Hot Pickle: A Best Friend's Sister Romantic Comedy

by JJ Knight

  Whether I did Nationals or not, this would’ve been an incredible week.

  Now, it feels hollow.

  I miss her.

  The dining room roars with conversation, the clink of utensils, and the twang of the musicians tuning up.

  The place is packed. Every table is full, and a line along the counter snakes out the door.

  “There’s no more seating,” I say to Dad.

  He shrugs. “Nothing we can do about it. I pick the quietest part of the afternoon for this. I had no idea.”

  Anthony materializes in front of us from outside a clump of people near the drink counter.

  He turns me toward the stage. “Max, you can go first.”

  “What? I thought you were introducing everyone.”

  “New plan. Let’s get up there.”

  “Why the change?”

  “You’re the most comfortable on stage.”

  He must be nervous. It’s fine. He’s right. I’m used to this.

  Anthony and I pick our way across the stage, avoiding wires and stage lights.

  “Anything in particular you want me to say?” I ask.

  “It’ll come to you.” He plants me near the center and points out across the room. “Right about …now.”

  And I see her.

  Camryn.

  My heart thuds so hard it could be a drumbeat. My throat instantly goes dry.

  She’s near the drinking fountain.

  And talking to…Grammy?

  “What is she doing here?” I ask Anthony.

  “I spotted her in the line to get in.”

  “Do you think she wants to see me?”

  “I’m not sure. She’s been trying to escape. Grammy’s been holding her hostage.”

  It’s true. Grammy has blocked Camryn’s way out. She’s trapped between the end of the counter and the wall.

  Go, Grammy.

  Anthony takes a microphone from the stand and hands it to me. “Don’t throw away your shot.”

  “What will I say?”

  “You know her best.”

  “If she was in line, she came here on her own.”

  “She did.”

  “Some part of her wants to be here.”

  “Take it away.” He flips on the mic and descends the stairs to stand next to my dad and brother.

  Camryn hasn’t seen me up here. I have a moment to collect myself and think about what I want to say.

  So, hey.

  I could use some help here.

  You’ve heard the whole story.

  What would you do?

  What would you say?

  If the person you were absolutely certain you could not live without was trapped by your Grammy and a tray of hot pickles…how would you start?

  The light brightens the auburn in her hair to a majestic red. The long silky locks I remember so well flow down her back and across her shoulders, shimmering as she nods to my grandmother.

  I can almost smell it. And her.

  As soon as I start speaking, the room will quiet down, and all attention will turn to the stage.

  To me.

  She’ll see me.

  It will be my one shot.

  I’m supposed to talk about my grandmother. Our family deli. This place that supports us and feeds so many people.

  How do I say those things but also speak to her?

  My hand tightens on the microphone.

  And I have it.

  I think you guys beamed all your good juju right at me.

  I draw in a breath. “Most of us have been lucky at least once in our lives.”

  My voice reverberates across the room, and I pause, waiting for everyone to quiet down.

  Grammy turns to the stage, and Camryn looks up.

  Our eyes meet. I haven’t seen her face in weeks. I haven’t held her close for longer than that.

  My arms ache with the very idea.

  Her hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes are big, and I think, alarmed.

  I have to get this right. She looks ready to run.

  “Most of us are lucky at least once,” I say again, now that I have the room’s attention.

  I don’t take my eyes off Camryn. I’m afraid if I look away, something will happen to her. She’ll dash away. Or maybe evaporate into a mirage.

  “When we get that one piece of luck laid at our feet, we find someone who truly matters. Maybe it’s your mother, who tucks you in at night. Someone, even long after she’s gone, continues to wrap you in comfort whenever you think of her.”

  I clear my throat. Camryn drops her hand to her side.

  “I got lucky with my mother, even if I lost her before her time. But I didn’t get lucky only once. I also have a strong and fearless grandmother. When my grandfather died unexpectedly, far too young, she took what she did best—feeding her family—and turned it into a deli in Brooklyn.”

  The room is mostly quiet, the only sounds the whispered food requests and the muted sounds of the cash register working in the very back.

  “Because of that strength fifty years ago, I got to grow up sitting on a stool behind her counter. When my father was ready to take on the tradition, he opened this very store where we celebrate today. He took every dime he had ever saved, every dollar his mother could scrape together, to take out an outrageous loan on this building and open the first Pickle franchise.”

  The room claps and cheers, but I don’t dare let go of Camryn’s gaze. I’m afraid she will spirit away like a startled deer. I’m not positive she came here for me. She seems too anxious, too unsteady. It’s almost as though a twist of fate brought her here, and she isn’t sure she should follow its lead.

  “My father and brothers will tell you more about Grammy Alma’s impact on all our lives, but I wanted to impress upon you that I got lucky a third time. Back in Los Angeles, where I have my own deli, a girl walked in with hair like fire and earth in equal measure. She believed in me and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to screw up on my path.”

  My gaze is so intent on Camryn that several people turn to see what has my attention.

  Camryn realizes she’s been noticed, and her hand moves to her hair. A collective ahhh ripples through the crowd as they realize I’m speaking about her.

  “She was right of course. I did screw it up.” I wait out the chuckle from the crowd. “I’m up here to make sure she knows I made the wrong decision. The way I feel about her should’ve been out in the open from day one. We should have let it shine.”

  She bites her lip, so I know she’s heard me and understands. What will happen next with her is out of my hands.

  So I break her gaze and look at the crowd.

  “Not everyone can be a strong as Alma Packwood. And I’m here to say I’m in awe of what she started, and what she led our family to do. If you find yourself getting lucky with the people the world brings to you, don’t be like me and squander it. Be like my grandmother, Alma Packwood, and let everyone’s light shine.”

  I lower the mic and turn to the side of the stage. My dad is already coming up the steps, followed by Jason. Anthony heads to the crowd to collect my grandmother.

  My part is done.

  I pass the mic to my dad, glancing out to see if Camryn is still in her spot by the drinks.

  But she’s gone.

  It didn’t work.

  Jason smacks my back as we pass on the stairs. Nova squeezes my hand. By the time I get to the bottom, Anthony has returned with Grammy. She kisses me on the cheek. “That was lovely, grandson.”

  I stand in a quiet corner between the stairs and the back wall, my hands clasped in front of me. I’ve made the biggest fool of myself ever.

  And she left anyway.

  The speeches continue, Dad talking about Grammy’s legacy. He jokes about the early days of the Manhattan Pickle. Jason goes on with his jocular self, about how he did his best to run his franchise into the ground but was saved by his brother Anthony.

  I should listen more closely. But I feel
leaden, as if my veins are filled with concrete. I failed.

  I gave it my best shot.

  38

  Camryn

  I press my back to the wall behind the drinking fountain, out of view of the stage.

  My legs are shaking.

  Why did Amy drag me here? I was doing so well, leaving my past behind. Forging a new way.

  Oh, who am I kidding?

  We know I was flubbing it. My job was terrible. I’ve been miserable since I left Los Angeles.

  Since I left Max.

  I have not been as lucky as the speech he gave. No great mom. I only met my grandparents a time or two. Our family is not close.

  Perhaps the best person in my life has been Franklin. At least he took care of me when no one else would.

  I’m adrift.

  Not lucky. Except…

  Max.

  He thinks he’s lucky to have met me.

  How can that be, when it cost him the career he’d just begun?

  How can he think of me as good when it all went down so badly? His deli, wrecked. His friendship, ruined. His partnership, ended.

  He said he was wrong. He shouldn’t have kept this a secret.

  But it was my decision, too.

  He’s blaming himself.

  But it’s my brother. My lie.

  Our lie.

  I peek out from behind the water fountain. Grammy is up on stage with Sherman, Anthony, and Jason.

  Where’s Max?

  Grammy turns to the back corner. “Max, I need all my boys up here.”

  I lean against the cold steel of the ice chamber beside the fountain.

  Max runs back up the steps. They look good up there. Such a tight, close family. Jealousy floods me.

  Max is lucky. And he knows it.

  Max accepts the arm his brother Anthony puts around him.

  His eyes go to the water fountain, to me. I don’t duck behind the stand. I stay out. Let him spot me.

  The relief on his face tells me everything. He thought I’d left again.

  Like in L.A.

  I walked away. Took the easy route.

  I’m not going to leave again.

  As the room stands and claps, I push my way through.

  I dodge chairs, squeeze through narrow channels between tables, and finally, I make it to the bottom of the stage.

  Anthony sees me and turns to the musicians, pointing at them to start playing.

  As the Pickles file off the stage, I wait.

  Then he’s standing in front of me.

  Max.

  My Max.

  “It’s like the day we first met,” I tell him.

  He tilts his head. “I have a bad tan?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “I see you in a crowded room.”

  I touch his chin and move his face from side to side. That beautiful face. How I’ve missed it.

  “But, yeah, I don’t see much tan action here.”

  He closes my hand in both of his, holding it to his cheek. “You told me that day you would have to save me.”

  “I remember.”

  “And you did. I became the biggest winner in the room.”

  I know he doesn’t mean the gold medal. My heart turns over. “It’s your turn.”

  “To save you?”

  I nod. “My new job is terrible. We’re overworked. Fourteen-hour days plus travel. People yelling at us all the time. No ventilation for the tans. It’s a madhouse. I have to go back tomorrow, and I don’t want to.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “It’ll ruin my reputation. The bodybuilding circuit is cliquish. They’ll close ranks if I blow them off. I’m under contract.”

  He draws me up against him. “I have every faith we will figure it out.”

  Anthony pops his head over Max’s shoulder. “And we have lawyers.”

  Max nods at him. “Call Ted. There might be a union. If not, some worker’s oversight committee or commission.”

  Anthony puts his phone to his ear. “On it.”

  The band crashes into its first notes. It’s no sweet romantic tune, but a loud, upbeat American march, like a parade.

  Max puts his arm around my waist and leads me through a door in the back. The rest of the Pickles work the crowd, smiling and shaking hands.

  Sherman glances up and spots us. If he plans to say something, to tell Max to come be with family, he lets it go. He gives a quick nod and turns back to the table of customers.

  As we pass through the kitchen, Nova pops her head up from where she’s watching two men madly punch floury mounds of bread dough. When we aim for the office in the back, she says, “If you’re heading in there, you better lock the door.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I know what happens in the Pickle offices.” Her grin is unmistakable.

  “Now that’s a story I want to hear,” Max says.

  “Jason doesn’t kiss and tell,” Nova says.

  “But do you?” he asks.

  She’s part of the family, too. How easily they take in outsiders. I felt it from the beginning, sitting in the audience when they didn’t even know who I was.

  Max pulls me through the office door and closes it. After a second, he twists the lock.

  I laugh. “What do you think is going to happen in here?”

  He steps close. “I don’t know. I keep thinking you’re a mirage or a ghost.” His fingers thread through my hair. “But you’re here.”

  “It was Amy’s doing. She tricked me.”

  “Then I owe her.”

  “I have to go back to work tomorrow. Then Germany. Australia. China.”

  “I thought you always wanted to travel.”

  I tilt my head up. “I do. But all I get to see is the inside of buses, hotel rooms, and arenas.”

  “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  I hesitate. “Even if you get me out of the contract, I think we might both be on the outs in the bodybuilding circuit in L.A.”

  “I could pose for tips on the street corners of Hollywood Boulevard.”

  Now I’m laughing. “You’ll get arrested.”

  “You can switch to tanning porn stars.”

  Oh, Max. “You’re crazy.”

  “Only for you.”

  Our eyes lock, and it’s like I always remember feeling. “I heard your speech.”

  “I did it for you. Anthony got Grammy to trap you. He made me get up there.”

  “I had a feeling she was up to no good.”

  “Grammy’s always up to no good.”

  “But she’s the reason you feel lucky.”

  He touches my nose. “Only one of the reasons.”

  I’m wearing the rainbow Converse, which don’t help me one bit with the height differential. Even on tiptoes, I’m not in kissing range.

  But Max knows me. And all I have to do is tilt my chin, and he’s there, those miracle lips, that scruffy face I’ll have to shave before I can tan him again.

  And for the first time in my life, I feel things I’ve never known.

  Faith that everything will work out.

  Hope that my future will be easier than my past.

  And someone who is completely, unconditionally, mine to love.

  39

  Max

  Six months later.

  I pop my head into every prep room along the hall, looking for Camryn.

  Clusters of competitors glance my way, getting on their final tan and oil before heading on stage. I’m beginning to think she’s dodged me completely when I head into the last door.

  Dahlia sees me first. “It’s the man candy. I’m terribly disappointed that you don’t let me take a lick.”

  Camryn glances up from her position on her knees, adding a shadow to Dahlia’s calf. She lets out a gasp. “You’re supposed to be lining up!”

  I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “Already done. Only six competitors today.”

  “I missed it!” Camryn’s face is anguishe
d as she moves to the other leg.

  “It’s all right.”

  She sighs. “I hope you kicked their butts.”

  I stick my hand inside the front pocket of my sweatshirt and pull out the gold medal.

  Camryn rocks back on her heels. “And I missed it! I was headed there as soon as I finished Dahlia.”

  “Not a big deal. There’s always next time.”

  “I don’t want to miss a single one.”

  “It’s all right.” I kiss her head again.

  Dahlia steps away and examines her calves. “Perfection.”

  “You better get going,” Camryn says.

  She nods and straightens the strap to her shiny silver bikini. “Congrats, Candy Man. You going to kiss me for luck?”

  I lean in and give her a quick peck on the cheek.

  She rolls her eyes. “One day, hot one. One day.” She flounces out of the room.

  Camryn shakes her head as she stands up. “She’s a pistol.”

  I wrap my arms around Camryn. “I felt guilty competing in the natural bracket.”

  Camryn rests her head on my chest. “Why? You’re clean as a whistle.”

  “I’m a monster compared to the others.”

  “Take it back a notch, then,” she says. “But remember, you’re showing everybody what is possible.”

  “Was Dahlia your last?”

  “She was. I’d planned to watch you compete and then we would spend the day together. These things never run ahead of schedule!”

  “We can have our day.”

  Camryn unfastens her toolbelt. I take it from her, fold it up and stuff it in my bag. “You want to go watch the women compete?”

  “Not today,” she says. “I had eleven competitors to manage. I’m wiped.”

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders as we wander down the halls.

  “Sounds like someone needs a hot bath and a massage.”

  She turns her face up to me, her long hair streaming down her back. “Somebody offering?”

  “You bet I am.”

  We take our time cutting through the guts of the arena, occasionally pausing to say hello to competitors and trainers still working with Camryn. She was both right and wrong about the consequences of quitting the international circuit.