"These benches feel like they aren't for sitting." Aaron rants on as he slides past on the oddly tilted bench.
He sighs as he looks at the Bar Fantasia. The giant neon sign greets his eyes as he sits across the street, slipping his hands on his back. "What a fancy bar," Aaron mumbles as he looks at the magnificent establishment.
Rumors of Bar Fantasia almost always excites Aaron, but he never thought that one day, he'd get to see the real deal for reals. Usually, rumors about the most prominent celebrities coming to party at Bar Fantasia were scarce. Yet, these past years, chart-topping singers, award-winning actors and actresses, notorious stand-up comedians, famous dancers— basically anyone of high social statuses have been coming to visit Bar Fantasia.
Businessmen from all over the world come to the party, a majority coming from Mainland China, Malaysia, and Singapore. They would often go out with their friends— all financial elites from Asia, come in all alive and dolled up, to only come out drunk and wasted.
At its core, this bar screams of one thing from the ground up. It calls that this bar is king— the top tier entertainment zone for the top one percent. Also, the bar is not only top-name but is also top-money. As far as Aaron has heard, this bar charges a drink at the same price as a five-star hotel room. Paired with a world-class bartender often putting on those mixing shows around the counter, it really is king, the best.
Its facilities, such as its music department, is managed by one of the country's top deejays. Dazzling lighting engineered explicitly for the bar is ensured by international lighting engineers, to give off a fully immersive experience.
On its front door, substantial neon signs of massive palm trees greet its customers. Its theme— tropical fantasy, lies apparent, not only referring to the neon signs, but also to its staff wearing skimpy beach outfits, with shorts and sleeveless shirts and giant, sunset-orange colored hammocks on the side of the entrance door just in front of a real live palm tree on its pavements.
Aaron looks at the starlit sky, spotting one exceptionally bright heavenly body— the planet Venus.
"Jude— her ability to stand out from a sea of stars, her smile like Venus'. Totally a diamond in the rough." He whispers as he smiles.
Conversations from a year ago flash before his very eyes. Their memories, their promises, their very first encounter. The nostalgic moments that makes him determined to know the answers to the question— Why? Why is Jude suddenly so different? Why did she change? What did she mean by that?
***
"What if—" she blinks her eyes as she tightens her grip on his hands. "What if someday, I'll change into someone else, would you still look at me the same way you look at me now?"
Aaron is taken aback. He squints his eyes. "Why are you asking me this—"
She shakes her head, looking at Aaron directly in the eyes. "Just answer me."
He nods his head, staring straight into her. "Sure, I'd still look at you in the same way I look at you now." He puts up his pinky finger and smiles. "I promise."
***
Aaron takes in a deep breath and stands up. "Let's do this!" He clenches his hands as he eyes on Bar Fantasia's entrance.
He knows the basics. Going through the front door? Impossible. He's not an elite, neither is he an adult— he's a petty schoolboy wearing his school uniform for Pete's sakes! Jude and Ivy, on the other hand, wore something much more glorified, much more "appropriate."
He looks around the area. Bar Fantasia's parking lot is open— and it's probably the first place to start looking for alternative entrances. Aaron decides to walk through the site.
The parking lot is gritty— it looks lonely and eerie, fenced with thin black rods of metal. Its entrance is unguarded, and a faint sound from Bar Fantasia creeps in the atmosphere. He starts looking for possible openings.
On the far corner is an open high-up window. The problem is, it's too high up. Its opening is too small for Aaron to enter. He shakes his head as he starts to look for other openings.
A ground vent is mounted on the side of the building. The vent's grates are screwed-on and cannot be opened through mere force, its surface rusty and dusty. Its opening is also too small for Aaron to fit. The walls are too tall and acrophobic for Aaron to scale through, though each floor has its own patio except for the ground floor. Each patio is connected through a small circular staircase.
Aaron's hopeless state was somehow relieved when he saw something— a white drop-down fire exit ladder, three or two meters above ground.
He tries to grasp the ladder, trying to clasp his hands to reach the ghastly tips of the ladder. He makes a jump for it— he makes several attempts, still unable to reach its ends.
Aaron sighs. He walks aback for a few meters. Quickly, he presses his feet into the friction-filled pavement, charging through and jumping hastily.
Aaron sighs a sigh of relief as clasps the ends of the ladder, hanging a few centimeters away from the ground. Slowly, he reaches up for the higher levels of the ladder, just like a vertical monkey bar. His grip is loosening; the ladder's damning white paint is too slippery. Instead of letting go— he tightens his grasp, reaching for another level.
And for the last step, he has to force his entire body into the ladder. He raises both his feet while his hands still grasping the cold metal ladder. His feet reaches the tip of the ladder. He then climbs up the ladder casually, reaching the second-floor patio— guarded by a furnished wooden acacia door.
He tries opening the door, but it's closed. He tries whisking the doorknob and until eventually— he gives up. He climbs up a level and tries the third floor's patio this time. He tries twisting the doorknob, yet it is still locked. He goes up a level again until he reaches the very last floor— the fifth floor.
"If this doesn't work out, then what the fuck." Aaron curses as he pants through. After climbing a few floors up, Aaron's exhausted breath barely fills up his lungs.
He closes his eyes as he tries for one last time.
"Oh dear Lord God, help me this time, please, just this one door. I know this is technically trespassing but please do this for me," He murmurs as he whispers his prayer to the heavens. He opens a crack of his eyes and grabs for the last doorknob, slowly twisting it...
... and it clicks!
"Thank God. Someone must have gone out for a smoke and forgot to lock the door." Aaron chuckles at his lucky coincidence. He opens the door and steps in.
A silent, cryptic room full of large cubicles boxed by one-sided mirrors and crimson-red lighting welcomes Aaron. These one-sided mirrors are the type to reflect something on one side and stay transparent on another. The room is so deafeningly silent that it sticks out like a sore thumb, especially since that this is supposed to be a bar— not a red-lit library. Aaron walks through the aisle crunched in-between the cubicles, tiptoeing to not make any sound.
As he continues to walk meticulously through the aisle, he notices the sound of clicking— the sound of footsteps. The footsteps are careful, not trying to conceal its appearance but are reserved and in sloth's place.
Aaron's eyes widen as he realizes its implications— someone's approaching his direction. The footsteps grow nearer, louder, and blunter. Someone's about to see him red-handed— trespassing through private property, a bar of all things, in full-on school uniform!
Aaron leers side to side, on his edge, his hands trembling. He bites his lips as cold sweat drips from his head.
The footsteps grow louder. Its clicking sound, filling the eerie atmosphere.
Aaron clenches his teeth as his jaws lock, agitated. His jawline flinches, and he gulps on possibly his last. He looks at one of the cubicle's walls, reflecting his face full of guilty conscience and his cheeks blue of anxiety.
In front of Aaron, is a man in dark suede shoes, black slacks tied by a dark-blue leather belt. His top— a black tuxedo with white long sleeves tucked-in, and a striped butter-yellow and maroon necktie with a dull-colored tie clip.
Aaron raises his head, looking at the man's face directly. In front of him is a tall, stocky, well-built man, in his mid-thirties, wearing a stern look on his face, his brows furrowing. His slanted eyes staring at Aaron's skittish face. The man has clearly visible wrinkles on his face's slightly-tanned tone.
"What are you doing here?" The man's deep, stern voice startles Aaron while Aaron grits his teeth. "Juveniles like you aren't supposed to be here." The man picks his phone up, trying to dial-in on someone.
"Are you going to call the police on me?" Aaron drawls, while the man flinches, keeping his calm.
"I'd let the security handle this."
"Can you please not? I can explain it. I'm—"
"I don't take any excuses, young man, I'm a busy person and it's within my best interests to— "
"I'm his partner, Mr. Wang," A girl's voice interrupts as she lazily puts her hands on Aaron's shoulders.
"Is he?" Mr. Wang asks appealingly as he arches a brow.
"Yes— and he's pretty new here. He must be lost, you know greenhorns these days," she chuckles, shugging.
"Well, glad to know you're diversifying your escort choices. I didn't know nerdy and geeky is a trend now,"
"Oh yes, they are, just like how petite and cute was also a trend." The girl fakes a laugh as she tightens her hold on Aaron.
Aaron freezes. He looks at Mr. Wang, shocked to see his grinning face as he looks at her.
Does he know her? Does she know him?
Putting his phone back in his pocket, Mr. Wang responds. "Glad to know that, Jude. I should get going. See you next time, Jude." He smiles, winking at her. Aaron shifts his head as he swivels his eyes, looking at who's holding his back. A lady, with deep-seated dimples— It's Jude.
Aaron panics as he stares at her intently. Scratching the back of his head, he says. "If he just called me an escort, so that makes you—"
Jude scrambles her hands as puts it on Aaron's mouth. She stares at Aaron's face, her eyes smoking out of anger and her cheeks blushing of embarrassment.
"If you finish that sentence, I'll also finish you, right here, right now."