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

by Claire, Anita

  At some point, he picks me up. As he carries me into the bedroom, he says, “This hallway is too narrow and you’re going to get rug burns if we do what I want to do next.”

  When we finally come up for air, we’re wrapped in each other’s arms, my head comfortably relaxed on his well-developed pecs.

  “Are those all your craft projects?”

  One wall of my bedroom is filled top to bottom with shelves containing labeled plastic bins appropriately sized to house materials or projects. My chest constricts, I told Rocket I liked craft projects. My friends all make fun of how organized I am.

  Defensively, I explain, “It’s important for me to have everything well organized and labeled. Most of my projects have a lot of little pieces. You need to keep all the pieces together.”

  Rocket leans back to look at my face, “You’re not going to get any complaints from me. I have an entire building filled with materials and tools.”

  “Yes, but you’re an artist and all this is a hobby.”

  “Being an artist is a label, you don’t need to go to art school to be one. I make my living from programming. I’m sculpting in my free time. It can be considered my hobby.”

  I’m in shock. That point of view brings it all home. All the guys I’ve ever gone out with have always looked at my crafts as some girly indulgence of mine. No one has ever taken any of my crafty pursuits seriously. Jumping out of bed, I grab one of my jewelry bins. I kneel at Rocket’s side. Carefully opening it up, I pull out some pictures I had gathered of medieval jewelry.

  “I found these pictures interesting. I’ve used them for inspiration.” I tell Rocket as I pull out some pieces I’m working on.

  Sitting up, he looks at the pictures then picks up and examines what I’ve done. Pulling out a container that has beads separated into little compartments he rolls his fingers through them.

  “You know we can look up medieval processes and cast beads and settings similar to how they casted them back then. Your jewelry will have more of an authentic look.”

  Unable to contain myself, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “If that’s all it takes to make you happy, I’m a lucky man.”

  After showing him a few more of my favorite projects, he tells me, “If you have any interest in selling your work, I should hook you up with my buddy Kyle’s girlfriend. She’s a textile designer. I’m not saying you should give up your day job, but it might be a nice way to at least let your crafts pay for themselves.”

  I’m thrilled. My stomach gurgles as I realize it’s late and we haven’t eaten. “I should get busy making us some dinner.”

  “We can go out.”

  I shake my head as I answer, “No, I think dinner tonight is my turn.”

  As I cook, Kara comes home. She checks Rocket out with a friendly but inscrutable look. I’m sure I’ll be hearing her take on him tomorrow.

  Kara joins us for a dinner of chicken, rice, and a salad. Rocket complements me on my chicken as Kara tells him, “You should try her short ribs.”

  Rocket gives me an appraising look as I tell him, “This weekend I’ll bring down the ingredients. They need to marinate for a while before you throw them on the grill.”

  We’re almost done with dinner when Kara asks Rocket, “Are you joining Jennifer on Friday when she chaperones the Halloween party at school? I bet none of the eighth graders will misbehave if you give them the evil eye.”

  Rocket's eyes meet mine. Fellow teachers have brought boyfriends and husbands. But I haven’t invited Rocket.

  My chest constricts.

  Am I ready to be seen with him in public? What will my fellow teachers think? And the parents? Rocket doesn’t look like a guy you’d bring to meet your co-workers.

  Rocket’s mouth quirks into a smile as he gives me good eye contact and says, “I haven’t been to a dance since I was a kid. Though I think I got kicked out of most of them for breaking the rules.”

  Not breaking his stare I respond, “I’ve never asked a guy to a dance.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. The two of you are worse than my teenagers,” Kara interjects as she picks up some of the dishes and puts them on the kitchen counter.

  “What time do I need to show up?” he asks.

  My mind reels, how do I get out of this? Being with him is amazing, but he’s not the kind of guy you take out in public. Without knowing what to do, I stammer out, “Let me check with my principal to see if it’s OK for me to bring you.” He nods, and then I blurt out, “If I knew it was this easy to ask a guy to a dance, I would have done it years ago.”

  Leaning in, he softly says, “If they knew what kind of wild sex they were going to get with you after the dance, I’m sure they’d have said yes.”

  Gasping, I feel my face and neck get blistering hot.

  Rocket starts laughing. “That’s what embarrasses you? Thinking of wild sex when you were in high school?”

  “I guarantee you I had no idea what wild sex was when I was in high school. Back then, I was teaching Sunday school and my idea of wild was flirting with some boy at the beach.”

  ***

  Later, as I lay in Rockets arms after another round of amazing sex, I wonder how I’ll broach the subject that’s now troubling me.

  Finally, Rocket says, “What are you dwelling on?”

  My body stills as I squeak out, “What?”

  “We’ve only been together for a short time, but I’m not a moron. You’re grinding on something.”

  In a quiet voice I say, “It’s about Friday night.”

  “Do we need to wear costumes?”

  “No, well, only if we want. Well, I still have my Mulan costume.” I take a deep breath to gain some composure. Then I explain, “No, that’s not the issue.” Taking another deep breath, I figure the best way of handling this is to blurt it out. Sitting up, I look at Rocket and say, “Your style…it’s…anyway…would you mind cutting your hair, shaving and wearing a long sleeve shirt?”

  He runs his hand over his face. “What, I look a little rough for your students?”

  “Students? No. You look a little rough for the parents and my co-workers. I don’t need them complaining to my principal.”

  Scratching his head, he says, “Yeah, it’s probably time for a haircut and I get it with hiding my sleeves.”

  Feeling relieved I lay back down into his arms as I wonder if that is enough to make him presentable. Then again, I know I could use my principal as an excuse to get out of bringing Rocket, but now I’m curious what he’ll look like cleaned up.

  ***

  On Thursday, as Kara and I eat dinner, she gives me one of her appraising looks. “What?” I ask. “If you have something to say, say it. All this quiet with your looks is driving me crazy.”

  “He’s not your usual type.”

  Giving a deep sigh, I explain, “You know, I didn’t even want to go out with him. But when I’m with him…I’m happy. Now I feel conflicted. I know he’s not long-term. He’s only a diversion, a fling. Maybe we can go out for a bit. I can get the whole tatted and pierced artist thing out of my system. Then I can find the right guy to marry.”

  Kara raises her eyebrows and gives me a long look. Kara and I met in grad school. We’ve been roommates going on three years and have been through a lot together.

  “Yeah, he definitely isn't the typical clean cut, preppy, future leader type guy you normally date. This guy is diametrically opposite to everything you go for.”

  I sigh again. “It’s strange, I like guys who have a plan, a big career. I like their confidence, I like the way they look, the lifestyle, the places they take me, their energy, but those guys don’t take me seriously. They never get my crafting, my commitment to teaching kids. Then I meet Rocket. He lives in a decommissioned Winnebago; he’s some kind of programming artist. He has no interest in running a company. He looks kind of…scary.” Shaking my head in confusion, I formulate my thoughts before continuing. “But he’s the first guy who real
ly sees me and is interested in my core. He gets who I am.”

  Kara knits her brow, finally asking, “Is this really a fling or the real deal?”

  I look at her horrified. “This is now, this is fun. I’m going to enjoy it. Rocket is never going to meet my family.”

  “You don’t need to convince me that you’re enjoying him. I was in the next room last night and this morning. I thought the two of you were going to break your bed. Anyway, I get the family thing. If I showed up with a guy all tatted up and pierced, my parents would freak.”

  My insides twist. My grandmother, auntie, and mother would more than freak. I would hear them complaining from across the ocean. I bet they would schedule an intervention.

  ***

  On Friday, after getting approval from my principal to bring him, Rocket and I decide to meet at my place for an early dinner before the dance. After buzzing him upstairs, I stand in the hall as he walks toward me.

  I gasp.

  My jaw drops.

  He’s taken out his hardware and come from getting a haircut. They did an amazing job. His short sculpted hair highlights all the masculine angles of his freshly shaved face.

  He’s beautiful.

  More than that, he’s wearing old faded jeans that fit him perfectly and a black long sleeve T-shirt with some cycling event blasted across the front that highlights how toned he is. As he approaches, he cocks his head.

  He could be a male model.

  After dinner, I dress in my college princess Mulan costume. It’s a long, white, see-through, sparkly, organza skirt with a long sleeve blue organza drop sleeve top. Over this, I wear a navy blue traditional Japanese print sleeveless kimono inspired wrap with a wide red belt. The kimono has been updated from college, now it’s teacher presentable instead of college student sexy. Pulling my hair up into a messy bun I stick two chopsticks through the center. Rocket is in our living room watching sports on ESPN as I come out.

  He gives me a wicked smile as he says, “Wow, now that’s some costume. Looking at you gives me so many ideas.”

  “Save your imagination for managing the kids,” I say with a sassy smile.

  Chapter 19 – Halloween Dance

  Rocket

  The last time I was at middle school was the day that I left. Walking into her school’s multi-purpose room brings back so many memories. As a thirteen-year-old going through puberty, I spent a lot of time thinking about girls, but had zero idea of what to say to one.

  Jennifer introduces me to the other teachers. Teachers haven’t changed since I was in school. Jennifer introduced me to two middle-aged guys who look like my middle school teachers. Mike, I could have guessed, is a math teacher, while Jerry, the PE teacher, is still wearing sweats. A few of the chaperones are parents. As Jennifer introduces me, they give me a good looking over. This makes it easy to understand why Jennifer wanted me to clean up. While hygiene is important, I’ve never got why anyone would care about grooming. Then again, my parents have always been too focused on how they look.

  As the kids arrive and the music blares, Jerry looks me over and tells me, “You and I will team up to patrol outside.” With a tip of his head, he says, “Their brains are rolling a mile a minute, but they have no idea how to be sneaky. If a kid looks like they’re going to be doing something stupid, assume they already are doing something stupid.”

  This makes me remember how often my dad foiled my stupid plans. Jerry and I are first up guarding the outside of the building, making sure none of the kids sneak out or lurk around the buildings.

  Jennifer leans into me as she says, “Having an adult patrolling is more of a deterrent for nefarious activity than any real need for detection.”

  The outside is quiet. Our turn outside is up, so I start heading toward the door. As I look inside, I see only a few kids dancing, mostly groups of girls. Around the periphery are clumps of girls and clumps of boys with very little mixing. The littlest ones seem more intent on playing tag. Not surprisingly, there are few boys following Jennifer around.

  When Jennifer comes to the doorway, I put my arms around her and say into her ear, “Are you going to introduce me to the competition?”

  Shaking her head, she smirks at me.

  “I’ll give those boys the eye and scare them off.”

  She replies by giving me a sweet kiss on my cheek. “I think it’s about time you come inside. Let’s walk around the room to make sure there aren’t any kids with something stupid on their mind.”

  Looking over at one of Jennifer’s fan boys, whose mouth is wide open from Jennifer’s quick kiss, I smile and nod at him. Jennifer starts walking around the room with me in tow. She gets about ten feet before a group of older girls see her.

  Their eyes light up as they brightly say, “Hi, Miss Takahashi.”

  Jennifer smiles and chats with the girls as I look on. It’s easy to see the kids like her. With a smile and good cheer, she continues along from group to group. The younger kids mix with each other more than the older kids. The older kids are more segregated by sex, with both sides eyeing each other.

  On our travel around the room, she picks up a few more fan boys. Crossing my arms, I glare at them as their eyes get big and they scurry away.

  Jennifer puts her arm around my waist. “They’re just little boys.”

  Now it’s my turn to give her a light kiss. I remember the wet dreams I had at that age; I don’t want Jennifer’s face to be what’s on their mind.

  In the corner, I see a group of boys who look to be up to no good. Jerry’s right, they telegraph their stupid ideas a mile away. I give Jennifer a tip of my head. She nods. We slowly walk up to this group. I’ve been in enough stupid bar fights to know how to appear threatening. I puff up my chest in my most threatening demeanor, put my hands on my hips, and glare. Jennifer puts her hand on the biggest boys shoulder and quietly says in her schoolmarm voice, “What are you boys up to?”

  The boys get a terrified look on their face as they look from her to me. They all start shaking their heads as a couple squeak out, “Nothing.”

  “Then break it up and head over to the dance floor,” she says.

  With a scowl on my face, I act as her backup while I watch them move out of the corner toward the other kids. On their way, a couple of the boys look back at me as I squint my eyes in reply.

  Jennifer watches my whole non-verbal communication. She looks at me in surprise. I respond by giving her a cocky smile and wink.

  “Wow, you sure give off a lot of intimidating energy.”

  With my arm around her, I say, “This brings back so many childhood memories. I just relived eighth grade.”

  “Where’d you learn to be so fierce?”

  “As a guy, you learn to be either predator or prey. I don’t really like being fucked with.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  A little while later, they feed the kids cider and donuts. Slipping in behind Jennifer, I put my hand on her shoulder as I whisper in her ear, “In middle school I never had the guts to ask a girl to dance. I’m thinking this is my chance to make restitution.”

  “Is this your way of asking me to dance?” she asks with a flirty smile.

  “Do I need to formally ask you?”

  She nods before saying, “You’re back outside with Jerry. I’ll let you know when they call the last dance.”

  With my donut in hand, I head back outside, staying in the shadows. Leaning against the back wall of a row of classrooms, I keep an eye on the building and surrounding area.

  Jerry comes over.

  Looking at my T-shirt, he says, “You competed in XC cycling?”

  “Only for a short season. I was good enough to make the cut, not good enough to do much more than that. One of those things you do when you have the chance.”

  He nods his head in understanding. Then he tells me, “Played college baseball, three years in the minors, three weeks in the show. When I realized I was never going to make the big league, I decided it was ti
me to look for a different career.”

  We both stand there for a while longer, not saying anything.

  At some point, he asks, “You with Jennifer?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nods in reply, then walks to the other end of the building so we have all bases covered.

  After a while, Jennifer comes to the door and looks around. Moving outside of the shadow, she gives me a smile. “They called last dance. I was wondering if I was going to be asked?”

  I head on over to her and formally ask, “Miss Takahashi, will you dance with me?”

  They play a relatively slow song as I pseudo-waltz Jennifer around the floor in my best G-rated style. After all the kids are gone, Jennifer stays in costume as we walk down the street to a local Japanese restaurant for a beer and some sushi.

  Chapter 20 – Pizza with the Princesses

  Jennifer

  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.”