Chapter 3: Return to Familiarity

Jasper and Tequila rendezvous at Xavier's house, not just for a trip down memory lane, but also the meet up with a guest who will explain everything that's going on.

The morning after the ordeal in New York, Tequila and I took the earliest flight back home to Phoenix. We spent the next couple of months recuperating and carrying on with our usual lives, waiting until Xavier had finished analyzing every bit of evidence we'd collected from the crime scene, after which he promised he would call to let us know and we would head over to his house as soon as possible.

It was an ordinary morning at the end of that span of time, and I was still snoozing in bed, albeit no longer in REM mode.

"Oh, Jasper..." a soft, suggestive female voice spoke.

As soon as I heard it, I slowly opened my eyes, immediately finding myself back in my master suite, which was lit up from the late morning sun. Drowsily looking over towards the door, I spotted Tequila peeking in, her face lighting up as soon as our eyes met. Without saying another word, she stepped in, dressed in last night's baby-doll and thong, both made of sheer lace in the same shade of violet as her eyes.

In her hands was a breakfast tray, containing two eggs benedicts with halibut ceviche replacing the Canadian bacon, alongside a tall glass of orange juice freshly squeezed from the tree out back. Capping off the feast was a caramel macchiato made with imported Chilean coffee and several red chili flakes. The combined aromas from the impending meal did their job in waking me up a little more.

"Good to see you're awake." Tequila pecked me on the cheek as I sat up so she could set the tray down. "For some reason, I woke up early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried, so I decided I'd surprise you. Besides, they say the best route to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Really? I thought it was his penis," I replied smugly as I dug into one of the benedicts, watching with delight as the undercooked yolk spilled all over the plate.

"Ah, you," Tequila sauntered over to our shared wardrobe and began to look through it. "Now as soon as you finish, I suggest you get ready to leave again. I promised Xavier we'd be there by this evening."

"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow as I sipped my coffee.

"You might've been too drowsy to remember, but Xavier called last night and said he'd finished analyzing everything, and I told him we'd come the next day," Tequila explained. "In addition, he also says there's a guest coming over who can tell us a bit more about what's going on."

"Oh... right," I said as yesterday's memories slowly came back to me.

---

We managed to arrive in San Francisco at around 6:00pm Pacific time, where the sky was aglow with the gaudy hues that typically accompany a sunset. Xavier's home was a white mansion with ivy growing up its side, practically within shouting distance of the city. The homey citadel was positioned on top of a hill, providing a breathtaking view of the San Francisco Bay, and had a spiraling driveway that connected the front yard to the busy street below. Xavier's family used to own the third largest and wealthiest business empire in America, right behind the Simmons and Seymour empires, but they suddenly went off the map sometime after graduation, as all of their property - not counting the mansion, of course - was sold off to other people for reasons I did not know.

For Tequila and I, this place was anything but unfamiliar, as we often came here to unwind back during college, or at least from freshman to sophomore year. We already spent tons of time at Tequila's house after school to do homework, but whenever we were on school breaks, such as Labor Day weekend, spring break, or the holidays, our only option was to fly out here. And when I say it was our only option, I mean that literally; my parents' house didn't have enough room, and Second's mom didn't like us.

Back to the present, Tequila and I got out of the Uber that dropped us off, and after paying the driver, we began our stroll up the corkscrew driveway, each of us dragging two carry-on suitcases.

"Alright, so if I'm being perfectly honest here... even though it's been seven years, it still seems so surreal to me whenever I see such a wide array of hair colors in the same workplace," I said.

"I'll bet that's how everyone felt after we ended racial segregation back in the 60s," Tequila chuckled, before looking straight ahead. "Ah man, just looking at this place is taking me back!"

"I'll say. I remember always counting the days until a long weekend came up, because that meant we could come over here and have the time of our lives," I reminisced. "Xavier's parents used to cook the most wonderful holiday meals, and they even had a Berkshire pig farm out back where they'd get all their Christmas hams from, as well as that Bresse chicken coop for eggs."

"Yeah... oh! And do you remember how his mom would always make that macaroni gratin with the tri-colored noodles, and the brie, and the gruyere, and the pimento... oh, and rarebit," Tequila continued. "Lots and lots of rarebit."

"And it was all topped with crushed pretzels and saltine crackers instead of breadcrumbs," I added. "S**t, how could I forget that?"

"I'll bet the meals we had over here were a godsend for you." Tequila smirked. "I remember back in the day, your idea of a meal was three bites of salad."

"Well hey, I had to lose the freshman fifteen somehow," I defended. "I also remember how every Thanksgiving, Second would always eat too much turkey and pass out for the rest of the day."

"Speaking of the turkey, remember the very first time we came over here? And how Xavier's mom initially thought I was Mexican just because I have a Hispanic name, and seasoned the turkey accordingly?" Tequila giggled. "...It was still pretty damn good, though."

The two of us shared a hearty laugh at that memory, and soon enough, we found ourselves face-to-face with the magnificent front door. Xavier had left the large iron gates at either end of the driveway open, most likely in preparation for our arrival, so all that was left to do was alert him to our presence. Without a word, I stepped up and rang the doorbell. Even outside, I could hear it echoing throughout the whole manor.

It didn't take long for a doorman to let us in, with Xavier shuffling over towards us soon after. In addition to that lab-coat he had an unhealthy attachment to, he wore what appeared to be a brown Hawaiian shirt under a white sweater-vest, with black slacks and loafers. Did I mention he was eccentric?

"Ah, so good of you two to show up." he grinned as he ushered us inside.

"And it's so good to be back," I replied, giving our friend a bro-hug.

After I withdrew from the embrace, I took notice of the doorman, or rather doorwoman. She would've looked perfectly human-like if not for the obvious creases all over her frame, suggesting she was a robot. I then looked around the sprawling foyer and noticed several female maids and butlers roaming around with the same characteristics, albeit with defining traits that made each one stick out, like different heights, body-types, and hairdos.

"...Though I sure as hell don't remember the robotic staff being here." I scratched my head in confusion.

"I built 'em myself after graduation," Xavier replied. "Best part is, they're all modeled after my exes. Pretty impressive, no?"

"Wow, someone fears commitment." Tequila sneered.

"Say, that one dusting the furniture looks familiar," I commented. "Say, isn't she the one who broke up with you because of me?"

"Yes, because the two of us went out to lunch one time, and she found your hair in my car afterwards," Xavier gave me a tired stare. "But nonetheless, feel free to get comfortable. That guest I told you about should be here soon."

With that, Tequila and I made our way to the nearest coat rack, taking off our trench coats and newsboy caps and hanging them up, revealing business-casual attire underneath. I simply went with a chartreuse dress shirt and tan corduroys, while Tequila wore tight, bluish-gray pegged pants with a subtle plaid pattern, alongside a matching button-up vest; the latter was worn over a black, untucked, elbow-sleeved blouse that barely reached her pants, and had the top three buttons undone. Both of us had our hair done up in ponytails, with Tequila once again using her trademark strip of leather.

"So Jasper and I were just looking back on the days when we used to come here all the time," Tequila explained. "Makes me wonder why we ever stopped in the first place."

"Yeah, well it's kind of a long story," Xavier began solemnly. "See, it was right around junior year when preparations began for the 2024 Presidential Election, as we all should know by now."

Tequila and I nodded.

"And it was also around that time when I found out that my parents were Gonzalez supporters," Xavier continued.

"How deplorable," Tequila commented.

"But... but how could they-?!" I began in alarm.

"Apparently they thought he brought some good ideas to the table. Sure, they didn't like his temperament, but they figured his policies would bring down unemployment, which in all fairness, they did," Xavier explained. "But I just couldn't stomach the fact that my parents were willing to sacrifice so much just for that one benefit. And so whenever I came home to them every summer, it didn't feel like I was seeing my parents; it felt as though I was seeing complete strangers. I was estranged from them, and I didn't want to get you guys involved in it."

As he continued his tirade, I took a glance over at a nearby table. On top of it was a framed photograph containing his parents; both of which had their son's peachy skin, blonde hair, and mint-green eyes. The mother wore a purple T-shirt with the words "Women For Gonzalez" in a goldenrod font, and the father wore a white cap that read "Gonzalez 2024" in navy blue letters. At that point, there was no way I could mask the mixed expression of shock and fury that formed on my face.

"Numerous times I tried to convince them to rethink their decision, but they just said, 'Oh, you're just a loony left-winger. You wouldn't understand'," Xavier continued. "And just when I was planning to make amends with them after graduation, my mom died of colon cancer, and my dad died soon after due to the depression that stemmed from his loss. So once I inherited their property, I sold it all off and used all the money I gained from that to fund my own projects, and look at me now."

"Wow, you have such an interesting background. Can we get a story about that, by any chance?" Tequila asked in a smart-alecky tone.

"Why is it that our loved-ones always have to die on us right after forming rifts with us? Regardless, I am profoundly sad to hear all that, Xavier." I nodded solemnly.

The three of us were suddenly yanked back into the present as soon as we heard a ding echoing throughout the entryway.

"Ah, sacré bleu! I almost forgot about the calamari!" Xavier dashed into the kitchen as Tequila and I followed him.

By the time we caught up, we found him fervently shaking a deep-fryer for a moment, before dumping its golden-brown contents onto a platter, alongside a small ramekin full of aioli.

"So let me get this straight. You went out of your way to build butlers, maids, gardeners, and a doorwoman... but you drew the line at a kitchen staff?" I asked hesitantly.

"Well the way I see it, cooking is just another form of science. Why miss out on all the fun?" Xavier responded.

Tequila and I just shrugged and followed him into the dining room, where we found the expansive table already packed with food. In addition to the calamari, there were bottles of limoncello and prosecco, focassia rolls with olive and chili oil and balsamic vinegar for dipping, and heaping platters of pasta galore-four, to be exact. One contained pappardelle bolognese, while another contained lobster ravioli with copious amounts of blue crab and goat cheese, smothered in a spicy pomodoro cream sauce. Another one contained an authentic rendition of pasta carbonara, and the last one contained lasagna, layered with pesto instead of marinara.

"Hoo, that's quite the plethora of carbs!" Tequila's eyes widened at the sight of the meal. "Now usually, I save this type of food for whenever I'm seeing red, but... I guess I could indulge a little tonight."

"Well our guest is of Italian descent, so I figured the least I could do is make her feel welcome," Xavier replied, before the doorbell suddenly rang. "Ah, and that must be her!"

Opening the door revealed a rather diminutive woman who looked to be in her early forties, sporting a skirted suit with a tie. She had bronze skin, with a body-type similar to Tequila's, and was heterochromic, with one eye being mahogany and the other being gray. Her jet black hair had platinum-blonde highlights and was worn up in a bun, save for a loose strand on each side of her head that hung down by her temples. Upon taking in her appearance for a few seconds, I immediately recognized this woman from one of the "Looks Don't Matter" commercials of old.

"Folks, this here is Roxanne Romano. You might know her as a nationally famous lawyer, who fought for sex industry rights, and was a major catalyst in the legalization of prostitution," Xavier introduced her. "But me? I know her as the lawyer who defended us after we had to stand trial for overthrowing Gonzalez."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Roxanne spoke in a peculiar hybrid between Brooklyn and New Orleans accents, glancing at each of us. "And if I recall correctly, you're Jasper, the leader of the group, right?"

"Yep, that's me," I replied as I shook her hand.

"Really good to see you again," Tequila chimed in, shaking her hand as well.

"Same to you," Roxanne replied. "Now what say we dig in before the food gets cold?"

"Ah yes, of course. Just let me put my lab-coat away first." Xavier took off the aforementioned garment.

Really? NOW you take that thing off? I thought, but didn't say.