12 Ms. Grant

Metropolis International Airport.

The city basked under cloudless skies, sunlight bathed the tarmac in a blinding brilliance. Jets roared back and forth, soaring into the azure like mighty eagles taking flight.

Jay followed his father to the airport, munching on a sandwich from a convenience store, intended as a makeshift lunch. He inquired, "So, we've rushed all the way from the Daily Planet to greet some VIP?"

"Ms. Cat Grant," Mr. Reynolds explained. "She used to be part of the Daily Planet, worked as Perry's assistant for a while, but let's just say it wasn't the most harmonious of partnerships."

Jay nodded, imagining Perry's voice, loud enough to startle pedestrians outside the building, and figured he could understand the sentiment.

"She quit afterward," Mr. Reynolds continued, "left Metropolis, moved to National City and started CatCo Worldwide Media. Quite the formidable woman."

"So why the apprehensive reaction when she's mentioned?"

"You heard that, huh?"

Jay spread his hands, "Wasn't eavesdropping, but with Perry's vocal range, soundproofing in his office isn't saying much."

"Fair enough," Mr. Reynolds sighed. "We all respect Ms. Grant's talent and audacity—she's reached heights most of us only dream of, but you'll understand soon enough."

It didn't take long for Jay to find out. Shortly after, a sleek private jet swooped down from the cerulean skies, its white hull catching the sunlight, glinting gracefully like a swallow returning home.

"That's her plane?" Jay asked.

"Unmistakably hers," Mr. Reynolds affirmed. "We should make our move."

They didn't wait long to meet the "legendary Ms. Grant." She stepped out in custom-designed white heels, her radiant blonde hair surely the work of an exclusive stylist. With chic black sunglasses and designer attire, her elegant stride exuded confidence, a persona shaped by high society.

Her assistant trailed behind—a girl in her early twenties, her presence almost eclipsed by her boss's aura. She also sported blonde hair, one hand clutching a modest brown handbag—clearly not a high-end brand—and the other dragging a suitcase tagged with Ms. Grant's nameplate. She would have been pretty if not for the chunky glasses that seemed to mar the overall impression.

"Ms. Grant," Mr. Reynolds greeted with a forced warm smile, offering his hand, "Long time no see."

"Charles Reynolds," Cat Grant glanced at him dismissively over her glasses, shaking his hand perfunctorily. "Let me guess, still no progress under Perry after all these years?"

Mr. Reynolds winced at the truth in her words. Laughing awkwardly, he replied, "Not everyone can match your achievements. I guess I just don't have the gift. Might remain a minor reporter all my life."

Ms. Grant sniffed, "It's not about talent, Reynolds. I told you when I left the Daily Planet. I admired you once, a journalist willing to challenge the dark, truly fighting for the truth. I thought you had great potential. But look at yourself now, what do you see in those eyes? Nothing but a numb soul, like everyone else."

Mr. Reynolds's smile stiffened, caught between embarrassment and irritation, but he didn't retort.

Ms. Grant's eyes then shifted to Jay, her smile returning.

"And who is this young man?"

"My son, just graduated from high school. I brought him to the paper for an internship, to get a taste of society," Mr. Reynolds introduced. "This is Jay. Jay, say hello to Ms. Grant."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Grant."

Ms. Grant nodded with a smile, "Jay? Good, good. I see in your eyes what your father once had. I hope once you've learned enough about society, you won't abandon them."

"Thank you," Jay replied indifferently. "You may not see him as a competent journalist, but as far as I know, he's the best father."

Both Ms. Grant and Mr. Reynolds looked at Jay with surprise, then she beamed, "I'm liking you more now."

"Thank you." Jay's gaze drifted to the girl behind Ms. Grant, asking, "And who might this be?"

"Oh, almost forgot," Ms. Grant turned towards her, introducing, "This is my new personal assistant. Kara, introduce yourself."

The girl set down the suitcase for a moment, pushing up her goofy glasses, "Hey, I'm Kara, Kara Kent."

She extended a friendly hand to Jay, who didn't take it, instead freezing in place.

"Wait," he said, "your name is Kara?"

She looked puzzled, "Yes, is there something special about that name?"

From National City, Kara Kent... Jay's lips twitched. He resisted the urge to use his X-ray vision to check if she was wearing an 'S' insignia under her clothes—it would be rather awkward if she noticed.

But it seemed likely she was National City's own superhero—Supergirl. He had thought glasses changing most people's perception of a face was ridiculous, but now it didn't seem so far-fetched after all.

"Are you okay?" Kara asked, readjusting her glasses, "You've been staring."

"Ah, sorry." Jay came to his senses, realizing his rudeness, and quickly averted his gaze. He shook the hand offered by Kara, explaining, "You just reminded me of someone I know."

Kara then shook hands with Mr. Reynolds, who quipped, "Tough job being Ms. Grant's assistant, isn't it, Kara?"

Kara's response was a radiant, almost magical smile, "You have no idea."

"Kara?" Ms. Grant's voice rose an octave, "If you have complaints, feel free to voice them."

Kara quickly dropped her smile, humbly picking up her suitcase and falling silent. Jay noticed, though, as she quietly stuck out her tongue at Ms. Grant when she wasn't looking, a gesture that was hard to suppress a chuckle at.

Back at the Daily Planet, Mr. Perry's welcome for Ms. Grant was anything but warm. They exchanged pleasantries on the surface, but from the very first exchange, the verbal jabs began, each seemingly scoring points as if they were earning a hefty bonus for their wit. Jay silently returned to his desk to watch the two titans spar, noting Kara's struggle to keep pace with notes behind Ms. Grant, a mix of comically endearing and awkward.

After about five minutes, Jay gleaned the gist—Ms. Grant was in Metropolis for a grand gala in three days, an event Perry also seemed to be attending. When Ms. Grant casually inquired if Kara had secured a dance partner, Kara was genuinely startled.

"Me?" She pointed at herself with the end of her pen, incredulous. "Am I expected to dance?"

"Of course, Kara!" Ms. Grant eyed her incredulously. "What do you think I brought you all the way from National City for? A vacation on company expense?"

"But I—I don't know how to dance."

"There's always a first time," Ms. Grant commanded.

"But I don't even have an evening gown..."

"I anticipated that. I've rented one for you." Ms. Grant smiled with foresight, adding with emphasis, "But remember, when you return it to me, not a single wrinkle is permitted."

Kara took a deep breath, accepting the immutability of her boss's decision. She'd never attended a gala of such magnitude, fearing she might suffocate from nerves while dancing the tango there.

Incidentally, she wouldn't suffocate, even in a vacuum.

"Speaking of the gala..." Jimmy Olsen popped up from some corner, looking dejected. "I'm afraid I won't be able to make it, sorry boss."

Perry raised an eyebrow, "What now?"

"Old issues acting up, I have to go in for a minor surgery the day after tomorrow."

"What about my photographer?"

Jay seized the moment, lightly tapping on the door frame, drawing everyone's attention, "Um, boss, I was thinking maybe I could go, be your photographer—if you don't mind."

He didn't know why he volunteered. It was almost impulsive, as if his brain had momentarily overheated. He reassured himself it wasn't just to get close to the 'legendary' Supergirl, although maybe there was a bit of that.

But deep down, a part even he might not have been aware of, he was just trying to connect with someone like him—for the first time in six years, he had encountered someone else with his kind of abilities.

Perry looked skeptical, "You know how to shoot?"

"A bit, I was in the photography club in school."

That wasn't a lie; he'd been a member of most of the clubs at school.

"I'll find another stand-in," Perry said, shaking his head. "These kinds of events are a bit premature for an internship experience."

"But you've got to start somewhere, right boss?"

Ms. Grant, overhearing, scrutinized Jay with a thoughtful smile, "He's got a point. Youth is for daring to try new things, I like it. Here's what we'll do: I'll get you an invite, young Mr. Reynolds, and maybe you could even be Kara's dance partner."

"Thank you, Ms. Grant," Jay said, reconsidering his previous judgment of her. He exchanged smiles with Kara, who returned a polite, shallow one.