A New York Story: Chapter 3

A shirtless Michael ran a hand through his hair and sighed, gazing into the wardrobe. He had brought several dressier outfits with him, but was absolutely stuck on what to wear to this party, which, by the way, was happening in just over an hour.

He couldn't believe how fast the last day and a half had flown by. On Saturday evening, he and Lisa had joined the other Pythons for dinner at a rather ritzy place to which Eric had been tipped off by an employee from his own hotel. This dinner had stretched on a bit longer than they'd expected (what was that old adage about time flying when you're having fun?), and the next morning Michael had been rudely forced out of bed earlier than he'd liked. He'd received a call that people were already queuing up outside the theater for Holy Grail and had been doing so since half past five. He'd quickly showered, shaved and dressed, and was about to leave when he stupidly realized that Lisa was still sound asleep. He'd hated to leave her yet again, but he had no choice in the matter. He'd left a sweet little note for her on the bedside table and given her a kiss.

The whole theater affair had been a bit frenetic. They'd only had one person on security detail, and so Michael and the others were rushed into a small space akin to a broom closet as they waited for people to be ushered into the theater in an orderly fashion. They slapped on happy faces, handed out coconuts and basically acted the way they assumed people would expect them to. It was nice to meet regular people who seemed to appreciate their brand of zany humor, but in the end Michael found it to be a tiring ordeal. He breathed a sigh of relief when their work was finally done and he was able to return to the hotel and his loving wife.

As trying as it was, he almost couldn't believe that picking an appropriate outfit proved even more of a challenge. He didn't want to wear anything that was too boring or stuffy, nor anything that was too flashy.

He sighed again and Lisa obviously had heard him. She gazed at him curiously as she reached for her own outfit. “Michael? What is it?”

“Oh, it's a bit silly … I have no idea what I should wear to this affair.” He looked at her awkwardly. She must have thought of him as a little old wash-woman, agonizing like this over his choice of clothing.

Lisa looked inside the wardrobe for a moment and then her face lit up in a smile, having found a certain shirt he was sure he'd buried in the back. She took it out and held it in front of her. “How about this?”

Michael felt his cheeks grow hot. It was a white button-down shirt with a sort of gray-and-blue electric pattern of dots. A new shirt he hadn't even worn yet, he'd packed it on Lisa's urging and decided he'd pretend he'd forgotten about it. He didn't really have anything against the shirt per se, but it still seemed a bit … loud. “Oh, no, no, I really don't think-”

“Why not? I think it would look great on you. It's modern, it's sophisticated, and if you're worried that it's a bit too flashy, pairing it with this would tone it down.” She took out his black suit jacket and dark gray trousers, holding the shirt in front of them.

Michael looked at the combination and decided it wasn't that bad after all. The black would mute the pattern a bit, especially if he kept his jacket buttoned. He smiled and took the articles of clothing from her. “You know, you're right. What would I do without you, Lisa?” He gave her a little one-armed hug.

“You'd end up a fashion nightmare,” she teased, giving him a wink. Michael gave her a mock hurt expression and she laughed.

He headed into the bathroom, placing the clothes on a hook and was about to change when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. How did his hair manage to get so rumpled? He reached for his comb on the edge of the sink and ran it through the hair on the top of his head. Perhaps it was because he was hurrying a bit, but he got more and more aggravated as his hair kept flopping into his eyes. Grabbing the comb again, he combed it straight down. He was a bit shocked to realize that his hair had come practically halfway down his nose. Had it really been that long since he'd cut it, or at least had a trim? For a handful of years now, Michael had liked his hair on the long side and he didn't think that was going to change anytime soon. Even so, he'd always taken care to make sure it wouldn't allow him to go blind.

He did all he could to keep it out of his eyes – parting it different ways, combing it to the side, but it still got in his eyes. He noticed that Lisa hadn't brought any hairspray, and he hadn't brought any sort of pomade with him. How on earth did he manage to keep it from bothering him the past few days? Some sort of combing trick, he surmised, but he hadn't been able to replicate it now no matter what. He groaned.

“Michael?”

“I can't keep my hair out of my eyes,” Michael called out. The whine in his voice made him wince inwardly. He didn't mean to sound that pathetic.

Lisa entered the bathroom and looked at him expectantly.

Michael grabbed his long bangs and pushed them down over his eyes so she'd see.  “We have about an hour before the party. There's a hair stylist's several blocks away; I remember passing it when we got back from dinner the other night. I wonder if I have time,” he recited quickly, his mind flying into action.

Lisa seemed a bit worried. “Oh, I really don't think you should, Michael...”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I just want a little trim, Lisa. I'm not about to ask them to scalp me, short back and sides, that sort of thing.”

Lisa's eyes widened, as if she'd had a sudden realization. “Why don't you let me trim it?”

Michael blinked at her. “They have scissors there.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and gave him her yeah-very-funny laugh. She headed back into the main room and returned with the travel kit they'd been given. “There's a small pair of scissors in here. You really think I would offer if I wasn't equipped?” She grinned. “The rest of your hair looks perfectly fine. If it's flopping in your eyes, all I have to do is trim the fringe a little.”

Michael sighed and glanced at his watch. Time was fleeting by, and he didn't want to risk cutting it too close with a hairstylist – no pun intended. He conceded that Lisa had trimmed his hair on other occasions when he didn't have time to visit the barber, and she'd done a good job. “Alright.” His lips quirked upward in a slight grin. “'Course you know I will be expecting a lolly after you've finished.”

“I'll be sure to get you one if you're extra good,” she winked, leading him to the bathroom.

Once there, Michael was instructed to sit on the edge of the toilet while she placed a towel around his neck. As she snipped away and small bits of hair fell onto his nose, he wrinkled it all around like a bunny, resulting in laughter from Lisa. He knew she was trying to do her best and was perhaps a bit nervous so he wanted to ease the tension.

It didn't take very long at all. Once she whisked the towel off, he turned and gazed at his reflection, running his fingers through his hair. All in all, she'd done a good job. She'd only taken about half an inch – if even that – off his bangs, but when swept off to the side they were more out of his eyes and it made a big difference.

He sighed happily. “Much, much better. Thank you, love.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek and giggled slightly as he caught her beaming. She left to replace the travel kit and he proceeded to get dressed, the trousers followed by the shirt. His glance wandered to the doorway and he found Lisa standing there, eyeing him appreciatively. Turning back to the mirror, he started making funny poses as if he were a model posing for a photo shoot; a real twit of a model who was in love with himself, perhaps. He started pulling some rather smug looking faces. He heard Lisa giggle and he smiled.

“See? You look marvelous,” she said, entering the room and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Michael turned and regarded her appreciatively. “I have a lot to live up to – being married to a girl as beautiful as you.” He watched as Lisa ducked her head and blushed, a shy smile on her face. She was wearing a white peasant blouse with ruffles down the front and cap sleeves, along with a dark red skirt that fell to just above her knees. Her eyes were rimmed with a bit of eye shadow that brought out the specks of green in them wonderfully, and her loose, natural brown waves of hair tumbled down her back.

She suddenly lifted her head and returned her gaze to him. “Hm, I wonder if you should actually keep that open,” she said, pointing to his shirt which had yet to be buttoned.

Michael blushed. “Oh, no, I really don't think so,” he insisted, shaking his head adamantly. He quickly lowered his head and began buttoning it all the way up.

Lisa rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “You don't think that's a bit much? What about this?” She unbuttoned the top two.

Michael stared at her, amused. “Alright, I reckon that's a suitable compromise.” He playfully grabbed the end of her nose and gave her another kiss. “The car we're sharing with Eric and Terry will be here any minute, so shall we be off?”

“Indeed we shall,” she announced playfully, grabbing her purse as they headed toward the door to exit.

As they made their way downstairs, Michael studied her intently. She seemed to be all confidence, but he could tell underneath that she was still a bit nervous. He hoped the party would a good experience for them. No, it had to be. Yes, all that glitz could be a bit overwhelming, but hopefully it wouldn't be too grand an affair. Whatever the case, he was determined to make sure she enjoyed herself.

Lisa looked around the large, open, dimly lit lounge area of the Relaxation Plus and smiled shyly. She'd never been to a massage parlor before and this one in particular was certainly an interesting looking place. The staff already seemed especially nice and attentive.

Whomever had thrown this party seemed to have planned it well. There were young men – probably  the age of university students, Lisa surmised – dressed in costume as knights from the movie, one of them even as Sir Galahad. Of course, no one made the costume look better than Michael did, but she admired their dedication. They'd also had a good selection of music playing in the background. In the just over half an hour they'd been there, Lisa had heard Patti LaBelle's “Lady Marmalade”, “Work to Do” by the Average White Band, and a couple of David Bowie songs – one that was fairly new that she'd heard before, and another that was completely new to her. Something to do with fame and what it could do. Seemed appropriate, in some odd, ironic sense.

They had also met quite a variety of famous and not-quite-famous people since they'd first arrived. She and Michael had seen Dick Cavett as well as some nice young people who were part of an up-and-coming comedy troupe, the name of which quickly escaped her. They all seemed very pleasant, and, in the case of the comedy people, a bit quirky and funny as well. She was her usual, shy self of course, but after Michael had made the introductions and carried on the bulk of conversation, she felt a lot more comfortable. Most of these folks hadn't spent very long talking to them, actually, and had moved on to do a lot of chatting with other guests. It was all well and good with Lisa, although she expected they'd probably be back to talk more.

Oh, and the lads from Led Zeppelin had shown up, too. When Michael said this was a big deal, he hadn't exaggerated. Lisa's jaw dropped when she recognized Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. Michael must have noticed her reaction as she heard him giggle softly. She turned to find him gazing at her affectionately.

“Shall I introduce you?” he asked her softly.

Lisa felt her mouth go bone dry but she nodded quickly. She was quite a fan of their music and never thought she would actually see them in person. She felt Michael take hold of her arm and guide her over to the two rock stars. She swallowed to get the knot out of her throat and hoped she wouldn't do anything to embarrass herself or Michael.

As usual, she needn't have worried. Michael had started up a conversation in his usual, easy way, and had introduced them to his wife. Both men were quite friendly and charming, in a cool, laid-back way. Lisa tried to keep her cool and luckily had succeeded. They'd spoken with them for several minutes before two bespectacled, silly looking guys with huge mops of hair interrupted and started a conversation with them. Robert and Jimmy smiled apologetically at Mike and Lisa, saying they'd chat later perhaps.

“Thank you, Michael, for making it seem less overwhelming,” Lisa said as they walked away. “For not letting me make a fool out of myself.”

He smiled at her. “Oh, no, love. I had nothing to do with it. You're getting to be pro at this.”

“After only half an hour? I don't think so,” she chuckled in spite of herself. “Come on, that was mainly the Palin Effect at work there – speaking in such a way as to make everyone involved at ease.”

Michael ducked his head slightly as if he were embarrassed. “Oh, please. Don't say that.” He looked back up and grinned. “Well, alright, say it. But I'm not going to be pleased about it.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful swat on the chest, causing him to giggle a bit. “How about a little drink to celebrate?”

“Well, alright.”

He'd left and returned shortly with two glasses of red wine. Smiling, he handed one to Lisa. “To handling one of your first brushes with fame so well.” She laughed as they clinked glasses. Lisa took a quick sip of wine and suddenly started coughing. Oops, maybe she was a bit too hasty.

“You alright?” Michael's smile had quickly faded and he looked at her, concerned.

Lisa was still mired in coughing as she quickly nodded, waving her hand in front of her chest. Michael went around and lightly tapped her on the back. Satisfied the episode had passed, Lisa breathed a sigh of relief.

“What, we got a lightweight here?” a familiar voice drawled. She turned to her left and found one of the big-haired men from earlier staring at her in amusement. He was one of those comedy guys, Davis she thought was his name.

Michael appeared a bit startled and shook his head. “Oh, no, she's--”

“No, I just swallowed the wrong way,” Lisa blurted out, unable to keep the slight annoyance from her voice. She covered it up with an embarrassed smile.

The guy stared at her thoughtfully, his heavy eyelids and nearly empty glass indicating he'd probably had a bit too much to drink already. “'Swallowed the wrong way'?” he repeated, staring at her in amusement as if he'd picked up on some unintentional innuendo.

Lisa immediately felt her cheeks flame. Michael must have understood as well, as he'd cleared his throat and she noticed him giving the guy a warning look.

He finally held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. I get it. Just making sure you're okay, English girl,” he teased, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. “See ya.” He walked away and rejoined his colleague, a shorter guy with an even bigger mop of curly hair and a nasal voice that grated on her slightly.

She turned to Michael and found him gazing at her apologetically. “I'm sorry, that was a bit rude of him. Perhaps he wouldn't have overstepped if he weren't so pissed.”

Lisa nodded, still a bit embarrassed but trying to forget about it.

“Are you uncomfortable? Do you wish to leave and go back to the hotel?” he asked, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

Lisa appreciated Michael's concern and protectiveness, but despite Davis' foolish behavior, she was still having a good time. She shook her head. “Oh, no. He's just an idiot, or just acting like an idiot, anyway. I've met far too many lovely people here and I'd hate to leave so soon. Please don't give it a second thought, Michael.”

The look in his eyes was one of pure gratefulness. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Alright, but any time you feel you've had enough, tell me. Yeah?”

“I will. But I doubt it will be anytime soon.”

Michael nodded. He then looked down at his empty wine glass. “Think I'll nip down for a refill. You want any?”

She looked at her more than half full glass and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Believe me, I'm fine,” she said cheekily.

Michael laughed and then left to get another glass of wine. On the way over, she saw him get grabbed by one of the men they'd first talked to upon arriving. The man ushered him over to another group of people, and when Lisa saw the white-haired man standing among them, her jaw dropped.

Andy Warhol.

It was now two hours into the party and the excitement – perhaps better termed 'rowdiness' – had really seemed to build in the last hour or so. After Michael had returned with his third glass of wine, he'd taken her over to meet Andy Warhol and, soon after, Jeff Beck. She liked chatting with all these people, but after a while she started to feel a bit drained, as if she needed to go somewhere and recharge her batteries. The liquor had been free-flowing, but she'd only allowed herself two glasses of wine. After she'd finished the last one someone had offered her more, but she'd politely refused. People kept coming around and the refusal was no longer enough – they'd just fill her glass up, no questions asked. When no one was looking, she surreptitiously dumped it out in the bottom of a three-tiered fountain.

She'd stayed with Michael a good deal, but at times he'd be whisked away to meet someone else or to get back into a long-abandoned conversation. He seemed to be really in his element, chatting up all sorts of different people. Lisa felt she didn't have much to add and truth be told, she was getting rather bored talking with the same people over and over. She did spot the other Pythons at various times. Terry Gilliam was found talking to Andy Warhol as well as several of the masseuses. She'd seen Terry Jones briefly but he then seemed to disappear for a while into the back. One of the girls from that comedy troupe later emerged and gleefully told Lisa that Jonesy just gave her the best massage she'd ever had. She caught Eric mingling mostly with the rock stars, though he seemed at times as if he'd rather be anywhere else. She surmised that he was really missing Cheri.

She'd had a little chat with a local female news personality who then excused herself to get another drink. All alone, she scanned the room for Michael. She found him near the opposite corner of the lounge area, talking animatedly to that girl from the comedy troupe – Glenda, or Gilda? Something like that. She did a double take, finding his shirt now completely unbuttoned, exposing his chest. “And earlier he was so dead set against it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Someone was filling up his glass and he didn't seem to refuse. Just observing him for that short time, she could tell he'd had more than enough. She bit her lip worriedly.

“Hey!” a voice suddenly interrupted, tearing her away from her thoughts.

She turned and found a young guy, probably in his early twenties. He was about Michael's height with an athletic build, fair skin and lots of curly red hair. He was wearing a knight costume with a tunic resembling that of Sir Lancelot. He smiled broadly at her, exposing some rather large teeth. “How ya doin'?” he drawled, sounding as if he'd had too much to drink himself.

Lisa cleared her throat awkwardly and forced a shy smile. “Hello.”

“My name's Don. What's yours?”

“Er... Lisa.”

Don nodded. “So, Lisa … enjoying yourself?”

“Um, sure. Really happening party, as you Yanks probably say,” she chuckled, blushing a bit.

Don's mouth cracked open in a huge grin. “Yeah, somethin' like that.” He stopped and seemed to be looking her over. His eyes bore right into hers. “You're a pretty lady.”

Lisa avoided his gaze and nodded, managing a lopsided smile.

“And that accent of yours … Guess you can tell I haven't met many English chicks, huh?

“Mm-hm,” she said quietly. His eyes seemed to be traveling down to her chest. 'Michael, where are you?' she heard a tiny voice from deep inside her whisper.

“So you said you were enjoying yourself.”

“Yes, very much ...” She finally allowed herself to look back up at him. The look in his eyes made her squirm inwardly.

“Want to enjoy yourself even more?”