Spicy Pickle (Fake Engagement)

by J J Knight

  After we return to the hotel and devour the pizza, Magnolia says she has something to show me.

  I kick off my shoes and lie back on the bed in her room. We seem to have unofficially chosen it as our resting place.

  I glance around. Her suitcases are organized, propped open on racks. She’s neat and orderly, but I could have guessed that.

  Her shoe boxes are stacked on the dresser. I have a similar set straight from Charity. I remember that we’re supposed to call her to say how the show went. It can wait.

  Magnolia peeks her face through the cracked door. “Are you ready for this?”

  “Do I get a hint?”

  “Well, you remember that first night when you showed me your plaid pajamas?”

  I do. “You said you had something you would never wear.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  Now I’m interested. I sit up on the edge of the bed. “Well, let’s have it.”

  When Magnolia steps out, I’m momentarily struck dumb.

  She wears a satin cream silk robe that barely tops her thighs.

  Her feet are encased in satin kitten heels, leaving her legs long and exposed.

  “This really is a gift from Charity,” I tell her.

  Magnolia glances down. “Isn’t it?”

  “You think she suspected we would end up together?”

  Magnolia takes a couple of steps closer to the bed, her hand on the belt. “Based on this, I’m thinking she did.”

  In a flash, she unties the belt and lets the robe fall to the floor.

  If I were a fourteen-year-old boy, I would have completely shot my load.

  The cranberry négligée Magnolia wears is completely sheer. It falls across her body in a sheen of shimmery gauze.

  Her pink nipples taunt me, caressed by the fabric.

  The panties could barely be called anything at all, two tiny strings tied in bows on her hips, ending in the narrowest V.

  She follows my gaze. “I had to do some lady-scaping to wear this sucker.”

  I’m practically salivating. I simultaneously want her to never take it off, and to take it off right now.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I say.

  She touches her cheek with her finger, her eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Why, Mr. Pickle, such language from a gentleman.”

  I reach out for her with a growl and drag her close to me. I want to memorize her. Then I want to touch every inch of her, and lick.

  But she whirls away from me.

  “Not so fast.” She walks over to the enormous plate glass window on the wall. It’s covered with blackout curtains.

  She whisks them open in one quick move.

  Outside, the Hollywood Hills sparkle with lights. It’s titillating, seeing her, so naked against an outdoor scene. But we’re on the top floor. No one should be able to see in.

  “I want you right here,” she says.

  I have underestimated Magnolia Boudreaux. Quiet and unassuming.

  Not tonight.

  She looks me up and down. “You should be naked.”

  I have never pulled my clothes off as fast as I did right then.

  When I’ve got the condom on, I stride over to her, pulling her body roughly against mine. “Sometimes I think I know you, and then you surprise the hell out of me.”

  “Do I?” Her sparkling eyes search mine. “I wouldn’t want to be predictable.”

  I flash back to that very first time we met, on the set of Milton’s show. This fire in her was there then. I see it now.

  “Miss Magnolia, prepare to get fucked.”

  I press her against the window, trapping her hands beneath mine. Those pert breasts lift as she sucks in a breath.

  I blow hot air across her skin, easily passing through the thin wisp of fabric that hides nothing.

  I take a nipple in my mouth, teasing it into a tight bud.

  So she wants something different. I’m game.

  I move my hand to grasp both her wrists, and jerk the tie holding back the curtains.

  I wrap it around her joined hands and pull them high.

  “I like this,” I say. “I really like this.”

  Her gaze lifts to mine. “Me too.”

  The glass is cool on my forearm as I hold her hands above her head. Beyond the window, lights twinkle, and down below, cars cruise along the street.

  But up here, it’s just us. I grasp her thigh with my hand and part her legs.

  My mouth claims hers as my fingers easily shift aside the flimsy fabric of the panties and slide inside her.

  She’s slick and wet. This night is getting her, the window, the outfit.

  I lift her thigh and wrap it around my body.

  “You ever scream?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  I enter her in one swift thrust.

  She sucks in a sharp breath. “God.”

  I press her into the chilly window, thrusting upward, hard and firm.

  She gasps, again and again. “God. Anthony.”

  She liked it gentle and easy last night.

  But I can see she likes this, too. Hard and fast and relentless. I lower my head to gently bite her nipple.

  “Oh my God!”

  I release her hands and grasp her other thigh, wrapping both legs around me. I hold her with both hands, my body pushing into hers without mercy. My thighs work, muscles clenching. Her face is tight with concentration.

  She can’t stop calling out. “God. God. Anthony.”

  I grind against her with every thrust, activating her clit.

  The tone of her voice goes up with each connection until it reaches a keening cry.

  Her legs began to tremble. I thrust in again, this time keeping the connection, grinding and pressing, gyrating in a circle against her wet, slick body pressed against the window.

  She screams.

  Her body shudders. I pump all the way through the pulsing. Only when she begins to settle in my arms do I unleash in her.

  By the time it’s all spent, we’re both shaking. I shift her in my arms to carry her to the bed. I lay her down and untie her wrists.

  Her eyes are closed, her face the picture of bliss haloed by her golden hair.

  The fabric floats along her body, and I take a moment to gently run my hands along every curve, across her breasts, rising and falling gently with her breath. Then her ribs, belly button, and down across her hips. I tug on the strings of the tiny panties and they fall away.

  “Maybe something to bring you down?” I ask. “A gentle nightcap.”

  “Mmmm hmmm.”

  I lean low near her belly, sliding her thighs apart.

  She moans gently as my tongue finds those tender overworked parts.

  I tease her carefully, bringing her up slowly. When I think she’s back in that space, I gently suckle at her clit.

  Her body trembles, and she cries out. “Oh my God.”

  Her body pulses gently until this orgasm also subsides.

  She turns onto her side with a long, slow sigh. I slip in behind her, pulling the covers over us. By the time I properly spoon behind her, she is already asleep.

  And I’m pretty sure I’m falling hard.

  24

  Magnolia

  The rest of our trip is like a dream. More shows, Anthony by my side.

  More sex. So. Much. Sex.

  We explore every side of ourselves. Tender. Hot. On fire. There seems no limit to how differently we can do the same act.

  I’ve never known anything like this.

  But all good trips must come to an end.

  And now we’re back in Boulder with no idea how to approach the not-fake fake relationship with our families.

  I’m hoping to broach the subject with Havannah, but with her upcoming sonogram and baby daddy search, she’s terribly distracted.

  The morning of the doctor’s appointment, we have to straight-up lie to our parents about why neither of us can be at the deli.

  I
take the fall, saying I’m having a girl problem and need Havannah with me at the doctor’s office. Depending on how you interpret it, maybe it’s not such a big fib after all. Because we definitely have a girl problem. My sister needs a conception date.

  I sit outside the room while Dr. Briggs does the pelvic exam. I love my sister, but there’s only so far up her biz I need to see.

  But when the nurse rolls in the sonogram machine, I follow.

  “Everything looks good so far,” Havannah says when I stand near her head. “Since I’m nine weeks, we should be able to make out the baby’s body.”

  Nine weeks. That seems like forever. I lean down to whisper, “Did you make any headway on the…you know?”

  “Possibly. The sonogram will tell us almost certainly.”

  The nurse passes the doctor something that looks like a curling iron. Is that what’s going inside my sister?

  I grip her hand. Havannah watches the black screen.

  “Here we go,” the doctor says.

  I stick to the screen too, not interested in seeing the long wand disappear or thinking about where it’s going.

  The white dots on the black screen shift and move. I can’t make out anything.

  There’s a black hole in the center, and then, a round edge of white. Is that the baby?

  Then I see it. The baby’s silhouette, a belly and a head. “There’s the wee one,” the doctor says. He holds the wand with one hand and types with the other. “We’ll take a shot of that for home.”

  “Do we have a conception date?” Havannah asks.

  “Once we do the measurements, it will pop up some dates,” he says. A tiny print scrolls out of the machine. “Here’s the head. The body. And look, there’s the heartbeat.” He turns a dial and a whomp, whomp, whomp sound fills the room.

  Tears squeeze out of my sister’s eyes, and I instantly start crying, too. “There he is,” she says. “He’s real.”

  Numbers begin to fill in the right-hand side. “Looks like the LMP is September 16,” the doctor says. “That would be when you bled last. The baby’s due date is June 22.”

  Havannah squeezes my hand. “A June bug!”

  I peer at the numbers. “So, conception is...?”

  The doctor shifts the wand and the view changes. “Right at the end of September. Maybe the 30th, give or take a day. Does that sound right?”

  “It does. Thank you,” Havannah says.

  We watch as he takes more measurements, then withdraws the wand. “Everything looks good. On your way out, you’ll set up several appointments. Feel free to call any time you have worries. Angie will give you lots of things to read. What to eat. What to expect. Congratulations.” He shakes her hand, then mine. “See you soon, Havannah.”

  When they’ve left, Havannah sits up. “I’m going to get dressed, then we’ll look through my texts. September 30 was mid-week, and there was only one guy I didn’t bang on a weekend.”

  “So, you think you’ve narrowed it to one?”

  “I think so.” Her mouth is set in a tight, serious line as she pads to the corner for her clothes. “We’ll want a paternity test, but I feel sure it’s going to be the first of the three-boy run I had. The others were too late.”

  When we get in my car with Havannah’s books and pamphlets, she starts searching her phone. “So, Mark was October 3 and Jessie was October 9. That’s too late.”

  “Who was September 30?”

  “It was September 29. And all I have is his username.”

  I brake too hard at a red light, shifting us forward in the seat. “What?”

  “He was the one who paid cash. We got tacos and then did the deed in his car.”

  “You conceived your baby in a car?”

  “Yeah, the dark might explain the condom incident. Maybe he didn’t even put it on right.”

  “Havannah!”

  “Water under the bridge.”

  A horn honks and I realize the light has turned green again. “Well, is he still on Blendr? Can you score another hookup and find him that way?”

  “Already on it.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, so I focus on driving. No sense getting us killed before we can even find the baby daddy.

  “We should probably go to the deli,” I say. “We’ve missed a good chunk of the day already.”

  “Fine,” she says. “I’m going to have to tell Mom and Dad eventually.” She waves the sonogram. “They’re going to be grandparents.”

  “You’re going to do that today? At the deli?”

  “No. I should figure out this father thing first. It will be easier if I at least appear to be in a relationship.” She bumps my arm with her elbow. “Hey, maybe I can take a few lessons from you about faking it. You and Pickle Boy have convinced the world.”

  Yikes. Right. I need to tell Havannah about my change of status with Anthony. I haven’t had a chance yet.

  “Shit.” Havannah’s voice is laced with fear.

  “What is it?”

  “He hasn’t been active on Blendr in over a month.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Blendr is location-sensitive. So he might not be in Boulder anymore.”

  “Did he live here?”

  “We didn’t get to that!”

  “But he had a car here. So he didn’t fly in for a trip.”

  She pokes at her phone. “True. It was his car for sure. Full of his clothes and random stuff. Definitely not a rental.”

  “Did you two talk at all?”

  “I wasn’t in it for the conversation, Mags.” She huffs out a breath.

  “Are there any clues on his profile?”

  She reads the text. “I’m a cool bro looking for a real ho for a good time. I will treat you right.”

  “God, Havannah. Standards?”

  She turns the phone to me. “What about these standards?”

  When we hit the next red light, I take a look. The man peering out has a huge laugh, shaggy blond hair, and could pass for Kurt Cobain in a heartbeat.

  “Whoa. The baby is going to be one good lookin’ kid.”

  “I know, right!” She turns the phone back. “See?”

  “I get it.” We’re only a few blocks from the deli. “What’s your next move?”

  “His username is CheetahGuitar. That’s got to mean something.”

  “Do you know his first name? You had to say something during the act!”

  She thinks for a second. “Jesse.”

  I relax a little. “The guitar’s a clue. Did Jesse say he was in a band?”

  “There were guitar picks all over his back seat.”

  I picture Havannah banging a Cobain look-alike in a messy back seat and have to shake the image away. “So, start looking for a Jesse in a band related to Cheetah.”

  We pull into the deli lot and Havannah tucks her phone away. “Mags, I’m going to go in and say hi, then head home to do social media alone.” She gestures to the pile of baby paperwork. “My mind is not going to be on pastrami.”

  “I’ll get Dad to drive me home,” I say.

  We head inside. Havannah is true to her word, and after a quick stop by Dad’s office and a short exchange with Mom, she’s off.

  “Keep me posted,” I say. “I want to know.”

  She nods. “I will.”

  I head to the kitchen to see how the new menu items have been faring. We added the new dessert the same day as the announcement. We must improve profits to help Havannah.

  Stupid Jesse and his craptastic condom.

  Sakura oversees two crew members at the metal prep table. They have an entire line of freshly baked sugar cookies set out.

  “How’s it coming?” I ask.

  Her face brightens, and she tucks a bit of shiny black hair under her cap. “The cookies are flying out the door! We have people coming in just to buy some.”

  “Good!” I’m anxious to head to the back and review the daily receipts since we introduced the new menu. “Keep ‘em coming!
”

  “Will you be doing more shows?” she asks. “I’ll want to know when to taper off the supply order.”

  My mind flashes to more cities, more wild nights with Anthony. “Certainly. It’s going very well.”

  Sakura’s gaze rests on my face. “You are glowing, Magnolia. I think the publicity agrees with you.”

  My cheeks warm. “Thank you. I’ll make some projections based on sales so we can decide on the orders.”

  She nods and turns back to the assembly.

  I’ve barely sat in my chair and powered on my computer when someone knocks. I’ve left my office door open.

  I expect it will be Dad, but when I swivel in my chair, I’m surprised to see Shane.

  “Oh—hey,” I say. “Did you need something?”

  Shane’s grin is sheepish. “Just checking in. You doing okay after a week with the enemy?”

  I try not to stiffen. He’s only following up on our pantry discussion. “It went well. Seems like it’s helping business. And that’s the whole point!” I spin back to my computer in hopes that this will send the signal that I’m working.

  But he steps inside the door. “So, I wanted to ask you about something.”

  I sigh. He’s not going to go away. I turn back around. “What is it?”

  He shuffles his shoe on the hardwood floor. “So there’s that new Avengers movie. Would you like to see it?”

  Oh, God. He’s asking me out.

  He’s an employee I’ll be seeing every day, so I try to avoid a direct rejection. “Is there a group of staffers going?”

  His cheeks redden. “No. I meant just you and me.”

  “Oh.”

  He takes another step closer, and I resist the urge to roll backwards to escape him.

  “I think we both know what’s been happening between us,” he says.

  “I don’t think I do.” I try to keep the shakiness from my voice. He’s harmless. We’re at my work and my dad is on the other side of the wall.

  “Grandmama seemed to think we were a good fit.”

  I can’t stop myself from saying, “Don’t call her that.”

  He frowns. “I thought we were all like family here.”

  “Then we definitely shouldn’t be going on a date.” I give him a weak smile. “It would be like dating your sister.”

  “I don’t think of you like a sister.” He leans down, and my panic rises when I realize he intends to kiss me.