Hot Pickle: A Best Friend's Sister Romantic Comedy

by JJ Knight

  Otherwise, talking to her seems risky. The way Franklin already suspects something’s going on, he’ll be looking for any sign he’s being lied to.

  Which, of course, he is. We’ll have to clear this up tomorrow after the competition is over. It can’t keep going. It’s not right.

  The lightweight classes start passing by.

  “Those guys aren’t built like you,” Anthony observes.

  “There are weight classes. I’m in the biggest one.”

  Franklin’s group is called, so he strips down to his red shorts to line up. “You guys go on around to the auditorium,” he tells his friends.” I’ll be out there in a bit. I’m gonna dominate.” He strikes a pose.

  The two guys clap him on the back and head out.

  I text Camryn. Your brother’s about to go on stage.

  I’m in the audience. I owe him a watch.

  Fair enough.

  When Franklin comes back around, he’s pumped. “I crushed it,” he says. “I’m going to take this qualifier. Bring on Nationals.”

  Within minutes, Camryn pops in the door.

  “Yo, sis! What do you think? Did I kill it, or did I kill it?”

  “You killed it,” she says with a laugh. “Amy’s doing great work with you. You looked confident and strong. And of course, your tan was flawless.” She gives him a quick grin.

  Her eyes don’t even cut over to me. But I can see the tension in how she fiddles with the bristles on one of the brushes on her belt.

  He jerks on his sweatpants. “Now we wait for the evening show.”

  “You guys have to sit here all day?” Anthony asks.

  “We usually do,” I say. “But today we’re going to head out for a quick lunch with everybody and come back.”

  Camryn finally turns to me. “You’ll have time. With the women going first, the physique and male bodybuilding are closer together than usual.” She steps up to me. “Your tan looks good. Let me check a few things. Can I borrow him a second?”

  Franklin’s hand twitches, and I don’t miss the tension in his jaw, but he says nothing as Camryn leads me over the corner. “I had to get us away. I didn’t think I could hold this disinterested expression any longer.”

  I almost reach out to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, but I catch myself. “I’m with you. It’s tough.”

  “Unzip your jacket and let me take a look,” she says. “I don’t expect any surprises.”

  I drop the jacket to the floor, and she walks around me, cool and professional. Her fingers never even brush my skin.

  “I’m not going to ask you to take your pants off. I know we handled the white patch last night.”

  “It seemed fine this morning.”

  “Good.”

  “Franklin’s already got laser vision pointed in this direction. I wanted to tell you good luck. And I’ll be watching.”

  “Thanks. Do you mind taking my brother Anthony around the auditorium? He’d like to see it.”

  “Glad to,” she says. “And I assume it’s still a secret.”

  “I haven’t told a soul.”

  She nods. “Not a problem. Let me get out of here so you can do your last-minute work out. I think Amy’s going to stop by, too.”

  “I’ll be thinking about you up there.”

  “You better not,” she says with a warning look. “That might cause things to, um, grow unnecessarily.”

  “Damn right it will.”

  She bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Focus on your stage presence. It’s the only thing that can get you points, because let me tell you, the heavyweights here today are all monsters.”

  “I’m just here for fun.”

  “Good.” She walks ahead of me to talk to Franklin again for a moment, then offers to take Anthony around to watch the show. “You can come with us,” she says to Franklin.

  “I’ll hang back here and wait for Max. I want his thoughts on how he did.”

  “Done.” She turns to Anthony. “I will take this Pickle on around to the front.”

  Franklin frowns, but he lets it go. My brother doesn’t inspire a testosterone rush. He’s too laid back.

  Before they’ve even left the room, they are already talking up a storm.

  I love that. She’s fitting right in. And Anthony doesn’t even know she should.

  30

  Camryn

  So, all the Pickles have decided to show up for the morning prejudging.

  When Anthony and I step inside the auditorium, a great roar goes up in the center row.

  “They made it,” Anthony says. “I wasn’t sure they were going to come until the evening.”

  I knew I would probably meet Max’s family today. It’s easier to do under the guise of being a tanning artist than showing up as a girlfriend for dinner.

  But because I can’t tip off Franklin, I had to wear my usual tanning attire, albeit my favorite set of gray floral yoga pants and a matching fitted short-sleeved top. I wish I could find a place to stuff all my gear, but I had to keep up the appearance of tanner-only right up to the last minute.

  The judges switch out as they move from physique to classic bodybuilding, so we have a few minutes before the lights will go down again. I tuck as many brushes as I can into my side pocket, so I look less like a makeup-store Rambo as we approach the family.

  The dad is easy to spot, with gray at the temples. He’s a dead ringer for the man sitting next to him, who must be Jason. On the other side of Jason is a woman with long brown hair. Jason’s fiancé.

  Anthony slides into the seat next to his father.

  “Who’s this?” he asks.

  “Dad, this is Camryn. She’s the reason Max no longer looks like a fish belly. She’s also Franklin’s sister. You know, Max’s training buddy.”

  He extends a hand. “Lovely to meet you, Camryn,” he says. “Everyone calls me Sherman.”

  My nerves jangle until I nearly see spots. I’m shaking Max’s dad’s hand. And Max hasn’t even gotten to introduce me.

  I try to pull myself together. “Nice to meet you. Did you get to see any of the others compete?”

  “Just got here,” Jason says. “I had to hurry them up to make it.”

  The woman leans forward. “He means I had to get everyone out the door. I’m Nova, by the way. Jason’s better half.”

  “You got that right,” Jason says.

  I wave down the row. “It’s great you are all here. Max has kept quiet about his competitions.”

  Jason smirks. “If it wasn’t for the L.A. Times, we’d still be in the dark.”

  “I’m sure Max had his reasons,” Anthony says.

  Sherman leans forward. “Camryn, do you know his reasons?”

  My heart hammers. I’m not sure what to say.

  But Anthony rescues me. “Don’t harass Camryn. Her loyalties lie elsewhere. And she’s too sweet for you all to hassle.”

  Sherman’s eyebrows lift. He looks between the two of us, and I can see his wheels turning. Uh oh.

  “Have you asked this lovely young woman to lunch with us? We’d be delighted to have her and her brother.”

  Uh oh!

  I think fast. “Maybe? My brother has a lot of friends showing up, so they may have different plans.”

  Sherman sits back. “The invitation’s open.”

  The lights go down, and I let out a long breath. Is Sherman trying to hook me up with Anthony? This is trickier than I thought it would be.

  The announcer strides onto the stage. “And now for our heavyweight competitors. These twenty athletes will be competing for five slots at Nationals.”

  “This is exciting,” Anthony says, rubbing his hands together. I have to smile. I like this brother.

  The first competitor is the winner of last week’s meet. He strides out with confidence, perfectly on tempo with the music. He rolls through the poses with the ease of someone who is used to being on stage.

  “Dayum,” says Jason. “That dude could break me in
half.”

  The competitor steps off to one side and holds a side bicep pose as the next man comes on stage.

  “This goes by quick,” Anthony whispers.

  “There are a lot of them.”

  This one is not quite as smooth as the first. His symmetry is imperfect, and his calves are underdeveloped. He might have more general bulk than Max, but he’s not going to beat him. No charisma.

  The next three competitors are similar. They look good, but not great. Still, Max is behind in the physique at this level, like Amy and I predicted during our lunch.

  About halfway through the group, Max comes out on stage. The auditorium is fairly empty, as is typical for the morning show. So when all the Pickles stand and start hooting quite a few judges and spectators turn to look.

  I stand up with them in solidarity. I get the sense the Pickles do whatever they want when it comes to backing up family.

  When I sit down, Anthony leans in. “Were we not supposed to do that?”

  “It’s fine.”

  Max runs through the poses. My heart pounds seeing him up there. It’s hard not to. He’s beautiful and strong. The light hits his tan perfectly. I decide, though, to take him one shade darker next time. His grin is infectious, and when he holds his final pose, the Pickles jump to their feet again.

  This time I shout with them.

  When we sit down, Anthony asks, “How is he doing so far?”

  “Really good.”

  He turns to his father to relay that message down the line.

  I settle in my seat. It’s fun being with Max’s family, even if they don’t have a clue about me.

  When all the competitors have posed, and the callouts are finished, we head back through the arena.

  “What did it mean when they rearranged them?” Sherman asks.

  “They want to see the different builds next to each other. It’s how they score points.”

  Jason turns to me. “Max seems like a giant to me, but he looked smaller up there. Does he have a chance?”

  “There’s always a chance. He wasn’t the biggest last week either.”

  I warn the Pickles that the security guys might not let them all go backstage to see Max, but somehow Sherman manages to get through with the whole crew. Max is already back in his warm-ups and sitting on the floor next to Franklin.

  I hesitate. I don’t know if it will stand out to my brother that I’m hanging out with Max’s family.

  But Amy is there, too, and the introductions give me a moment to meet Max’s gaze and give him a thumbs up. When Franklin catches us standing too close, I quickly say, “When I was looking at the whole line, I felt like we should take you one shade darker. Would that be okay?”

  Max nods. “Whatever you think will look good. You’re the pro.”

  I step away to stand next to Amy. The Pickles are all jovial and friendly, and Anthony comes to talk to me again, catching the eye of his father. He smiles and nods, as if Anthony’s attention is exactly what he wants.

  This is all really weird. The last thing I want is for Anthony to show interest in me.

  As much as I want to go to lunch with Max’s family, I can’t. This is too complicated. And at some point, we might have to lie. And I don’t want to do that either.

  Anthony turns to me as the family gathers together to head out. “Are you coming with us?”

  Franklin’s head snaps up.

  “No, I need to check on one of my other clients. You guys go on. But I’ll be here for the evening show.” Thank goodness for Camille.

  Anthony’s smile is warm. “I look forward to that.”

  Max catches on. “Should we go find one of those bodybuilder ladies you were gawking at? I might be able to hook you up.”

  Anthony’s cheeks turn pink. “That’s okay. I live a long way from here.” He nods, his expression suggesting that he’s reconsidering everything. “Let’s go.”

  I mouth I’m sorry at Max as they head out. He shrugs.

  Franklin calms down as the Pickles leave. “I’ve got all the guys meeting me at a taco shop. I’ll see you at the evening show?”

  “Yeah. We’ll be here,” I say.

  “I guess it’s you and me,” Amy says. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about?”

  I watch my brother walk across the room. I don’t want him to hear. It’s a tough decision, and I don’t need his interference.

  I like Max. And I have a good job here. I like what I do. Maybe I have grown out of that dream of travel. Maybe I should stay put.

  I turn to Amy. “I have to turn it down.”

  She frowns. “Why? It doesn’t have to interfere with your work.”

  “But I like my time off.”

  “I think you could really make it. There’s no risk. You go do this thing, you come back and do your usual thing.” She hesitates. “What’s going on?”

  I open my mouth, and then close it. My eyes flick back to the door.

  “Wait a minute,” she says. “Is there something going on with you and Max? Franklin was acting all crazy earlier saying Max gave him a chocolate bar that was one you always gave him, and how did he know because Franklin never told him.”

  I hesitate too long. Amy’s eyes go wide. “There is! You and Max are a thing!” Her face is all smiles. “Girl, I don’t blame you. Guys like Max don’t come along very often. I assume your brother doesn’t know.”

  “Hell, no. I’m not gonna tell him.”

  “Good call. Though, I don’t know how long you can keep a secret. If I figured it out, it’s only a matter of time until he does.”

  “We plan to tell him after this competition. We don’t want to upset him on this big day.”

  “That’s a good sister. But boy, I don’t want to be within a twenty-mile radius of that boy when he figures out what’s going on behind his back.”

  Me neither.

  31

  Max

  I wish Camryn could’ve come along on our family lunch. I had envisioned this giant outing with Franklin and all his buddies, maybe Amy, too, and taking over half a restaurant to make it easy for Camryn to be there and not set off any suspicions.

  But in the end, it’s just us Pickles scarfing burgers at the grill owned by one of the chefs my brother met in culinary school.

  By the time we return to the arena, I’m dying to see Camryn alone. Despite my insistence that bodybuilding is only for fun, it would be nice to do well while my family is around.

  Not that I think I have a chance. I’m easily in the bottom five in size. And there were zero rookie mistakes at the prejudging. No missed poses. No bad timing. These guys all know what they’re doing. My nerves are jangling in a way I don’t appreciate. A nice long shot of Camryn would do me good.

  When we pile out of my Audi sports car like clowns in a circus, I tell them they ought to go ahead and secure a good seat for the evening show. “It’ll be packed. It’s not nearly so serious as the prejudging. This is what everybody lives for who loves the sport.”

  Thankfully, they agree, so as I head into the backstage area, I text Camryn to see if she can meet me.

  I don’t hear from her, so, once again, I find myself sitting alone by the wall. Even Franklin and the entourage have made themselves scarce.

  The scene is a good deal more jovial than the morning. These seasoned competitors know the most important part of their performance is already behind them. They’re focused on looking good for the fans.

  The words “L.A. Times” stick out in a conversation of several women competitors a few yards away. They look over. More whispers. More glances.

  They’re starting to put together that I was the featured bodybuilder in the paper earlier this week.

  One of the men I recognize as a sponsor who approached me after my first win. He strides purposefully up to the registration table. I watch as I’m pointed out, and I figure I’m about to have company. He hurries over with an outstretched hand. “Max, good to see you again. Adam Hastings.
I saw you in the paper.”

  I jump to my feet to shake his hand. “Guilty as charged. I did nothing but pick the right gym to work out in.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re taking the L.A. bodybuilding scene by storm.” His smile strikes me as slick as his satin shirt, which I assume he considers a hip look with the suit jacket. To me, he’s trying too hard.

  But it’s irrelevant. I’m not pro material. “I’ve had a good run. I’ll get knocked out tonight.”

  Adam vehemently shakes his head. “No way. Those judges know star power when they see it. Don’t think they don’t notice things like articles in the paper. That gets bodybuilding good press. More seats filled at the arenas. They know when they have someone they should run with.”

  “It doesn’t seem right. It should be about athleticism.”

  “Oh, it is,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. But you’re there. Combine that with your ability to generate press and you, my friend, are a winner. We should talk about the next steps. You’ll be traveling soon. You’ll need a budget.”

  I can make my own budget for travel, but if he’s right, there’s no point in turning down free money. “What was your product again?”

  “Bonafide T.” He fishes out a card and passes it to me.

  That’s right. One of those testosterone replacements. I picture a full-sized cardboard cutout of myself saying, “Got low T?” and grimace. No thanks.

  But I give Adam a polite nod. “Thanks for the interest.”

  He shakes my hand and claps my shoulder. “Good luck out there.”

  My phone buzzes. It’s Camryn. Thank God. Where are you?

  I quickly tap out: Backstage by registration.

  I found an empty room.

  Tell me where.

  I grab my phone and keys and leave my bag by the wall.

  But before I can reach the hall, Franklin and his crew show up at the back door. While he tries to convince the security guard to let everyone in, he spots me.

  “Max, my man. I brought your trainers.” He shoves two of his friends toward me.

  “Hey Max,” one says.

  I’m game with helping them get in. “Come on back.”