part 2
please see part 1 for disclaimer and notes.


Saturday, April 26

5:38 pm

The Hudson Hotel
 

Passing off Langly as a distinguished member of high society 
wasn't going to be an easy job, but the task was set to 
immediatly after the trio checked in.

((*recommended listening-The Arthur Murray Dance Orchestra 
f/ Chip Fisher "You're a Heavenly Thing",singing section only.*)) 

His glasses were cleansed , finger nails clipped, golden hair 
tied back into a tight pony tail. Finally, he was stripped
(( ow, baby, ow!)) of his Limp Bizcit T-shirt and tight blue 
jeans, and fitted with a pressed tuxedo and black patent leather shoes. 

"Ooo! You livin' large now, brother." Byers joked. The three 
walked out to their trusty automobile, compiled with thousands 
of dollars worth of equipment they'd use for studying every 
citizen at the showing that night. They were all essential 
parts in this case. Langly was nervously shivering on the 
drive to the ballroom.

"What's wrong?" Frohike turned to look behind him at his 
associate hidden in the back. "You should be used to this 
kind of thing. Remember that press conference we at the 
night we met Yves? Good times..."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Langly answered."but, I've actually 
done this before, with so many people depending on me. I
 mean, what if I fuck it up?"

"Just don't," was Byers' answer from the driver's seat. 
"Tonight is too valuable to have you screwing around. This 
very well could make or break the Lone Gunmen."
 

7:06 pm

Rockafeller Center Ballroom

((*r.l.-Arthur Murray Orchestra "Bandolera"*))

The entrance was adorned with golden beams from the search lights, 
and hundreds of members of the paparazzi. Byers parked the van 
in the back of the building, and he and Frohike slyly through 
the back door to set up, their gear packaged in two neat 
briefcases. They left Langly out in front, rembling, with 
only a tiny microphone to protect him from being exposed 
for what he really was. He walked into the coat check and 
could see the ballroom its doorway. A lavish orchestra was 
playing tangos and sambas, and the 'happy' patrons waltzed 
stiffly in $500 gowns and $700 suits.

The hall was enourmous with massive windows displaying the 
clear April sky outside. It was like walking into a mirrored 
music box:Every where you looked, there was the same sound 
and the same couple.

"Well, here we go." Langly whispered to himself, and he walked 
inside the hall. He stood in the corner. And he stood. And stood.

"Don't just stand there, moron!" A sharp voice pierced 
through Langly's ear piece. It was Frohike. He and Byers 
were set up and had a perfect view of the dance floor via 
survalence cameras positioned in the chandelers by the 
establishment. "Go talk to someone!" he hissed. Langly 
quickly walked towards a gathering of middle aged aristocrates. 
He tightly turned his head towards an elderly woman.

"Nice night." he began.

"Yes," the old woman glanced at him, then made a double take at 
the young blonde man. "Yes!...Say, I haven't seen you around. 
Where have you been hiding yourself...uh, I didn't catch a 
name..." Langly paniced and said the first thing that entered his head.

"It's Richard Langly." he answered.

"You idiot!" Frohike shouted over the ear piece."You're 
not supposed to use your real name!"    

"Dammit, Langly!" Byers added."Well, just keep using that 
name,'Richard'. It's too late to change it now."

"Anyway," Langy continued, acting friendly. "What painting 
is that old Jake displaying this evening?"

"Oh," the old woman had never taken her eyes off of Langly's 
face and stared anxiously as she spoke. "It's Dali's 
'Persistance of Memory'. Worth over 20 million, it is. 
Still, I have no idea where he got the money for that silly 
thing! But can you believe all the people here, Richard? The 
Press, the mayor, practically every art dealer in the 
country..." she trailed off.

"Yes..." Feeling ridiculous for wasting so much time with this 
absent minded grandmother, Langly sighed and turned to search 
for a more helpful patron.
 

8:17 pm
 

So far it had been a successful night. Langly met with several 
other important people on the New York social scene and Frohike 
and Byers were eagerly gathering all the information they needed. 
The pieces were finally beggining to merge together, and the 
answers to their questions were starting to surface. 

"We're almost there, Langly! Keep it up!" they told him, who 
was now lingering on the side lines of the dance floor. He'd 
spent over an hour in this steriotypical hellhole and still 
not even seen half of the people there.

"Hey, Langly," Byers said,"you have to do some dancing, man. 
People are gonna get suspicious if you don't."

"But look at these narcs!" Langly scanned the floor in 
discust. "They're dancing like corpses! And this music 
makes me want to yak!"

"I don't mean to alarm you, Casanova," Frohike added,"but 
that sharp dressed fellow in the pink ramba shirt has been 
staring at your ass all evening. So, I'd get a woman in your 
arms fast before he starts to close in. But maybe you want 
that, I mean, I don't know you're plans for the evening.."

Frohike and Byers tried to stiffle their laughter while 
Langly peered over to the gay man who grinned and waved 
to him flirtily. Langly gulped and looked in the opposite 
direction only to find the empty-minded old woman at his 
side, licking her chaped lips to create 'sex appeal'.

((*r.l.-Arthur Murray Orchestra "The Speak up Mambo"*))

"Hello, Richard," she chirped. "Let's dance!" She whipped 
him into an embrace and drug him out to the center of the 
dance floor. Langly struggled to get away from her, but 
she wouldn't let go of his tight torso. During a spin, 
Langly was flung into the mayor and his secretary, so he 
took a chance to escape. But that old woman was just not 
going to give up her pretty piece of flesh. Several hits, 
dips, and all-to-close numbers later, Langly stumbled back 
to his position on the side lines once more.

"What a great mess you've gotten me into now, boys," he 
grumbled. "This is beautiful, just... beautiful!" Langly 
stopped in his tracks and his jaw dropped as he focused 
all his attension to the figure before him. ((*r.l.-Ram 
Jam "Black Betty"*))

Standing by the buffet, he saw a tall, slender (not thin, not 
fat, slender.) woman. Her short dark hair was messy,and fell 
loosely upon her lovely crown. Her gown was pitch black and 
was supported by one strap so that her collar bone could be 
exposed. She wore black pearls around her neck and on her 
ears. Her lips were blood colored and her skin was as 
delicate and pale as a china doll's. And on her adorable 
nose, she wore thin wire glasses. Langly felt his entire 
body go numb, and he forgot about every thing else in the 
world. He knew that he could never let such a briliant 
creature slip away, so he gathered himself together and 
walked slowly to where the lady was standing. Langly stood 
silently beside her for a moment, and blankly said,

"Good crab dip?"

"Yes." the woman responded with a shy smile. Langly smiled back, 
and then turned from her to smack his face.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he hissed to himself. Langly twirled 
back around and attempted conversation again. 

"So, umm...you know Jake Carton?" he asked, blushing violently. 

"Not really. My boss always sends me to these things. But I 
heard that Mr.Carton illeagally aquired the money he used to 
purchase that Dali." Frohike and Byers spoke furiously over 
the radio, telling Langly to move on, but he didn't hear a word. 
He was too busy studying the heavenly goddess' face and trying to 
impress her. And he was trembling so horribly becuase, you know, 
he's new at this! 

"You know about that too? My newspaper is gonna do a 
story on it," Langly told her. 

"Oh, you have a newspaper?" The woman smiled again, 
and suddenly became more interested in the man in 
front of her. He was thin and slightly tanned with 
long strands of gold on his head so perfect that 
they were like drops of sunlight. The fellow possessed 
a pair of defined cheek bones and the most adorably 
dimpled chin. Handsomely dressed and so...so...well, 
there was something about him. Something that she just 
couldn't put her finger on. 

"Yes. It's called the 'Lone Gunman' and it's run by my 
associates and me and we make it in our apartment in 
D.C. and..." Langly began to stutter like a teenager. 
The woman's smile faded into a look of disbeilef.

" 'Lone Gunman?' " She began to feel faint." Oh my god. 
You're...you're Ringo Langly!" She was spellbound and 
estatic. Langly just stood there and stared in confusion. 
How could she posibly know about him, a Nobody, a Schmuck? 
"I read your newspaper all the time. And I read about you 
even more. I really...I..." Now she began to stutter. She 
had always been a constant reader of the Lone Gunman, ever 
since their first issue, twelve years back. She'd actually 
found the paper lodged in the gutter by her dorm in college. 
She had also always had a strange interest in their youngest
 member, a certain blue eyed blonde computer master mind who 
seemed could make all things fall into place. Her gaze 
deepened in his eyes. They were so sparkly. Yes, sparkly! 
Langly's paranoia fled from his body and he was still in
 awe when he asked, 

"What's your name?" to her in a soft voice. He knew what the 
answer had to be. The lady in black answered.

"Annette Berkfield."  Stillness. 

"I've always read about you. And what you do..." Langly breathed 
deeply. He and she were stuck in each other's eyes. Right then 
they could feel what the other was feeling. What they were thinking. 

"I can't believe it."

"Niether can I." More stillness. Annette broke their silence 
and chuckled lightly. "So...I, uh...I hear your kung fu is 
pretty good." she grinned.

"Yeah," Langly began to smile. "but yours is better. Do you 
want to dance?"  Annette nodded and followed him out to the 
vast marble plain. Beats of trumpets and guitars filled thier
 ear drums. 

((*r.l.-Arthur Murray Orchestra "Vem-Vem"*)) 

Soon the tempo picked up and steadily the musical passion 
between dancer and conductor rose. Feet moved faster and 
spins turned quicke, the atmosphere swirled together. 
Langly was dancing divinely, and the watchful Frohike 
and Byers were absolutely stunned. The same scrawny geek 
who spends his Saturday mornings watching cartoons and 
eating Froot Loops ((*message from author- mmm...Froot 
Loops.*)) was dancing more elequintly than Fred Astaire. 
Langly dipped Annette closely to the floor and, in the 
heat of the moment, ripped out his elastic pony tail tie. 
His yellow locks spilt over his back and face, and fixated 
to his beaded sweat. He whipped his princess to her feet 
and she gasped in exictement. 


"Do you wanna get outta here?" she panted. All Langly could say 
was 'yes'. He trailed behind Annette as they made thier way to 
the front of the vuilding. Then he took out his ear piece and 
dropped it into a potted palm tree, decorated in white Christmas 
lights, by the opening of the coat check.
    

"Where the hell are you going, ass hole?! Stop!" Byers and 
Frohike yelled. But Langly didn't hear them. All that 
mattered to him now was Annette.

 
**********Intermission. Go now,and get a chocolatey treat or something.***********