The Hangover: Part III

There were six people in the elevator heading up to the 86th floor.

Stu was leaning against the wall to his left with his left arm outstretched so that his hand was pressed against the panel with the elevator buttons. Alan was behind Stu, stroking his bare chin and thinking about something that made him look contemplative. Sam was directly across from Stu on the opposite side of the elevator, her entire body slouched against the wall and her tired eyes masked by her sunglasses as she held her coffee cup. Phil was behind Sam, leaning against the back wall, slightly bent at the knees and his sunglasses also covering his eyes as he occasionally took a sip of his now cooling coffee. His gaze, however, was focused on the small Asian couple in the center of all of them, huddled closely together with linked arms, looking from one to the other of the ragged quartet. The poor couple looked as if they were worried about being mugged or defiled at any moment. Either that or they were enthralled for some odd reason.

After the long trip toward the top, the elevator came to a stand still and the doors dinged open, sliding apart with ease. The Asian couple stepped out immediately and without a second thought. The foursome simply pushed off of whatever was bracing them up and sauntered out and found themselves in a gift shop.

"How do we get out to the Observatory Deck?" Stu asked.

Sam walked ahead, pointing at a pair of doors. "There."

The guys followed behind her as she led the way outside and into the early morning sunlight. There was already a small crowd wandering around, in awe of the magnificent view from all sides of the building. Some people were staring out through viewfinders positioned at different places around the deck, others were taking pictures of the scenery with their cameras or of themselves with the scenery behind them. There was a youthful, twenty-something couple huddled together, kissing and there was a security guard standing near the doors that the foursome had just exited.

"What time is it?"

Phil glanced over his shoulder at Stu, momentarily distracted by the view like so many others. He glanced down at his wristwatch. "Eight fifty-six." He dropped his hand back down to place both of them on his hips. He looked over the top of his sunglasses to look around. "Do you see anyone who looks like they have a vendetta against us?"

The other three glanced about, then shrugged.

"That young couple not coming up for air looks a little suspicious," Sam tried teasing, offering to take Phil's empty coffee cup from him after he down the last sip. She caught a smirk from Phil who followed her gaze toward the liplocked duo.

"That's my kind of suspicious," he replied as she tossed both their cups into the nearest garbage bin.

"Well, I just wanna get this shit over with. I'm tired and achy and I just wanna get Doug back so we can hurry up and find Sam's sister so we can get the fuck out of New York," Stu whined. "I miss my wife and her pregnant belly and my own bed and my cat Snickers."

"Wait," Phil interrupted Stu, holding his hand up. Stu looked expectantly at his friend. "You named your cat Snickers?" He then let out a chuckle. "That's so gay."

Alan looked between both men and sided with Phil, emitting a chuckle of his own. "Yeah, that is pretty gay. I'd never name my cat that."

Stu shot Alan a withering look. "Yeah? And what would you name your cat then?"

"Sir Alonso Aberforth Fitzwilliam de Burgh."

Stu, along with Sam and Phil stared blankly at Alan. "And how is that not gay?" Stu snipped.

"'Cause it's not," came Alan's deadpan response. "It's awesome."

They all took turns looking from one to another before walking closer to the fence the surrounded every side of the Observatory Deck to prevent suicidal jumpers or accidantal falls in general. They hooked their fingers into the holes and peered down at the very far, 86-story drop to the street below. They were looking down at 5th Avenue; where they were when they first arrived to the building.

Stu swallowed back a lump in his throat but it was Alan who spoke what they were all thinking. "I wonder if there would be anything left over of us if we fell from here to the street. Maybe we'd just be a gooey puddle of bones and blood like when a vampire gets staked on True Blood."

If Stu's stomach was sour, he would've thrown up just then from the imagery. Instead he just looked sideways at Alan and frowned.

"You watch that show, too?" Sam asked with a smirk over to Alan.

Alan nodded. "Yup. I love Eric. He's the man."

"I prefer Bill," she commented with a small laugh; the two of them momentarily lost in their small, off-topic conversation while Stu and Phil were still thinking about what a fall from that height would do to them.

"Didn't that show Mythbusters do an episode where they disproved a penny killing someone on the ground from this height?" Phil asked just as a voice behind them wafted into their ears.

"Hey, bitches! Where's my wife's ring?"

The foursome immediately spun around and found themselves looking at none other than Mr. Chow, standing in a pair brown cargo shorts, a yellow and green Hawaiian shirt, a pair of neon green Crocs and his usual pair of sunglasses on his face. There was also the subject of the bling he wore; a couple gold necklaces, a few rings on his fingers. He looked ridiculous, especially since he was no taller than five foot five, but his attitude and confidence seemed to even it all out. More so with two taller Asian men standing beside him who looked very capable of bench pressing several hundred pounds.

The guys narrowed their gaze in confusion.

"Chow? What the fuck...what..." Stu stuttered. He looked over at Phil who looked as just as lost for words as him. "What are you doing here?"

"You have hearin' problem, Four-Eyes? You stole my wife's ring last night. I want it back." Chow sized Stu up and gestured frivolously with his hand.

"We took your wife's ring?" Alan repeated with a laugh. "Walt Disney was right. It is a small world after all." He waved a greeting to the small, international criminal. "How've you been, Leslie?"

Before Chow could respond, Phil interuppted. "Didn't Interpol arrest you in Bangkok two years ago?"

"Yeah," Stu nodded. "There was that whole...sting operation set up by that cop who liked the plum whiskey."

"Kingsley," Alan offered.

"That wasn't his real name," Stu replied.

"Oh yeah."

"Omigod, shut up." Chow held his palm up to the pair and rolled his eyes. "Too much of this," his remarked moving his fingers like he was working the mouth of an invisible puppet. "More of this." He stopped the gesturing. Placing his hands hips he shifted his weight from one leg to the other and then peered over the top of his sunglasses at the foursome. "I was arrested and did some time, but I got out early on good behavior..." he trailed as if holding something back. "And...Mr. Chow might have had information on someone higher in the food chain than himself," he added, referring to himself in the third person.

"You cut a deal?" Stu questioned.

"More or less." Chow smirked. "I know people who know other people. We came to an understanding. I was released. No harm, no foul."

"What are you doing here in New York?" Phil asked.

"Didn't you hear me, Pretty Boy? I got released from jail," he answered. "I come to the City That Never Sleeps for vacation fun time with the missus. We party a little, I drop a few loads in her, make happy family..." he trailed again. "Maybe score a few bumps..."

"I'm pretty sure most of that violates parole in any country," Stu muttered.

Chow stared off for a moment, either ignoring Stu's comment or not hearing it. "Also thinkin' I'd maybe start a more respectable career..."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Phil wondered, arching an eyebrow. A part of him was amused.

"Wall Street," Chow answered, deadpan. He then looked at each of the foursome individiually, then as a whole. "Okay, I ask one more time, fellas. Where...is...my wife's...ring?"

"Where's Doug?" Sam asked, finally uttering a peep to this small man the guys apparently knew but she didn't...or probably met during their blackout.

"Hey Red, you lookin' good. How's the bruise?" Chow glanced at Sam and gestured to the same spot on his jaw where Sam had hers.

"Uh...fine?"

"That's good." Then, "I'll tell you where Doug is when I get my wife's ring."

"Are you really going to slit Doug's throat if we don't give you the ring, Leslie?" Alan asked, a little nervous.

"You mean after you all played a part in getting me arrested and I had to spend two years away from my wife's lovely poonani? Why shouldn't I slit Doug's throat?"

"Because at your core you're a decent guy?" Stu suggested with slight hope in his voice but it was mostly just doubt.

Chow narrowed his eyes into a scowl at Stu and then grabbed his crotch. "You can suck on my decent Chinese balls."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Listen, Chow..." he sighed and held his hands up in a surrender of sorts. "We don't have the ring. We spent all night tearing our hotel suite apart looking for it but we couldn't find it. We're sorry. We're ready to pay for whatever it cost."

"You can't buy sentiment, muthafucka!"

Sam frowned. "We know, but...it's not the ring that's important. A ring is just a ring. It's the love you have for your wife that really matters, right?" Sam took a few steps forward. "Any ring can be important and contain the same sentiment as long as it's a symbol of your love."

Phil caught Sam's eye when she briefly looked at him. "Right," he added. "I lost my wedding ring before and yeah, it was upsetting, but I got it replaced. It didn't change the fact that I was any less married or that I loved my ex any less."

Chow made a face like he'd just eaten a lemon. "I'm gettin' advice on love from a divorced man and the single woman he was fuckin' in the ladies' bathroom two nights ago? Hah, that funny."

Had either Phil or Sam been drinking their coffee anymore they would've both spat it out at the exact moment.

Stu took a step forward this time. "Mr. Chow, please. We don't have the ring anymore and we can only offer to get you a new one. We're sorry. Please, can we just have our friend Doug back?"

Chow scanned each of their faces but didn't look like he was likely to budge anytime soon. The foursome looked truly defeated. They looked between each other and then back toward Chow and his two goons as a tall, curvaceous woman who looked like a Victoria's Secret model of mixed African-American and Asian origins sauntered out from the doors of the gift shop. She saddled up beside Chow and placed her left hand on his shoulder and peered at the foursome.

"Baby, it's not that big of a deal," she spoke to Chow with an Australian accent. "We've been married seventeen years. I think my ring is due for an upgrade anyway, don't you?"

Looking up at the Amazonian-esque woman, Chow smiled delightfully. "Anything for you, wǒ de ài."

The woman smirked and squished his face with her hands before laying a big kiss on his lips. Stu, Phil and Sam all grimaced a little but Alan just smiled at the intereaction. When Chow and who could only be Mrs. Chow came up for air, he smiled happily at the foursome.

"Okay, okay. I'll let you buy my wife her new ring."

"He got the last one at Tiffany's. I don't expect anythin' less than Cartier this time."

Stu died a little on the inside. His own wife didn't even get Cartier. "Sure," he replied. "No problem."

"Can we have Doug now?" Phil asked.

Chow looked at Phil and then let out a laugh of pity mixed with amusement. "Oh, yeah." He shook his head. "I don't have Doug."

"What?" Stu squealed. "You left us a messaged at the Plaza front desk saying if we didn't get you your wife's ring by nine today you'd slit Doug's throat!"

Chow held up a finger to silence Stu. "Technically, the message was I had your little friend, and I only said that 'cause you boys always lose some little friend. Doug, Teddy. I figured after how crazy you all were two nights ago and that you had the balls to steal my wife's ring right out from under me, you must be on somethin' and would wake up the morning after without any memory of what went down...just like the other times."

Phil turned his back to Chow and brought his hands up to run through his hair, frustration oozing out his every pore. Stu just stood there, a little shellshocked, maybe. Sam didn't know what to make of any of this as she placed one hand on her hip and the other held up while Alan just smirked.

"Classic us."

"Let me get this straight," Sam growled. "You let us believe we had hope of finding one of our own? Now we're back to square one!" She threw her hands up. "This...this just really sucks balls."

"Sorry. Not my problem anymore. Toodle-oo, mofos. I'll keep in touch to see how the ring purchase is comin' along 'cause if you don't come through, I'll send my boys here to your doorsteps and break your legs, 'kay?" Chow informed with a pleasant smile. He waved his fingers at Alan. "Bye, Alan. Skype ya later!"

"Bye, Leslie! Don't be a stranger!" Alan waved back with a big grin as Chow, his wife and goons headed back into the gift shop to leave.

Stu turned on Alan. "How can you associate with a crazy asshole like that?"

"If you got to know him like I do, you'd know he can be very sweet and thoughtful. He sent me a birthday card last year from prison."

Stu just continued to look at Alan, wondering what planet he was from as he walked over to Phil and Sam. "Oh...my...god, Phil. We're so fucked we won't be able to sit right for the rest of our lives! What do we do?"

Phil dropped his hands down from the top of his head and glanced at the three staring back at him. Despite him being responsible for the blackout this time around, as always, it was up to him to make the tough decisions and lead this pack. Slowly, he reached his right hand into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

"The only logical thing left to do."



Tracy was in her parent's backyard where her wedding had taken place four years earlier. She had stayed the night and since both her parents and her daughter were early risers, she had no choice but to be the same. It was only after six in the morning and her father, Sid, was taking a break from his omelet and toast to throw his granddaughter Sarah up into the air and catch her while his wife, Linda, sat at the patio set, happily looking on. When her cell phone rang, Tracy excused herself from the Sunday morning breakfast she was sharing with them on the patio. The early morning sun had already crested over the horizon and was now starting to beat down on her head as she saw who was calling. She immediately answered, her free hand strategically placed on her hip.

"Phil," she whisper-shouted. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Trace. We fucked up royally this time."

Tracy removed her hand from her hip and placed it to her forward. She was trying to calm herself down. "Okay...start from the beginning if you have to. What...happened?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Say anything, Phil! Just tell me you didn't lose my husband again. Please..."

"Yeah...we didn't just lose Doug this time. We lost a bride, too."

"You what?" Tracy questioned, her voice almost raising an octave. "Please tell me you're joking." This seemed to be a thing with the guys but now they not only lost her husband but some poor woman about to get married? "Anything else I need to be freaking out over?"

"And we're in some serious trouble."

"Phil? What kind of serious trouble? This bride wasn't some senator's daughter or something, is she?"

"Sorry, Tracy. I gotta go."

"What? No, Phil...answer my..."

The line went dead and Tracy let out a frustrated sigh. Closing her eyes tightly, she took a deep breath and walked back over toward the patio set. One look at his daughter's face and Sid offered a knowing and assuring smile.

"The boys got into it again?"

Tracy nodded. "I have no idea what goes through their minds when they get together for these weekends."

"What'd they do this time?" Sid asked, sitting back down with lil' Sarah on his knee as he bobbed her up and down like she was on a pony ride. "Dead hooker in the bathroom?"

"Dad," Tracy chastised.

Sid's eyes widened a bit. "Oh, sorry." He covered his hands over Sarah's ears and whispered, "Did they find a dead hooker in the bathroom?"

"No," Tracy scoffed, setting her cell phone down on the patio table. "They lost Doug again," she replied. "And apparently some bride."

Linda took a sip of orange juice from the glass in front of her. "Well, boys will be boys, dear. You know they always come through and find whoever they misplaced."

Tracy frowned. "I hope so." With her hands held out she gestured for her dad to hand her daughter over. Once in her arms she smiled at Sarah and placed a kiss on her nose. "Uncles Alan, Phil and Stu lost your daddy again. Let's make sure they don't babysit you. Ever," she added with a smirk.



"Is there something wrong, sir?" Phil was asking the security guard who had tapped him on the shoulder. The man looked to be in his late fifties to early sixties. The way he carried himself gave one the impression that maybe he was a retired cop working part-time as a security guard to supplement his income.

"Hand over the cell phone," the guard demanded.

"Uh, okay." Phil did as he was told as the other three watched. "Can I ask what this is about?"

The guard grunted. "Haven't you watched the news lately? The National Terrorism Advisory System has issued a threat assessment of 'imminent'. I can check bags and cell phones of anyone I deem suspicious at random." He pointed between Phil and the others with Phil's phone. "You four have just been standing around here, looking like you ran with the bulls in Pamplona, not really bothering to enjoy the view like regular tourists and it looked like a Mexican stand-off between all of you and those Asians. Now you're on the phone with someone. How do I know you're not calling for an air strike on the city?"

"Uh, because I'm not a terrorist," Phil held his hands up defensively. "I was calling my friend's wife to let her know we can't find him. We lost him at some point early yesterday morning and that small Asian guy said he knew where he was. Turns out he was lying. So, now my friends and I are screwed," Phil explained. "And we look like shit because we've spent the last day running all over this city, getting attacked by bums and birds in the process, trying to find our friend and the sister of this nice lady here who is supposed to get married in, oh..." he looked at his watch quickly. "Under five hours."

The security guard studied Phil closely, while glancing at the numbers of recent calls Phil had made. He then turned to look at Sam. "It's your sister that's missing?"

Sam nodded. "Yes. She was partying with us Friday into Saturday. She got back with us to the hotel the guys were staying at. By that time our friend Doug was already missing. She turned around and left the hotel an hour after we returned and we have no idea where she went. Phil and I," she gestured between her and Phil, "have already gone to the police and filed a report about her being missing. You can call Detective Contello at the 17th Precinct if you don't believe us."

Stu had moved to stand next to Alan as they both kept quiet while the security guard sized up Sam and Phil.

"You can use my phone to call if you want," Phil offered.

The security guard frowned. "Nah," he replied, handing Phil his phone back. "Just...move along. Get off my observatory deck, buy a fuckin' souvenir or something. Just get going and go find your friends."

"Okay." Phil took his phone and pocketed it. "Just like that? We're good to go?"

The security guard nodded. "I was a young prick like you once upon a time." Off Phil's offended look, the guard continued. "I know what it's like to have a wild and crazy night in this city and lose a few people."

As the foursome convened together and began to move toward the doors to head into the gift shop, Stu turned back around.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You'd be surprised where people can turn up. Sometimes it's like the dead rising from their grave."

Looking back toward his friends with a frown, Stu caught the last bit of what Alan was saying to Sam and Phil.

"I need one of those green, foam Lady Liberty crowns."

"No, you really don't, Alan." Phil scratched at his face as they made their way around the gift shop back toward the elevators.

"I swear I won't ask for anything again," Alan whined, stomping his right foot down like a child preparing to throw a temper tantrum.

Sam and Phil turned back to look at him. Sam placed a hand on Alan's shoulder and gestured toward the cash registers. "You have your own money and you're a grown man, Alan. Go buy your damned souvenir yourself. We're not going to hold your hand."

Alan pulled back and sank into himself like said child being scolded by the parent he was most fearful of. "Fine," he muttered quietly. He stalked off in the direction of display of Lady Liberty foam hats.

"Damn, woman. You know how to lay the law," Phil commented with a charming and approving smile.

Stu just looked between the pair. "Just curious," he began. "What Chow said about the two of you in a ladies bathroom..." Both seemed to blanche a little.

"Let's focus on figuring out what we're gonna do about Doug and my sister, huh?" Sam insisted, walking to the elevators.

Phil just shot Stu a look. "Stu..."

"I'm just sayin'. Do you know how unsanitary public restrooms are?"