The Hangover: Part III

THREE DAYS EARLIER (THURSDAY)

A middle-aged man in an expensive three-piece suit sat at a long, mahogany conference table; his back to the large window behind him, several Los Angeles skyscrapers beyond it. The expression he wore on his face was that of muted impatience as he stared at his Rolex and tapped a pen on the table. Across from him sat Phil Wenneck, hands folded on the table, offering an apologetic smile while avoiding eye contact with the blonde woman sitting two seats away on his right who had found something interesting with her nails. Suddenly, the door to the room opened up and a harried-looking, overweight woman, also middle-aged, came bustling in with a briefcase gripped under her arm and holding a few manilla envelopes that looked to be overflowing with important paperwork.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized, moving around the table to take a seat beside the man in the suit. Her attire was considerably less expensive. One would suspect second-hand, even? "Some Mexican selling oranges on the side of the road was struck by an SUV that jumped the curb. I had to take a different route, out of my way." She finally sat down, dropping the briefcase and folders on the table in front of her with an abrupt plop. She looked anxious, tired and happy at the same time as she glanced between Phil and the woman beside him. "Hello."

"A call would've been nice," the suit remarked, his tone droll as he flipped open his own manilla folder and clicked the pen in his hands. He passed an official-looking sheet of paper across the table to Phil.

"Sorry," the harried woman replied, defensively. "But I don't drive with my cell phone to my ear."

"Ever heard of bluetooth?"

"Ever heard of shut the fuck up?"

Phil's eyebrows raised, surprised and amused. He finally met the gaze of the woman two seats away from him. It was his wife Stephanie. Both seemed to be maintaining a certain disdain for each other.

"It's okay. We didn't mind waiting," Phil interjected, trying to keep the peace.

"Speak for yourself," Stephanie mumbled, only audible enough for Phil to hear. He gave her a brief sideways glance and shook his head, trying to force a smile for the other pair.

"Just sign the top line, Mr. Wenneck," the man, Stephanie's lawyer, informed.

Looking down at the paper in front of him, he took the pen offered. "Anywhere else?" Phil inquired, pointing to the line in question toward the bottom of the form. The male lawyer shook his head. "Alright." Phil hunched forward a little, pressing the pen to paper and signing his signature. He then handed the pen to Stephanie and pushed the form to her as well.

"You can sign the bottom line, below your husband's signature," the harried female, Phil's lawyer, pointing with a chubby finger.

"Obviously," Stephanie remarked under her breath. She took no time to waste in signing the paper and as she did so, Phil's attention turned to something on Stephanie's left hand as she held the form in place to keep it from shifting around.

"What the fuck is that, Steph?"

"What?" she looked up at him, clicking the pen off and passing the form back to her lawyer.

"The fucking rock on your hand," he pointed to the large diamond ring on her left ring finger.

"What does it look like, Phil?"

"What the fuck?" Standing up and pushing his chair back with the back of his legs, he pointed accusingly at her, then at the form they just signed which their lawyers were trying to go over at the moment. "The ink's not even fucking dry on our divorce papers and you're already engaged to that chink?"

"Do you want me to mourn us, Phil? We split up officially a year ago. What would have been the proper wait time, huh? Another year? I don't think so."

"Well, it's nice to know that after all these years I get to see you for who you really are."

"And what's that?"

"A whore!"

"Asshole!"

"Mr. Wenneck, Ms. Wenneck," Phil's lawyer tried to calm the two down. "Let's all just take it easy."

"Fuck this," Phil threw his hands in the air. He turned and pointed at the form again. "Is there anything else I need to sign or do?"

Stephanie's lawyer shook his head. "No. We're just going to file this and you can both go your separate ways. Consider yourselves officially divorced."

"Halle-fucking-lujah." He pushed his chair roughly up against the table with both hands.

His lawyer leaned forward as her lawyer put the form back in his folder. "We understand you have agreed to your wife maintaining primary custody of the kids during the school week and with you having them on the weekends, correct? And you will alternate full weeks during the summer?"

"Yeah...she's not my wife anymore. She's just a whore I married that gave birth to my kids," Phil spat.

Stephanie nodded to their lawyers. "It's all set. Except not this weekend. My fiance and I are taking the kids to Disneyland."

"Like fuck you are!"

"We talked about this already, Phil. I told you that Ting and I wanted to take Eli and Penny to Disneyland the weekend after school was out for him for the summer to celebrate him going on to the next grade."

Phil angrily stared back at Stephanie. Of course he remembered, but his kids were his kids. As much of a slightly prickish persona he could occasionally exude, his kids were the air he breathed and he just wanted them whenever possible, despite what people might think of him from time to time. He took his eyes off Stephanie and pulled his Aviator sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, placing them on the bridge of his nose.

"Enjoy Disneyland. Try not to sleep with any other guys while you're there." He then added, "I'll call the kids tonight."

With that, he turned away and all but stormed out of the conference room.



"Well, at least you got to keep the house."

It was about an hour later, and Phil was in the office of his friend Stu Price. The newly divorced Phil sat in one of two chairs across from Stu who sat at his desk in his white doctor's coat. His long legs stretched out before him as he slouched in the chair. Stu had just been informed on the goings-on at the divorce signing and was trying to offer Phil condolences.

"Oh, yeah. Now I get to try and afford a mortgage on my own, on just a teacher's salary and I only get my kids on the weekends. I'm gonna be that dad now. Awesome."

"Well, these things happen."

"They weren't supposed to happen to me."

Stu just looked at Phil, his expression bleak but with a hint of sympathy. "What are you going to do now?"

Phil shrugged and was silent for a moment. Then a thought popped into his mind. "The one good thing about this whole divorce bullshit? Stephanie didn't want alimony. But the bitch is getting me for child support, which I don't care. Those are my kids and I'll sell the house and live in a fuckin' cardboard box if it means they're taken care of." He ran a hand through his hair. "The kicker in all this is after the papers were signed, I notice this big ass rock on her hand."

Stu's eyes widened a little, the obvious sinking in. "Is she―?"

"She's fuckin' engaged to Lauren's cousin Ding Dong or whatever the hell his name is."

"Ting Deng."

"Whatever. The point is she didn't waste any time, the whore."

"Hey, we were all shocked about this, buddy. We didn't expect for Stephanie to meet one of Lauren's cousins at my wedding only to end up having an affair with him when we all got back stateside. And to be honest, Doug and I actually thought, between the two of you, that you would've been the one to cheat on Stephanie, not the other way around."

Phil sat up straight and slapped the desk with his right hand before pointing at Stu, agreeing. "I know! Right?" Phil shook his head in disbelief, calming down only slightly. "Do me a favor and tell Lauren to keep the rest of her family away from anything that belongs to me. I don't want to wake up one morning and find out my car got jacked by some ninja uncle of hers or something."

"Well, now you're just being ridiculous."

"Am I?"

At that moment, there came a knock to the office's door which was slightly ajar. "Yeah?"

An auburn-haired woman in her early thirties popped her head inside the room with a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Hey, Stu. I just wanted to let you know I was leaving now. Oh, and Katie said there are only two more patients for the day."

"Okay," Stu nodded.

Phil swiveled in his chair to glance over at the woman who had moved her body to stand in the room more fully. "Hey Sam," he greeted with a nod of his head.

"Hey, Phil."

Sam, or Samantha Simmons rather, was one of Stu's dental hygienists. She wasn't bubbly like the others but she always smiled when necessary and never failed to supply a quick-witted one liner here and there whenever Phil or Doug came to visit Stu for shits and giggles or for an actual dental visit. Sam had joined the practice about a year before Stu's wedding in Bangkok and was always a pleasant face to see when the guys visited.

"Thanks again for letting me skate out early today and for giving me tomorrow and Monday off as well."

"It's no problem," Stu smiled, waving it off.

This piqued Phil's curiosity.

"Got a crazy weekend in Vegas with the girls planned?" he wondered. He gestured between himself and Stu. "Been there, done that."

Sam smirked. "I wish, but no. My sister's wedding."

Stu spoke up, glancing at Phil. "I told her she could take the whole week. I mean, it's all the way across the country."

"Oh, yeah? Whereabouts?" wondered Phil.

Sam was about to reply when Stu answered for her. "New York."

"The city?" Phil asked, interested.

"Long Island, actually. But I'm perfectly fine with the few days I'm taking. Any longer and I'd end up slitting my wrists," she insisted, dryly. "I really don't need a whole week to have the fact that my little sister is getting married before me rubbed in my face."

Phil let a small chuckle escape his lips as he met Sam's eye for a moment. They smiled platonically at each other before Sam turned her attention back to Stu and thanked him again before ducking completely out of the office. Phil rolled the chair he was in toward the door, craning his neck to watch Sam walking away down the corridor toward the receptionist desk.

"Phil," Stu chastised.

Phil snapped his head back up but with his whole body was still leaning back, halfway out the door. "What?"

"You're ogling my hygienist."

"Am not."

"I beg to differ." He adjusted his glasses on his nose and furrowed his brow. "And she's not exactly your type."

"And what exactly is my type?"

"Well, you've always gone for the tall, thin blondes. The Barbies, if you will." Off Phil's defensive, withering look, Stu continued. "Take Stephanie, for example. You married a Barbie."

Phil rolled his chair forward, returning all the way back into the office. "Maybe I need to start going for Barbie's friend Midge, then."

Stu raised an eyebrow. "It worries me that you know the names of Barbie's friends."

"Dude, I do have a daughter, you know."

"Who's barely three and still thinks an empty box is hilarious."