The Hangover, Part 3. (Phil Wenneck X OC).

Chapter 6.

The driving continued until the group found the nearest pharmacy, parking a fair distance away from the doors.

Phil looked behind his seat, watching as Stu filled out a prescription on his prescription pad then went inside. (That he was just casually carrying around??).

Brooklyn still didn't feel the best. And if she was being honest, she felt nauseous.

It could just be the stress of having to deal with Chow again, or maybe the wedding planning, but either way, it wasn't making her feel good.

"What the fuck is taking him so long?" She asked angrily, looking out her window before turning back around and letting her head fall back against the headrest.

Brooklyn's outburst surprised Phil. She usually doesn't complain about anything but ever since Alan's intervention, she's been pissed off by practically everything that moved.

"Maybe long line? I don't know, but he better be getting what we need," Phil answered, looking at his fiancé with concern written all over her face.

"Baby, look at me," He softly ordered, gently setting a hand on Brooklyn's knee as she turned her head. "What is wrong?" He asked.

Taking a deep breath, Brooklyn closed her eyes for a second. "I honestly don't know. Like, I just feel nauseous, but I don't know why. I don't know if it's because I didn't eat anything or ate something weird or because they took Doug or because of the wedding but whatever it is, I don't like it," She rambled, tears welling in her eyes because of how she felt.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's ok," Phil whispered, gently pulling Brooklyn a little over the console and wrapping her up in his arms. "It's gonna be okay, baby. We're gonna be okay."

Caught up in their moment, they didn't notice that Stu was coming back, his light purple shirt now dark around his neck and under his arms as he opened the van door as fast as he could and hopped in just as fast.

"How'd we do?" Phil asked, turning towards the back seat as Stu settled down.

"We did good. I got Demerol, a pack of syringes, and almost lost my dental license," Stu listed off before setting the bag of supplies on the floor of the van. "What about Chow? Anything?"

"No."

"Oh, look at this. He emailed me like 20 minutes ago," Alan spoke up from the back behind Phil, to which he, Stu and Brooklyn all whipped around in disbelief.

"Alan, we've been sit—," Phil began to yell at Alan, but decided not to argue as Brooklyn then snatched the phone from Alan and gave it to Phil.

"What does it say?" Stu asked.

Phil read the message, surprised by what it said. "Oh wow. He wants to meet Alan tonight at 8. It says come alone."

"Which he's definitely not going alone," Brooklyn said almost immediately as Phil finished reading, to which he nodded in agreement, knowing automatically they couldn't trust Alan doing something like this by himself incase he took off with the drugs or something stupid that would only make them dislike him even more.

"Come alone where??" Stu asked, his repetitive questions coming back.

"A bus stop," Phil read from the message. "In Tijuana...?" He read, only to then look up the name of the place Chow wanted Alan to be that night.

"Tijuana's the bomb!" Alan declared with a chuckle as Brooklyn rolled her eyes as she turned in her seat towards her window, firmly holding her hands to her stomach to try and ward off the ache.

"Oh, fuck," Stu sighed.

"No, that's prefect," Phil spoke slowly, to which Stu looked up at him. "It's like a 3 hour drive from here," He proceeded, looking at the map on Alan's cellular device.