Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) (10 page)

Almost immediately, Rocket and I strike a nice balance, weekends down at his place, Wednesday nights at my place. The second week Rocket stays at my place, he shows up with a bunch of wood and some power tools.

“I heard a crack last week. I was anticipating that we’d break your bed,” he tells me as he goes to work shoring it up. Wow, I’ve never dated a guy who was handy
and
proactive.

***

Tuesday nights have turned into pizza night with the princesses. I wind up getting to Napolitano’s early. Hita shows up first. She slides into a seat with a silly grin on her face.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me what’s new.”

“I don’t know, what’s new with you?” I respond.

“Don’t play that game, girlfriend. Last month we both wondered if we were going after the wrong type of men. The next thing I know, you’re off dating one of Kelly’s wild ass friends.”

“What’s everyone saying?”

“Who cares? I want to know what’s going on with you. I thought you were holding out for Tristan Hall, then the next thing I hear….”

“Tristan Hall,” I repeat with a gasp. His name alone makes my body shudder in excitement. He’s two years older than us. For my first two years of college, he was my crush. All my friends got to hear a running commentary on Tristan sightings. Tristan’s beautiful. He looks like he walked out of an advertisement for Abercrombie. He’s a blond-haired, blue-eyed, lacrosse playing, preppy, Adonis. Of course, he had a steady girlfriend, Kate Harper, a beautiful, bitchy, queen bee mean girl.

“Earth to Jennifer,” Hita says.

“Tristan Hall, he’s still my idea of perfection. I sent him a friend request on Facebook, but he never accepted.”

“Jennifer, enough about Tristan. What about Kelly’s friend…Rocket?”

“What about Rocket?” I say.

“I thought you two were all hot and heavy. Isabelle says he’s sexy.”

I nod, not knowing what else to say.

“How does Rocket compare to Tristan?” Hita questions.

My mind flashes to Rocket and this past weekend. What a thrill. “He’s hot, as in steamy, dreamy, hot. He’s also thoughtful and a lot of fun.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. If Tristan is a ten, what would you give Rocket?”

“Tristan and Rocket…they both might be tens, but they don’t exist on the same chart. Tristan is so…preppy and presentable, so…country club. While Rocket, he’s all rugged, and artsy and….”

“Not the guy you would bring home to your mother.”

“Exactly.”

“Wow, how did you land this guy?” she exclaims.

The comment makes me feel…uncomfortable.

“I have no idea.”

“But it’s good?”

“Oh, Hita, you have no idea. Rocket’s hot, and sweet. But don’t worry; he’s not my forever. He’s my fun fling. My walk on the wild side.”

“And how is the wild side?” she asks with baited breath.

“It’s…fun, and sexy, and intense.”

“Girlfriend, I’m so jealous. All I ever date are boring Indian guys and Asperger engineers.”

“And sometimes they’re the same thing,” Kelly says as she sits down after overhearing the last bit of our conversation. “Dreamy Steamy Rocket? Really, Jennifer, you need to give us details.” Kelly goads me.

“Yeah, I’m not going there.”

“I know a number of women who would kill to be in your shoes. On the tour, all the women who had a spin with Rocket wanted a second turn with your boy. But he had a firm policy. He never did round two. Then again, he never had a problem finding women, or should I say there were always women lining up for him. I think it was all that hot, angsty, angry, energy he gave off. Then again, the package is rather delectable.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Rocket?” I ask. “Rocket gives off great energy, but he’s really easygoing, quiet, and mellow.”

“Yeah, I know it’s the same guy. But easy going and mellow are not adjectives I’d use to describe Rocket. Your boy was into fighting, drinking, and women, and not necessarily in that order,” Kelly says.

Kyle’s been asking about my new girl. Have I not been ready to share? Or do I like her too much to have Kyle tell me I’m making another mistake? Whichever, it’s about time I invite Kyle and Sophia over to my place for dinner. I ask Jennifer to bring down some samples of the jewelry she’s made, so Sophia can take a look.

Picking Jennifer up on Friday, we go out for dinner before heading back to my place. At dinner, Jennifer asks me a question I knew was eventually going to come up. I’m such a wuss, not wanting to talk about my past. As soon as Jennifer starts her sentence with, “Kelly,” my flight or fight response is triggered.

In a soft, but determined voice, she asks, “Kelly said you were a wild guy. As in drinking, fighting, and…women.”

I don’t want to relive that time again, but if I want this thing with Jennifer to work, I need to come clean.

“Kelly knew me during a short, difficult time in my life. I had a lot of anger that I didn’t know how to deal with. I’m not proud of my actions. Drinking, fighting, and screwing around was much easier than behaving as an adult and actually dealing with my feelings.”

“What Kelly says is true?” Jennifer asks with a surprised hushed tone.

“I have no idea what Kelly is saying. But she doesn’t have to make up any stories. I was acting out. Things came to a head and I spent a few months acting crazy before I decided to man up.”

Jennifer doesn’t respond, but I can see her mind working away. Finally, she says, “That tattoo on your back?”

Shit, my former Marissa tattoo, which is now an old school tattoo. “Yeah.”

“The style doesn’t match your other tattoos. It’s a different subject. Did you get that tattoo then?”

Rubbing my hands over my face I know it’s time to come clean.

“Actually, I was married, a short, turbulent marriage. The tattoo was initially her name; Kyle turned it into an old school tattoo. I finished school and my marriage collapsed at the same time. It sent me into a free-fall. That’s what Kelly witnessed.”

Jennifer stares at me and blinks her eyes. Damn, I wish I knew what she’s thinking.

Finally she says, “OK.” Then she purses her lips and furrows her brow as she continues, “I know you’re older. I figured you had history. I guess we never talked about our backgrounds. I didn’t realize that you were married.” Her eyes get big as she says, “You’re divorced, right? You’re not still married?”

This conversation is going much better than I thought it would. “Yeah, we’re divorced.”

“What happened?”

My body seizes up at that question. “What happened with my marriage?”

“Yes, why did it fail?”

Shaking my head, I think about what didn’t happen. “Marissa wanted to be married. She said and did things to make me marry her. Our marriage was a complete disaster. It wasn’t just her; I was a complete disaster in it.”

Jennifer is back to her indecipherable expression, finally asking, “What does someone do to get someone else to marry them?” Then she looks at me with a weary shocked look. “Are you a father?”

Rubbing my neck, I take a deep breath. “No, no kid. But you’re on the right track. Marissa wanted to be married. She told me she was pregnant. To this day, I don’t know if she really had a miscarriage or if she lied to me about being pregnant.” Thinking back about it now, all I remember is how confused I was.

“Anyway, lots of people have kids without being married.” My insides twist as energy runs through me. I want to run, but know that I need to drop it all. Taking another deep breath, I continue, “My parents were never married to each other. I wanted to do it differently than them.” How do I explain my family? Not wanting to go there, I say, “My parents are…alternative. If I was having a kid, I wanted it to be raised in one house with one set of parents. Marissa knew my weakness and used it against me. I wasn’t ready to get married. I could never picture her as my future.”

Thinking back, I remember where my head was at that time. “I didn’t
not
want to have her.” I try to figure out how to explain this relationship to Jennifer. “Marissa was one of those ‘my way or the highway’ kind of people. Actually, it was more than that. She never got the art, which is my core. She didn’t get my family, and her family. They were a complete disaster. We didn’t have much going for us, and we had a lot going against us.”

Jennifer reaches her hand over and places it on top of mine. “You made a mistake, you tried to do the right thing, which in retrospect was the wrong thing. We all make mistakes, you manned-up. The Kelly thing, it now makes sense. Kelly’s not saying bad things about you. She’s a really good friend. She wants to make sure I don’t get hurt.” Jennifer gives me a sweet smile before saying, “Why were you so scared to tell me that you were married?”

“It says more about me than you. That was such a negative time in my life. My marriage was one disaster after another. After we moved to Berkeley, everything fell apart. She hated living there. She didn’t get the people. She hated her job. Between school and working, I had no time. Every conversation turned into an argument. It’s hard to think about that time, let alone talk about.”

My college friend, Isabelle, who was Belle for Halloween, drives us to Palo Alto to get gelato at our favorite place. They actually have two faucets, one that has a constant stream of 81% chocolate, and another faucet that has a constant stream of milk chocolate. I tell Isabelle, “I think I’m more interested in getting the cookie dipped in chocolate than the gelato. This place is addictively good.” She gives me a conspiratorial look. “Are you still seeing Kelly’s friend?”

I nod as she takes a big spoonful of gelato. “Yeah, I never expected you would date a guy that looks like that. You’ve always liked your men looking so preppy perfect.”

“What is it about him and me that you don’t see?” I ask, as my feelings about Rocket swirl in my mind.

“Really? You! Princess Perfection.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jennifer, out of all of us, you’re the one who’s the most particular about…everything. You always dress perfectly, and your grooming is always flawless. Even more than that, you’re kind of OCD about keeping everything nice, neat, shiny, and clean. Did you ever skip a class? Turn a paper in late? Do anything nonconventional?”

I shake my head.

She takes another bite of her cookie, closes her eyes, and moans. “You always go for men who are equally OCD about keeping everything nice, neat, and perfect. While Rocket…I only met him that one time. But…he’s anything but nice, neat, and perfectly groomed.”

I nod my head, as I have to agree with what she said. “There are some things about Rocket that don’t work. But then…there are other things about him I find amazing. On the plus side, he’s really fun to be around. He’s all into art, and he takes me seriously. He thinks it’s great I’m a teacher. He proudly tells his friends what I do. And my hobbies, he’s really supportive. I’ve never been around a guy who gets me and supports me like he does.”

She gives me the most surprised look before asking the obvious, “What doesn’t work?”

I shake my head as all the things that don’t work roll through my mind. “His hygiene is excellent, but his grooming…. I have to remind him to shave, get a haircut, and wear a shirt that doesn’t have holes in it. He doesn’t even notice any of those things. Isabelle, I wonder how he was raised. He said his parents are artists. I wonder if he was one of those kids who grew up in a commune, on the streets, or in the back of a car. Not to mention all those tattoos. I know he’s an artist, but why would anyone do that to their skin?” Then I lean in and whisper, “Isabelle, he lives in an old decommissioned Winnebago.”

“No way, You? Polly Perfect? You’re dating a guy who lives in a Winnebago?”

Horrified, I nod my head.

“Why is he living in a Winnebago? I thought he was a programmer. He has to be bringing in six figures.”

“He put all his cash into buying his land and building his studio. He bought the Winnebago at an auction. He said it was a great deal. Can you believe I’m dating a guy who lives in Boulder Creek?”

“Yeah, when you said you were dating a guy who lives in the hills, I figure it would be Los Altos Hills, not Hillbilly Hills.”

I nod as my mind flips to his divorce. Am I really dating a guy who’s been married and divorced? This is so out of my league. I can’t even muster the energy to think about it.

“Have you told your mom about him?” she asks.

I gasp.

“Never.”

“Yeah, I get it. I, too, have a Chinese mother. My mom has no filter and lots of opinions.”

I nod as the thought of my family seeing Rocket causes me to shudder.

***

On Saturday, Rocket asks me to make my Hawaiian style brazed ribs for dinner. Actually, I marinate the ribs while Rocket does the grilling. Knowing Rocket, I should have expected his artistic friends to be hipsters. Kyle has more tattoos than Rocket, his hair has a patch of green, and Sophia—she definitely has a unique look. She’s very thin with really delicate features, lots of tattoos, piercings, and a major case of long blond dreadlocks. She brought dessert. I want to ask if there’s pot in it, but chicken out. How did conventional me go from double dates at the country club to dining by a Winnebago with people who look like Rocket?

Rocket shows Kyle and Sophia the latest sculptures he’s now working on. He’s really pleased. A gallery in Carmel says they have a buyer for his
Water Thief
sculpture. After showing off his latest work, he asks Sophia to look at what I’ve been doing.

Pulling out my plastic containers, I lay out about two dozen different necklaces.

Sophia dismisses most of them by saying, “They’re too crafty, like something someone who shops at Michaels would make.” She pulls out a few of the asymmetrical pieces and a medieval piece that I created as an experiment, along with the ones I’ve created using my own beads or settings using Rocket’s forge.

“These are interesting,” she says, as she pulls out the ones she likes. “No one’s going to buy something that looks like it came from a craft kit or was made at a bead store class,” she says as an explanation of why she rejected most of my work.

“If you’re serious about selling your work, you need to develop a unique style. That might sound daunting, but I can see with a few of your pieces that you’re on the right track. You have a lot of skills, you just need to work on the art.”

I’m thrilled with her review; I can’t help but beam.

Then she says, “I’m in with a group of female artists that share a studio. You should come down and hang with us. It’s a supportive and collaborative environment. Working around other artists helps you tune your eye and pick up on the trends.”

A real artist actually likes some of my pieces!

I can tell that the pieces I’ve worked on since I’ve been with Rocket are a lot less cute and conventional. Sophia is right; working with an artist makes me want to push my creative boundaries. Maybe this summer when Rocket is working and school is out, I can join her.

This summer?

But this is my fling.

What could I be thinking?

Since the night is cool and the Winnebago’s table is small, we set up in the studio. Rocket had the big forge going all day. Closing the doors warms up the building. I’m now wondering how we’ll be able to work in the summer when it’s hot outside.

Will we still be together?

Do I want us to still to be together?

Dinner is enjoyable. At some point, something about Wyoming comes up. I can see Kyle shoot Rocket a quick look. Having had a couple of beers, I shoot my mouth off, “I know all about Wyoming, Marissa, and the tattoo. You did a great job, I actually tried to find her name, but couldn’t.”

Kyle flashes Rocket a surprised look while Rocket sits back in his chair maintaining one of his impenetrable looks.

Sophia pops in with, “I understand that the wedding made
Meet the Fockers
look tame.”

Kyle laughs before he gives Rocket some good-natured ribbing. “Rocket, you have to admit, your family and her family. I don’t know which family is stereotypically funnier. When your mom showed up it was funny, but when your dad showed up. Nothing Hollywood has produced has ever been as funny as that scene.”

Rocket shakes his head. “Since it wasn’t your life, it was funny. Seeing it was my life, it was horrifying.”

Kyle goes on, “How about when the brother showed up with his stripper girlfriend, missing his fake two front teeth? On the way to the ceremony he spit them out the window of his moving car.”

“Better be careful when spitting chewing tobacco if you have false teeth,” Sophia interjects.

Rockets smirks as he shakes his head.

Kyle continues, "The cousin tried to sell me meth in the men’s room. Oh, and the uncle hitting on your dad.”

Now Kyle is laughing and Rocket is chuckling. Kyle takes a couple of breaths so he can continue, “Who can forget the look on your parents’ faces when your new father-in-law gave a fire and brimstone sermon when it was his turn to give a toast.” By now, Kyle is holding his ribs. “Dude, what were you thinking?”

Rocket looks at Kyle, shaking his head. “That was a good day. Her family was a complete disaster, and my family?” he says with a poignant look.

“Yeah, any family that can make your parents look mainstream has to be a crazy ass family.”

This gets me wondering about Rocket’s family. He said his parents get along, have never been married to each other, and aren’t very good with boundaries. But that’s not so out of the normal.

“What’s so weird about your family?” I ask.

Kyle gives Rocket a look. “Man, that’s yours to explain.”

Rocket pulls me on his lap. Squeezing my hips, he says, “My pretty teacher girlfriend here actually got me to work a middle school dance. I had to stake out my territory, some thirteen-year-olds were trying to take down my action.”

That was a fast change of subjects. “Don’t get me in trouble with the PC police. Not everyone thinks having a crush on a teacher is innocent.”

“Baby, do I have something to worry about?” he says as he pulls me in for one of his hot, deep kisses.

Pulling away and shaking my head, I give him a smile as I roll my fingers through his hair. “Nothing to worry about.”

Kyle stands up. “I know where you two are going. Sophia and I are headed out.” As he starts clearing the dessert plates, he says, “Nice to finally meet you, Jennifer.”