3.2 Plan A (The Date) 1

35 days after our Fated Encounter.

"Are you sure about this?" Bea asked me. "Because it's not too late for us to cancel."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure. I finally found a window of opportunity after waiting so long. I'm not backing out now." I smiled confidently, twirling in front of the mirror to check my outfit: a calf-length brown pencil skirt, a plain white turtleneck, my favourite black stilleto boots, and a dark-brown fur-trimmed coat (its faux fur, of course, I don't wear clothes made from real animals. I'm not a barbarian) draped over my shoulders. My hair was done up in a casual high ponytail, with a matching brown satin ribbon holding it in place. 

"Oh, I don't mean the date. I meant moving." Bea clarified, handing me my purse.

"Oh, that. I don't see the problem. Where I live is my business. And besides, the view is so pretty--"

"There are literally hundreds of other places that could give you a view as good as or even better than that. No, you and I both know the real reason you bought the place. And I personally think that it's a little excessive--"

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Bea, sweetie, this is me you're talking about. Excessive for you is normal for me."

Bea rolled her eyes. "If this comes back to bite you in the ass, I will be right here to tell you I told you so."

"I know. That's why I love ya," I gave her a wink. "Now we gotta move! I'm going on a date."

*****

Okay, to say it was a date might be misleading. 

If you wanna be accurate, it's really more like a "Oh, hey, you're here, too! What a coincidence. Can I join you for coffee?" kind of operation. 

When I first had the idea, Bea said, "That may look nice on TV but that doesn't work in real life, Alisa."

Oh, I beg to differ. It will work. I can make it work.

Bea is wondering where I get my confidence from. To her knowledge, I have never been on a date that wasn't either a publicity stunt or a setup or something initiated by the other party. I am twenty-one years old and I have been in showbusiness for almost six years, but I have never had a real boyfriend. This is because I have never found anyone interesting enough for me to consider having a long-term relationship with. All my exes were celebrities or wannabe celebrities (and you know how well those things work out) and none of them lasted for more than three months. 

This earned me a reputation as a serial heartbreaker (which is totally undeserved, since they need to have a heart for me to break in the first place). For some reason that made me more popular. My sister Martina says it's because people who previously saw me as some sort of paragon of perfection as a celebrity (being beautiful and successful and having no scandals) sees my unsuccessful romances as chinks in my armour that makes me appear more human, and thus, more relatable.These are her words, not mine. She is a psychologist, after all, so she must know these things. 

Anyway. Bea is convinced that because I have never fallen in love before, I am severely underestimating the difficulty of pursuing someone else. But I don't agree. 

Like I said, I have been in showbusiness for six years. I have played the role of a heroine, a villainess, a side character, an angel, an evil stepsister, and even a martyr. And what do all my roles have in common? A love interest, that's what. I have seen unrequited love from the perspective of various people of different backgrounds (even if they are completely fictional) and I have taken notes on where it all went wrong.

Armed with this knowledge and insight, I made my preparations. 

The first step is the most crucial, and also the most difficult: research.

Mister Louie provided me with the foundation for establishing Jester Lee's profile. He gave me everything I asked for and more: his family demographics, educational background, medical and financial records and a list of known friends and associates. He even checked for an existing criminal record (he's clean) and gave me his current number as a bonus. And all this just because I made his little girl's wish come true. A father's love is an amazing thing.

When Bea saw the file, she gave me one of her disgusted glances which she reserves for the times when I get absolutely wasted after partying with Colin and Aisha (they are my best friends, I will elaborate on them later). Bea is listed as my PA, but I imagine Dad put her on me to act as my missing moral compass, so she feels it's her duty to make it obvious when I am doing something I shouldn't be doing. Like bribing my father's employees into doing something illegal by holding his daughter as leverage (when she puts it this way, it does sound kind of bad). 

I read through the entire thing thrice, to make sure I didn't miss anything. Then I began to make some calls.

You see, what Mister Louie provided me was Jester's personal information--but it was data, and I can't win his heart by relying solely on information like that. I need something more personal. I need to get close to him, so I need to get to know him and understand him better than he knows himself. And his fanclub will help me with that.

As a celebrity, I am very familiar with the concept of fanclubs and groupies. No matter how amazing or how talented you are, if the public doesn't adore you, you won't make it in this business. I owe my fame and success to the people who have shown me their unwavering support. I swear, you can't find a more loyal or enthusiastic group of people. And shepherding this faithful congregation is a very special young elf named Sirel Healey. 

Sirel and I go way back. He was my first stalker and I am proud to name him as my Number One Fan. I started out as a model for a fashion magazine, and when I gained enough attention, I took the catwalk for a bit. I wanted to start with modelling because I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to be a full-time actress. I met Sirel backstage at my first fashion show, where he was the assistant of the production assistant's assistant (basically he was a guppy, almost at the bottom of the food chain but not quite). Right before my cue, my vintage bracelet snagged on the clasps of my boots as I was adjusting them and snapped. I didn't have time to pick it up and even if I did, the dress I had on had no pockets, so I just left it there in the corner with the intention of going back for it after my run was over. But when I did, it was gone. I assumed it got swept up by the cleaners and forgot about it until a week later. 

Sirel mailed it to me, the clasp fixed, with a bouquet of flowers and an actual handwritten letter (on real paper, which is incredibly expensive) describing how he 'happened' to find the bracelet and discovered to his 'profound joy' that I owned it. He hoped to have a chance to 'personally look upon the goddess who saved his life'--- he really talks like that, it's so funny. Of course, I had absolutely no clue what he meant by saving his life. But I was curious, and his name felt really familiar. So I arranged a meet and I discovered that Sirel Healey and I went to the same middle school! When he told me the story, I totally remembered him. He was this elf kid who was being bullied by the other elf kids because his ears weren't pointy enough. Now, I don't like mean people. I really don't. So I told them to quit it and leave him alone, and the elf kids just laughed at me. I was shocked. I was eight years old and I grew up with everything I could ask for served up to me on a silver platter. It was the first time anyone had ever said no to me. I was so pissed off, before I knew it the orange juice I was drinking was all over the other kid's face and he was crying like a baby. Needless to say, I was sent to detention. Then Dad shipped me off to a boarding school for girls in New Moscow (where they also teach etiquette and diplomacy). Sirel confessed that ever since he's been sort of keeping an eye out for news of me (he means, of course, he was stalking me). 

Nowadays, when Sirel isn't organising watch-parties or promoting my name in case some poor sap somewhere out there has never heard of Alisa Vega, he manages an antique shop his grandfather left him. I paid him a visit two weeks ago, and he told me something very interesting--Jester Lee apparently loves coffee. And there is a particular coffee shop that he frequents, and although there's no set schedule, he's usually seen there twice a week when he's not on the job. Sirel sent a few people to observe, and they reported that Jester Lee always sits at the corner table near the counter, his back to the wall and facing the exit. He is usually reading on his holo screen and orders a coffee, black, two sugars. I asked him how he knew where Jester gets his coffee and he said that Jester's fan club's secretary is his second cousin.  

It took some time to arrange everything, because I couldn't risk making Jester suspicious. He's a cautious guy by nature, and the only way I can have a solid chance of catching him off guard is by purposely keeping out of his radar until the very last moment. And by then, it'll be too late. 

I stepped into Café Arabique, a small smile on my lips.

I made my way to the counter, careful not to glance in his direction. If I so much as look at him from here, he will sense my gaze and look back at me for sure, and under the warm glow of the cafe lights with sweet jazzy music playing in the background, when our gazes meet from across the room it will be just like in the movies and I will likely faint, and all my hard work will be wasted. I cannot take that risk.

You must be strong, Alisa. A Vega does not falter. You swore today would be the day. 

I took my coffee and cake and made a show of looking for empty seats. There wouldn't be any, of course, since every single person here is part of my fanclub and they received orders from Sirel to make sure that the only seat available for me will be the one opposite Jester's. Even the barista was in on it. 

I made my way towards him, and I couldn't help but think how absolutely gorgeous he was. He sat leaning against the back of the armchair with his chin propped against his hand, lazily reading something on his holo screen. He wore a dark green sweater and dark jeans and the same black boots I saw last time. His hair seemed to have grown about an inch longer, especially in front, where it fell over his eyes. I fought the urge to reach out and brush it aside so I could see his face better.

He didn't look up until I standing in front of him. 

Those grey eyes flickered from the holo screen to look at me curiously, and I swear my heart was beating so loudly I bet everyone could hear it. 

I gave him my most charming smile, the kind of smile that Bea says has the power to light up an entire city block. 

"Excuse me. Can I sit with you?" I said.