Based on the response, I'm happy to continue! Thank you for all the encouragement thus far.

An overly enthusiastic waiter ushered Emily to a roomy table and seated her while stammering a greeting. To put the enamored boy at ease, Emily graciously smiled and thanked him. After witnessing the poor guy almost fall on his face as he retreated, Emily scanned the room. Tall black columns connected by Roman style arches loomed overhead. Hanging from the white ceiling were dozens of brushed steel candelabras. She chuckled at the modern art canvases dotting the walls. She never could understand the "art" of splatters and squiggles. Her fingers brushed against the soft material which lined the plush white dining chair. All of this screamed expensive. Leave it to Hanna to set her up at an upscale restaurant.

Her best friend, Hanna Marin, orchestrated this mysterious dinner date. For reasons known only to her crafty friend, she refused to tell Emily the name of her date. The brunette had been instructed to show up at this address at 8:00 pm, mention a reservation for "Marin" and then wait patiently for a cute blonde in a red dress.

Checking the time on her phone, Emily sighed when she read 8:16 on the bright screen. This mystery woman proved to value timeliness less than she did. As she dialed her friend responsible for this meal, her waiter rushed over to take her drink order. She lifted the phone to her ear and said, "I'll just take water. Thanks."

"What water?" a voice on the other end of the line queried.

"She's late, Han."

"And what time did you get there?" Hanna asked sounding like she already knew the answer.

"Two minutes ago."

"Then shut up."

"You're so sweet to me, asshole," Emily joked as she arranged her hair perfectly over her shoulders. Although not overly concerned with her appearance, she recognized the importance of first impressions. Her and Hanna's immature banter proved that their friendship hadn't evolved in some ways since high school. "Hanna," Emily spoke slowly as she spotted something after a couple rose from their table to exit, "Why is there a tiny pool in here?"

"Is it pretty? I knew it was there!" Hanna sounded excited. "Tell me what it looks like."

Raising her eyebrows and gesturing a flat hand toward the shallow, marble tile lined pool, she answered without ceremony, "It looks like a flat hole with water in it." While she could go into a lengthy description about the depth, color scheme and lighting of the pointless hole in the middle of the floor, she preferred to give her friend a hard time.

"Thanks so much. I'm overwhelmed by the details."

"It's almost like you're here," the other woman snickered. Knowing she probably didn't have much longer to speak, she offered, "Guess who I saw at my favorite weekly meeting?"

"You probably should be going twice a week," the other woman said casually.

"Han…"

"Fine," she didn't pursue the topic. "Who? Do I know them?"

"She knows you and you may or may not know her," Emily smirked. If she didn't feel the compulsive need to share everything with Hanna immediately, she would have waited to deliver the news in person. She hated to miss her reaction.

"Well, who is it?" her voice rang with anticipation.

"Alison DiLaurentis," Emily tossed the name like a live hand grenade.

There was a silence for a full two seconds before the bomb exploded, "That fucking bitch face ugly ass—"

Emily listened to a few seconds of swearing as she mouthed "thank you" to the waiter placing a perfectly arranged plate of bread, small bowl of olive oil and glass of water on the table. When Hanna took a breath, the brunette asked, "So you do or do not remember her?"

"I wish I could punch you in the shoulder."

Emily took a sip of water and replied, "Save it for later."

"I hope you weren't nice to her," the other woman stated seriously.

Smiling, the brunette said, "I did my best not to be." From across the room, she saw a woman in a red dress and with blonde hair strutting toward the table. Her jaw fell open, only stopped because of the muscles holding the bones together. She now knew why Hanna hadn't dared to tell her the woman's name. She growled into the phone before hanging up, "Are you kidding me? Samara?!"

"Em, just be—" Emily smashed her thumb on the red button on the screen of her phone and tossed it onto the table. In moments like these, she yearned for an old corded desk phone so she could hang up by banging a bulky handset down onto a rectangle housing. The loud crack abruptly ended a conversation and provided pleasure with the act of slamming down an inanimate object without fear of cracking a screen. Any nervousness she felt disappeared along with her smile. Walking toward her was one of the several women she'd hope to never see again. She cursed herself for noticing how four years had only enhanced her beauty. Harnessing every bit of willpower, she glued her eyes to the woman's face, not permitting her gaze to drift to the plunging neckline of the dress or how it—. Dammit!

"Hi," the blonde said sheepishly as she took a seat across from the brunette.

Emily didn't speak. She couldn't decide what to say. Should she be mad or sad or possibly indifferent? Still grappling for an emotion as if she was climbing a greasy pole, she asked, "You knew it was me, didn't you?

"Yeah. I did."

One hand flew to her neck and the pads of her fingers pushed into her skin and rolled circles around her muscles. Based on her body language, Emily was somewhere between flustered and angry. She queried, "Was this your idea?"

Unsure as to whether Emily planned to banish her in a storm of fury, Samara hesitantly placed her clutch on the table beside the napkin covered silverware. She replied, "No. I ran into Hanna a week ago. She suggested it."

"A week ago?" Although not surprised by Hanna's audacity, she was shocked at her ability to keep a secret for that long. She dropped her hand from her neck and fiddled with the napkin she had unfolded in her lap.

"She made me think you'd be open to meeting with me."

"This isn't a meeting, Samara," Emily was quick to clarify. "This is a date."

"Well, I want to date you, not be an acquaintance or a friend. I've never been your friend."

Impressed by the woman's confidence, the brunette replied, "Well, I'm glad that we've cleared that up." When the blonde flashed a smile, Emily's animosity subsided. While she didn't drop the drawbridge for Samara to storm back into the fortified castle of her life, she did at least call off the guards.

"Let's just talk and eat," Samara suggested. "Whatever happens, happens."

"Fine. I'm good at talking and eating and if I remember correctly, you're really good at eating."

"Has anyone ever told you not to tease girls like that?"

Emily shrugged innocently, "I'm not a good listener."

"How did I manage to stay with you for almost two years?"

Cocking an eyebrow and shaking her head, the brunette replied, "I have no idea."

"So Duncan is out of town again?" Spencer asked her blonde friend sitting across the table from her. She stirred the lemon around in her water glass with a straw. Her eyes caught sight of a lemon seed sliding down the ice cubes and landing at the bottom of her glass. "Dammit!" she muttered.

"When are you going to learn to pull the seeds out? You end inhaling them and hacking really loud. It's kinda gross."

"Thanks, Ali. Your concern is overwhelming," the woman replied. Glancing up at her distracted friend, she prompted, "Are you going to answer the question?" The woman stifled a laugh as the blonde popped her head up and down trying to peek around the many heads in the restaurant. As Alison swept the room for a waiter or waitress, she bounced a fork up and down on the table. With every high pitched twang of the metal on cloth covered wood, Spencer's patience diminished by a second.

"Holy shit!" Spencer exclaimed smacking a hand down on Alison's to silence the noise. "Someone will be over here soon."

"Fine," Alison conceded. She folded her hands in her lap to keep from banging another piece of silverware.

"Good. Let's keep your hands away from pointy things," the girl with long brunette locks suggested. She was quite at a loss as to why her friend was so impatient. While she knew the AA meetings sometimes stressed Alison out or plunged her into deep thought, she never left a meeting this tightly wound. "Do you want to explain why you're freaking out? What happened at the meeting?"

With a sigh, Alison threw a familiar blasé look at her friend, "Nothing happened, well, not much."

"So, you're playing one-handed fork drums because 'not much' happened?"

Snatching up the fork, Alison waved it in Spencer's face, "I'm getting freaking hungry, Spencer. We've been waiting too long and I'm pretty sure there is a spot on this fork and I saw a smudge on my water glass."

"You are such a snob," Spencer chuckled slapping away the weapon wagging dangerously near her face, "even in a restaurant that you own."

Alison's face relaxed at the cheerful dismissal of her unwarranted insistence of perfection. As Spencer watched the blonde's pointless frustration dissolve, she couldn't help but contrast present day Alison to high school Alison. Said without any tact, Ali was a monster in high school. The first few years of their friendship, Spencer often felt like a possession rather than an equal and confidant. If the brunette had called her a snob back then, Alison would have either lashed out viciously or threatened to toss her back into Loserville with the rest of those she tormented on a daily basis. In retrospect, Spencer knew she remained close to the queen bee for protection rather than companionship. Ali may have been a bitch, but she took care of her own. Now, Alison reserved her venom for strangers and those she deemed incompetent. In those cases, her bitchiness still remained—no one is perfect.

"So back to what I asked you before the fork wielding," Spencer spoke up.

"If we must," the other woman nodded with a smile. "Yes, Duncan is out of town, but he'll be back at the end of the week."

"Is he at another conference?"

"Yes, another geek event. Who knew a man obsessed with flying planes would also be so good at computer stuff. Whatever it is."

"He's a highly respected software engineer, Ali. Give him some credit," Spencer said hesitantly. While the brunette had ten years of experience with Alison's swinging pendulum of behavior, she rarely witnessed her friend belittle her fiancé's job. Alison would never marry someone she didn't feel deserved her. She respected Duncan maybe more than she loved him, but Alison would never admit that to anyone and Spencer didn't judge her for it.

"You're right. I know. He's wonderful and talented. I'm very lucky." Spencer sensed an inflated amount of obligation in Alison's words. She sounded like someone giving a sales pitch for toilet paper. You needed it and really appreciated it, but you definitely weren't excited about it. As the blonde spoke, Spencer tucked away the observation for future consideration. Alison continued, "The AA meeting was a bit rough."

"Did you share?" the brunette asked apprehensively. This could be a monumentous day.

"No, of course not," Alison brushed off the idea.

"Then what happened?"

"On the phone, I asked you about an Emily Fields."

"Yeah," Spencer replied. Inclined to read into everything, she failed to see how a random girl could have such an impact on a usually impassive, headstrong woman. Remembering Alison expected more than a one word answer, the brunette said, "I keep racking my brain, but I'm coming up empty."

"She basically accosted me."

"What?" Spencer smiled and almost laughed. No one in their right mind confronted Alison DiLaurentis. "I'm sure she regretted it. Please tell me you stayed relatively calm."

"I didn't know how to react. She reminded me how much of a bitch I was in high school. She seemed to think she was just making conversation."

"Oh," the brunette's voice fell an octave. Now it made sense. Alison had found out in college that the higher you elevated yourself at the expense of others, the farther you have to fall. It was one thing to joke about her prior bullying with her friends, but another to be called out by strangers. Not wanting Alison to dwell, Spencer expedited the conversation, "So she went to our high school?"

"Yeah, but apparently I—well, we—didn't know her."

"Oh, well—"

"Shit, Spence!"

"What? Did a waiter serve food from the wrong side?"

"That's her!" Alison pointed a finger across the restaurant.

"Seriously?" Spencer wasn't sure whether to freak out or belly laugh.

"She's looking over here. Hide!"

Astounded by her friend's childish reaction, she replied as she watched Alison cower behind her hands, "You hide. She doesn't even know me." Much to Spencer's surprise and dismay, a tanned skinned brunette nodded, winked and smiled at her. "Or not. If she's a brunette in a black top, I think she recognizes me."

With her hands still hiding her face, Alison snapped, "Duh, Spencer. You and I were connected at the hip in high school. Anyone who knows me, knows you."

"Ah yes. I assumed incorrectly."

"What do I do?" the blonde peeked out from behind her fleshy shield.

Spencer's shock compounded. What about this woman rendered Alison as nervous as a squirrel? She glanced in the brunette's direction while answering her friend, "She's still sitting down. She's not even paying attention to us."

"Oh," Alison's hands dropped revealing her familiar apathetic face. "Then we're fine."

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Spencer randomly. She had no idea what the next few minutes would bring. There were so many variables in this situation and therefore an incalculable number of outcomes. Her Hastings's brain was about to implode.

"What?" the other woman gasped with palms flattening on the table. "Why would I—what? No, I couldn't."

Placing her hands over Alison's, the brunette said, "Ali, I love you, but get your shit together."

"Where is Aria's sympathetic heart when I need it?"

"It's on a date with Ezra. It's their date night. You're stuck with me."

"Do you know where they went? Did they stay in Rosewood or—"

"Ali!" Spencer cut off her friend trying to dodge the question.

"Fine," Alison conceded. "What legitimate reason do I have to go over there and barge in on what appears to be a date."

Spencer easily picked up on the disappointment in the blonde's voice at the word "date". Adding that to her list of 'Things I Noticed About Ali Tonight', she responded, "This is your restaurant. Go brag about it… subtly." Alison's raised eyebrow prompted a follow up, "Or ask what she thinks about it." Her friend was still not convinced so she stated, "She looks at you as that bully from high school. Show her who you are now."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because, it's a typical Alison thing to do. Go. Now!" Spencer ordered waving her hands upward coaxing her friend to stand.

Reluctantly, Alison rose from her chair. She tossed her napkin on the table and teased, "I'm going to murder you if this goes badly."

"Nah, you'll be thanking me. You're beautiful and successful. You're pretty much the shit."

"Spoken in a very non-Spencer Hastings's way."

"Get over there," the brunette smiled as Alison's confidence returned to her shoulders and her face. She had no idea why this Emily person had so much power over her friend, but that power was about to be usurped and returned to its rightful owner.

Alison swallowed and rubbed the beads of sweat off her palms and onto her dress. Spencer was right. This was ridiculous. As she maneuvered around occupied tables, she calmed her nerves. Emily's date, maybe her date, spotted her before Emily did. Upon reaching the table, she settled her hands nonchalantly on the edge and said, "Hello again, Emily."

She saw the brunette smile before she even looked up. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I'm here with a friend and I just wanted to say hello."

"So that's how you're supposed to say hello," the brunette noted with a smirk.

Pleased that Emily recalled their banter, she turned to the woman in the red dress and offered a hand in greeting, "Hi. Where are my manners? I'm Alison."

The blonde pumped her arm once and said, "Hi, Alison. I'm Samara." She asked both Alison and Emily, "So how do you two know each other?"

Alison hesitated, but the brunette quickly answered, "We went to high school together and we ran into each other in yoga class."

While Alison shot Emily a confused look, the other blonde addressed Emily, "Since when do you do yoga, Em." Alison liked the sound of the shortened name, although she didn't like this blonde person using it.

"Since I realized that yoga pants are a gift from above sent to bless all of those who like… yoga."

"You mean asses," the woman's date snorted.

Not sure how to expound upon this lie, Alison just smiled as Emily boldly stated, "Alison's yoga pants fit her very well."

Tucking her tongue in her cheek, Alison noted, "You think you can do no wrong, don't you?"

"Only as much as you." The smirk on Emily's lips seemed to be both a challenge and an invitation.

While Alison's mind contemplated the latter, Samara asked, "Should I leave you two alone?"

"Oh, no," Alison remarked, "Eventually, we'd become hostile." She saw a waiter approach the table. Upon seeing Alison, he snapped to a position of attention. She scoffed, "Don't stand like that. You look ridiculous."

"At ease, soldier," Emily joked.

"Would you please put the bill for this table onto mine?" Alison asked taking Spencer's advice on flaunting her influence.

"Yes, Ms. DiLaurentis," he replied hurriedly.

"Please don't call me that. It's Alison. I'm your boss, not your task master." The boy turned to leave, but Alison said, "Were you going to take their order?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. Yeah," he stammered before pulling out a pad of paper and jotting down Samara's drink order, which happened to be an alcoholic beverage, and both of their food orders.

When the boy practically sprinted away from the table, Samara noted, "I thought he was going to pee his pants."

Proud of herself for showcasing her dominance, Alison opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Emily, "That's strange. Alison is usually as soft as a stuffed animal: an adorable teddy bear."

"Emily thinks she is way more funny that she is," Samara scoffed with a smile.

"Mhmm," Alison muttered. For some reason, she found it distasteful to agree with this person. She attributed it to the woman's dress. There was no need for the dress to cut down that low in the front. It made her look like she was trying too hard. As she stood there judging, she refused to admit that she succumbed to a double standard as she assured herself that she could pull off that dress perfectly.

"So who did you have to kill to get this restaurant," Emily asked.

"Oh, please," Alison waved off the suggestion, "I just walked in and all the bidders ran away." Captivated by the brunette's eyes filled with warmth and nose crinkled with humor, she almost jumped at the tap on her shoulder.

The face of the general manager proved most unwelcome as he blurted, "Excuse me Alison. We have a situation. Can I—"

"Do you see me having a conversation?" she asked flatly. If there was one thing she abhorred, it was being interrupted mid-conversation.

"Yes," he answered simply, afraid to expound without an invitation.

"Is the building on fire?"

"No."

"Is it going to catch on fire in the next five minutes?"

"…No."

With crossed arms and narrowed eyes, she squared her shoulders, faced the man and continued with another question, "Can I effectively have two conversations at once?"

Instead of answering, he deflected, "I saw you were busy having a conversation with Ms. Hastings earlier and I didn't want to—"

"Interrupt?" Alison finished. Although she was a full six inches shorter than the manager, she narrowed the gap in stature with her domineering tone, "I'm still busy, just at another table." She heard Emily snickering. While she wondered if the laugh was meant to mock her, she didn't falter and ordered, "Go bother Spencer. I'll be there in a moment."

"Wow," Alison heard Samara say over her shoulder. "You're scary."

"Eh," Emily dismissed the accusation, "It's sexy."

"Oh, is it?" the brunette's dinner companion replied.

Actually relieved at the sight of the nervous waiter, Alison stood by as he set down a martini and a glass of water in front of Samara. Emily didn't flinch at the sight of the alcohol until her friend offered, "Now I know it's not a straight vodka shot sticking out of a sorority girl's mouth, but I know you enjoy a good martini." She asked Alison, "I assume the drinks here are nice and strong?"

Shrugging, Alison's eyes never left Emily's face as she replied, "I've been told they are made well, but I personally wouldn't know."

"I'm gonna pass, Samara," the brunette said flippantly. "Martinis aren't my thing anymore. Plus, you know I can never drink just one and I have clients early tomorrow morning."

Alison didn't hear the next few sentences in the conversation. Her internal dialogue put the real world on mute. She rolled Emily's response around in her brain. She found Emily's answer to be unexpected given the assertive attitude she'd been advertising. Apparently when it came to her addiction, transparence was the road less traveled. Of course, Alison hadn't expected Emily, or any recovering addict, to launch into a monologue about her recovery. She personally stuck to the very simple "I don't drink" and then brushed off any peer pressure with a glare of annoyance.

Emily's warm fingers grazing against the back of Alison's hand flipped on her dulled auditory senses. The brunette said, "Alison. Hello?"

"Hi. Sorry, what?"

"Is this the only restaurant that you own?"

"Oh, no. Of course not. I bought out The Brew in Rosewood and I opened another restaurant in Rosewood."

"You look young," Samara commented. Alison's eyebrows flew up. Before she could defensively ask what her age had to do with anything, the other blonde continued, "How did you come to own them?"

"Not a spectacular story. I went to business school, took some family money and leveraged my good business sense."

"Ali!" the blonde heard Spencer call her name.

She spun around and flashed the approaching woman a 'what the fuck' look before saying, "Yeah, Spence. What is it?"

When she reached the table, Spencer explained, "The manager guy, Chris, is about to have a brain hemorrhage. You need to come talk to him."

Alison rolled her eyes in annoyance, even though she delighted in being in charge. She had found a profitable outlet to channel her propensity to tell people what to do. Her uncanny ability to read people and ability to quickly adapt to changing environments made her an excellent business owner. She wasn't super popular with the wait staff since she put no effort into endearing herself to them, but she ranked that low on the totem pole of priorities of owning a business. She nodded to Emily and Samara before taking her leave. "It was good to see you again Emily and nice to meet you Samara."

"Likewise," the blonde at the table smiled. Alison wondered if the woman was happy to see her go.

"I'll see you next week?" the brunette asked. "Same time for yoga class?"

"Yes, I'll be there," Ali smiled. She turned and walked past Spencer who allowed the blonde to pass by before turning away from the remaining two women. Alison heard her friend rattle off a greeting and goodbye in the same breath.

As Alison headed over to speak with Chris, Spencer caught up to her and whispered, "Emily totally checked you out—unapologetically and for far too long. Was that her date? Because she didn't seem too happy about Emily's eyes being glued to your ass."

"Geez, Spencer!" Alison blushed as she elbowed the brunette in the ribs.

Grabbing the woman's forearm, Spencer said, "I really, really don't want to ask this, but is something—"

"Don't, Spence," the other woman shook out of her friend's grip. She knew Spencer was about to accuse her of something in the form of a question. "I need to handle whatever Chris is freaking out about. I'll be right back." She didn't dare glance at her friend. The brunette's face spoke as clearly as her mouth and she didn't want to see or hear it. There was nothing going on between her and Emily. She kinda couldn't stand her. "Chris, what's up?" she asked her employee as she switched off the portion of her brain intent on fantasizing about the next time she saw Emily.

I hope you're still interested!

Since this story is really just for fun without any serious intentions, I'd love to know if you guys want to see any specific characters make any cameos. I already have the main characters (who will be revealed slowly but surely) in mind that are necessary to the plot, but I'd be happy to sprinkle in random appearances of different people.

Let me know. I'd love to hear from you guys!