The Hangover: Part III

As the yellow cab wove through Saturday afternoon traffic, heading north toward Harlem, Alan was once again made to sit up front with the driver, just as he had been when they'd been on their way to the hotel the day before. Only this time, Doug was missing and Sam was there in his place. While Alan made small talk with the driver, Stu was combing through his wallet as was Phil, who was also checking his phone. Sam, situated between the two, leaned closer to Stu as he suddenly pulled a strip of four photobooth photos out of his wallet from behind several twenty dollar bills.

Stu smirked, passing the photobooth pictures to Sam, who looked at them with embarassment. The first photo was a typical pile-everyone-into-the-photobooth-and-make-retarded-faces shot. The second photo had Alan being pushed out of the booth by Amanda and Stu, both of whom seemed angry at him for something. The third photo had someone's hand grabbing Doug by the collar, yanking him out of the booth while Stu was trying to yank him back. In each of the first two photos, Sam and Phil were in the background, smiling drunkenly for the camera, beer bottles in their hands. The third one, though, had them looking toward each other. The fourth photo is what caused color to flood Sam's cheeks. It was a shot of Stu seemingly jumping out of the photobooth to tackle whoever had pulled Doug out while Amanda cheered him on. And in the background, Sam and Phil's beer bottles had been somehow discarded as Phil had his face buried in the crook of her neck, either kissing, smelling or sucking on her neck. What exactly he was doing wasn't clear because her hair had fallen partially over his face.

"What's that?" Phil wondered, looking up from his cell to glance quickly at the strip of photos in Sam's hand. She didn't respond with words and just handed it to him.

"My favorite's the fourth one," Stu teased, nudging Sam's side.

"I agree," Phil commented. He had only looked briefly at the photos and passed them back to Stu, his arm stretching out in front of Sam. "You look very aerodynamic in it, Stu." As Stu took the photostrip from Phil, Phil caught Sam's eye but said nothing further in regard to what he'd seen or even in regard to what almost happened in the elevator earlier. He looked back down at his phone. "I got one text message from Alan at 2:46 AM."

"What did I text?" Alan asked from the front seat upon hearing his name.

"Congrats," Phil read.

"Congrats?" Sam repeated. "What for?"

Phil shrugged. "How should I know?" Off Sam's eyeroll, he looked over at Stu. "Did you find anything else in your wallet?"

"Just a gum wrapper and a lot of twenty dollar bills that weren't there prior to dinner last night."

"Orbit spearmint gum wrapper?" Sam asked.

Stu studied the wrapper. "Uh...yeah."

"That's the pack of gum here in my sister's purse. I guess she gave you a piece of gum last night."

"Wow," Phil spoke blandly. "That's helpful."

"Bite me."

"Can I have a piece of gum?" came Alan's question, interrupting the growing tension. Sam looked down and dug through Amanda's purse she was holding on her lap. She pulled a piece out of the packaging and handed it over the front seat. "Thanks."

"Welcome."

The remainder of the cab ride was silent, aside from Alan occasionally popping gum bubbles. When the cabbie pulled up across the street from a store called Harlem Wines and Spirits, Stu paid the fare with one of the twenties from his wallet, letting the cabbie keep the change for the tip. He didn't really care for getting any change back. Phil and Alan were the first to hop out, both having opened their doors at the same time. Phil then offered his hand to Sam to help her out, which she took only long enough to stand upright outside the vehicle, then snatched it back. She couldn't understand this yo-yo of emotions she was feeling. She was considerably attracted to him and could understand why, when completely fucked up, she threw caution to the wind where doing anything with him would be concerned. But in the light of day, even though the attraction was still there, she couldn't help but feel confused about the dynamic between them. She could tell he was attracted to her by the kiss that almost happened in their elevator but the way he could just turn it off and snip at the simplest comment pissed her off.

Once Stu slid over the seat and exited out the same door as Phil and Sam, he shut the door and they all looked up at the liquor store across from them as the cab drove away. They hesistated for a moment as a few more cars drove by before hurrying across the road and up onto the sidewalk. Stu opened the door a little too quickly, accidentally hitting Alan in the face.

"Shit, sorry," Stu remarked apologetically.

Rubbing his nose, Alan shrugged it off and held the door open for Sam and Phil. They smiled appreciatively at the newly beardless man, all heading toward the cash register where an Italian-looking guy in a blue track suit stood cashing out an elderly black man wearing a plaid blazer that had seen better decades.

"See ya later, Vinny," the old man said with a wave over his shoulder before heading out the front door with a bottle of something hidden in a brown paper bag.

"Don't be a stranger," Vinny replied before his eyes began to focus on the foursome walking up to the counter.

"Excuse me, sir?" Stu spoke up just as Vinny seemed to recognize them.

"Tell Pothead Santa to wait outside. I don't need a repeat of last night," Vinny commented. He pointed at Alan and then gestured toward the door. "I don't care if his beard is missing. I can still tell it's him."

"That's actually why we're here," Stu continued. "We're trying to figure out what we did last night. We woke up this morning without any memories of what happened."

"I'm not sayin' anything till Dumbo leaves my store."

Phil placed a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Just wait outside for us, buddy. Okay?"

Alan harumphed but relented. "Fine," he whined like a child, smacking his gum and walking back outside, but occasionally peering in through the glass door.

"Now will you tell us something?" Stu pressed.

Vinny looked between the trio and glowered. "A bunch of you came in here last night to buy some alcohol. About half of you were completely fuckin' bombed."

"A bunch of us?" Sam repeated; curious.

"Yeah," Vinny nodded. "You three, Dumbo outside, another shorter guy and a few ladies all came in." He then looked at Phil. "You had a whole fuckin' shopping cart full of beer, vodka, tequila, whiskey. You name it. Then your fatass friend fell into one of my displays so I charged you for what he broke."

"Explains why it cost me about five hundred bucks total," Phil commented, pulling the receipt out once more to glance a it.

"Did we say anything about where we were headed after here?" Sam asked.

"I don't fuckin' know. I was too busy yellin' at your dumb fuckin' friend for breakin' my shit to care about your plans for the evenin', honey. Once your boy here paid, I kicked your asses out."

Stu, Sam and Phil looked at each other.

"Well at least we know Doug was with us by 10:38 last night," Phil said, glancing at the exact time stamped on the receipt.

"Yeah, but without knowing where else we went after here, how are we going to pinpoint when and where we lost Doug?" Sam questioned.

"Okay," Vinny caved. "I may have overheard you guys mentioning something about hostin' your own rave or some shit like that at what you called some 'fuckin' awesome as hell hotel suite'."

The trio looked at the liquor store clerk. Sam gave him a nod. "Thank you," she commented, turning and gesturing for Stu and Phil to follow her out of the store.

"Don't be a stranger!" Vinny called after them.

As the bell over the door rattled upon closing after them, Alan was standing there on the sidewalk, holding a hot dog in one hand from a vendor a few feet away and in the other hand he was holding a ticket of some sort. "I found this in my satchel. We rode the subway last night," he stated nonchalantly between bites of his hot dog.

"Oh yeah? What time at?" Phil snatched the ticket out of Alan's hand and looked it over. "1:15 AM," he said, checking the time.

"Okay, well, let's look at what we know so far," Sam began with a level head. "Sometime after leaving the restaurant, we all ended up here," she gestured to the liquor store, "where you bought a bunch of booze at 10:30-ish PM for some party we had and for what Alan broke," she added, gesturing to Phil, then Alan. "We rode a subway at 1:15 AM. Amanda got a name and number from some guy at a club. We were at some place with a photobooth. Alan must've been at the hospital to get those stitches..."

"Yeah, but which hospital is anyone's guess," Stu chimed in.

"And we must've gotten into a fight with someone," Phil added, pointing between himself and Sam, in regard to the bruises on their face. "Maybe with whoever cut Alan."

"Also, I lost my suitcase. Let's not forget that." Everyone looked at Alan. "I had several mixed CDs in there."

"Alan, just...eat your dirty water dog," Stu lamented, knowing it really wasn't worth it to respond with anything else. He placed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up slightly in the process. His hangover headache wasn't as strong as earlier, but it was still there.

"So where do we go next?" Sam wondered, trying to think by looking around as if something would give her a hint.

"Well, we did enough damage to our suite to have been there at least a couple hours. So, we probably went back there after here," Phil began to deduce. "It would've taken, what...fifteen, twenty minutes to get back in Friday night traffic? That would place us getting back around eleven. Alan's subway ticket is from 1:15. That's two hours. Enough time to go crazy, and judging by the damage done and what that guy Vinny in there said," he gestured to the store, "we were all bombed when I bought the liquor. Whatever happened to us, happened probably at dinner."

"But what exactly?" Sam pursed her lips in further thought.

"I still think Alan's behind it, even if he doesn't remember right now. Eventually he will." Stu threw his hands up and began walking south toward Central Park, several blocks away. "He always remembers what he did to us eventually. Give it time," he called over his shoulder.

"But I swore on Joe Jonas," Alan whined.

"Stu," Sam and Phil called after her boss and his friend, respectively.

"There's no point placing any blame right now. All that matters is finding Doug and Amanda," Phil spoke calmly, though his eyes were tired and his general expression was that of irritation. He didn't mind the blackouts and finding out him and his friends did crazy shit the night before, he just didn't like losing his friends in the process. And now add a second lost person to the mix, it wasn't exactly a recipe for good times.

"Well, you wanted to get obliterated, Phil. Looks like you got your wish," Stu snapped, turning around abrupty, getting right in Phil's face. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wish for? Hmm?"

"I didn't ask to lose anyone, Stu!" Phil shouted. "I just wanted a fuckin' weekend to lose myself!"

"Oh, woe is fucking you! Your wife cheated on you and left you. Boo fucking hoo. It's been a year! Get the fuck over it!"

Before anyone realized it, Stu had stumbled back onto the sidewalk, landing hard on his ass. He had his hand upon his jaw while looking up at Phil, who was in a fighter's stance, his fist clenched from just having punched his best friend. Sam jumped between them, placing a hand to Phil's chest and giving him a slight push back before crouching down to meet Stu at his level.

"You okay?" she asked him.

Stu nodded. "Yeah," he assured. "I deserved it."

Sam looked up at Phil who had a clenched jaw while his hardened blue eyes began to soften. His nostrils flared less as his anger diminished. After a moment, he leaned down and offered his hand to Stu who took it graciously. As both friends stood face to face, they frowned apologetically at each other.

"I shouldn't have said that," Stu muttered, Sam at his side touching her hand to his face to see if he was cut or not from the punch. He wasn't but it might bruise eventually.

"Sorry I punched you."

Stu shrugged. "Deserved it," he replied simply.

"Yeah," Phil agreed. "You kinda did."

Sam looked at Phil like he was an asshole and at Stu like he was just retarded. Men really were stupid sometimes. Without missing a beat, she jested, "Now if you two ladies are done taking cheap shots at one another, maybe we should take this ticket," she snatched the subway ticket out of Phil's hand that hadn't been clenched in a fist, "and take the same train we apparently took last night and see where it leads us." She looked at Stu and Phil expectantly.

Alan chuckled from behind Phil. "Mama wolf has spoken." He took the last bite of his hot dog and patted Sam's arm. "I like you. You bring a certain Jenny says quoi to the pack."

Sam just narrowed her gaze and smirked. "Thanks, Alan." Then, "I guess." She began to walk ahead of the boys, letting them follow her.



Phil walked up the steps from the Chambers Street station at West Broadway; Stu, Sam and Alan following behind him. They had all grabbed the train at the 116 Street station in Harlem, riding on the 2 train which, from Alan's ticket, they knew to be the same train as the night before. They had no idea what their destination had been the night before until tourists sitting across from them on the train mentioned needing to get off at Chambers Street because it was closest to Ground Zero. That clicked with the foursome. Even if it hadn't been where they were headed the night before, it was somewhere they wanted to go at that moment.

They were now walking south on West Broadway, in TriBeCa, as the view of where the Twin Towers once stood came into view. It was no longer just an empty construction or memorial site but was now under full swing of construction of its new buildings. The tallest of them was just a year away from completion. One World Trade Center was to become the largest all-office building in the world. It was already very tall as the foursome craned their necks to look up at it.

"Were you here in New York when the attacks happened?" Phil wondered, looking to Sam at his right.

She was still staring upward as she shook her head with a frown. "No," she replied. "I was in LA by then; twenty-one and finishing college." Sam looked over at Phil. "What about you?"

"I was twenty-five, one year married with a newborn son, and I was the new teacher at the school I work at."

"I had just started my third year of dental school and had no love life to speak of," Stu offered up, a sly smile tugging his lips upward.

Phil and Sam both smirked at him. All three then looked at Alan, wondering if he'd offer anything up. And he did. And somehow they really weren't surprised by what he said.

"I was managing an *NSYNC cover band called *NSTEP. They only got one gig at some girl's bat mitzvah." Then, honestly, he added, "I wasn't very good at managing a band."

"Really?" Stu asked as if that was something surprising to him. His tone was sarcastic, though, and went unnoticed by Alan.

"Yeah. I was more into designing their shirts. I was going through a glitter phase and wore a lot of animal prints."

Sam let out a chuckle. "I went through that phase, too."

Alan looked at her and held his hand up for a high five, which she obliged him with. "Ha. Classic."

"Well..." Phil trailed, glancing down at Sam again. He tapped her sister's purse which she had slung over her shoulder. "We should find that club from that napkin. I figure we might've gone there after the party at our hotel. If we were that shitfaced and still in a partying mood, we'd probably hit up a club for drinking and dancing is my guess."

"Good point," Sam agreed. She opened Amanda's purse and found the napkin folded up. She pulled it out and looked at the insignia in the corner. It was a black martini glass with a snake curled around it. The name of the club was apparently called Venom. "Google a Manhattan club called Venom," she told Phil.

He pulled his phone out and typed in the info. After a moment he hit the jackpot. "Venom Lounge and Nightclub..." he scrolled down the page on his phone for the address. "It's on Houston Street?" he replied in question form. He had no idea where a Houston Street was.

"That's in the Bowery," Sam explained. "Lower East Side."

Phil shrugged. "Don't know what good it's going to do. Its website says it doesn't open till seven and it's..." he looked at his watch. "It's almost two."

"Well, there's gotta be someone there. The owner, maybe? A bartender? Someone cleaning up from the night before?" Stu threw out suggestions.

Sam nodded. "It's worth a shot."

"Alright. Alan, make yourself useful and hail a taxi for us," Phil gestured at Alan.

Walking toward the curb, Alan looked like a hot mess with Stu's red swim trunks fitting tightly against his legs and the green T-shirt damn near strangling him. With his gut sticking out the bottom of the shirt, he was a sight for sore eyes. His hand went up, waving nonchalantly as a couple of yellow taxi cabs came near. "Yoohoo! Taxi!" he called out with a determined smile on his face.

"I'm not sure I like him without the beard and only the mustache," Stu commented from a few feet behind, murmuring to Phil and Sam. "He looks more like a pedophile this way."

"Totally," Phil agreed.

The cabs drove on by, the drivers seemingly not giving Alan a second glance, if they even gave him a first one to begin with. Phil rolled his eyes, getting bored already. "You're not putting enough of yourself out there for the drivers to notice, Al."

"Well, I'm not going to jump in front of a cab. What if I get hurt?"

Sam smiled mischievously. "You don't have to step out into traffic. You just gotta make them notice you." She stepped forward, linked her fingers from both hands together to crack them outward, then cracked her neck from side to side. "Watch and learn."

Placing a hand on Alan's chest, she pushed him back slightly as she had to Phil after he'd punched Stu. Alan stepped back a foot or two as Sam positioned herself on the edge of the sidewalk. She brought a hand to her chest to pull the front of the dress down enough to show off more of her cleavage, then shoved her hand upright in a strong motion and kept it there.

She didn't have to shout out anything at all; the first yellow cab not already occupied pulled up automatically to the curb.

Sam spun around and smirked at the three men, shimmying her body a little in a sort of victory dance. "And that's how you hail a cab," she announced. She then added as a joke, poking Alan in the man boob. "Next time show off your tits a little."

Phil and Stu both laughed at that. Alan just frowned a little as he opened the front, passenger side door. He seemed to like sitting next to the driver. Stu opened the back door but let Sam go in first, then knowingly he remained still to let Phil slide in next. They caught each other's eye to which Phil narrowed his.

"Get in, Don Juan. The day's not getting any younger," Stu ushered his friend.

Phil hesitated a moment longer and then ducked his head to enter the cab, taking the seat in the middle, between Sam and Stu, once the latter hopped in.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

"Venom Lounge and Nightclub on Houston," Sam announced.

Without really thinking on it, Phil stretched his arms over the tops of the backseat; his right arm behind Stu's head, his left behind Sam's. He looked at her as the cab pulled away from the curb and merged with traffic. He looked down and caught a glimpse of her cleavage. It was just a glimpse, though. He immediately pulled his eyes away and stared straight ahead, awaiting their next destination.