Chapter 6: From Desert to Tropics

The gang lands their first endorsement deal with the one and only Mark Simmons, and makes preparations to meet up with him.

"Yo, Jasper! You coming or what?" Second asked me over the phone, his tone somewhat anxious.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on the way now. There was just a bit of a holdup in the restaurant, that's all," I replied as I climbed into my station-wagon.

"Ugh, don't tell me you made a scene in there. I thought we all agreed to keep a low profile!" Second said.

"Well I tried to, but the waitress recognized my name from my credit card, and the news about our rally was airing at the same time, so..." my voice trailed off.

"See this is exactly why it's always a good idea to carry plenty of cash in your wallet," Second replied. "That way people are less likely to recognize you when you pay for something."

"Don't remind me. I already beat myself up over that a few minutes ago," I grumbled. "Anywho, I'm halfway there, so just be patient until I arrive, alright?"

With that, I hung up and continued the drive back to Tequila's house, which we'd previously established as our base of operations. The diner I'd eaten at was just a town over from Phoenix, so the trip barely took under an hour. Upon arrival, I parked my car on the curb and rang the doorbell. Tequila was quick to answer the door and usher me inside.

"Oh good, there you are. I think we found a good lead on how Gonzalez has been able to get away with all his s**t," she explained.

"Okay?" I asked, confused.

"Well we figured that our movement shouldn't just be to get the laws changed, but also to get our president impeached," Tequila replied. "Killing two birds with one bullet, am I right?"

"Er... isn't it 'killing two birds with one stone'?" I asked in reply.

"Like you could knock a bird out of the sky with a rock. Let alone on your first try," Tequila scoffed.

"Anyways, have we made any progress?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I've set up our official Twitter account and website, and I recently gave out our phone-number to accept donations. Oh, and another rally is scheduled for next month in St. Louis," Tequila explained. "But the biggest thing we've found is waiting for you in the living room."

The two of us walked into the living room, where MSNBC was currently being shown on the television. Second and Xavier were lounging in some of the armchairs, completely engrossed in the program.

"This just in: the Gonzalez administration has recently written a bill that is very likely to get stamped into law. The bill states that whenever people pass away, everything they owned, including their property, belongings, and money, will go to other people who are currently struggling with homelessness and/or poverty, which the president describes as 'people who need it much more than anyone else'."

"What?! That's a terrible idea!" Xavier exclaimed. "So he's basically saying that writing a will doesn't mean anything anymore?!"

"Welp, so much for inheriting my mom's place when she inevitably drinks too much booze," Second chimed in. "...And then using her money to buy back my grandpa's distillery."

"Well then we'd better stop him before that bill gets passed too," I replied.

"At any rate, that wasn't exactly what we brought you here to see," Tequila intervened. "Last night, it was Second's turn to stay up and keep track of the news in order to record useful information. And he found something pretty major."

I said nothing as she switched from live TV to the list of DVR recordings, before pulling up last night's news broadcast. After fast-forwarding for a bit, she pressed Play at the beginning of a particular segment. I had absolutely no trouble recognizing the man on screen, even though he looked just a tad older than the few times I saw him on TV back in the 2010s. By my rough estimate, I'd say he was in his mid-forties by now.

"In other news tonight, Mark Simmons has recently spoken out against President Gonzalez yet again. For those who are unaware, Simmons previously ran against Gonzalez in the 2024 Presidential Election after having just narrowly beat Chelsea Clinton in the Democratic primaries," the announcer explained. "Even though he won the popular vote, he still lost the electoral college to Gonzalez by countless votes. And for the past decade, he has continued to speak out against the president, often accompanied by massive crowds of supporters. Here's only a portion of what he had to say tonight."

"To all my supporters, I highly apologize if I sound like I'm beating a dead horse, but I speak the truth: the 2024 election was rigged, as is today's political system. Mr. Gonzalez was able to easily win the election and even get most of his horrendous legislative bills passed, despite only a minority of the country supporting him, and despite openly admitting to countless impeachable offenses, even before the race ended! Now I'm not trying to fight my way into the office or anything. I'm not sore about losing the election. However, I am sore about how no one in the government has dared to get him impeached despite all that," Mark said. "I don't know if they're all in his pockets or what, but I remember meeting some of our senators, representatives, and even members of the electoral college about halfway through the race. And they all told me that I had their vote. Yet they all turned around seemingly at the last moment! This corruption cannot become the norm! That is why I stand by the new 'Looks Don't Matter' movement, because it signifies that I am not the only one who knows that something shady is going on here!"

"Heh, a wealthy socialite running for president? Gee, now where have I heard that before?" Xavier sneered.

"Doesn't he know it's not a good idea to whine about losing something like this? I mean, look what became of Hillary Clinton when she did that," Second added.

"Hold on! He said he met up with some politicians who said they'd support him, but then they turned their backs on him for seemingly no reason with no explanation?" I asked, scratching my head.

"Sure seems that way," Tequila replied. "But regardless, if he says he supports us, then I guess that means we've got a pretty powerful new ally. Nothing's wrong with that, right?"

"And speaking of Mark..." Second announced, picking up the landline and activating a recorded message.

"Greetings, folks! This is Mark Simmons speaking. Just wanted to say that I'm very pleased with what you people are doing, and I'd be more than honored to help you guys out in any way I can," Mark began. "Should you guys agree to my offer, then please meet me at a Mar-A-Lago as soon as possible, and we can negotiate my involvement in your cause. And don't be afraid to dress for the occasion. Florida's a hot state, and there's a 99.9% chance it'll be beach weather. Not to mention that I don't have very high standards for how people show up at my property."

"Wow, that is not what I expected from such a rich dude," Second commented. "Usually they speak so formally, and demand everyone wear suits whenever they meet up in person. This guy seems so laid back."

"Yeah, well that's what makes him stand out. Hell, I remember him openly admitting to working a manual job even though he didn't need to, simply because he didn't want to become too absorbed in his riches," I replied.

"Forget that. Why on earth would he be staying at the Mar-A-Lago? Last I checked, he hated the owner of that place with a passion," Xavier added.

"Well actually, Mark owns the place now. Apparently he placed a very high bid on it after Donald Trump's death. In fact, I think he owns almost everything that used to be his," Tequila replied. "But regardless, I think we should go see him. He's a man with a ton of money, and a ton of connections. And if we want to speak with someone who's been in close proximity to this country's politicians, then he's probably our best candidate... no pun intended."

"Plus, he could help fund our cause. Help us spread our message more quickly. That type of thing," I said, eliciting nods from everyone else in the room. "Alright, I'll call him back and schedule an appointment. In the meantime, I suggest we all start getting prepared for another trip."

I ended up scheduling the appointment so it would be a week from that day, which would consequently give us a decent chunk of time to manually spread our message and even goof off a little before meeting up with Mark. However, we were unable to find a flight to West Palm Beach until four days into that week.

It was late at night once we arrived at the nearest Hampton Inn & Suites. The four of us checked into a pair of conjoined rooms, each with two queen-sized beds. At the moment, us three guys were lounging in one of the rooms, taking a well-deserved break from the news and instead marathoning through The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Or more accurately, I was. Second and Xavier had passed out about halfway through the fourth season, and were currently snoring on top of the beds. Thank God reruns of old shows still aired on television. It was a nice breath of fresh air after being bombarded by countless shows with entirely redheaded casts and inconsistent acting quality.

Feeling a little tired myself, I turned down the volume a bit and walked over into the adjacent room. Tequila was standing there, peering out the window with her back to me. Out of the four of us, she was the only one who hadn't yet changed into sleepwear. Silently walking closer, I could make out a wine glass in her hand, before glancing down at the nightstand and seeing the complimentary bottle already half-empty. Without a word, I stepped up next to her and proceeded to check out the view outside the window.

Though it was dark out, I could still make out the well-lit skyscrapers in the distance, their iridescent lights reflecting on the ocean's surface alongside the light of the full moon. The silhouettes of a few palm trees were also visible, both on shore, and as reflections. Occasionally, a boat would pass by, stirring up a little foam like the kind you'd see on top of a cappuccino. Such an act would momentarily disturb the water's surface, and even after the boat left, the foam lingered for just under a minute.

"What are you doing?" Tequila asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, just enjoying the view," I replied casually, helping myself to the rest of the bottle's contents.

"Was that an attempt at flirting with me, or are you being serious?" Tequila continued, cocking one of her thin red eyebrows as she smirked slyly. Her voice just had that natural sultriness to it. I could easily listen to her read the nutrition facts and ingredients off a jar of mayonnaise, and it wouldn't get boring.

"No, no, I meant the view out the window. I could easily get the same view in the other room, but the others wouldn't stop snoring and the sound kept distracting me from taking in all the little details," I replied. "Then again, given what you said earlier, I assume it'd be fine if I was trying to flirt."

"Yeah, I get your point," Tequila replied.

And then the two of us just stood there silently for a good minute or so. I did nothing more than stare out the window, but I was soon distracted from this as I heard a slight shuffling sound to my left. Sneaking a glance in that direction, I noticed that Tequila had inched closer to me. I looked straight ahead once more, trying to dismiss the thought, until I felt a warm touch on my left hand. It didn't feel like an accidental brush of skin against skin; it lingered, and its pressure fluctuated over the next few seconds. Eventually giving into the pleasant sensation stemming from it, I reciprocated the touch and soon I found myself unable to stop doing so.

Then Tequila inched even closer to me, and her wandering hand went from my hand to my arm, methodically climbing up its length. I flinched at the suddenness of it all.

"So what do you think?" she asked out of the blue, slight drunkenness marring her tone.

"Huh?" I stupidly replied, pouring the last of the wine into my glass.

"About our relationship. Are you... willing to give us a go?" she asked again.

It was then that my tongue refused to cooperate. Why would someone who was usually so subdued and composed suddenly ask a random question like that? Let alone a question that needy? I guess that's just what you do when you're intoxicated.

For what felt like hours, I simply stood there in shock, staring blankly into Tequila's violet eyes. Those eyes... those same ones that were supposedly not violet according to science, yet still sparkled like amethyst to me. With the alcohol starting to cloud my judgement, I snuck a glance slightly below the neck, where I could just barely make out a mustard-yellow bra hidden beneath her untucked white blouse. I quickly snapped my eyes back up towards hers and cleared my throat.

"A-Absolutely," I stuttered.

"Then prove it to me right now and kiss me, damn it," Tequila said firmly.

Yup, that's DEFINITELY the alcohol talking, I thought, yet even though I was inebriated myself, I knew in my heart that I really did want to give us a shot.

Without another word, I pulled us in close and we locked lips. The initial impact made me flinch a little, but I quickly grew accustomed to it. Without removing our lips, we started to explore each other's fully-clothed bodies. I managed to place one of my hands directly onto her impressive a*s, caressing it gently through her pencil-skirt and tracing my fingers along her panty-lines. As I did this, I ran my other hand through the crimson locks that spilled down past her shoulders. Back when we attended college together, I'd always fantasized about running my hands through that soft, beautiful, ginger hair. And as of right now, there was no need to fantasize anymore.

Right when I was about to pull away, Tequila pulled me even closer and forced her tongue into my mouth. She pulled so forcefully that we ended up collapsing onto the nearest bed. Now the wine was all but in control of my brain, and under its influence, I hurriedly undid the buttons on her blouse, revealing her lace-covered breasts. They were living proof that large and perky don't have to be mutually exclusive. I quickly disconnected our lips and blushed. Tequila simply giggled.

"I take it you're getting a little carried away, huh?" she asked, slightly out of breath. "Not to worry, though. Because I feel like getting a little carried away myself."

"B-But... I mean... this is so... sudden, and... um... protection..." I stammered, the alcohol inhibiting my speech.

"We don't need any of that. I... I got my tubes tied shortly... after moving out... in order to spite... my mom," Tequila replied, panting drunkenly.

I briefly looked up. The door between the two hotel rooms was wide open, and Second and Xavier were on the other side, sound asleep. If there was one thing I remembered about them from back in college, it's that they were extremely heavy sleepers. You could step on their faces with cleats and still be unable to rouse them. They most likely wouldn't suspect anything going on here. Right before I could respond, she pulled our faces together for another long, intoxicating kiss.

And that was the very last thing I remembered before the booze asserted its dominance.