Spicy Pickle (Fake Engagement)

by J J Knight

  Her fingers are cool from the water glass. I squeeze them. “I’m glad your parents are happy.”

  “You said your brother is married. Does his wife support his deli?”

  The vice on my chest loosens. “Absolutely. Nova was the acting manager at Jason’s deli when he met her. It’s quite a story. He pretended to be a new hire because he was trying to investigate some missing money.”

  “So, she didn’t know he was her boss?”

  “Nope. It all came crashing down when she found out.”

  “I bet. But they’re married now?”

  “Totally happy. It worked out.”

  The waiter arrives with the glasses of wine, placing the red in front of me and the white in front of her. “Your pick for the first try,” he says. “Then we’ll swap spit.”

  Her smile is bright and reaches her eyes. “I’ll go with white first.”

  She takes a tentative sip and nods. “It’s good. So, what about your other brother?”

  “Max and Camryn are different. She works with athletes on the bodybuilding circuit. That’s how she met Max.”

  “He does bodybuilding in addition to running the deli?”

  “Yep. But my brothers only have one deli. I have two.”

  “Do you spend much time at the one in New York?”

  “A fair amount. But Dad helps out. I’ve been staying close to home since this whole Milton Creed thing started.”

  She frowns. “Should we have done shows in New York then? I took you away from both your delis for a whole week.”

  “No, no. It’s fine. Everything is running smoothly. And all this publicity helps grow the business. I’m sure you’ve heard sales are up at both our delis. Charity forwarded me some mentions on Twitter about lines out the door. My manager is adding shifts.”

  She nods. “Dad told me. It’s great, right?”

  “We’ve only just begun. We still get to introduce the joint dessert. We’ll announce my pickle and your relish. Lots of reasons for them to come back. And then of course the online store.”

  “By the end of this week, it will all be in place.” She lifts her wine glass to her lips and closes her eyes.

  It’s grown fully dark outside, and the candlelight flickers across her face. Our table is softly illuminated by an overhead light. The big leather chairs feel like something you would relax in at home.

  I like this. Being with her. Seeing our joint venture succeed.

  Her voice is husky as she says, “Just a week ago, I thought everything was going to fall apart.” She opens her eyes. “But you fixed it.”

  “All I did was kiss you.”

  “Biggest stroke of brilliance I’ve known in my lifetime.”

  I want to tell her it was so easy. That she is infinitely kissable.

  But the waiter arrives with two salads.

  I sigh. Dinners are great, but I’m ready for time alone with Magnolia.

  20

  Magnolia

  I wake up at the crack of dawn. The first night in a new hotel always gets to me.

  But I’m willing to admit something to all of you.

  It’s also about Anthony Pickle.

  Last night’s sightseeing and dinner were amazing. In fact, for a hot minute I thought something might happen when we returned to the hotel.

  But Anthony was a gentleman. We entered through the office between our two suites, and he wished me good night and headed to his own room.

  I have to admit, it confuses me. Is this real or not? I keep thinking I sense genuine emotions from him, but then I’m not sure.

  I feel like a sixteen-year-old girl.

  But I want to do something for him. A gesture like the dinner at Sir Winston’s he arranged.

  I do some early morning Googling on the pickle theme. Yodeling pickles. Silly. Pickle candy? Gross. Pickle…bouquets?

  Then I see it. The perfect thing.

  It’s unusual. A little bit naughty.

  I grab an Uber to the small boutique plant nursery.

  I walk the aisle, and when I spot what I’m looking for, I start laughing so hard that other shoppers look my way.

  It’s a cactus. Officially, it’s Trichocereus bridgesii.

  But there’s only one way to describe it.

  A penis cactus.

  Spread out in front of me in small decorative pots, are row after row of tall girthy cucumber-like cactus plants in various stages of appearing to be a green penis.

  An elderly woman shopkeeper in a red apron sidles close to me. “These are very popular. Getting one for someone special?”

  “You could say that.” I bite my lip to control my giggles.

  She tilts her head as she gazes at my face. “You look familiar.”

  I figure she gets a lot of celebrities here, given the exclusivity of the store and its proximity to the big studios.

  “I’m Magnolia Boudreaux. I’m going to be on Daytime with Anastasia in a few hours and I’m thinking of giving my fellow guest one of these on the show.”

  Her eyes light up. Of course they do. I’m about to give her shop major promo.

  She glances at the display of green penises. “We should pick the best one.”

  We sort through the plants. “What about this one?” she asks. She holds up a particularly accurate specimen, uncircumcised.

  “That’s a good one,” I say.

  She walks around the table. “Unless you want something huge.”

  She holds up a monster. Tall and fat but with the right tip to make sure the connection is made. Circumcised this time. The pot is cream-colored with a broad green stripe. “Perfect,” I say. “How much is it?”

  “I’m happy to provide it to you since it will be on air,” she says. “Would you like us to deliver it to the studio to keep the surprise?”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Do you have a publicist working with the show?”

  Clearly, she’s experienced with this. “I do.”

  “Call them and have them notify their contact that a delivery driver will be arriving with the cactus. They’ll have it ready for you in the green room or possibly somewhere on the set. Your handler will let you know.”

  I feel tingly with excitement. “This is going to be fun.”

  She carries the cactus behind the register. “You bet it will. I’ll have my driver get on this right away. Don’t forget to call the publicist. They’ll list our store in the credits.”

  I pull my phone out of my purse. “Doing it right now.”

  My steps are light as I walk down the sidewalk. I request a ride back to the hotel, then place the call to Charity, who says she’ll handle it straight away.

  I’ve pulled many fun pranks in my life, particularly on my sister. But never for such a big audience. I think I know Anthony well enough that he will find it hilarious.

  I can’t wait.

  Anthony and I ride over to the studio together. This one is part of a big commercial lot. By the time we are through the gates and onto the property, I’m starting to feel like an actual celebrity.

  I spot a woman in a gold gown. “Is that Gal Gadot?” I ask, my breath catching.

  Anthony leans over me to peer out. “I’d say that’s probably her stunt double.”

  More people wander the long drive between buildings, and I watch with strained attention, wondering who I’ll see.

  The car slides to a stop by a beige building that looks like all the others.

  “I guess this is us,” Anthony says.

  The driver walks around the car to let us out. We’ve barely stood up when the back door of the building opens and a beefy Hispanic man with a headset waves us forward. “Anthony. Magnolia. So good to see you.”

  We follow him into the bowels of the building. “I’m Marco. I’ll be with you all afternoon through rehearsal and recording. Anthony, I’m going to drop you in the green room. Magnolia, we need to get you approved by makeup and hair. But you look fantastic.”

  I’m glad they
’re separating us, so I can ask him to check on the location of my penis cactus.

  When I’m settled in a chair in front of a large lighted mirror, Franco sidles up close. “Your item has arrived. It has been approved by the show. And I have to say, it’s hilarious. Anastasia’s going to bring it out about two-thirds of the way into the segment, right after the dessert tasting. It will not be rehearsed.”

  I nod. “Thanks, Franco.”

  “I’m going to meet up with your boy.”

  My boy. I forget that everyone thinks we’re together.

  But aren’t we?

  The makeup artist tweaks the highlights on my cheekbones and adds extra shadow to my eyelids. “Give me your phone so I can snap your look,” she says.

  I pass it over.

  “It looks like the stylist is good but not experienced with show lighting. Show her this before your next appearance.”

  I nod. Within minutes, Franco is back and leading me to the green room. “You lovebirds can hang out here until your rehearsal,” he says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Admittedly, that’s not much.”

  Then he’s gone.

  Anthony waits in a chair, scrolling through his phone. “They’re really hyping us on here. I’ve seen two ads with our faces.”

  I sit in a chair close by. “That’s good. I’m glad we get to announce the dessert.”

  “I brought four. Hopefully, nobody has tampered with them.” He flashes a wry grin.

  I bump his arm with my elbow. “Are you feeding me?”

  “You know it. We’ve had lots of practice.”

  Our gazes lock for a moment. I remember last night, passing bits of Beef Wellington and salmon back and forth.

  “Feeding each other is becoming a habit,” I say.

  “I like it.”

  I glance around, but no one else is in the room. He isn’t having to act right now. And yet he’s saying all the things I would want to hear.

  Is it real? Or is he prepping me for being smitten on camera?

  It’s hard to know.

  The door opens with a roar of raucous laughter, and five young men in ripped jeans and leather vests tumble into the room.

  They don’t seem to be totally sober.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” one of them says. “We’re here for our munchies.”

  I glance over at Anthony with a smile. He pinches his thumb and finger together and holds them close to his lips, pretending to suck in.

  Another of the guys sees me and lowers his sunglasses. “There’s a bitchin’ broad in here.”

  Anthony puts his arm around me.

  “I get it.” His sunglasses go back up. “You licked it. It’s yours.”

  Franco calls for us. We hold hands in the hall, and crew members pass us with a smile. We are rushed through the rehearsal with Anastasia, who is dressed in sweatpants, the stylist working on her hair.

  “I’m behind schedule this morning,” she says. “You two are pros. Be genuine. Sit close. Are you going to kiss her? Because everybody’s hoping that you kiss her.”

  Anthony smiles in my direction. “I never miss an opportunity to kiss Magnolia.”

  The talk show goes perfectly. Anastasia is sweet and graceful. Every few questions she asks, “Do you have another kiss for the audience?”

  I’m assuming she wants several, so they can use the best one or two on the show. I don’t mind.

  We walk to a tall table and show off the new dessert. Anastasia pronounces it divine, two soft sugar cookies with a thick raspberry filling. Each cookie is piped with a heart on top.

  Anthony feeds me a bite of cookie and gives me another kiss. We’re standing this time, so it’s less awkward than sitting together on the straight-backed sofa.

  We both taste of sugar and fruit. My lipstick has been sealed so that it doesn’t smear.

  We linger on this one, our hands clasped tightly between us. I keep my eyes closed, and my chin uplifted. For a moment I wonder what will happen when the talk shows stop. Will I see him again? Will this simply end? Will we say we broke up?

  My chest tightens, and my grip on his hand squeezes.

  He pulls away. “Are you all right, my love?”

  He’s never said that before. My love.

  I nod. “I love doing the shows with you.”

  The audience lets out a long awwwww.

  “All right, lovebirds. Before I get a sugar rush, let’s see what we have over here.”

  A man walks out with a tall narrow box that must contain my gift for Anthony.

  He looks at me. “What is this?”

  “I picked something up for you this morning at a shop called Old Juanita’s. Since your pickle brought us together, I thought it would be perfect.”

  The audience roars at the joke.

  Anthony takes the lid off the top of the box. It’s well-designed, because the sides fall flat as soon as the top is removed.

  The penis cactus is revealed in all its glory.

  Anthony almost chokes. “Is this what I think it is?”

  I open my eyes wide and innocent, like when we’d double entendre’d on Milton’s show. “It’s a pickle, Anthony. Just like your ghost pepper one. It’s how we met.”

  Anastasia doubles over with laughter. “Magnolia, I think that’s more than a pickle.”

  I turn it around by the bowl. “Whatever do you mean?” I wrap my fingers around the base where there are no cactus spines. “It’s so much like you, Anthony.”

  The laughter in the room lasts so long that Anastasia calls for a cut so everyone can compose themselves. “Good stuff,” she says. “Keep it coming.”

  When the cameras are rolling again, she says, “I had no idea that these even existed.”

  “It’s called Trichocereus bridgesii.” I’ve been practicing the pronunciation since I bought it that morning.

  “That’s a mouthful,” Anthony says, sending the entire room into outrageous laughter again.

  “I have to get a picture with Anthony and Magnolia and their pickle plant.” Anastasia uses her fingers to make air quotes.

  She pulls out her phone and makes a big show of taking a selfie with us and the cactus.

  “And that’s our lovebirds,” she says. “For those of you lucky enough to be in driving range of Boulder, Colorado, go try out their new dessert at either of the delis. And if not, I hear there’s a new online venture coming where you can pick up some of the wonderful things they are going to create together.”

  “Absolutely, Anastasia,” Anthony says smoothly. “The online store is already up and running.”

  The audience claps, and we head off the side stage. The crew gathers the rolling table with the dessert and Anthony’s penis plant.

  He squeezes me close to him as we walk down the hall. “Finally, one that goes exactly as planned.”

  I agree. Everything is perfect.

  21

  Anthony

  I pace my hotel room the night of Anastasia’s show. It’s been a long day.

  But I want to see Magnolia.

  I pace more.

  We had so many kisses today. It should be strange in front of so many people. Especially since we’re not actually a couple.

  But it’s not.

  I pick up the room service menu, intending to order something. But then set it down again.

  Maybe we can order together.

  No.

  I should leave her alone.

  I pace again.

  I decide to put the cactus in the room between our suites. Maybe if I’m loud enough, she’ll hear me. If she’s interested, she might come out. And then I can casually say, “You want to order some food together?”

  I pick up the plant, but before I reach the door, my confidence runs for the hills.

  Is she sick of me? What if she’s in there thinking Why can’t I go a single day without having to deal with Anthony Pickle?

  But I’m not asking anything. I’m just moving to the middle room.

  I draw a
deep breath and turn the knob.

  I pull it closed hard enough that it could be heard, but not so loud that it would wake her if she was already sleeping.

  I wander the office space, trying to decide where exactly to place this crazy plant. There’s a telephone table between the two chairs near the window where we sat earlier.

  A counter on the side wall serves as a place for setting out snacks and water for meetings.

  In another corner, a heavy round table is surrounded by six rolling chairs.

  If we do have dinner together, that’s where we’ll go, so I place the cactus smack in the center.

  I hold still, listening. Magnolia doesn’t come out.

  Is she even in there? I guess she could’ve left and gone to dinner on her own.

  My gut plummets at the thought.

  I return to the table and pick up the plant, this time setting it down more firmly. It gives a resounding thud.

  I pause.

  Still nothing.

  I plunk into an armchair, tapping my thumb on my knee. Maybe I should let this go. Return to my room and order dinner.

  But I don’t want to.

  I pick up the hotel phone receiver, then drop it down again.

  And listen. Still nothing.

  Shoot.

  I’m going to have to be bold.

  I walk over to her door and lift my hand to knock.

  But right as I’m about to make contact, the door flies open.

  She’s changed into a loose pink sweatshirt that reads Get Juiced across the front and Army green sweatpants.

  “Oh!” she says.

  “Hey.” I drop my hand.

  “I thought I heard you out here.” She sees the penis cactus and heads right for it. “You brought Penny out here. I love it.”

  “Penny?”

  She shifts the bowl holding the plant. “That’s what I named it.”

  “Penny is a weird name for a cactus that is probably…male.”

  She shakes her head with a laugh. “Think it through, Anthony.” She watches me, turning her hand in circles as if she’s waving the answer at me.