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

by Anita Claire

  Before I have a chance to respond, Leigh is sizing me up. “You really haven’t done anything with yourself have you?” She picks one of my curls off my shoulder. “Really Juliette, you could use a complete makeover, your hair just hangs.”

  Taking a deep breath, I give her a big warm smile. “Leigh, it’s so nice to see you,” I say, leaning over and air-kissing her on the cheek.

  Sneering she says, “I thought London would have at least had some positive effect on you.”

  My mom breaks in, “Leigh, I just opened a bottle of wine, may I serve you a glass?”

  Leigh picks up the bottle of wine, looks at the label with disapproval, and says, “Well, I guess this will have to do.”

  Turning so Leigh can’t see, I glare at my mom and roll my eyes. She slightly raises her eyebrow giving me her “be cool” look.

  My grandmother pipes in. “Leigh. Dear. You’re looking very thin, are you eating?”

  With an indignant tone, she says, “Grandma, you know they say you can never be too thin or too rich. I guess in cow towns, no one really cares about how they look.”

  She stands in the kitchen with one hand on her slim hip, another holding her wine glass, radiating contempt. It’s going to be a long night if she stays in this mood. The only thing you can do is disengage, without resistance she eventually mellows out. I reflect on previous years where I attempted to control her behavior. I’ve tried fighting fire with fire. She never backs down, and will escalate the verbal knife throwing to a level of absurdity. I’ve also tried calling her out on her behavior; I’m convinced she is lacking self-knowledge and is completely blind to how her actions affect others. She reacted by telling me that I need to see a shrink because, obviously, I have serious issues. My current course of action is to follow my mother’s lead by smiling, disengaging, and not taking the bait. Because my mom disengages, Leigh has told me on multiple occasions she thinks our mother must be addicted to Oxycodone. I just smile and wish it were Leigh taking the Oxycodone. It always amazes me how Leigh could come from such mellow even-tempered parents.

  The doorbell saves us. I just hope that more people mellow her mood, as opposed to heighten it. My aunt and uncle come in, followed by my cousin and her husband. We greet them in the front hall with hugs and kisses, except for my sister—who stands in the kitchen with a look of disgust on her face.

  My cousin whispers, “I see it’s going to be one of those nights.”

  Giving her an eye roll, I nod.

  We’re still in the front hall when the doorbell rings again, and my parents’ close friends, the Rogers, enter. Taking the dish from Mary’s hand, I wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. My mom ushers everyone into the family room.

  Going back to the kitchen for my wine glass and dropping off Mary’s dish, I smile at my sister. “Are you going to join us?”

  She sneers, “Why do I waste my time coming here?”

  Having no answer, but wondering the same thing, I head for the family room. My mom has the TV on and has brought up the old Turkey clip from the TV show WKRP in Cincinnati—the one where the station owner says at the end; “As God as my witness I thought Turkeys could fly.” This was a show she watched in her childhood; and my mom thinks this is the funniest clip ever. Every year she plays it and laughs hysterically. When the clip is over, mom ushers everyone into the dining room for the meal.

  As my mom’s getting everyone situated, Leigh regally enters, not saying hello to anyone, and ignoring any greetings. She sits down and promptly pulls out her iPhone, busying herself. My dad has taken a seat at the head of the table. My mom is filling wine glasses in preparation for our yearly Thanksgiving toast. I’m waiting for Dad to have a complete cow. This will happen if Leigh doesn’t put her phone down.

  We always go around the table saying what we are thankful for. My dad is now staring at Leigh, and my mom’s getting nervous. She doesn’t want to poke the tiger any more than I do. My dad finally clears his throat and in his diplomatic voice says, “Leigh, dinner tables—especially holiday dinner tables—are no place for electronic devices. Can you please put that away?”

  Leigh glares at him, but places her iPhone face up next to her place.

  He says, “Thank you,” and starts in with his reason for being thankful. We go around the table.

  When it’s Leigh’s turn, she says, “That I live three thousand miles away.”

  When it’s my turn, I bite my tongue so that I don’t say; that Leigh lives three thousand miles away.

  Since high school, Leigh has always had a steady stream of boyfriends—cute, nice, popular guys who worship her. A few years ago, an old boyfriend—who she broke up with by sleeping with his best friend—cornered me. He couldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful Leigh was. He went on about how exciting, funny, intelligent, and captivating she was. He told me he just couldn’t understand why we didn’t get along better. It was a shocking conversation; I wondered if he was talking about someone other than my sister. It makes me wonder how she can be so nasty with our family, and compelling and cordial with others.

  About five minutes into dinner, Leigh picks her iPhone back up. My dad starts to say something, but my mom puts her hand on his and shakes her head, mouthing the words “please leave it alone.” Leigh fills her plate with food, only to move the food around it. I’m sure she eats less than me, and I already ate Thanksgiving dinner. With her head in electronics, she lets the rest of us enjoy our meal.

  When it’s time to clear and cleanup, she remains seated stating, “I’m a guest.”

  At the end of the evening, my mom asks me if I want to spend the night. We always get up real early on Friday and go for a family hike over at Rancho. When I decline, saying it’s just easier to go to my place since I don’t have hiking clothes with me, Leigh finally looks up from her iPhone.

  She snarls at my mom. “My room, you re-decorated. But, Juliette, who doesn’t even stay here—her room is preserved.”

  My mom doesn’t take the bait. She smiles at Leigh and says, “Your father and I just love having our girls back in the house.”

  After she walks out of the room, Leigh looks at me and says, “Did you see how she behaved? I think she almost overdosed on Oxycodone tonight. We really need to schedule an intervention.”

  Following my mom’s lead, I smile and say, “See you in the morning.” Heading home, I wonder how I can escape from any other family activities until Leigh heads back to New York.

  Cassie isn’t home when I get there. After washing up, I sit on my bed cross-legged and look to see if Nate or Zach have sent any texts.

  Nate did, around six Mountain Time: Beat the storm, Thanksgiving in SLC.

  Texting back to him specifically, I reply: Happy Holiday, Stay awake on your next ten hours.

  Not even bothering to read myself to sleep, I crawl under my covers and I’m instantly out.

  Chapter 20 – Hiking with the Family

  Getting up early, I ride my bike over to my parents. My dad’s making crepes—a family tradition for Sundays, though since it’s a holiday we get them on Friday. Leigh is on East Coast time and still not up. Could we get lucky and she actually took some Oxy? A nice mellow Leigh would be such a relief. Sitting down in my traditional seat at the kitchen table, I eat and chat with my parents. At some point, Leigh drags into the kitchen looking bleary eyed. My mom hands her a cup of coffee. We’re all hoping that she’s in a better mood than last night. After a couple of sips, she closes her eyes and moans, then sits down at her traditional place at the table. Groaning again she looks at my mom and says, “Why can’t we be like normal families and shop the day after Thanksgiving?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, it’s only malls around here and I know how much you hate malls.” My mom says with a placating voice.

  Wow, mom’s in a sarcastic mood today. Typically, she just cajoles Leigh. Having to hide my laugh, I think about all the times Leigh returned home from New York City looking down her nose at shopping malls. I’ve never understood he
r distaste. Visiting Leigh in Manhattan it’s all the same stores—they just line the street as opposed to being in a mall.

  Mom follows up with a sweet smile. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s a family tradition to hike at Rancho the day after Thanksgiving. You can head over to Leland Shopping Center in the afternoon to battle the crowds.”

  Leigh huffs and says, “I didn’t bring the right shoes.”

  My mom keeps the smile up and says, “I think we still have the same size foot. You can wear my hiking sneakers.”

  Leigh leaves the table and heads into the bathroom. As soon as I hear the bathroom door close, I ask, “Mom, how do you do that? Keep up the smile when she’s so annoying?”

  This elicits another big smile. “I learned how to do it when you girls were preschoolers, and I get to practice these skills every day at work. Most adults don’t act much better than preschoolers.”

  My dad nods in agreement. “Managing kids is similar to managing employees. “ He then looks at his watch. “We need to get going in the next fifteen minutes, or there won’t be any parking spots left.”

  Inexplicably, Leigh gets ready and joins us.

  As I head for the car, I see her sitting in the front, my mom’s seat. Typical. She has this bizarre love-hate relationship with my mom. She calls and texts mom constantly, then complains about her; telling all her friends how deranged she is.

  My mom starts walking out to the car. When she sees Leigh sitting in the front, her eyes get a pinched look. She seems to take it in stride as she opens the back door to sit with me. You don’t have to take any psych classes to figure this one out. Dad gets into the car and does a double take when he sees my mom in the back and Leigh in the front, but then continues on normally. Leigh’s behavior has always baffled dad.

  Dad has a Ford C-MAX Energy. He’s totally geeked out about staying within the electric range. Dad spends the entire drive to Rancho showing Leigh the car’s features and talking about fuel efficiency. Leigh gets out of the car, gives me eye contact, points to dad, rolls her eyes and pantomimes shooting herself. Strangely enough she puts up with dad even though she gives mom and me no slack. Behind Leigh’s back, I see my dad get a silly half smile on his face as he winks at my mom.

  Chapter 21 – Surfing with Gray

  After getting back to my parents’ house, my mom pulls out leftovers and we all make ourselves turkey with cranberry sandwiches for lunch. As I help my mom cleanup, she announces that she’s going to take a nap. Leigh declares she’s going to commandeer Mom’s car to go shopping. I’m about to leave when the doorbell rings. It’s Gray Barber, my fencing friend from high school, who’s now in law school. Gray joins my family in the kitchen. Leigh keeps looking him up and down with a dissatisfied look on her face. Finally, she says, “Gray, you were such a scrawny teenager who’d ever think you’d fill in like you have. Of course, you need a complete hair and clothes makeover, but still.”

  Gray just stares at Leigh. He’s probably wondering if that was a compliment or an insult.

  My mom jumps in and diplomatically says, “Gray clerked for Senator Feinstein this summer. I’m sure he has some wonderful stories to tell.”

  Gray chuckles. “I can’t say there was any glamour in that job. I wasn’t even a fly on the wall. More like the law researcher in a cube.” He contemplates for a second, “But it was an eye-opening experience. Just walking into the senate offices every morning was thrilling.”

  Leigh adds, “That old hag, she must be at least ninety years old. She dresses like it’s the 1980s.”

  Not letting it lay, Gray says, “Actually, I think she’s in her early eighties. Women in Washington dress very conservatively. It’s real different from here. Everyone wears a suit.”

  My mom laughs. “The last suit your dad bought was for our wedding.”

  My dad self-righteously responds, “It still fits. About ten years ago I wore it to a wedding we attended back East.”

  Leigh looks horrified. “Daddy, really? Just give it to Goodwill.”

  My dad gives Leigh a warm smile, “I promise you Leigh, I’ll buy a new suit for your wedding. I’ll even let you pick it out if you want.”

  Leigh stares blankly at Dad. My mom can see this conversation is going downhill. “Gray, nice to see you. Give your parents our regards. I’m going to take my Thanksgiving holiday nap.”

  My dad nods at Gray, then says, “A nap sounds like a good idea,” as he follows her out.

  Leigh picks up my mom’s keys, leaving Gray and me alone in the kitchen.

  “Can I get you something to eat?” I ask.

  “No, I was just bored at my parents; I’m not in the mood to watch football. I just needed to get out of the house. I knew you’d be on the family morning hike, I was hoping I could catch you before you took off.

  Leaning comfortably on the table, I ask, “So, what are you in the mood to do?”

  He looks at me, contemplating. “Something fun, something active.”

  Thinking about the surfing conversation I had with Zach the other day, I suggest, “Surfing?”

  His eyes light up as he pulls out his iPhone. “Let me see what the surf report shows. Would you…join me?”

  Looking outside at the overcast sky, I reflect that surfing in the cold water with cold air is no fun. “I don’t want to get in the water, but I’d drive over with you and hang out on the beach while you surf. Actually, if you go to Steamers Lane, I’ll take a walk along Cliff Drive while you surf.”

  Gray’s eyes look up from his phone, he gives me a half smile, “Yeah, you don’t want to spend your afternoon blue and shaking.” With a smirk, he adds, “Even though blue’s your color. But it’s up to you.” Gray remembers my forays into surfing back in high school.

  I tilt my head and give him a look.

  After checking out the surf report, he raises his eyebrows and says, “Not great, but the wind, pressure, and surf height all look decent.”

  “You know it’s going to be a zoo.” I say as he lifts his shoulder and gives me a, “Whatever,” in reply.

  “Do you have equipment?”

  “Yeah, everything’s at my parents. It’s too inconvenient to bring that stuff to school and it’s not like I’d have any time to go.” With a big smile, he says, “I’ll pick you up at your place in half an hour.”

  “Why should I go home? I’m dressed for Santa Cruz. I’ll go back to your house with you. I can chat with your parents while I wait.”

  Gray smiles, stands up, and says, “What are we waiting for?”

  We walk the half-mile to his house. It’s always comfortable being with Gray. His dad and brother are watching football. They wave but barely say anything to me. His mom is out shopping. Sitting on the family room couch tuning out the football game, I check my messages and wait for Gray to get ready.

  Nate sent a text about two hours ago.

  Nate: At Elko, next stop Reno.”

  Elko is about four hours from Reno, and Reno’s about four hours from Palo Alto. This should put him in at about six p.m. I’m not sure if we’re getting together tomorrow, I guess I’ll find out at some point.

  My next message is from Zach.

  Zach: Turkey coma at the parents, did you survive your sister?

  Meredith and Amanda just might be right. I never would have taken Zach for a guy who would be sending me a daily text.

  It doesn’t take long for Gray to get ready. He drives his mom’s old Volvo station wagon. It works well for transporting surfboards. We have plenty of time to talk on the forty-five minute drive to Santa Cruz. He reminds me about Christmas break. “Any chance you can make sea kayaking in Baja next month?”

  “I only have accrued two vacation days, there’s no way, unless they call a last minute plant shut down between Christmas and New Year’s. We’ll need to plan a trip like this in a year when I actually have vacation days saved.”

  “By then, I’ll be working and probably won’t have any vacation days.”

  “Yeah, I really
miss all the holidays off. It’s the downside of working.”

  “Yeah, next year I get to be a first year law slave. From what I understand, it’s no sleep and working seven days a week.”

  “Are you going to try to get into your parents’ firm?”

  “Yeah, that’s the big decision. It’s a lot of pressure to work in a firm where both of your parents are partners. I’m wondering if I should pursue a more political direction first.”

  “Back to Washington and Senator Feinstein?”

  He just stares out the window as he drives, pondering. Finally, he says, “When I was younger I couldn’t wait to grow up and make my own decisions. Now that I’m an adult, it’s so much harder.”

  Weighing what he says I have to agree.

  Eventually, we get through the Santa Cruz traffic and find a parking spot. He changes into his wet suit from the back of the car as I sit on the tailgate. This gives me a good shot at his bare back and chest. My sister was right; he was such a skinny kid but has certainly filled in. In high school, he looked like a cartoon character—something Tim Burton would draw. He had a big nose, long neck with a big Adam’s apple, narrow chest, and skinny legs and arms. He’s certainly filled out. His nose now fits his face, and you can’t even see his Adam’s apple anymore. He must be working out regularly. His chest, arms, shoulders, and back all have a strong padding of muscle. I’m captivated watching his muscles flex while he moves. His chest and stomach have a nice matt of hair. When did I start liking chest hair? In high school, I liked the no hair look. Lately, I think nice chest hair is sexy. It’s so masculine.