Chapter Six - This Day Keeps Getting Better
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney.
Patrick awoke to the inconsiderate sound of Vincent's alarm clock, shrilling viciously at 6am. He cursed a few swear words under his breath before reaching an arm out and unfortunately not finding a bedside table. Damn it, I'm on the floor in a crusty airbed, he thought, slowly getting his bearings.
The alarm clock still drilling his head into what felt like a thousand pieces, Patrick emerged from the less than comfortable airbed. Clad in his 'Jump Me' boxer shorts, his hair a complete mess, and the lack of a shirt, Patrick decided a trip to the kitchen in search of a cure for his hangover - was just what the doctor ordered.
He strolled his way into the kitchen and casually opened the fridge, seeking out whatever alcohol he could find. On second thought, where was the alcohol? Seeing nothing alcoholic in the fridge, Patrick reached for the cordless phone, his temper rising near boiling point.
"Vincent!" He yelled down the line, his own voice causing the pounding in his head to intensify threefold.
"Diss be not Veencent," answered a woman's voice down the other end.
"What is this? Some sort of sick joke? I'm really pissed off right now and now's not a good time!"
"Not all things happen at da right time…"
Patrick thought about this for a moment. Who the hell has Vincent's cellphone?
"Vinnie, I know you think the whole 'Patricia's Hotline' thing is funny, but this… this is really insane, quit it alright," Patrick couldn't decide whether he wanted to hang up on this so-called woman or not.
"You can not find wot you want, no?"
The woman on the other line intimidated Patrick more than he was willing to admit. She had a wisdom about her and she appeared to know more than what she was letting on. It was too believable. Too real, he thought. Vincent couldn't possibly pull off something like this…
"Yeah, well, I got a hang--uh, a headache, so if you don't mind, I'd like to speak to my brother… now preferably," Patrick pressed on.
"Diss is not da end."
The sound of the dead dial tone rang in Patrick's ear. Oh, how he hated that sound.
Patrick then rationally decided at that very moment, to lay off intoxicating himself to this extent for the rest of his life! Or perhaps maybe a month - no, make that a week - or a day or two. Anyhow, from whichever way he looked at it, this was the hangover from hell.
"Damn it!" he cursed.
That was very bizarre, Patrick thought. The accented voice sounded eerily familiar somehow, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Not long after, the phone then sounded its exceedingly ear-splitting ring-tone. He reached for it, thinking it may be one of his clients; as he left a message on his answer machine referring them to Vincent's home phone number.
"Patricia's on a break. What do you want? " Patrick impatiently greeted the anonymous caller.
"Hey! I'm glad to hear of Patricia's absence. How's everything going, Pat?" Vincent asked.
Patrick couldn't believe this. A few seconds ago, there was some strange woman calling from the exact same number.
"I gotta ask you something. Are you with a woman?" Patrick asked. There was no other explanation.
"Uh… no, sadly not," Vincent replied as he leaned against the balcony railing of his budget hotel room, his small flip-top cellphone held closely to his ear.
"Crap." Patrick then thought of something else, "Did you lend your cell to a woman in the last ten seconds?"
"I have hardly enough credit to last me a week, let alone allowing every other person to help themselves to it. You know that."
"Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist," Patrick rolled his eyes at his brother's defensive attitude.
There was a moment of silence before Patrick continued on.
"Look, Vinnie, I called you a few seconds ago and a creepy woman with an incredibly sexy voice answered your cell. I swear she was watching me. The only thing is, I thought it was you trying to be funny," Patrick explained, hardly believing it himself.
"Wow, that's just downright wrong," came Vincent's offended reply.
"Hell, you explain it then. Give someone else this vacation."
Vincent tapped nervously along the railing as he paced back and forth.
"No no, I believe you. I've been called by this woman myself, Pat, but it's impossible she could've called you from my cell. I was on it to the company right before I called you," added Vincent, absorbed in anxious pacing.
Too irrational. Too impossible. Too insane.
Patrick wanted out of this whole thing more so than Vincent. Even the broadband internet, cable TV and unlimited phone usage suddenly wasn't worth the trouble. Why did Vincent have to drag him into this crazy mess?
"By the way, how is Elizabeth doing?" Vincent asked, in an attempt to change the subject to a more pleasant one.
Patrick sighed. "Yeah, the Swann's fine. Extremely annoying, but fine."
"You'll live. Well, the reason I called," Vincent began, "I want you to make sure the appliance is out of her reach. I know she gets curious sometimes."
"Sure," Patrick's eyes struggled to stay open.
"Oh, and make sure she's comfortable and well fed."
Blah, blah, blah, Patrick thought.