It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Special thanks to the very patient PTB team, especially HollettLA and ragsstone who helped with this chapter.

Prologue (Set in the present day.)

"Another scotch?" the bartender asked.

Jasper shook his head. Two drinks was his limit. When the bartender suggested a Coke, he nodded absently. His eyes never left the flow of people moving past the window.

The only other person drinking was an attractive redhead in a low-cut blouse. Nursing her glass and thumbing her Blackberry, she'd occasionally flash a glance toward the scruffy bartender. He returned her looks with a smile but made no move to approach.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Jasper almost didn't realize that the question was directed at him, as the other man was so distracted by the woman.

"I'm here most nights. I can help if it's a regular."

Damn. So much for being inconspicuous, Jasper thought. "Sure, why not? She's about five foot, brunette, hazel eyes..."

"First name?" The bartender's eyes never left the Crackberry addict. She licked her lips slowly.

"Alice," Jasper replied. The man turned to look at him, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. For just a second, Jasper thought he saw recognition cross the bartender's features.

"Sure," the man said, grabbing a towel and wiping the already clean bar. "She'll be here between six and seven. One glass of the house white. I'll bring her another around eight." When he finished wiping, he leaned against the bar. His eyes flicked up and down. Jasper knew when someone was sizing him up.

"Thanks. You always notice so much about the customers, or just the ladies?" Jasper asked, nodding toward the redhead.

"Don't mind her; she's a regular. I'm not stalker material. It helps when aspiring writers notice details. You never know what you'll be able to use later. I'm James," he said, holding out his hand.

"Jasper," he replied, and they shook.

The redhead crooked her finger, and James moved away. Jasper tried to watch the window while James and the redhead flirted, but they were such a contrast, it was hard not to stare. His ash blond ponytail, silver hoop earring, and ripped t-shirt were a steep contrast to her designer blouse and stylish chignon. She whispered something in his ear, stood, and left. After watching her shimmy out the door, James retuned to check on him.

"You said Alice is here most nights. Is she usually alone?" Jasper asked.

"She dates, if that's what you're asking. Not many repeats, though. None of them seem to pass muster." James silently regarded him for a few beats and then seemed to make up his mind. Taking a deep breath, he said, "This isn't the way most people meet up with old friends. She isn't going to be happy to see you, is she?"

"No," Jasper replied flatly. "She isn't."

The bell above the door chimed, and both men turned.