Chapter 37

Martin spent a good 30 minutes sitting at his desk, doing nothing, after his conversation with Clark. His fingers were linked behind the back of his head, and he had leaned back with his eyes closed. All he could hear was the squeaking of his chair as he leaned back every few seconds, coming dangerously close to tipping all the way back. He didn’t care – he was gathering his thoughts.
Letting out a huge sigh, Martin opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a minute and then, sat up. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he muttered to himself. He looked at his watch. 11:15. Not too early for lunch.
Martin breezed past Sam’s cubicle, cutting him off in mid-sentence when he asked “What’s going…?”
“Gotta take care of something. Back after lunch.”
Shirley tried to stop him as he rushed through the reception area and toward the exit. Martin held up his hand. “We’ll talk later.”
Jogging to his car, Martin wondered where he should go. The two people he needed to talk to and share this information – Don and Sharla – were people he didn’t want to talk to right now. Martin could almost see Don’s sweaty face grinning as he recounted to his friends that he’d bedded Jean Lundeen. His mother! And Sharla probably didn’t want to talk to him. Martin let out a frustrated sigh as he thought about his drunken attempt at romance the night before. “God, I’m such an idiot!”
He decided he’d stop at his apartment for a peanut butter sandwich and then head to Wild Bill’s. It would be easier to face Sharla than to face Don. He would be embarrassed to see Sharla. He wanted to kill Don.
Martin parked as far from the front exit of Risky Dick’s as he could to stay out of sight and sneak up the back stairs to his apartment. His blood boiled when he saw his mother’s car still parked in the lot. Don’s truck was there, too. “So, does he have her working in the kitchen now? Not only a bed partner, but slave labor.”
Martin slammed his car door hard and then flinched, knowing it might have been heard by Don who watched the bar’s comings and goings carefully. As Martin moved toward the back steps, the back door of the bar, closest to the dumpster, opened and Don came out with a dripping, stinky bag of garbage. Don’s face brightened when he saw Martin.
“Jimmy Olson! Good morning. Missed you at breakfast.”
“Had to get to the office early. Wanted to work on our Talbot strategy.”
Don didn’t seem to notice how terse Martin’s voice sounded. “Hey, that’s right. You kids come up with anything good last night?”
“Not really.” Martin turned to go up the stairs.
“Jean and I talked a lot about this when I drove her home last night.”
Martin grunted. “Yeah, I bet you did.”
“She’s very opinionated, your mother. And quite intuitive. Even after she’s had a few glasses of wine.” Don chuckled as Martin seethed. “I just didn’t feel right letting her drive herself home. Not that she was drunk, mind you, but I don’t think she’s used to drinking much of anything. And I would’ve hated to see her stopped for drunk driving.”
Martin turned his head and peered at Don over his glasses and said snidely, “Very nice of you, Don.”
“No problem, Martin. The bonus is I get to see her again tonight. She was so worried about how she’d get her car back, so when I dropped her off, I promised I’d pick her up late this afternoon, bring her over for supper and then, she can drive her car home.” He tapped the front of his forehead. “Always thinking, right?”
Martin turned around, came down the steps and stood directly in front of Don. “So you just dropped her off?” Really?”
Don’s smile faded. He looked confused and then slightly angry. “Well, what the hell do you think I did? Some investigative reporter you are, Jimmy Olson. Jumping to conclusions with little or no facts. Get your mind out of the gutter. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Don turned his back and started walking back inside the bar, then he turned around and got right back in Martin’s face. “What do you take me for? What do you take your mother for? My God, kid, we’ve been dating for less than two weeks! I’m no prude, but I am a gentleman, and I like your mother’s company and if it becomes more, I’ll let you know.”
Martin stood helpless and mute. Don was almost through the back door when Martin said softly, “I’m sorry, Don.”
Don stopped, stood in the doorway and took a deep breath. “Come for hamburgers tonight with your mom. And bring Sharla. She called this morning, by the way, and wants you to come see her at Wild Bill’s.”