|
"Exile"
Lex's POV
Pre-Smallville
I slouched, my hands tucked into the pockets of my wrinkled two-day old
slacks, at the back of the elevator, staring through dark sunglasses at
the repressed and tense suits standing around me, some men, some women,
all too-aware that the son of their boss, the un-deserving manager to a
few of them, happened to be watching them. There was no discussion, no
talk about where they ate for lunch or what happened on ‘Friends’ the
night before or how benefits costs were rising. Just dead silence while
they waited – prayed – for the elevator to reach their floor and they
could evacuate, running for the relative safety of their cubicles and
offices.
Most of them fled when the car stopped on the 65th floor, though I was
well-aware that more than half of them didn’t belong there. Not that I
particularly minded the abandonment – the carpenters currently hammering
away inside of my hangover were more than enough company at the moment,
thank you very much. I was quite content to ride an empty elevator up to
the 70th floor, close my eyes, allow the wall to continue to hold me up,
find some nice, quiet place for my mind to hide while my body sat through
the upcoming meeting with my father.
“Ah, Lex. Nice to see you decided to join us today.”
Stifling a groan, I opened my eyes to see Dominic, my father’s right hand
toady, enter the elevator. “Yeah, well, didn’t want to deprive you
completely of my presence. I know how important it is for you to have as
many asses to kiss as possible.”
Dominic held the fake smile that was ever-present on his face and I had to
admit that I was impressed. No one could say that Lionel Luthor ever hired
anyone who wasn’t up to the performance expected of them.
“Perhaps you should take a few lessons in ass-kissing, Lex,” Dominic
replied smoothly, an almost-real smile appearing on his face, an
expression that said he knew something that I, the only son of Lionel
Luthor, did not.
I frowned, and it hurt my head and worsened my mood, as I found myself
shifting a little against the wall. “Luthors don’t kiss ass. Or hasn’t my
father ever taught you that one?”
The toady shrugged, still smiling, as if he was extremely pleased with
himself and the world around him or something and it made me really want
to punch that smugness right out of him. Instead, I just closed my eyes
again, and ignored him.
The elevator stopped at the 70th floor, the Executive Level, and I waited
until the car emptied before stepping off of it and over to the half-moon
marbled countertop that enclosed Susan James’ desk. My father’s secretary
looked up and forced a smile though I could see the same hesitation in her
eyes that had been in her voice when she had called me an hour earlier,
claiming that my father wanted to see me in his office immediately. And I
had been in the middle of a very nice dream about the blonde from last
night, whatever her name was.
“Lex. Your father’s been waiting for you.” She glanced at the thick oak
doors that led into his office.
“What else is new?” I shrugged. “Is this about the Arrow Shipping deal?”
Susan grimaced. “No. I… Maybe you should just go in, Lex.”
Sometimes I wondered why Susan took this job. She was terrified of my
father. I didn’t know how she made it through each day. My only
explanation was that her therapist had to have her on some heavy duty
sedatives.
Walking up to the doors, I stood and stared down at the ornate brass knobs
for a moment, wondering why I always felt the slightest amount of fear
when these confrontations took place. Did ever child fear their father? Or
was it something ingrained only into the very rich - to keep us in check,
in our proper places, while our highly exalted fathers reigned supreme
from their thrones above us?
Sometimes, when I was younger, I would stand before these doors and
imagine various scenarios that would occur when I opened them.
Occasionally they would involve my father looking up from the phone call
he was on, telling whoever he was talking to that he had to go because his
son was there, then replacing the phone into its cradle and holding his
arms open wide to embrace me in a hug. And I would run to him and he would
sit me on his lap and ask me how my day was and promise to help me with my
homework after dinner. Of course, I was disavowed of those daydreams
fairly early on and instead, each scenario I pictured as I grew older was
usually more premonition than fantasy. Sighing inwardly, I turned the
knobs and walked inside.
Lionel Luthor’s office spoke volumes about his wealth and power. He taught
me that it was important to intimidate your opponents from the moment they
stepped through those doors. When one of my father’s victims entered his
sanctuary, they were greeted by the wall of windows, overlooking the city
which the LuthorCorp building towered above. Before those windows sat my
father, behind an enormous oak desk that lay bare except for a Tiffany
lamp and two phones. It always left me to wonder as a child what it was
exactly that my father did. As I grew older, I began to realize that my
father didn’t have to do anything anymore – he had created his empire, now
he had others run it for him. He was simply there to make certain they
didn’t screw it up along the way.
It took exactly seventy-five steps to reach my father’s desk. I knew. I
had counted over and over again through the years. Seventy-five steps
through which each and every victim had to suffer silently and alone. And
my father always sat there, on one of his phones, watching you with a
hooded expression as you approached, then invariably turning away once you
did get there, ignoring you, forcing you to stand and wait for the
invitation to sit while he finished his call. You always knew exactly how
high you rated by how many minutes he remained on the call. For me it
usually hovered between two to three minutes.
Only today I wasn’t in the mood to play his ridiculous head games. Instead
of taking that long walk of intimidation, I headed straight for the wet
bar to pour myself a drink and wait out the time it took him to finish his
phone call in relative peace. Surprisingly, I had barely finished pouring
when I heard the receiver slam into its cradle.
“Well, look who finally decided to drag himself into work,” I heard him
comment dryly.
Swallowing back the amber liquid and sighing a little in pleasure as I
felt it burning down my throat, I finally turned to face him, leaning my
hip into the counter. “Since you went through all of the trouble of having
Susan call me, I figured why not?”
My father pursed his lips for a moment then leaned forward, smiling. “Have
a seat, son.”
I frowned a little at the predatory gaze on his face, hating that look,
beginning to really wonder now exactly why Dominic had seemed so pleased.
Forcing an expression of boredom to my own face, I ambled over to drop
into the soft dark leather chair across from his desk.
“And take those goddamned sunglasses off,” he barked suddenly, the smile
gone. “I don’t care how hung over you might be! In here, you are going to
behave like a Luthor.”
Pulling the glasses from my face, I winced a little at the glare from the
wall of windows in front of me before glancing at my father. “Is this
going to be yet another lecture on how I am not doing my proper duty as
your son and heir? Because if so, save your breath, dad. I’ve got that one
stored in memory.”
A tight smile. “No, Lex. I’ve come to learn that words don’t seem to mean
much to you, nor does the protection of your future destiny.”
I sighed in resignation of the upcoming lecture, settling my gaze over his
shoulder to watch the buildings across the block. “So? Does that mean
you’ve changed your tactics? Singing telegrams, maybe?”
“You’re very funny, Lex,” my father commented, though his tone suggested
otherwise. “Perhaps if I ever make the decision to disinherit you, you
could simply become a comedian.”
I yawned. “That threat’s getting old, dad.”
“As a Luthor you have untapped potential, Lex, and you are wasting every
bit of it. Out all night drinking and carousing, getting into trouble with
the police, kicked out your graduate program… “ My father trailed off,
suggesting that the list was simply too long to continue. “I gave you a
job as one of my executives in the hopes that working for LuthorCorp might
somehow ground you, show you the direction your future is meant to take.
Instead, you have chosen to treat it as a joke, coming in to work in the
afternoons, dating your co-workers, refusing to take any task I give you
seriously. Being the son of the owner of LuthorCorp does not automatically
give you the excuse not to work for what you earn – “
“Don’t forget the whole bald freak thing, dad,” I commented blandly,
pointing to my bare scalp. I sarcastically added, “I think that gives me a
little leeway.”
My father stood suddenly, slamming his hands into the desk. “I will not
have you destroy what I worked so hard to achieve.” Just as quickly as it
had appeared, the emotion on my father’s face fled and he smiled. “Which
is why I have come to my recent decision. I need to get you away from
Metropolis, Lex. From the temptation that surrounds you, from the people
that you socialize with. I need to get you focused, isolate you where only
your work within LuthorCorp matters.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind another tour of Europe,” I
suggested. “Or maybe the offices in Japan.”
“I’m sending you to Smallville. To oversee the running of Plant Number
Three.”
I stared at him blankly, disbelieving. My father smiled and I realized he
wasn’t simply trying to frighten me, he wasn’t playing with me. This was
real.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I railed, leaping to my feet to
lean over his desk. “There is no goddamned way you can do that!”
“You will obey me, Lex, and move to Smallville to manage the chemical
plant, or you will be disowned. End of discussion.”
“I can’t believe this shit!” I turned away, planning to just get the hell
out of there before I turned back around and accused, “You’re just doing
this so I can’t continue to ‘ruin’ your good name, make you look bad.
You’ve always been ashamed of me and you’ve always found ways to hide me
away from others, from boarding school to this!”
“Oh, Lex.” My father shook his head and sat back down in his chair. “Stop
being so dramatic. This move is for your own good. Hopefully it will force
you to grow up.”
“My opinion in this doesn’t matter.”
“Not particularly.” He picked up his phone. “Susan, get Jameson on the
line for me.” After hanging up, he glanced back up at me. “You will leave
for Smallville tomorrow. I’ve called ahead to get a staff to prepare the
castle for your arrival. Gabe Sullivan, the senior supervisor at the
Plant, has been informed of your placement.” Opening one of his desk
drawers, he pulled out a file and held it out to me. “This will catch you
up to speed.”
I stood there, staring at him for a long moment, wanting very much to just
walk out of there and call his bluff. He wouldn’t really disown me. He
couldn’t. I was his only heir and the LuthorCorp Empire meant everything
to him. Then again, a familiar warning in the back of my mind informed me
that Lionel Luthor likely had a backup plan. He always had a backup plan.
Walking forward, I took the file from him silently.
The phone rang. “I will check up on you once you are settled,” he said,
then picked up the phone and turned his chair to face the window,
effectively dismissing me. Out of his office, out of Metropolis, out of
his life.
I looked down at the folder in my hands, staring at the imprint on the
front cover: LuthorCorp Chemical Plant Number Three, Smallville, Kansas.
Smallville. I grimaced. Flashing an angry glare at my father that he would
never see, I turned and started toward the doors, realizing that my
retreat seemed much longer than the initial seventy-five steps it took to
get there. |