The Cat and the Bullet

Chapter 7

 Unable to take my eyes off the new and improved Clark Kent, I fly headfirst into the stage's curtain. I have enough time to think uh-oh before tumbling out of the air, the black curtain trailing behind me. I crash land on the stage, and there is now a decidedly Superman-shaped dent on the floor. I swallow down a curse. There are kids in the audience, keep it PG.

My head spins as I groggily pull myself up. There are a few half-hearted chuckles. They don't know what to make of me. If I were Flash, it would be just another day in the office. Flash is always running into things and making a fool of himself. If I wasn't blushing before, I definitely am now. A million lights flash in my face, blinding me. The entire universe is never going to let me live this moment down. The audience is shocked into silence, questioning eyes boring into me from all angles. I realize they think I'm drunk.

Superman isn't supposed to be clumsy. I'm their hero; I'm not supposed to be a buffoon. My shocked face is displayed across all six bigger-than-life screens. I look like deer about to turn into roadkill.

"Your dorkiness is showing," a familiar voice says in the front row, below a whisper but I still hear her all the same. Her smug voice is all it takes to unfreeze me. Lois sits squeezed between two foggy figures, her expression scrunched in pain from trying to hold her laughter in. Gee, I'm really feeling all the love, Lois. I blink and the other two figures zoom into focus. Sam Lando sits on one side, trying to disappear into his seat, covering his eyes as if he's stuck in The Shining. On the other side of Lois sits a young raven-haired boy in stitches. His laughter rings as loud as an elephant's roar. Well, Dick, I'm glad Bruce hasn't completely ruined your childhood. Little Flying Grayson is one of the only ones laughing. My parents sit on Dick's other side. Mama does not look amused. She keeps shooting the exit worried looks as if she's waiting for a robot to attack me.

"Sorry about that," I say lamely, my voice echoing. I try to come up with a decent excuse for my behavior and hit a wall. The spotlight blinds me.

"That is quite an entrance," Bruce comes to my rescue, more or less. "Superman hardly needs an introduction, or should I say Klutzman?" A wave of laughter flows through the audience for real this time. I did not realize being a comedian is one of Bruce Wayne's talents. Dick seems to agree and eyes Bruce as if he's grown a third head. Yeah! You're talking to the world's favorite hero! Have some respect, Mr. Playboy Billionaire. Dick Grayson clearly has the brains in that dynamic duo.

"Tell me, Superman, do you make a habit of drinking while flying, or is this a special occasion?" he smirks at me, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's the smile of someone who has forgotten how to smile. The laughter shifts into uneasy chuckles. They were all thinking the same thing, Bruce just has the balls to say it, or should I say Clark Kent. I scowl at him. I can't really fault him for his question; it's exactly the sort of question Clark Kent would ask under the circumstances. Maybe not that exact wording though.

I slip into the seat opposite him, folding my cape beneath me, secretly glad to be able to rest my shaking limbs. "I never drink and fly," I say, keeping my voice even, but I am screaming inside my head. I can't get wasted even if I wanted to, but they don't need to know that. Barry and I are the best fake drunk buddies out there.

"Then how do you explain?" he makes a whooshing motion with his hand and then slams his fist into the opposite palm. You're really going to make me spell it out, aren't you? I take back what I said about Pete. Bruce Wayne is pure evil, not Pete.

I look down at my feet. "I sort of have stage fright," I admit, cheeks going red. It's more or less the truth. There is a chorus of oohs and ahs from the crowd. 'I love you even more now Superman!' somebody screams loudly in the audience, 'Marry me!' loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.