The Wall Street Journal: "Following Barack Obama's presidential victory, NASDAQ's energy and banking stocks surged, driving a broad rally in the New York stock market. The Dow Jones Industrial Average climbed 305.45 points to 9625.28, marking the largest post-election day gain in 24 years. The S&P 500 and NASDAQ rose 4.08% and 3.12%, respectively."
The Washington Daily: "Obama's election comes at a tough time. Succeeding Franklin Roosevelt as the first president to face both economic recession and global instability, he must dedicate significant time and energy to addressing the financial crisis, which has spread worldwide, to assert his charisma and leadership on the global stage."
The Los Angeles Times: "The news of Nicole Kidman's pregnancy with Martin's child continues to dominate headlines, with everyone searching for the pair, who remain elusive…"
…
"How was last night?"
Nicole was at the breakfast table when Martin descended the stairs with Naomi Watts, who was a whirlwind of unease, embarrassment, and guilt.
Seeing them, Nicole smiled and asked the question. Naomi stammered, "I—he—we, uh—"
Nicole, amused by her friend's flustered expression, stood and hugged her. "Relax, darling. It was all my idea."
"What?!" Naomi's eyes widened. "So Martin really—?"
"Did it fulfill your little fantasy?" Nicole teased, winking.
Naomi's face flushed crimson.
…
After another day in Australia bonding with Nicole and, well, bonding with Naomi, Martin flew back to Paris. This time, he didn't hide his itinerary, and reporters quickly got wind of his flight number.
"Damn, why so many people? How'd these reporters know we were coming back to Paris?" Makelele, a soccer star from Paris Saint-Germain, said, shocked, to his teammate Luyindula.
Luyindula shook his head. "No clue. I'm as surprised as you."
"Let's go, shoo these guys away. We're here to recover from injuries, not deal with this circus," Makelele said, marching toward the crowd with a grim resolve.
(Note: Makelele and Luyindula are star players for Paris Saint-Germain.)
As he neared the reporters, a commotion erupted.
"He's here!"
"Quick, grab the closest spot!"
"Run!"
Makelele froze. I'm right here—where are you all going? The reporters surged past him to the other side of the terminal, leaving him in an empty void.
Confused, he turned to Luyindula's voice behind him. "Look, it's Martin Meyers, the big star."
There, swarmed by reporters, was a strikingly handsome man—tall, lean, in a tailored suit of no discernible brand, calmly fielding questions. Makelele recognized him instantly: Martin Meyers, the guy from Wanted, a movie he loved for its raw intensity.
"You hear? Nicole Kidman's pregnant with his kid. She's a total babe—lucky bastard," Luyindula said, a Nicole fanboy whose envy of Martin was palpable.
"Isn't she, like, way older than him?" Makelele asked.
"So what? She doesn't look it. Those features—damn, she's gorgeous!" Luyindula stared at Martin, wishing he could trade places.
…
Facing the onslaught of reporters, Martin was ready.
"Everyone, calm down, no pushing," he said. "Let's move over here so we don't block other travelers. I'll answer your questions."
His composure won over nearby passengers. A british tourist whispered to a companion, "That's a huge star, but look how polite he is. Not like those arrogant celebs back home."
"Martin, is it true Nicole Kidman's pregnant with your child?"
"Martin, are you the father?"
"Will you acknowledge the kid?"
Once they reached an open area by the airport's right entrance, the questions flew. Martin raised his hands, exuding a commanding presence that hushed the crowd.
"I'll answer one by one—though your questions are pretty much the same, so I'll just cover it all," he said with a smile. "Yes, Nicole is pregnant with my child. I'm the father of the baby in her belly."
The crowd erupted—reporters, onlookers, and passersby gasping in unison. Luyindula, among them, blurted, "Man, that lucky guy! I'm so jealous!"
Makelele, unimpressed, muttered, "You're a sports star, dude. Chill."
"Martin, will you marry Nicole?" a reporter shouted.
"I love Nicole, and anything's possible in the future," Martin replied. "But whether we marry or not, I'm her child's father, and she's the mother of my child. That won't change. I'll take care of them—always."
"What's Tom Cruise's reaction to this?" another asked, fishing for drama.
Martin didn't bite. "Tom and Nicole have no connection now, so I don't care what he thinks."
"What's the baby's name?"
"Haven't decided yet. We don't even know if it's a boy or girl."
"Martin—"
…
At the airport, Martin's candor sent the reporters away satisfied, their stories zipping through phone lines to newsrooms, TV stations, and websites. He left with a relaxed smile.
"Whoa, look who's here—Martin Meyers, the soon to be dad, Don't make a dad joke later i'ght?" a teasing voice called out.
Martin turned to see Leonardo. "I'm back. Your vacation's over."
"About time. That was the most boring break ever," Leonardo groaned.