, and after that, until he finally admitted to himself he didn’t want anyone except her pop. Poor old Dad. He was hurting so much. She reached over and patted his knee, and he smiled at her, and ruffled her hair.
They were watching a personal favorite of Ripley’s, The Parent Trap, the old one, not the new one. Dad rolled his eyes every time, and teased her all the way through it, but she could tell he liked it as much as she did. That was one of the cool things about him. He liked a lot of the same things she did, movies and TV and stuff, and not in that kind of arch ironic way Poppa did, or that kind of desperate ‘I’m still cool’ way some adults had--Dad just…liked it.
They laughed at Haley playing twins and grinned at each other, though Dad had to do it around a mouthful of popcorn smushed in his teeth, because he was a cornball.
“Ah, ha, so very funny. Blaaaarh,” she stuck out her tongue, covered with a soggy wad of chewed up popcorn, and Dad made a face.
“Gross—whose kid are you?”
‘My parents are world famous, one’s a bald billionaire, and one’s an alien. And one’s a basket-ball star.” She waited, trying to look casual while she waited to see what the effect of her words would be on Dad.
He coughed, choked—in fact, choked so hard, that if he’d been human, she would have been worried.
“What! I mean—what? I mean—that would make three parents, hah…”
“Dad, please, remember—the tapes, the whole truth? Not hiding stuff from me—remember?” She’d told him that she’d found the tapes. He’d looked a little sad and said that he’d planned on giving them to her, much, much later but…did it help, he asked and she assured him that they’d helped a lot. He looked at her so sadly that she couldn’t bring herself to ask the million questions that begged to be asked.
“Stupid tapes,” he grumbled. “You should have heard them when you were grown, with kids of your own.”
He grumbled on and Rip grinned. *Nice way to try and change the subject, Dad*. Besides, those tapes—with all the weird crap in her life, those sweet, dumb, sad and wonderful tapes--helped to keep her anchored sometimes.
“Look poppa says that I need to know everything about me, that I need to understand as much as possible to keep safe--all the stuff about me—us. It’s about family and Uncle Jor is family. It’s just that he’s closer than I thought, is all.”
Dad looked at her like she had grown a second head.
“What?”
“There’s no way you can be that casual about it…” he looked stunned. “Lex had no right to tell you that, not without…”
“I’ve had lots of time to think it through. And he does have every right—he’s my pop and he loves me just as much as you do. He’s with me every step of the way, Dad. Just like you are.”
“I—I—Jordan was a wonderful help to me when I needed it. He was a good friend to me. I didn’t know…you know. What happened. How. Not really.” He blushed red, and Rip’s heart warmed. He was so cute….
“I guess when we--”
She interrupted quickly. There would be no Discovery Channel conversation here, not if she could help it. “No need to go on, oh father, Poppa explained more than I ever wanted to know about alien biology…and so did Dr. Toby…and Dr. Chang…” She shivered. “God—I thought for a minute he was going to tell me the story of life through interpretive dance.”
Dad snorted and relaxed a bit. “Yeah, he is kind of intense, hunh?”
“Don’t worry about Uncle Jor, Dad. We’re family. We’re just weird and unusual family. He loves us.” She glanced at him and turned her attention to the movie. Very casually she mentioned, “And I think it’s so nice of him, the way he makes Poppa take a break from time to time.”
Clark stiffened and glared at the set and just as casually, said, “Oh?” And crammed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Mufeally? Fow nife?”
“Oh, he’s been really…swell. He takes Poppa out to dinner and lots of time he brings dinner to us. Isn’t that sweet?”
“He—he--Oh yeah, sweet, really sweet, and be sure you *tell* him *I* think it’s really sweet.”
Riley lay back against the couch cushions. Wow, she had no idea Dad could look so angry—gee, even dangerous.
She really hoped she hadn’t screwed up…maybe she should warn Unc Jor?
Dad muttered darkly. “Dinner, hunh?”
******
The next few weeks Dad piled up papers and magazines in the apartment, obsessively checking for photos of Poppa and oh gosh, occasionally, Uncle Jor would be in the picture with him and those nights, they had burned lasagna and take out. He began talking about Poppa in a way he hadn’t for a long time, and she congratulated herself, and wondered why she hadn’t thought about this before….
The day that there was a really nice photo of Poppa, hand spread wide on Uncle Jordan’s chest and a huge, a ‘really, really, great big, showing every sparkling tooth’ huge grin on his face, Dad spent a lot of time apologizing for the small flash fire, and they went shopping for curtains and a new coffee table and a new TV and some fire extinguishers.
Her plan was rolling right along. One thing though. She *really* better warn Uncle Jordan.
*****
*Girl, I’m going to tell you one time—He. Will. Kill. Me. Tell him there ain’t no such thing, you hear?*
“But Uncle Jooordan--it’s working! All he can talk about is Poppa---and he’s hardly gone out with anyone else!”
*Alexandra Janine Kent-Luthor! Do you *want* them to bond over my body?* There was silence on the line and Jordan squawked, “Alexandra---Rip!”
“No, no, of course not. I’ll tell him it’s a mistake. Sorry.”
*No you’re not.* He hung up.
She folded her arms and glared at the phone. “Oh yes I am. You have no idea how sorry.” She headed into the library. “I still say it would have worked.”
TBC!