Kiss Me in Silicon Valley: The Juliette Trilogy (The Princesses of Silicon Valley - Book 2)

by Anita Claire

  Coming back from my usual mid-morning walk around the building I pass Ian to get to my desk. He dresses way too revealing for a hairy guy who’s grossly overweight. I wonder if I sent in a plea to a show like A Makeover Story if they would remake him? Do they even do guys? Ian doesn’t say much, but when he does talk, it’s usually inappropriate. He’s well regarded by the other guys in the group; they say he’s a strong, if not brilliant, mathematician. He saw Cassie and me on TV last month, and now has a Cassie fixation.

  As I pass him, he says, “Juliette, when are you going to fix me up with your hot roommate?”

  I know I should be friendly and diplomatic but I can’t stop myself from sarcastically responding, “Really, Ian, you think Cassie’s going to break up with Luke Tomlin to go out with you?”

  “What does Tomlin have over me?”

  I have a million rude comments to add to this delusional comment, but decide to go with the most practical. In exasperation I explain, “A twenty million dollar contract with thirty million a year in endorsements.” As I walk away I tell him, “Ian, I guarantee you can’t afford her.”

  “Hey, Juliette,” Ian calls to me.

  I turn.

  He smiles, and then points to his groin, “…Like a horse,” he says, grinning,

  I don’t know if my “ew” is verbal or just on my face, but I already know way too much about Ian’s body. Unable to control myself I say, “Ian, just cover it up. No woman wants to see all of that,” as I wave my hands over his body.

  I don’t even make it to my desk before Mark’s dog Buddy has her nose is in my crotch. I work real hard not to discipline Buddy, but to simply move her nose away, I change direction and head over to Mark’s desk.

  Mark acknowledges me without looking up. “What can I do for you?”

  Softly, I say, “The code you have me working on….”

  He gets a serious look and nods.

  “Who wrote it? It’s so convoluted my brain’s going to explode.”

  Mark looks at me, his jaw clenches as his nostrils flair. He finally looks around the room to see if anyone is listening to us. Assuming the coast is clear, he says in disgust, “Jim.”

  My jaw drops and I inhale. After catching my breath, I say in wonder, “Why don’t we get Jim to figure this out?”

  Mark gives me an even more disgusted look. “Like he’ll ever let us find out that his code was part of the problem.”

  Well this little revelation has given me the needed energy boost to get back into the spaghetti code. Jim’s a total dick. When I politely suggested in a meeting that we should re-look at the re-entrant calls he flung himself across the table and yelled profanities into my face. I smile, like the Grinch when he thought he would steal Christmas. I now have a new work fantasy, watch Jim get lowered a couple of pegs. It might even make him tolerable to work with.

  I’m so busy attempting to solve the riddle of Jim’s impenetrable code, I lose track of time. I’m brought back to reality by a beep from my text messaging system. This must be important; I only have a few people set to audible beep. Picking up my phone I smile, Zach’s contacted me. Maybe the guys are going to happy hour on Wednesday this week? Nope, Zach’s asking if I’m free for dinner on Wednesday.

  I text back: Sure, sounds like fun, where and when.

  He texts back: Does 6:30 work? I’ll pick you up.

  That’s a new one. Now I wonder if it’s a date, a real date, just the two of us, or is he just going to park his car by my place and walk with me to meet up with his friends?

  Chapter 15 – Dinner with Cassie

  Arriving home early reminds me that I need to figure out what to do on Monday and Wednesday nights after work now that I don’t have soccer practice anymore. Cassie is surprised to see me. We decide to walk down to Scratch—a restaurant on Castro Street, to get a drink and hang out. Before going out, I put on a dressier sweater, add a little more mascara, lip gloss, and change into my high-heeled boots. Cassie has six inches on me when she’s wearing flats. I have to wear heels so I don’t look like a midget when I’m near her, but I also realize no one notices me when I’m with Cassie, all women pale in proximity to her. Guys literally don’t see anyone else when she enters a room.

  This doesn’t bother me. I’ve never been insecure about my looks, unlike Cassie I didn’t go through a gawky or awkward stage. I was always singled out for being cute, even pretty. My insecurities have much more to do with credibility. That is, as a pretty female, men and women second-guess my intellect. I was always one of the few women in math and engineering classes; everyone assumed I walked into the wrong room. I had to fight harder than everyone else to be heard; teachers and classmates always assumed that a male student’s knowledge or answer was better than mine. Even now, no one asks if I’m an engineer, and they’re surprised when I tell them. This credibility gap has not made me shirk from technology, but instead makes me work harder to prove myself.

  Cassie is wearing high heels and formfitting clothes that show off her long, lean, shapely figure. Heading into the bar and restaurant, I’m amazed by the constant attention that Cassie receives.

  The bar is quiet since it’s a Monday night of a holiday week. Mostly there are just a few pockets of guys watching the football game on the big screen TV. We decide to order cocktails and a seafood plate. At least five different guys stop by to pick Cassie up; no one tries to pick me up.

  One guy does talk to me while his buddy hits on Cassie. He was just standing there bored. Finally as an opener, he flicks his eyebrow and says, “So, what do you do?”

  Giving him a sweet smile, I say, “I’m an engineer.”

  “Like a real engineer?” He asks skeptically.

  What’s a fake engineer, I think, but respond with, “Like an EE engineer?”

  “No way?”

  Chuckling, I say, “This is the middle of Silicon Valley; it’s hard to find someone who isn’t an engineer.”

  “Is your friend an engineer?”

  “No, she’s a quantum physicist.” I say in complete deadpan.

  His jaw drops. “No way.”

  Seriously, I respond, “Yes. We met taking a class in Quantum Mechanics.”

  Staring at Cassie, he says, “I never knew that techy girls could be so hot.”

  Taken aback, I respond, “So, you think they’re mutually exclusive—looks and intelligence?”

  My question is met with a dumfounded look, so I decide not to give him grief for calling us girls, not women.

  At about this time, the server brings over our seafood platter, giving me a good reason to end this conversation. “Well, nice chatting with you, my meal’s here.” Turning around, I tap Cassie on the shoulder. “You need to say goodbye to your friend so that we can eat.”

  “What were you saying to that guy?” she asks.

  “Oh, I told him you were a quantum physicist.”

  She laughs, “Really? Juliette, what do I say so a guy thinks I’m smart?”

  “Cassie, the less you say the smarter guys think you are. Just look like you’re really paying attention to what they say, and agree with them, and they’ll think you’re brilliant.”

  Mulling that comment over, she says, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Then she says,

  “I invited Luke to my parents for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugs, “Of course, no one’s heard from Jack. You know how he is. I’m sure he’s doing something dangerous in the Middle East.”

  Cassie’s brother Jack is two years older than us. He was an ADHD holy terror. He dropped out of college his freshman year to join the army. “Yeah, Jack was always wild. You know we e-mail each other?”

  “What’s with that?” she asks.

  I shrug, “After he enlisted I sent him an e-mail and he answered it.”

  Cassie starts cracking up. “Do you remember the time Jack and his friends were camping out in the back yard?”

  I point to her as I laugh, “Are you think
ing of the time when we were around ten.”

  She nods, “Yeah, we thought it was scary and fun to sneak outside in the middle of the night.”

  The memory hits me, “Yeah, we threw those stones at their tent. Then they thought there was a bear in your back yard.”

  “We never got caught, even though they woke up the entire neighborhood with all their screaming.”

  “That was the good thing about Jack. Anything we did that would have gotten us in trouble got blamed on Jack.”

  She smiles. “Like the time we stole those cigarettes from my grandmother’s stash, and then smoked them on the roof?”

  “It’s the only time I ever tried a cigarette.”

  “Me too. Grandma was so mad. She thought it was Jack. After he got grounded I was too scared to ever steal anymore.”

  “When’s Jack coming home?” I ask.

  “I have no idea; I think he’s avoiding the family. My parents are just so freaked out about the danger he’s in. I don’t think he wants to deal with it.” She contemplates for a moment, “I sometimes send him cards, but I never know what to say. What do you talk about?”

  “Trivia, I tell him about weird or funny things that happen. Like after we were on TV last month, all these people came up to me, and asked me if I enjoyed the game. I couldn’t imagine how they knew I attended. I had no idea we were on TV.”

  “What does he tell you?”

  “Nothing war like, just about annoying or funny things that happen. Mostly about the guys he’s serving with, or the food, or how uncomfortable life is. You know bugs, heat, dirt, and sand getting into everything. He’s always going off about one of the guys in his squad who snores really loudly.”

  She looks at me for a while. “I bet Jack appreciates it.” She reflects for a few seconds. “You should stop by the house on Thursday, my mom’s springing my grandma from the old folks’ home, and my brothers, Josh and Andrew, will be there. I think my aunt, uncle, and some of my cousins are also coming.”

  “My mom has a whole thing going on at our house. My sister, Leigh, will be in town. Oh, one of my friends asked if you and Leigh get along.”

  Cassie nearly blows her drink. “Leigh was always as nasty to me as she was to you. Why would Leigh be nice to me now?”

  “You know, you’re both into fashion and fancy parties. You have a lot more in common with her than you have in common with me.”

  Cassie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but she’s a psycho and you’re nice.”

  “Thank you for that.” I say with a smile and a bat of my eyelashes. “I just think that the adult Leigh would either love you, or hate you.”

  “Well, she loves or hates everyone. Your sister has no gray zone and no filter.” Cassie gives me a devious smile. “We should go out for lunch with her while she’s here, and see if she’s naughty or nice. Wouldn’t it be funny if we got into a crazy cat fight?”

  I laugh, “If she loves you, can I sneak out the door in the middle of the meal, you won’t mind?”

  Still laughing Cassie shakes her head.

  “And if she hates you, can I take a video of the cat fight and upload it to YouTube?”

  “You’re just happy when all her evil energy is focused on someone other than you.” Cassie comments.

  “You, my friend, know me well.” I respond.

  Not surprisingly, some guy from across the bar pays for our meal and drinks.

  Does Cassie pay for anything?

  Chapter 16 – Date with Zach

  To my relief, when I get home Cassie’s not here. In high school she stole a guy I had a crush on. I don’t trust her enough to have her meet guys I’m interested in. It would hurt too much to watch her wrap them around her finger. Which is my big dilemma living with her. Unfortunately I’m totally addicted to her craziness. I just can’t wait to witness her next over the top behavior. I’m just hoping she doesn’t get home before Zach picks me up. At around six, I change into a cute cashmere scoop neck sweater, high-heeled boots, and re-apply my mascara and lip gloss. Nervously, I sit in the living room attempting to read as I wait for Zach.

  At around six thirty the doorbell rings. Taking a deep breath to control my nerves, I yell, “Coming!” Then I turn off my eReader, and get up to open the door.

  Zach’s large frame fills the doorway. He tilts his head in that cute, shy way of his. He gives me that half smile—lighting up his dimple—and says, “Hey…” He looks me up and down, and then doesn’t say anything else. Making me wonder what he decided not to say next.

  Standing back to let him in, I match his smile as I say, “Come on in; give me a second, I just need to get my coat and purse.”

  He takes a few steps in, and looks around the condo. “Nice place.”

  Turning around after I pick up my phone, I catch him checking me out. It makes me feel nervous, even though I know I take every opportunity to check him out. “Yeah, this is my roommate’s place, everything’s hers, and I just rent a room. I’m lucky to live in such a nice place.”

  “It’s a lot nicer than where I live.” He replies. “Most of our furniture is from Free Cycle. Though I did buy my bed at Sleep Train, no way would I sleep on a used mattress.”

  Placing my purse on my shoulder and carrying my coat, I smile and say, “Well, I’m ready.” Now it’s my turn to check Zach out. He looks amazing wearing dark blue jeans and a polo shirt. The polo shirt must be swag since it has his company’s name on it, but it comes off sexy, anyway. It’s the first time I’ve seen him wearing something other than a T-shirt. I wonder if he’s taking me someplace nice since engineering guys dress up by wearing a collared shirt. But he’s not wearing chinos, so I know he’s not taking me anyplace real fancy.

  “I got a spot across the street. I think I’m illegally parked, I hope I don’t get a ticket.”

  “You’re fine. No worries this time of day.” Still wondering where we’re going, and if the rest of the crew is going to join us, I lock the front door. We walk side-by-side. Realizing I have no idea what kind of car he drives, I make sure to let him lead.

  He points with his head to a shiny black SUV. “I’m here,” he says as he heads to the driver’s side while I head to the passenger side. He opens his door and unlocks mine.

  I can feel that he’s as nervous as me. It’s our first time going out alone on a real date. Our conversation feels awkward; I hope we get past that fast. When I get nervous I wind up talking too much, too fast, and I say really stupid things. I don’t want him to think I’m an idiot.

  Zach pushes the button to turn on the car. The radio is tuned to a sports station; as he turns it off, I wonder what type of music he likes. As we drive off, I realize I don’t know that much about him. I start cataloging what I do know; he’s from LA, got an EE from Berkeley, swims, plays water polo, follows sports, and likes poker. Wanting to say something, but not sure what, I breathe slowly to calm myself down and start playing with one of my long curls as I remind myself not to sound like an idiot.

  Zach drives about two miles to the restaurant—Pacific Catch—and parks. “Have you ever eaten here?” he asks.

  Chuckling, I say, “I grew up a mile from here; I’ve been with my parents.”

  “I thought you were local, I just didn’t realize how local.”

  We each get out of the car and meet up to walk in. It takes me a beat to get back to our conversation “There’s good and bad with living where you grew up.”

  Zach holds the door open, making it easy for me to walk in. The restaurant is full and the bar is packed. He heads to the hostess desk and says, “Zach, a reservation for two.”

  That confirms it; this is a date. Looking at him, I smile. We follow the hostess to our table.

  Zach sits down, leaning back into the chair with his legs comfortably apart as he looks over the drink menu. Looking up, he asks, “What do you want to drink?”

  “What are you getting?”

  “A beer.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you drink anythin
g but beer.”

  He picks up his water glass, takes a couple big gulps, finishing it, lifts the glass to show me, and says, “Water.”

  Chuckling, I ask, “Do they serve margaritas?”

  Our server comes by asking, “What would you like a drink?”

  “I’ll take a Sam’s on tap and she’d like a margarita.”

  “Can I see some ID?”

  Our eyes lock as we take out our driver’s licenses. I’m curious how old he is but don’t get a chance to look. The stilted feeling of a first date permeates the atmosphere; a drink should relax the mood. Searching for a safe but friendly conversation, I say, “Are you driving home or flying?”

  “My younger brother’s coming down from Berkeley, we’re driving to my parents early tomorrow morning.”

  “Does your brother have a car?”

  “No, a buddy is dropping him off at my place tonight.”

  “And you’re not going to be home waiting for him?”

  Smiling he says, “No, he can hang with Kevin tonight.”

  “Is Kevin heading home for the holiday, or will he be at Meredith’s tomorrow?”

  Zach looks at me for a couple of beats, “Yeah, I’m not touching that one.”

  Avoiding gossip on a first date is probably a good idea even though I’m curious. Our drinks are served, giving us something to do with our hands and hopefully giving me a little bit of liquid courage.

  “…So good and bad?” Zach asks. I look at him blankly, he fills it in. “On the way in you said growing up here is good and bad.”

  Using my hands as a scale, I say, “Good—my parents are so close. Bad—my parents are close. Good—I get to run into friends from high school. Bad—I get to run into friends from high school.” I pause and give him direct eye contact. “You didn’t want to go back to LA?”

  “The best jobs are here.” I can see him weighing his answer. “I miss the ocean. My parents are cool, but it’s nice having some space.”