Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) (12 page)

My flight from San Francisco to Honolulu arrives at noon. Mom, Grandma, and Auntie are all waiting for me in passenger pick-up. After a round of hugs, we head to the car. Before reaching the door, I shed my sweater to reveal my cami just in time before a wall of warm tropical air envelopes me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. The smell of Hawaii’s salt air mixed with hibiscus flowers lets me know I’m home.

My younger brother arrived home yesterday. He’s out with my dad. My older brother is missing Christmas with the family since this is a crazy busy time for him at Amazon. He and I will overlap for only one full day.

Since it’s lunch for them, dinner for me, the four of us head straight to Helena’s, my favorite local restaurant. We order Hawaiian style fried rice, fried noodles, laulau—pork wrapped in taro leaves, and
pipikaula—short ribs
.

The Chen women travel on mass, have a million opinions about everything, and have no filter when it comes to the family. My mom, grandmother, and auntie are all curious and start questioning me about changing my plans and not staying for New Year’s.

I tell them, “The Princesses are headed up to Isabelle’s place in Tahoe. Since they didn’t come to Hawaii with me this year, I figured I’d leave early to join them.”

My grandmother gives me one of her inscrutable looks. “You’re going home early for girlfriends? This sounds like you’re going home early for a boyfriend.”

How does she do this?

I sit rooted in my chair, completely perplexed.

My auntie says, “Jennifer, why aren’t you telling us about this boyfriend?”

The Chen women get the same pinched look on their face when they’re displeased.              

Knowing how relentless they can be, I take a deep breath before telling them, “Yes, I’m seeing someone. Rocket. He’s a lot of fun. He has a studio on his property. We spend our weekends creating art.”

My grandmother is always the harshest critic. “What kind of name is Rocket?”

While my auntie says, “He has a studio? What kind of job is an artist?”

I try to explain. “He’s a programmer. He has a studio on his property. That’s where the two of us hang out on the weekend.”

My mom listens to this conversation. Thankfully, she tends to be the positive one of the unrelenting trio. “Programming is a good job. He’s an employee, not a contractor? It’s important to have good benefits.”

“Let’s see a picture of this Rocket,” Grandma says.

The only picture they’ll approve of is the selfie we took when we went to the school dance. I’m not willing to hand over my iPhone to my nosy family, so I change the subject and tell them about my school and my students.

Of course, my grandmother quickly catches on. “A girl this age without pictures? Why are you hiding this boyfriend?”

“He’s not a bad boy?” my aunt questions.

My mother quickly defends me. “Jennifer always dates nice boys. Do you remember the one she dated when she was home from college?”

“He had proper, respectful manners,” my grandmother says.

“He always dressed so nicely,” my auntie adds in.

“Whatever happened to him?” says Mother.

***

After lunch, the four of us head to my parents’ house. I grew up in an open plan home with a wraparound lanai—porch. It looks festive since my parents already decorated it for Christmas. Lights have been strung all around the outside and the fancy fake tree is up and surrounded by presents.

Changing from jeans into shorts and slippers—what the mainlanders call flip-flops, I feel like a kama’aina—local. Most of my friends have gone to the mainland for college, remaining there to work. A few friends are still in Hawaii or are home for the holidays. I text my friends who are here so we can meet at Waiola shave ice.

It’s exciting to meet up with my high school friends. When we see each other, we squeal and hug while waiting in line. I get my favorite shave ice, a POG—passion fruit, orange, and guava. Afterward, we sit on the bench, leaning against the building as we catch up, laugh, and joke, while reminiscing about high school.

***

My dad grew up on a small coffee plantation on the big island. After being in Oahu for a few days, the family takes a forty-five-minute flight from Honolulu to Kailua. We pick up a rental car at the airport and head to my grandparents’ house. A few years ago, my parents built a vacation home on their property. Now my their private road is lined with family homes, all painted in pastel colors.

My grandfather is mostly retired; my uncle runs the plantation while my auntie runs the family’s coffee house and tasting room. Starbucks has been a boom to the family since they taught Americans how to appreciate good coffee. On vacation, the tourists go out of their way to visit boutique coffee growers, buying a lot of our coffee to bring home.

We spend our time at my grandparents’ mostly sitting around eating. My grandmother must have sent out an island communiqué since there is a continual parade of family and friends stopping by. Everyone brings a large dish of starchy, fattening food. Finally, we take a break from sitting around and all head to the beach. When we come back, there are two pans of food by the door. Mom spends the next hour figuring out who dropped off the food so she can give the appropriate thanks. Luckily, we are only at my grandparents’ for a few days, if I’m here much longer, I’m going to be as large as the rest of my dad’s family.

***

Back on Oahu, we celebrate Kalikimaka—Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we have a big family dinner at my auntie’s. The entire extended family is there. Afterward, we head over to church for midnight mass. In the morning, I feel like a kid as I sit on the living room floor opening my presents. When we are done, we meet up with the whole family at the beach for a big picnic.

As I sit listening to everyone talking, I fantasize about bringing my boyfriend home. My mind flashes to Rocket. My grandmother and auntie would pass out in shock. When they finally came to, they’d be in overdrive complaining to my mom about the tattoos and piercings, and that would be without him even taking off his shirt. Next I flash to Tristan Hall, my idea of the perfect man. My grandmother would be so pleased; she would think he’s the second coming, even if he’s a haole—white boy.

***

My mom’s hobby is gardening—specifically tropical fruits—which aren’t difficult to grow in Hawaii. They no longer have any grass in their yard, only paths that wind around berms filled with hibiscus, plumeria, blue jade vine, and tropical fruits. Every morning, my mom picks what’s ripe and makes a tropical fruit smoothie. I’m in heaven. Sneaking some slices of the cut up Kona sugarloaf pineapple off her cutting board, I contemplate. Nothing beats the taste of ripe pineapple picked just minutes ago. Mom adds in guava, lilikoi—passion fruit, and papaya. I’m going to miss these smoothies when I’m back on the mainland.

***

As my vacation draws to an end, my big brother Nick shows up. It’s nice having the family together. We spend the day at the beach running into some high school friends and getting spam musubi. After dinner, my brothers and I meet up with friends at one of the popular bars.

As I hang out with friends and drink way too many cocktails, I look across the bar and see a mirage.

Tristan Hall.

My college crush.

The perfect man.

Internally I scream -- like a groupie.

Time has been an asset. He’s even more beautiful than I remember. I find myself mesmerized by his golden hair, aqua blue eyes, and perfect masculine features. He still has the amazing casual, athletic, preppy look that captivated me in the first place.

From across the room our eyes connect, he smiles.

I gasp.

My face feels hot.

My body bubbles from intense elation.

I excuse myself from my friends and head over to where he’s standing.

“Tristan,” stumbles out of my mouth as I walk up alongside him.

He nods while I internally swoon. Now I’m glad I’m wearing a tight little dress and my sparkly high heels.

I can tell he’s surprised that I know his name. I lean into him, touching his arm as I say, “Jennifer Takahashi…we went to Leland together.”

He squints and shakes his head.

“In college I was one of the Princesses.”

I can tell he still doesn’t get it. “My friend Meredith goes out with Sam Sanchez.”

“Oh, yeah, Sanchez, he was with the blond.”

“Yes, my friend Meredith. They’re still together. I was the warrior, Mulan.”

He nods and looks me over. “Yeah, the Princesses. Now I remember.”

The band starts back up as I move close and yell into his ear. “Hey, I haven’t seen you since college. Are you here with Kate?”

An uneasy look flashes across his classically handsome face. He shakes his head and uncomfortably clears his throat before leaning into me. His breath tickles my ear, sending shudders down my body. “I’m here with a couple of my buddies. We’re heading over to surf at Laniakea.”

Leaning closer, I cup my hand to his ear and say, “That’s cool.”

He motions to the deck outside. His breath tickles my jaw as he says, “Hey it’s hard to hear you. Do you want to step outside?”

I nod.

He grabs a hold of my hand and leads me to the party deck outside. There’s a bar, some tables, and a view of the ocean. It’s a lot less crowded and not as noisy.

Tristan gives me a full body review before asking, “Where are you living now?”

“Mountain View. I guess I didn’t get too far from school,” I say with a flirty giggle.

His eyes zero in on my cleavage. “That’s cool.”

“Where are you living?” I ask.

He moves a little bit closer to me before saying, “The Marina in San Francisco, I’m one of those tech workers taking the bus down to Silicon Valley that the proletariats are complaining about.

“I never knew you were an engineer.”

“Me? Never. I’m a newly minted attorney, working at Google. I’m on the team that’s buying up real estate.”

“You must be very busy since it looks like every other building is being renovated for them.”

He gives me a cocky nod, moves in real close. His cheek brushes against my skin.

My body quakes. In a low, deep voice, he says, “What about you, what do you do?”

I breathlessly respond, “I teach eighth grade.”

“Yeah, I can see someone like you teaching.” He runs his hand down my back.

I quiver.

His voice resonates against me. “You look good.”

I gasp.

Tristan Hall thinks I look good. I move a little closer, which causes me to rub my side against him. “Tristan, you look good, too.”

“I work out,” he says as his hand on my back moves to squeeze my waist.

I puff up my chest and rub it against him. “You look like you work out.”

“Do you want to take a walk on the beach?”

Yes.

OMG.

YES.

Coolly I respond, “Yeah, a walk on the beach would be nice.”

He takes my hand in his as we head for the stairs.

The man of my dreams is taking me for a walk on the beach!

I stop on the last step. Our hands are connected. He turns to look at me. I shrug as I say, “Let me take off my heels. I can’t walk on the beach with these on.”

He intensely watches my every move. I grasp his arm and pull off my shoes.

My toes touch the sand, still warm from the day. I purr out, “Mmm the beach feels so good.

Tristan’s breathing increases. He places his hand on my lower back pulling me against him. “You know, in college I had a little thing for you.”

“Really?”

He stares at my lips. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t realize you even knew I existed. I tried to friend you and you never accepted.”

His eyes narrow, then he gives a small shrug. “Back then, I was seeing Kate. She’d wonder why I
friended
a really hot girl.”

Tristan Hall thinks I’m hot!

He moves his beautiful face even closer. I lift my head slightly. Our lips gently graze. I feel the heat of his body against mine as he kisses me lightly again while grabbing my ass.

“Jennifer!” My brother’s voice rings out.

I ignore him. Hoping Tristan thinks it’s another Jennifer and Nick doesn’t see us.

“Jennifer!” he calls again. This time his voice is even closer.

I cringe as I pull away from the kiss.

In a low voice, Tristan says, “Who’s that?” I lean my forehead against his perfect chest.

With a groan, I turn my head. Nick is standing on the stairs with his arms crossed glaring at the two of us.

As soon as we make eye contact, Nick says, “Who’s this?”

Just what I need, my big brother getting all protective.

Tristan pulls away from me as he quietly says, “Is this your boyfriend?”