Hita

by Anita Claire

  The Princess of Silicon Valley

  Book 5

  Hita

  By

  Anita Claire

  Hita

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Lisa Cerasoli

  Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc., http://www.gobookcoverdesign.com/

  Text copyright © Anita Claire 2015, All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Hita

  Chapter 1 - Guys

  Chapter 2 – Savi

  Chapter 3 - Interviews

  Chapter 4 - Juliette

  Chapter 5 - Princesses

  Chapter 6 – Trip with Mom and Dad

  Chapter 7 – Pool Party

  Chapter 8 – The New Job

  Chapter 9 – The Rules

  Chapter 10 – The Gamers Life

  Chapter 11 – Work

  Chapter 12 – Princesses

  Chapter 13 – Dating Anil

  Chapter 14 – Work Gossip

  Chapter 15 – Girl Talk

  Chapter 16 - Car

  Chapter 17 – Dinner

  Chapter 18 - Hanging with Kristi

  Chapter 19 – Thanksgiving at Home

  Chapter 20 - Work

  Chapter 21 - Monte Carlo Night

  Chapter 22 – Weddings

  Chapter 23 - Princesses

  Chapter 24 – Isabelle’s back in town

  Chapter 25 – Blow up

  Chapter 26 - Juliette

  Chapter 28 - Thor

  Chapter 29 – Blind Date

  Chapter 30 – Online Dating

  Chapter 31 – David

  Chapter 32 – Underground Gaming

  Chapter 33 - Evenings

  Chapter 34 – The Tech

  Chapter 35 – Relationships

  Chapter 36 – The Reign of Terri

  Chapter 37 - Revenge

  Chapter 38 – The Trap is Set

  Chapter 39 – Breaking Up is Hard To Do

  Chapter 40 – Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

  Chapter 41 – Isabelle’s On Board

  Chapter 42 – Open Water Swimming

  Chapter 43 –News

  Chapter 44 – Ping Pong

  Chapter 45 – Underground Gaming V 2.0

  Chapter 46 – You Won’t Believe It

  Epilogue – Yellow Bikini

  Appendix – A - Books in “The Princess of Silicon Valley” series

  Character list

  Author’s Notes

  More from Anita Claire

  Chapter 1 – Swimming in the Morning

  Chapter 2 – The New Job

  Chapter 1 - Guys

  My phone rings three times, then an annoying woman with a New York accent says, “Ya motha is calling, pick up da phone.”

  It’s a lot funnier when it’s not seven thirty on Sunday morning. Taking a deep breath, I answer with the cheeriest voice I can muster.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hita, your father and I are looking forward to your graduation. I’ve spoken to a couple of friends. Since we’re traveling through California, they’ve invited us to tea.”

  “Mom, really, you had to wake me up to tell me this?”

  “Hita, if you spend all day in bed, you won’t do well on your finals.”

  “Yeah, Mom, thanks for the advice,” I say, trying to mask my sarcasm.

  On some levels I’m close with my mom. But when it comes to men and marriage, we’re light years apart. My parents grew up in India and had an arranged marriage. Mom doesn’t understand why I’m not cool with this for myself. Since I’m almost finished with grad school, Mom thinks it’s time for me to get married. Right now she’s in overdrive with matchmaking, trying to fix me up with Indians from the right sort of family.

  This makes me feel conflicted by my ethnicity. I love my heritage, all the stories, the food, the colors, and celebrations; yet I have a big issue with the traditional roles my culture inflicts. I have no desire to be married off to some guy who expects me to do all the work around the house, and then kowtow to his mother. Actually, when I’m ready to settle down I wouldn’t mind marrying an Indian-America, since he would get my family and we’d share a cultural heritage.

  At twenty-three, the last thing on my mind is getting married and raising a family. I’m looking forward to getting a job, buying a car, and then having the time and money to do fun things, though I wouldn’t mind finding a fun boyfriend who’d knock my socks off.

  I met my last boyfriend at a gaming convention. Brandon’s from Palo Alto, where I go to school. He was going to college up in Washington. Since we lived eight hundred miles apart, during the school year we’d meet up in our favorite games. It was a great way to date, and much more fun than having lame conversations over Skype or Face Time. Each time we’d meet up online, he’d pick me up in a different type of car, van, truck, motorcycle, or tank. We’d then fight bad guys together as we’d attempt to progress through a date. We spent time together in the real world when he came home for the summer and I worked at Google. But after spending almost four years dating long distance, I’ve decided that my next boyfriend will be local. I want more in my life than virtual hand holding and summertime sex.

  As I head into the kitchen to make some coffee, I run into my roommate, Juliette. Our friendship was cemented our freshman year when seven of us went to the Halloween parties as princesses. I was Pocahontas—get it? I’m Indian. Juliette was Snow White since she has dark hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. Juliette spent her junior year in Spain, so I’m finishing grad school a year ahead of her.

  “What’s with your mom this morning?” she asks.

  I give her a sideways look and roll my eyes. “What else is with my mom?” Imitating Mom’s sing-song accent, I say, “Hita you need to find a husband. You’re twenty-three years old. Men don’t want to marry old women.”

  “Really, at twenty-three your mom thinks your time’s almost expired?”

  “Believe it or not she’s now trolling—who knows where—for the right kind of single Indian guys in Silicon Valley.”

  “Well there are plenty here to choose from, though I can’t see you with some off the boat, traditional Indian guy.”

  “Yeah, I’m cool with going out with Indians, and being Hindu. I can’t see myself with a Christian. But I’m making my own choices, and when the time is right, I’m definitely marrying another American.”

  “I can’t believe we’re even talking about marriage. It seems like something that’s so far away.”

  “I think it’s because we’re still in school.”

  Juliette knits her brow. “I don’t know any guys who are even thinking about marriage. Most of the guys I know are too commitment phobic to want a full-time girlfriend.”

  “All the guys I know think saying ‘hi’ to a girl after a hook-up is bordering commitment.”

  “I guess having a boyfriend makes me an outlier.”

  “Yeah, what’s with you and Stephan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you see a future?”

  She stares blankly, finally she blinks. “I never really thought about it. I’m too busy trying to make it through school.” She starts eating Cheerios out of the box, then adds, “Stephan is fun to be around, he’s got this quirky dry sense of humor that really cracks me up. Even more than that, I like having a boyfriend; I like being in a relationship.” Then, in a conspiratorial way, she leans over and says, “and the sex….” Giving me a second to let my mind wander, she leans back and eats another Cheerio before continuing. “It sure beats some nasty hookup. But more than that? I don’t
know.”

  “Don’t even talk to me about the sex,” I groan out as I reach in the box and pull out a handful. “I wish I had a fun boyfriend, someone who lives close by and likes doing the same things as me.”

  “And the sex?” Juliette says with a bit of a smirk.

  “Yeah, and the sex.” I close my eyes and fantasize for a moment. “Yeah…and sex,” I groan out.

  “You need it bad, my friend,” she says.

  “You have no idea,” I respond. “But I have no interest in nasty hookups. What I’d like is to come home to something other than homework.”

  “Hey, what about me?” she says with a big sassy smile.

  “Yeah, you’re a great roommate and I love you, but, girlfriend, I don’t swing that way. Anyway, I don’t think Stephan would want me messing with his game,” I say with a wink.

  “Oh don’t fool yourself, girlfriend, every guy fantasizes about two women.”

  “Yeah, that’s never going to happen.”

  “That wasn’t an offer,” she says to clarify. “I told Stephan that if he wanted that kind of shit, he’s dating the wrong girl.”

  “He asked you for a ménage à trois?” I say in shock.

  “Not exactly, but we were watching Game of Thrones and his eyes lit up when they showed girl-on-girl. He actually replayed the scene three times.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I told him if he wanted the kinky stuff, he should date Kelly.” Juliette starts laughing as she spits out, “You should have seen his face. He was horrified. Kelly scares the shit out of him. He actually asked me if she’s a guy in drag.”

  “Why, she looks like a woman.”

  “Yeah, I think he was talking about how she acts. Anyway, why don’t you date the guys your mom is busy dredging up? I’m sure one of them has to be cool.”

  “Any guy who lets his mom find a date for him has to be either too traditional or totally pathetic. Indians don’t have a dating culture. Indian moms spend a lot of time interviewing families to find prospective partners from their caste for their kids. The guy’s family invites the girl’s family to tea. If you’re both interested in meeting again, it’s three dates and you’re engaged.”

  “You mean three figurative dates.”

  “NO. If you see the guy three times, the moms are looking for auspicious dates for the wedding.”

  “I can see why that would be a problem.”

  Chapter 2 – Savi

  As I labor away on my homework assignment to create a kernel patch, Skype goes off. I’m relieved, my brain was going nuts trying to get this sequence right. My childhood friend, Savi’s, picture comes up. We’re both from Chicago. Our families are real close. We went to the same high school, attended the same Hindi class, and took Indian dance together.

  “Hita, how goes it?” she casually says with a smile.

  Making a deep sigh I drone out, “I’m trying to get this assignment done. I have so much to do before I graduate.”

  She nods with understanding then says, “Have you figured out what you’re doing after graduation?”

  “Actually, I’m interviewing at Apple tomorrow.”

  She tips her head in that way that shows me this news makes her a little sad. “You’re not coming home?”

  “To Chicago?” I say in disbelief. “Weren’t you thinking of coming out here?”

  She frowns then shakes her head before saying, “No, I think I’ll live with my parents this summer. I’m still on the fence. I need to decide if I want to work before starting my PhD.”

  “Won’t living at your parents be a little…stifling?”

  She frowns. “Yeah, of course. But they have the pool in the backyard and my grandparents aren’t staying there this summer…so it won’t be as bad.”

  “But what about guys?”

  She barks out a laugh. “If I had a boyfriend it would be terrible. You know how my parents are.”

  I nod in agreement since our families are so similar. “But your mom? Is she starting to talk about…teas?”

  “There’s no way in hell I’m going to have an arranged marriage. My mom might be persistent, but I’m even more stubborn. Anyway, I don’t date Indian guys.” She raises her eyebrows as she asks, “What about you?”

  “I’m not dating anyone either,” I say with regret.

  “No, I mean your mom. Is she pushing for an Indian guy?”

  “My mom’s always pushing something. But I live two thousand miles away. It’s hard to be a matchmaker from a distance,” I say with relief.

  “But your parents are coming out for your graduation?” Savi pushes.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I bet your mom is working overtime to set up some ‘teas’ with the right sort of families.”

  I nod, then groan at the thought. “Having tea at someone’s house sounds so innocuous.”

  “Yeah, it would be if our mom’s weren’t busy using them to parade us in front of single, eligible, Indian men and their mom’s.”

  “I might not be doing well finding a guy on my own, but my mother choosing a guy for me, now that would be a complete disaster.”

  Savi nods her head in agreement. “I’m American, I’ll choose my own man, and live my own life. I know my mom would hate to hear this, but I’m never going to date an Indian. It’s Americans all the way for me. Anyway, good luck on your interview,” she tells me before we both sign off.

  Chapter 3 - Interviews

  As I sit on a black leather and chrome modern chair in the austere white lobby, my nerves are amped up to the point where it feels like I’ve had five cups of coffee, not the one cup I drank. I watch as people come and go through the large automatic sliding glass doors.

  Finally I hear my name, “Hita Chamarthi.” Taking a deep breath, I give what I hope is a warm smile and extend my hand to the Asian guy in his late thirties. He bends his head slightly in response telling me his name is Chéng-gong Chan. Repeating his name multiple times in my head, I follow him past a simple modern courtyard into a white minimalist conference room. He sits down across from me. With a perfunctory smile he looks at my résumé. Scanning it up and down he says, “I see you are about to graduate with a Masters in Computational & Mathematical Engineering.”

  I’m not sure if this statement requires a response as he continues to read my résumé stating out loud, “You’ve spent the last few summers working at Google, developing in Pig for a Hadoop system.” I’m still unsure if this statement requires any response as he has yet to give me eye contact.

  Finally looking up he says, “We’re looking for people to work on our big data solutions.”

  I’m still wondering if there is a question or if I should be verbally agreeing with his obvious statement. My mind wonders, I wonder what kind of technical questions he’s going to ask. I’ve heard lots of stories about Silicon Valley job interviews. The current rage is to ask technically based mind bending riddles. I’m great at games, but it usually takes me a couple of rounds to get keyed in to what they’re looking for.

  Lucky for me, Chéng-gong is going analytical. Being Chinese, I know he’s memorized every definition and programing term he uses and will test me against his knowledge. My parents pushed me to memorize, a skill that my American friends consider a waste of time, but it comes in handy when I’m dealing with other Asians.

  After almost forty-five minutes of what feels like a technical game of Jeopardy, his iPhone beeps, he politely tells me his turn is over, slightly bowing, gets up, and leaves. Sitting in the room alone, I wonder if I should pull my Samsung phone out and start reading. Since this is Apple I’m afraid that using it might be construed as sacrilegious.

  By my seventh interview of the day I have no idea what products this group is working on, or anything else about engineering since they’re so paranoid. The hiring manager wouldn’t even tell me how many people worked for him. At lunch time someone brought me a salad since I don’t think they let outsiders in their cafeteria. It must be be
cause Steve Jobs stole most of his ideas from other companies, and he didn’t want grad students to do that to him.

  I feel wrung out and exhausted as I drive back to campus in the car that I borrowed from Sam, my college roommate’s boyfriend. I’ve already decided that I’m not interested in working at Apple. They have twice the amount of employees as Google, where I worked the last four summers. I think I want to work at someplace smaller.

  The next week I interview at a well-funded start-up that’s located in San Francisco. I have a number of friends from school who now live there. Most of them commute down to Silicon Valley. Even though some of the Silicon Valley companies are building offices in San Francisco, typically the choice is to have an apartment in San Francisco and live for the weekend, since you spend so many hours commuting, or find a place near work in Silicon Valley and head up to the city to party on the weekend. If I get a job in San Francisco then I get the best of both worlds, a short commute and hip city living.

  From the train I walk to their offices located in a trendy refurbished warehouse. As I wait in their urban cool lobby, a hipster looking guy with a goatee comes out to get me. The interview proceeds similar to the one at Apple. My potential peers ask me to define some technology terms, they give me a problem to solve on the white board, and then ask me some mind bending arithmetic riddles.

  All the guys I meet tell me they’re developers, but they dress rather hip and brag about the perks, though besides free food, I wonder how they have time to use any of them. One of the guys comes in carrying his messenger bag. Back at Leland all the engineers used backpacks; it was the business guys who used messenger bags. I’m wondering how solid these guys are, or if they’re just a bunch of brogrammers? Those college frat guys and athlete code monkeys who only know how to develop apps and front end applications? I’m an engineer, I want to use math to solve the hard problems.

  When I get in front of one of the senior managers, I ask him how much funding they have. I quickly calculate that with forty employees and a fancy facility they will run out of money by the end of the year. Then the manager tells me they are behind on their deliverables, and now need to hire people who have the skills to handle big data. Now I’m wondering if I’m the only one in this building who sees that they’re in trouble.