Hot Pickle: A Best Friend's Sister Romantic Comedy

by JJ Knight

  “He isn’t always,” she says.

  I point out my parking space under a covered awning.

  She kills the car. “I told you we raised ourselves,” she says, making no move to leave the car. “He doesn’t like anything bad happening to me. I think once he sees you’re good for me, he will be okay.”

  “I can wait on that.”

  “I’m worried that he lost the competition in the same hour he found out about us. That’s a lot of blows for someone like him.”

  “Why don’t you text him?”

  We get out of the car. “I might while you’re showering.”

  I take her hand as we walk along the path to my front door. “I should warn you, I’m the messiest of the three brothers.”

  This makes her crack a smile. “I’m a neat freak. We’ll either complement each other, or it will be grounds for divorce.”

  This is better. My shoulders relax, releasing the tension I felt since the fistfight.

  “Here goes.”

  I lead Camryn into my living room, and I see it through her eyes. Weights scattered across the floor. A few towels and, oh great, a jockstrap strewn across the back of the sofa. I quickly snatch them up and wad them into a ball.

  “It could be worse,” she says.

  “Don’t go in the kitchen.”

  “Noted.”

  I lead her to the master bedroom. I use the other bedroom as storage for all my workout equipment and the deli paraphernalia that has accumulated over the years. Thankfully, that door is closed.

  My bedroom isn’t too crazy. Some clothes tossed over a chair. An unmade bed. Thankfully I have a housekeeper who keeps the dust and grime levels down. It’s just clutter.

  “Not bad at all,” she says. “I can work with this.”

  I lean over to kiss her forehead. “I’ll take a quick shower.” I squeeze her arm. “Let me know if you hear from Franklin.”

  She sits on the end of the bed and pulls out her phone.

  I jump in the shower, not even waiting for the water to get hot. I want all the extra oil and color off my body, then we’ll go. My eye stings when the water hits it, but I’m okay with the sucker punch. The moment was stressful, but the truth got out. And I still placed. Who would’ve thought? The sponsor guy knew what he was talking about.

  When I walk into the bedroom in my towel, Camryn lies back on my bed staring at the ceiling.

  “Any news?”

  “He didn’t respond. I’m not surprised.”

  “Hopefully he’s licking his wounds with his new cronies. And if he doesn’t want to work out with me anymore, he’ll have plenty to choose from at the gym. I can start over at a new place.”

  She sits up. “So, you’re going to do Nationals?”

  “Not sure yet. I need to do some research. I don’t want to go in there and look like a chump at barely over two hundred pounds when they’re all two-fifty of pure muscle. I might drop down to light heavyweight.”

  “It’s not a bad strategy, but you might have to re-qualify in the new weight class. We should ask Amy.”

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  I open the drawer to grab a pair of boxers, but Camryn comes up behind me, loosening the towel. “So how late can we be before your family starts looking for you?”

  The towel hits the floor.

  “I say we find out.”

  When we finally make it to the restaurant, the table is already full of appetizers and drinks. We decide not to cover my eye again.

  Jason notices it first. “You guys get in a brawl?”

  “I told you he was wearing makeup,” Anthony says.

  I decide to gloss over it rather than mention Camryn’s brother. It’s too complicated. “Some bodybuilders live up to the hype.”

  “Someone punched you?” Anthony asks.

  “Right before we went on.”

  “Why?” Dad asks.

  I shrug. “It’s complicated.”

  Nova cuts in. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nah. Makes me look even tougher.” I strike a bicep pose and everybody claps. “Now let’s eat.”

  They take the hint, and Anthony passes me a plate. “I hope you can still carb up. Because we got all your favorites.”

  The table is stuffed with focaccia bread, seasoned oil, cheese and olive trays, and an entire platter of calamari.

  I turn to Camryn. “When are Nationals?”

  “Five weeks.”

  “Bring it on.”

  Dad pulls a chair out for Camryn next to Anthony. “Have a seat, my dear. So glad you could make it.”

  Camryn meets my eyes and lifts her eyebrows. Right. The brother crush.

  “Dad, Jason, Nova, Anthony. I’m sorry I didn’t get to introduce you to Camryn properly.” I put my arm around her. “She and I have been dating for about a month.”

  My gaze glances off Anthony, but he’s clapping heartily. “I knew it!” he says.

  “Excellent,” Jason agrees. “Now the pressure is off me to provide a grandkid.”

  Nova smacks his arm. “Jason!”

  “What?” Jason says. “Dad’s on us all the time. When he isn’t, Grammy is.”

  “You’re engaged,” Anthony says. “You’ve got a head start, so the clock is ticking.”

  “Not you, too.” Jason tosses an olive at his brother.

  “I want to be a crazy uncle!”

  “Perfect,” Jason says. “Make me and Anthony crazy uncles first.”

  “Sorry for this, Camryn,” I say. “They get ahead of themselves.”

  “It’s all right,” she says with a laugh. I can tell she’s pleased to be accepted so easily.

  I busy myself with piling up an incredible amount of food. I’m starving.

  Dad watches me fill the plate. “You can eat all that and stay as fit as you are?”

  “He has to eat all that,” Camryn says. “The amount of energy required to keep those muscles in shape is more than you think.”

  “What can I get for you?” I ask her.

  “I’ll handle it. You eat.” She takes the seat Dad pulled out for her, but Anthony moves down one to make room for me.

  I reject any attempts at conversation as I tuck into all the glorious food before me.

  Jason passes Camryn a plate. “Served himself first.”

  “It’s fine,” Camryn says. “I know when not to get between a bodybuilder and his carb load.”

  She adds a pile of olives and cheese to her plate. “How long are you all going to stay in L.A.?”

  “We’re all flying out tomorrow afternoon,” Dad says. “We had a great time. Son, you looked great up there. You did us proud.”

  I shrug. “I was outclassed. But you never know how the judging is going to go.”

  “Nonsense. It took a lot of work to even get this far.” Dad settles back in his chair, wine glass in hand. He’s pleased, I can see it on his face. “You had a nice crowd cheering you on.”

  I’m busy stuffing food in my gullet, so Camryn says,” The gym where he works out sponsored tickets so members could come see Franklin and Max compete.”

  Dad turns to her. “Where is that brother of yours? He would have been welcome here tonight.”

  “He took off with his friends,” she says.

  “They were an enthusiastic bunch. I’m glad to see you so well supported in your new pursuit.” Dad takes another glance at my half-empty plate. “This is the wildest thing I’ve ever seen.” He pats his gut. “If I ate all that, you’d have to roll me out of here.”

  The hollowness of my belly finally starts to dissipate, so I take a breath. “It sounds like I won’t be competing again until after Grammy’s big shindig. I’m first, right? From what I understand, I kick it off next week, then it’s the Austin branch, then Boulder.”

  “Got it backward,” Jason says. “Anthony second, and I’m third. On the actual date of the anniversary, we will all convene in New York for the big to-do.”

  “Right. Nationals are also in New Yor
k.” I turned to Camryn. “You up for that? We go to compete, and then this big family anniversary for my grandmother?”

  Her eyes meet mine. I don’t know if this is too much, too fast. But I want her there. And I want her to know that.

  “We’ll need to do some planning,” she says. “But I think that’ll work.”

  I grab her hand and pull it to my chest. “This is going to be a fantastic summer.”

  The waiter takes all our orders, and Dad’s eyes practically bug out when I order two pasta dishes.

  The conversation turns to the anniversary and stories of Grammy, then we rib each other about various childhood exploits. I can tell Camryn is delighted with the whole thing. Even if it means I got a shiner, I’m glad the story is out. Having her here makes the night absolutely perfect.

  Dad’s phone buzzes several times, but he ignores it.

  I ask him, “You’re not even going to check that?”

  “I don’t do business when I’m with my family,” he says. “An adage that will save you boys lots of trouble in your marriage if you abide by it as well.”

  But five minutes later, my phone buzzes, too. Then Dad’s again.

  “Maybe you should check,” Camryn says.

  I flip over my phone. The missed call is our family lawyer. What would he want on a Saturday night? “Dad, it’s Ted. Look at yours.”

  He picks his up. “Mine, too. What the hell does he want?” He clicks through. “What’s going on, Ted?”

  While he’s talking, my phone buzzes again. This time it’s Andre, my store manager.

  I click through and listen a moment, rage thundering through my body.

  Dad’s eyes catch mine. His lips are pressed tight.

  Then I look over at Camryn. When she realizes something is terribly wrong, fear etches her features.

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell Andre and end the call.

  “What’s going on?” Jason asks.

  I hesitate. I know my next words are going to devastate Camryn. Looks like Dad already knows, although he won’t know who.

  I hold Cam’s hand as I say it.

  “A green truck has driven straight into the front glass windows of L.A. Pickle.”

  34

  Camryn

  Oh no.

  The flashing red and blue lights wash over us as I stand with the Pickle family in front of Max’s deli.

  It’s Franklin’s truck. No doubt about it.

  He’s not in it. No one has seen him.

  The front of the truck has taken out the low border of brick and crashed through the glass windows of the main restaurant.

  The power has been cut to the place for safety, so I can only see the register and counter by the giant lights set up to shine inside.

  A firefighter walks out, his heavy boots crunching glass. “Nothing wrong inside. Don’t see anything stolen, but you will want to check once everything’s secure. Probably somebody was drunk and lost control of the car.”

  Max and I glance at each other. Franklin isn’t much of a drinker, although tonight might have led him to it.

  This looks deliberate.

  The firefighter gestures to the rubble of bricks beneath the front tires. “They probably would have backed out and taken off, but the front end got hung up. Must have left on foot.”

  “There’s no blood or anything inside the truck, right?” I ask.

  The police officer standing nearby shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t look like the person who was driving the truck got hurt. The airbag did deploy, of course.”

  I can’t get close to the open driver’s side door. It’s cordoned off with tape. The scene is like a nightmare.

  Sherman powers off his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “The insurance adjusters will be out in the morning. I hired a cleanup team to board this up.” He pats Max on the back. “It’s a building. We’ll fix it.”

  Max stares into the cavern of his open deli. “But Grammy’s celebration is supposed to start next weekend. We were supposed to be the first one.”

  Sherman kicks at a loose brick. “We could rearrange the timeline, give you a chance to rebuild.”

  Anthony dodges bricks and glass as he steps close. “I don’t know, Dad. We’ve got the whole publicity engine already in place. It might be easier to cancel Max’s part of the celebration.”

  I clutch Max’s hand. I feel so responsible. We should have been more discreet. Skipped meeting when we knew Franklin was around. Controlled when he found out, and how.

  “Surely there’s something we can do,” Jason says. “Set up shop in some empty storefront temporarily?”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Sherman says. “Right now, it’s all about finding out who did this and why.”

  I glance up at Max again. So far, we haven’t given up the name of my brother.

  A young, fresh-faced police officer shouts over the cab of the truck. “I ran the plates. We have the owner of the truck—Franklin Schultz.”

  So much for that. I let go of Max and step away. “That’s my brother,” I say.

  Sherman turns to us in disbelief. “Why would he do this to Max’s deli?”

  Max blows out a long stream of air. “He didn’t want me dating his sister.”

  “Oh,” the two brothers say in unison.

  Sherman’s face seems older in the flashing colors. “I guess that explains the shiner on your eye. Camryn, have you heard from him? Is he hurt?”

  It’s nice he’s worried about someone who wrecked his son’s business. “I’ve been texting him all evening. He hasn’t responded.”

  Max’s jaw is tight. I’ve never seen him look so angry. “It’s late. Why don’t you head back to your place? We’re going to be here most of the night to keep the place secure.”

  I get it. They want to talk about Franklin without me around. “Okay. Does anyone want me to run them by the hotel?”

  Nova steps up. “I’ll go. I’m exhausted. The brothers can handle this.”

  “Sherman?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I’ll stay here with my boys.”

  I lead Nova to my car, and we ride in silence. There’s not much to say. My guilt weighs heavy.

  As we pull up to the entrance, Nova finally says, “Max is super great. I’m sure you guys will find a way to work all this out.”

  I don’t know how to respond. I feel like my family has directly ruined theirs.

  When Nova closes the door, I’m glad to be alone. I try texting Franklin again, then try calling. Nothing.

  I drive across town to his apartment. No one’s there, not even his deadbeat roommate.

  Finally, in desperation, I call my parents.

  Dad answers the phone. “It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “What’s going on?” His voice is full of annoyance at the inconvenience of my call. For a moment, I think why did you guys even have kids?

  But I only say, “I need to find Franklin.”

  “We haven’t seen either one of you since Christmas. Funny how that is, since we live in the same city and all.”

  I take a deep breath. “He wrecked his truck. But he wasn’t in it. I’m worried about him, that’s all.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  My mom’s voice is shrill in the background. “Is who drunk? What’s going on?”

  I press my phone tightly against my ear. “I don’t think so. I need to find him. Will you let me know if he calls over there, or shows up?”

  Dad’s tone turns sharp. “You listen here, don’t expect us to bail you guys out of trouble.”

  “Dad, I’m not in trouble. I’m just trying to find Franklin. Your son.”

  Mom and dad start squabbling about what’s happened to Franklin, and why I don’t know where he is.

  I hang up. That was a wasted effort.

  I pull out of Franklin’s parking lot.

  Where would he go? He’d have to head somewhere on foot or call for a ride.

  I
think about all those guys who came to the meet from Buster’s Gym. Did they ride together? Probably. Did they know what he did? Did they help?

  Anger makes me clench the steering wheel on the drive to the gym. Surely none of those friends would have taken part in sabotaging Max’s deli.

  But when I arrive, sure enough, several cars are parked along the curb. The street is otherwise silent.

  I slide in behind a beat-up Camaro and walk up to the blacked-out front glass. The door’s locked.

  I knock on it several times. No one answers.

  Maybe some of them left their cars here and rode together somewhere. I could sit in my car and wait for them to return.

  I’m about to walk away when I hear the unmistakable sound of a metal plate hitting the cement floor.

  Someone is in there.

  I bang harder on the glass.

  I text Franklin again. I’m here at the gym. Open the damn door.

  For a while, there is nothing, and I think about leaving again.

  But then the lock squeaks, and the glass door pushes open.

  I recognize the man. He was hanging out with Franklin today.

  “Is my brother here?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  Good grief. “I do.”

  My brother’s voice roars from the weight room. “I don’t want to see that lying snake bitch.”

  Oh no, he didn’t.

  I shove the man aside and storm through the darkened foyer into the weight room. Franklin sits on a bench, his other three cronies nearby.

  “What the hell did you do?” I ask him.

  “Do you like the new decoration in front of your boyfriend’s crappy restaurant?”

  The three other men glance at each other uneasily. Good.

  “That’s a felony,” I say. “You could go to freaking jail.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t think so. Your boy won’t want the bad publicity. I got it all figured out. Besides, you two owe me.”

  I storm right up to him and kick him in the shin. “What the hell do we owe you? I think YOU owe US because you’re an overbearing piece of shit!”

  The other guys step back. “I’m not interested in jail,” one says.

  Another one punches his arm. “Stand up for your friends, asshole.”