Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) (11 page)

Early Monday morning, I join a group of friends for our typical dawn ride. It’s a tough group; I need to stay in shape to keep up with these guys. Kelly’s one of the few women that can ride with us. I’m not sure what to say to her. We had one alcohol-fueled encounter back when I was on tour. Afterward, she was cool. Since I’ve been with Jennifer, all my interactions with her feel awkward.

Near the end of the ride, at the top of the hill, I stop to drink. Kelly comes up to me. She stares at me without saying a word.

I’m about ready to take off when she says, “Jennifer’s a good friend of mine. Don’t fuck with her or I’ll fuck with you.”

I probably deserve her lack of trust, but it still annoys me. My initial reaction is to leave, but I figure I need to deal with this situation head on. “I like Jennifer, I think she’s special. I have no intention of fucking with her.”

Kelly stares at me; her look is one of surprise. Did she really think I was that much of a dick?

***

Growing up, my mom and I would always attend my dad’s big Thanksgiving dinner. They invite me down to LA for Thanksgiving, while Jennifer invites me to her friends. Having dealt with Thanksgiving at my dad’s for years, and not ready to share Jennifer with them, I choose to stay up here. Realizing Kelly will be there, I’m not sure how to deal with her opinion of me. After brooding about it for a while, I figure it’s her issue and let it go.

Jennifer and I are the first to show up at her friends on Thanksgiving Day. Jennifer tells me this is on purpose since if she shows up late, she’ll miss all the good gossip or be the one her friend’s gossip about. Now I’m starting to second-guess my decision to join her.

As Jennifer takes off for the kitchen, a Hispanic looking guy in his mid-twenties introduces himself to me as Sam. Giving me a weary look, he pours then hands me what looks like a home brewed beer. “So you’re Rocket.”

Nodding my head, I take a sip, raise my red Solo cup and say, “Nice.”

Sam quirks his lips into a small, satisfied smile. “Thanks.”

Finding a chair, I sit down. Jennifer heads inside with Sam’s girlfriend, Meredith.

A young pretty woman with long shiny curls enters the yard. Sam’s fiddling with the grill as she comes up and kisses his cheek.

Turning to me, she gives me a warm smile and says, “Hi, I’m Juliette; we met at Moe’s.”

Tipping my cup at her, I say, “Rocket.”

She joins Jennifer in the house, where I can hear them laughing. A group of Sam’s friends enter the yard to join the party.

Jennifer comes out of the house with a beer in her hand and a sassy look on her face. She makes a point of sitting down on my lap and starts nuzzling my ear. I wonder what’s up. When she starts kissing me hard and deep, I don’t really care to question it.

Hearing her friends tease her about making out with me, I can tell she’s playing some kind of game. Since I’m enjoying my part, I figure I’ll play along. At some point, I hear Kelly arrive, but I’m not going to break this kiss since it’s a lot more fun than watching Sam cook a turkey. Jennifer finally releases the kiss and whispers into my ear, “I want them to all know that you’re mine.”

Squeezing her hip, I tell her, “You’re all mine, too.”

***

Afterward, when we head back to my place, she brings her rice cooker. One thing I’m learning is my girl likes her rice—making eggs and rice for breakfast and always making it for dinner. I probably should just buy a rice cooker so she doesn’t have to lug hers around. Before Jennifer, I figured Minute Rice was fine, though Jennifer shakes her head at my lack of rice sophistication and calls me her “haole.”

Surprisingly, I enjoy having Jennifer spend the weekend at my place. Not just for the sex, which is amazing, but her energy in the studio is intoxicating, and she’s easy to be with.

After a long day of working in my studio, a great dinner, and some fun sex, I’m lying in bed with Jennifer partially draped over me.

I knew life was too good to be true when she asks. “Rocket, what did Kyle mean when he said that you needed to explain your parents to me? What’s to explain?”

Taking a deep breath, I figure I might as well get it over with. “My mom’s an old hippie, as in she actually lived in the Haight during the summer of love and was a student at Berkeley during all the protesting. She’s been involved in the Women’s Rights movement, and has been very involved in the Right to Choose movement since before Roe vs. Wade. In the late ’70s, she moved to LA and was in the LA disco scene. She actually met my dad partying. She’s still a militant liberal when it comes to gay marriage and right to choose. But that’s not what made her look so out of place when we were in Wyoming. Marissa’s family is rural, while my mom is about as urban as you get. My mom is well into her ’60s, but she’s always doing yoga, so she’s slim and fit. She wears the kind of hip designer clothes you see on young women, has long, blond hair, and has had so much work done on her face she looks like Baby Bob.”

“Baby Bob?”

“You know, the commercial where they have a picture of the baby but only the mouth moves? If I showed you a picture of my mom, you’d think she was thirty. But when you’re with her, her face is really strange since nothing moves except her eyeballs and her mouth. In LA, she doesn’t look weird, since there are a lot of women in their sixties who’ve had a lot of work done. But up in Wyoming, she looked like a circus freak. Also knowing my mom’s politics, it was stressful when Marissa’s family kept on saying all this right wing shit. For my sake, my mom was trying to be cool so she didn’t say anything back. She’d get this big fake smile on her face and then would shoot me a look. She’s my mom, so I knew what she was thinking.”

“That’s it; your mom’s a liberal urbanite, and Marissa’s family is rural and conservative?”

“Yeah, well that’s my mom. Put together with my dad and his spouse, the wedding families were like water and oil. Thankfully, my parents kept their mouths shut and went out of their way to be polite, or it would have been like fire and oil.”

“Are you going to tell me about your dad…and his spouse?”

“Yeah, you caught that didn’t you?”

She nods.

I take a deep breath before continuing. “My dad’s gay. His political views match my mom’s. More than that, my dad was raised Southern Baptist and is now a militant atheist. He celebrates Christmas as a pagan ritual.” I figure I must really like Jennifer if I’m talking to her about my parents. The last time I explained my parents to anyone was before my wedding, when I found out they were coming. Back then, I figured I’d better prepare Marissa and her family before my parents showed up.

“My parents were both well into their thirties when they had me. They were good friends. My mom wanted a kid, but she didn’t want it with any of the guys she had gone out with. My dad agreed to provide the sperm. My mom actually told my dad he didn’t have to be involved financially or with raising me. Though once I was born, he stayed very involved.”

Thinking back on my childhood, I try to explain how I was raised. “Knowing a lot of kids whose parents were divorced, my situation was a lot better. My parents continued to hang with each other. We did a lot of things as a family. My parents worked well together. My mom actually was the one who introduced my dad to his spouse, Gary, who’s cool. They’ve been together since I was in kindergarten. Gary’s as much my dad as my biological father. When you meet my dad, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s gay. While Gary…he’s flaming gay.”

Thinking of how to explain my dad and Gary, I ask Jennifer, “Did you ever see the movie
La Cage Aux Folles
?”

Jennifer shakes her head while whispering, “No, I’ve never heard of it.”

It’s this French movie, a comedy from the 1970s, they did an American remake of it,
The Birdcage
.”

She shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, it’s about these two flaming gay guys who have a son who’s marrying the daughter of a conservative politician. When my dad and Gary showed up, my mom kept laughing in my ear, “This would make a better remake than
The Birdcage
.”

I get a clear vision of my dad and Gary in Wyoming with Marissa’s family. “Where they live in LA, Dad and Gary look normal. In Wyoming, they looked freakier than my mom.”

It’s the first time in five years since the whole fiasco, that I can actually see the humor. As I tell Jennifer, the anger, frustration, and painful memories slip away. “Gary shows up with brand new purple cowboy boots, very stiff designer jeans, and this purple cowboy inspired shirt. I was scared someone was going to beat the shit out of him.” Remembering the shocked looks on Marissa’s family’s face, for the first time makes me chuckle.

Jennifer continues to lie there outlining the designs of my tattoos on my chest as she quietly asks, “They don’t like gay people in Wyoming?”

“It’s not that simple. There are gays there. But my parents looked ridiculous in Wyoming.”

We lie in bed as I think back to how uncomfortable that weekend was. Jennifer breaks the silence, “You think they did it?”

“Who did what?”

“Your parents, do you think they had you the old fashioned way, or by using a turkey baster?”

…My brain shorted out.

In horror, I tell her, “No one wants to think of their parents having sex. I guarantee you; it’s no different with me.”

My mind twisted and my imagination ran wild every time Rocket changed the subject when his parents came up. What a relief. The big secret is his mom’s in her sixties and trying to hang on to her youth and his dad’s gay.

As I lie in Rocket’s bed, listening to him breathe, I think about my parents. They’re the middle of the road politically. They like watching science shows on PBS and listening to NPR. Like most Hawaiians, they’re Democrats. My mom is pro-choice, pro-gay marriage; I assume my dad’s the same, though he never talks about it. Neither of them is political. They both have the Hawaiian casual view on life. While growing up, my dad worked long hours and my mom worked her schedule around us kids. My family would have more problems with Rocket’s disheveled looks, tattoos, and piercing than with his parents. This makes me think about what I want in a man. I used to know; now I’m conflicted, I’m no longer sure.

My mind skips to Meredith’s Thanksgiving party, which was fun. I know I went a little overboard—kissing Rocket in front of all the princesses, but their gossiping was starting to annoy me. If they want to talk, I figured I’d give them something to talk about. I would never have sat on any of my previous boyfriend’s lap, French kissing them in front of my friends. Rocket brings cavalier freedom into my life.

I try to recall what I was doing at Thanksgiving last year. Oh yeah, how could I forget? The princesses met up for happy hour on a Wednesday night. Juliette’s friend Gray, a law student at Berkeley, joined us. We had a wild Thanksgiving weekend fling. Then again, if Rocket and I are a fling, that was definitely a hookup.

***

Christmas is coming. At school, we have two weeks off. Ages ago I made plans to be with my family. Originally, I was going to spend both weeks in Hawaii. For New Year’s, Isabelle tells us her family is meeting up in Mexico and asks if we want to user her parents’ house up in Tahoe. Meredith and Juliette are all in. I’m supposed to be in Hawaii with my family, but I figure that New Year’s in Tahoe with Rocket and my friends is a good reason to change my plans and come back early.

Jennifer takes off for Hawaii. I wish she’d invited me, though we’re probably too new to be meeting each other’s families. Hartley and I make the five-hour drive down to LA for the long weekend. It’s much easier to deal with my parents in their home turf than at my place.

Dad and Gary live in a large 1920s Spanish-style house in the Hollywood Hills. Their garage is at street level. A winding path, which includes a number of stairs, takes you down to their front door. As I head down, I pass a few of my sculptures integrated into the professionally landscaped hill the path traverses. I’m glad I brought my good camera so I can take some pictures. Entering the house from the front, I can see Gary’s been hard at work decorating. In many ways, Gary and Mom are similar. Both have an over-the-top personality, while Dad is much lower key, enjoying their flamboyant energy.

As I head toward the back of the house, I yell out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

Dad meets me in the hallway. “Gary, Rocket’s home.” Giving me a warm hug, he ushers me into their high-end kitchen where Gary’s cooking up a storm.

Gary looks me up and down and says, “James, it looks like Rocket’s finally starting to abandon the homeless look, he actually got a decent haircut.”

I give him a warm hug. That comment is classic Gary. He always talks about me in third person and is focused on outside appearances. It drove me crazy as a kid. As an adult, well, it’s not like he’s going to change.

Dad says, “Sit, can I get you a drink? We have fresh lemonade or beer.”

Knowing this is going to be a long day, I say, “I’ll take the beer.”

Gary pipes in, “James, I think that dog should be in the backyard.”

Gary doesn’t like anyone helping him in the kitchen. Sitting at the island, I drink my beer. Pulling out my camera, I show both of them the piece I’ve been working on. Of course, a number of pictures of Jennifer are in the mix, which is not missed by either Dad or Gary. Dad’s cool, he’ll wait for me to explain who she is. Gary, however, jumps right in. “James, did you see that pretty young Asian women in those pictures? Does Rocket have a new girl?”

By not replying, I hope this conversation blows over. Dad gives me the look, which means spill, since Gary won’t let this go. Those two are a very effective tag team; they always get me to tell them more than I want to.

Thinking about Jennifer brings a smile to my face. “Yeah, her name’s Jennifer. I’ve been seeing her for the last couple of months. She’s a middle school teacher. For the holiday, she’s in Hawaii with her family.”

We hang for a while, casually catching up. Dad’s family disowned him when he came out. Without a real family, he developed friends that are as close as brothers. Growing up, I called these guys Uncle since they were what made up my family. The doorbell rings and Gary and Dad’s close friends join us. Gary has to tell them all I have a new girlfriend. Mom finally shows up with her latest boyfriend, a guy who has to be in his forties. Within five minutes, Gary tells her about Jennifer, too. She, of course, makes me pull out my camera so she can see Jennifer’s picture.

Mom looks at the picture, then comments, “I’m still coming down from your marriage. I had nightmares of having all these hillbilly grandchildren. You know, you can sleep with these girls without marrying them.”

After dinner, Mom gets on my case. You’d think an old hippie would be cool about my lifestyle. Using a disapproving tone, she asks, “Are you still living in that old wreck of a Winnebago?” This winds Gary up. “James, what did we do wrong that our boy wants to live like a bum in the mountains?”

Giving Dad a look of distress, he shrugs. This makes me question why I bother coming down to visit them. I love my family, but they drive me crazy. As a kid, I wished for a sibling. With three parents focused on me, I would have loved to have someone else to divert some of their attention.

Mom starts in with, “I know a few architects. I can hook you up with one. If you’re determined to live in the mountains, isn’t it time you build a house?”

Knowing better, I still answer by casually blowing her off. “Eventually, when I have the money.”

This only makes her madder. “You could build five mansions with the money my parents left you.”

Mom’s parents were wealthy. With only three grandchildren, I was left with a good deal of money in their will, money that’s only grown over time. I’ve never wanted to tap into that fund. I want to support myself. I’m not interested in being one more guy in LA living off his trust fund.

We all exchange gifts—Mom, Dad, and Gary all buy me clothes. As I open another package with clothes in it, I joke, “Is this a hint?”

Gary says, “It’s not a hint if it’s a hammer banging you on your head. You dress like a bum. You don’t shave. I thought we brought you up better than that.”

It’s the first time today he’s addressed me directly.

When I was younger, gifts like this would have driven me crazy. Now that I’m older, I can almost appreciate what they’re trying to do. I actually say something diplomatic. Holding up another expensive designer shirt, I say, “It will be nice when I go out with Jennifer to wear some new clothes that don’t have my company logo on it.”