Spicy Pickle (Fake Engagement)

by J J Knight

  Magnolia sidles close. “You think she was at Milton’s filming? They had theater student volunteers.”

  I pull Magnolia away to a corner. “I’m positive she was. During rehearsal, they were setting up the lights. She was there.”

  Magnolia’s gaze meets mine. “What are the chances that Shane had Talia doctor the pickles?”

  “High. Do you think he wanted to make you look bad?”

  She shakes her head. “No. He wanted to ask me out. I think he wanted to impress me. He wanted to make you look bad.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  “Not in my phone. But Dan would.”

  We turn back to the party, which has been oblivious to the drama. Havannah remains by the food table. Dan is opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen.

  I take Magnolia’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  Dan doesn’t seem pleased that we’re back, but he plasters a smile on. “Thoughts about that wine?”

  Magnolia’s voice is all business when she says, “Dan, I’m not here to put your employment at risk. You’re a great chef and a strategic part of our expansion, should we get that opportunity.”

  Dan’s hand stills on the bottle. “That’s good.”

  “But I need you to text Shane.”

  The older man’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Is this about the recording? I’ll have you know that I fired him myself. When your father told me about that terrible breach of trust—”

  “It’s more,” Magnolia says.

  “More?” Dan’s hands fall to his sides.

  “We think he doctored the pickles on Milton’s show. Or he had Talia do it. She had access to the set.”

  Dan sags onto a stool near the oven. “I worried about this.”

  “You did?” I ask.

  The man nods, his fingers pulling at his short beard. “He asked me what would make pickles too horrible to eat, too hot for anybody.”

  Magnolia steals a glance at me. “What did you tell him?”

  “To use capsaicin.”

  “Like pepper spray,” I say. “That explains why it burned.”

  “It’s a food product,” Dan says. “It won’t poison you.”

  Magnolia draws in a deep breath. “But it will incapacitate your mouth.”

  I try to control my anger. “And you didn’t think to tell Magnolia about this at any point?”

  Dan drops his gaze to the floor. “Magnolia had already talked to me about altering the pickles, and I told her about the tomatillo. I assumed Shane was just continuing the line of thought. He was with me at work when the show was recorded. I didn’t see any way it could have been him.”

  “But it was her,” Magnolia says. “Talia.”

  Dan nods. “I’m guessing so.”

  “Text him,” I say. “You know we need a screenshot.”

  He pulls out his phone to send a message. After a moment, it chimes, and he types frantically, his mouth twisting at each response.

  Finally, he turns the screen to us. “It’s done.”

  I take it and angle it so Magnolia and I can read.

  Dan: Does Talia work in theater arts?

  Shane: Who wants to know?

  Dan: Me.

  Shane: Sure. She’s done the lighting in the theater all semester.

  Dan: What about Milton’s show? That was a big one.

  Shane: She was there.

  Dan: So she had access to the pickles?

  Shane: What are you saying?

  Dan: Shane, did Talia put the capsaicin I told you about in the pickles on Milton’s show?

  Shane’s response is exactly what we wanted.

  Of course she did. And I’d do it again to ruin that asshole.

  We have him.

  30

  Magnolia

  After the text exchange, Anthony and I dance a few songs and take selfies with the guests to make sure everyone sees us.

  Then we escape to his car.

  Charity answers our call on the first ring. “Lots of good party posts, you two!” she says merrily. “Did you leave?”

  Anthony doesn’t want to mess around. “We know who doctored the pickles. Sending you a screenshot.”

  We hear the ping. “Excellent. Time to put this to rest.” Keys tap on her end, then she says, “Can you get to Vegas by seven a.m. tomorrow?”

  Anthony looks up at me. “It’s a twelve-hour drive. We only have nine hours.”

  “Hmm. Let me check flights.” More tapping.

  Anthony and I sit quietly in the dark. The snow has completely shrouded his car. We could be alone anywhere. Parts of me tingle at the thought.

  Charity finally asks, “Can you get to the Denver airport by eleven?”

  “Should be able to,” Anthony says. “It’s less than an hour drive. We have ninety minutes.”

  “I’m booking you on a flight to Vegas. Don’t worry about clothes. I’ll have something at the hotel when you get there.”

  “Charity,” I say, “what are we doing?”

  “You are going to be on Vegas Today, a morning show with national syndication.”

  My voice is admittedly a whine when I ask, “Another talk show?”

  “You two will be surprise guests. I know the booking agent. He’ll let you on.”

  “Why the rush?” Anthony asks.

  “Because of the other guest tomorrow morning.” Charity’s voice sounds almost maniacal as she says. “Milton Creed.”

  We arrive at the hotel a little after one a.m. We have only four hours until we have to get dressed and made up for the show.

  “Should we bother sleeping?” I ask as I open the suitcase that was already in the living room of our suite. It contains a vibrant green dress for me, and a pair of khakis for Anthony along with a matching green shirt and plaid Christmas tie.

  “I’m feeling wired. Should we push through?” He kicks off his shoes.

  “Maybe.” Two bedrooms open off the living room. “Are we only here for tonight?”

  “No clue. But we could stay another night.” He hesitates. “If you want.”

  Do I?

  Anthony sits on the sofa, elbows braced on his knees. He watches me quietly. “We haven’t talked about what happened in New York.”

  I sink onto the rug in a puddle of red skirt. I can feel the beautiful earrings swinging. “Maybe I overreacted.”

  “I don’t think so. We were dealing with a lot. Shane’s recording. The decision to do the engagement. Then Calinda’s comment.”

  “That’s her name? Calinda?”

  “Yes.”

  “You…loved her? Wanted to marry her?”

  “I thought so at the time.”

  I unzip my boots and kick them off. I guess I should know everything. “So, what happened?”

  “She turned me down. She wasn’t that into me.”

  “And the ring?”

  “I stuck it at Dad’s house so I wouldn’t be so stupid again.”

  “And that’s why you bought a new one?”

  At first, he stares at the floor, and I think—well, this is it. The admission that there was no way he’d ever think of me that way. We were a fling. A temporary bit of fun.

  Relationships just don’t happen for me.

  Finally, he says, “I didn’t want to use it on something that wasn’t real.”

  So, there it is. We aren’t real.

  I stand up. “I understand completely. I’d feel the same about a treasured family heirloom. You have to be careful who you give it to.”

  I move toward my room, but Anthony leaps up and takes my arm. “Magnolia, wait.”

  I jerk it away. “It’s fine, Anthony. We’ve had fun. The engagement made it messy. That’s why I had to stop it. It was confusing me. Some kisses were fake, others weren’t. This engagement was fake, but Calinda’s proposal wasn’t.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you leave in New York.”

  I turn away from him to stare at my bedroom door. “You didn’t have a choice. I took off.”


  “I didn’t want you to.” His voice is plaintive. My heart unclenches.

  “I’m so confused.” It’s the truth.

  He wraps his arms around me from behind, his mouth near my ear. “I’ve missed you so much. I wish we could have met any other way.”

  My laugh sticks in my throat. “I wouldn’t have given you the time of day. You know it.”

  “I was the enemy. But we’re a team now. A damn good team.”

  I turn around in his arms. “We are. And we solved the mystery.”

  “Together.” His eyes search my face. “Can we be? Together?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s real.”

  He lifts my hand and opens my fingers. “This is what’s real to me.”

  He extracts something from his pocket and lays it in my palm. The chain is long and unfolds from his fingers to my skin. At the end, lying on top, is another ring. This diamond is square cut with blue stones on either side.

  My throat constricts. “What is this?”

  “My mother’s engagement ring. The one I should have given to you. I know it’s not time for us to get engaged for real. It’s only been three months, and we were at each other’s throats for most of it. But I put it on a chain for you to wear. A secret for me and you while we continue this engagement for our fans. Do you believe that’s what I want?”

  I do believe him. I lift the chain. It’s long enough to go over my head, the ring slipping beneath the neckline of my dress.

  “Is it a good length to stay hidden?” he asks.

  My gaze lifts to his smoky eyes. I’ve missed him. Everything about him. The real kisses, the touch. The way we’ve been behind closed doors. I press the dress over my chest, feeling where the ring falls low in my cleavage.

  “Why don’t you look and see for yourself?”

  His kiss tears into me, our mouths hot. Fire licks through me instantly, heating the core of my body.

  His hands slip behind me to unzip the dress. It falls to the floor, revealing the black bra and panties beneath.

  Anthony bends down, kissing my skin beneath the chain, dipping his tongue between my breasts. He unfastens the bra, and it falls.

  Warm lips close over my breast, and his hands slide down my body. I’m back where I was meant to be, in his arms, naked and wet.

  His fingers tease me along the narrow edge of the panties before shifting them down.

  He kneels and lifts my knee over his shoulder. His mouth finds me, his tongue slipping inside. I grasp his hair, holding on, my back against the door.

  He remembers everything, suckling the clit, and pleasure flares out like a sunburst. I close my eyes. How could I have walked away from this? He knows me. He pays attention. We fit.

  Fingers slip inside me, reaching into the space already slick with need. He works them, sucking harder, and I’m lost. My head bangs the door as my chin lifts, the orgasm pulsing outward. My standing leg threatens to buckle, but Anthony grasps me firmly. He holds me in place, drawing the pleasure out, until I sink against the door, breaking his hold.

  “I love you,” he says, pulling me against his chest. “I said it in New York, and I’ll say it now.”

  So it hadn’t been for the cameras. The mic wasn’t supposed to pick it up.

  I wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith.”

  He stands, lifting me with him. “I’m sorry I ever gave you cause to doubt.”

  He opens the knob and walks us to the bedroom.

  We only have hours until we must prepare for the show, but there is no need to set the alarm.

  We have no intention of sleeping.

  31

  Anthony

  We end up taking about an hour nap, jump out of bed at six and get ready in panic mode.

  None of the staff is expecting us, so we won’t have stylists or help on the set. The only people who know we’re coming are the show host and our handler.

  It’s gonna be a shocker.

  Magnolia does her makeup in the car. Fortunately, we’re only ten minutes from the news station where the talk show is held.

  We wander through the front door, and the woman at the desk gets saucer-eyed when she sees us. “We’re looking for Dante,” I tell her.

  She touches her headset. “Dante, you have people.”

  I give her a nod. “We’re a secret, so remember, we weren’t here.”

  A heavy-set black man rounds the corner. “This way. Quick. We don’t want you seen.” He motions for us to dart down a back hallway.

  We pause inside a storage closet for a moment. “They’re moving Milton,” he says. “Sorry. I’m Dante. We don’t usually have secret guests. There’s no protocol.” He grins. “This is going to be great.”

  “What is Milton doing on the show?” Magnolia asks.

  “Glazing a ham,” Dante says. “Alicia says you can run with all the pig jokes you can stand.”

  “Happy to,” Magnolia says.

  “Damn, this is cool,” he says. “All right, time to move.”

  We head down the hall. As we approach a set of double doors with the red On Air light above it, he slows us down. “I’m waiting on the go-ahead.”

  “Will we have mics?” Anthony asks.

  “Yes. A sound tech is inside. They’ll wire you, and we’ll wait for Alicia to say she has a surprise for him.”

  He nods to a voice we can’t hear, then opens one of the doors.

  The backstage area is dim with red safety lights marking the path. Dante stops us right inside the doors, and a man with a tiny flashlight in his mouth clicks a mic to my collar and expertly slides the wire to a pack. I turn to watch as he does the same to Magnolia.

  “Move it, move it,” Dante whispers, his foot tapping.

  His anxiety sends mine up a notch. We haven’t rehearsed what we’re going to say. Charity said to stick to the facts. She sent the screenshot in case Alicia wants to use it.

  Dante leads us to the edge of the sound stage. A small audience sits in a smattering of rows. Milton stands behind a rolling counter, demonstrating his glazing technique. It’s messy. I’m not sure why he’s doing it. Any hack could pour honey on a ham as well as he is.

  Alicia stands opposite him, facing our direction. She’s a head taller than him, graceful in a gold-toned suit that sets off her dark skin. She sees us, or at least Dante, and turns to Milton. “While you finish, Milton,” she says, “we have a little surprise for you.”

  Milton glances up, his gloved hands dripping honey. “Is that so?” His face is pancaked as usual. Alicia hasn’t given him a step to stand on, so he looks puny, pale, and pathetic.

  I’m feeling very fine.

  Alicia motions us out. “Everyone, put your hands together for Milton’s arch-nemesis chefs, Anthony Pickle and Magnolia Boudreaux!”

  Milton’s jaw drops as we walk out on stage, our joined hands swinging between us.

  “Hi, Milton!” Magnolia says. She rushes up to him and squeezes his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his. I marvel at how different she can be on stage. Her over-the-top friendliness is like the first time I met her. I can’t stop grinning.

  “Whaaaa?” Milton seems speechless.

  Alicia’s smile is huge. “Milton, I invited the newly engaged couple on the show because they have a huge announcement to make in the wake of your campaign to discredit their love story. Anthony, Magnolia, who’s going to do the honors?”

  “You?” I say to Magnolia, right as she says, “You?” to me.

  We laugh and she releases Milton to give me a kiss.

  “We figured it out together,” Magnolia tells Alicia. “Milton decided to use one of Anthony’s ex-girlfriends to drive us apart.” She turns to me. “Which obviously didn’t work. But it made me start thinking about who from my past might have it out for me.”

  She squeezes my hand, so I take up the story.

  “At a party last night, we ran into the guy who released that old recording.” I give her a b
right smile. “And it turns out the woman he was with just so happened to be a volunteer on the set of America’s Spiciest Chef the day we were there.”

  Milton attempts to peel off his honey-covered gloves, his face contorted in rage. “Who? What’s her name?”

  “We can divulge that later,” Magnolia says easily. “But suffice it to say, the whole pickle debacle was simply a case of a butt-hurt man.” She beams at me. “But I’m grateful, because his pickle prank is what brought us together.”

  I switch places with Magnolia to put myself between her and Milton. “So you can stop with your ugly campaign. If you’re not careful, this pig will look good compared to your career.” I grab the butcher knife, wing it into the air, then neatly catch it and shove it into the top of the ham.

  The audience goes crazy. Alicia claps her hands and waits until they quiet. “I love it. So tell us, Anthony, why did you switch engagement rings?”

  Magnolia steps forward and pulls the long chain from her dress. “I have it. It’s my something old.” She glances back at me. “From Anthony’s lovely mother who died twelve years ago.”

  The audience lets out a long awwww.

  “It also has something blue.” She holds the ring out to Alicia, who examines it.

  Then she lifts her left hand to the audience, knowing at least one camera will zoom in on the ring I gave her weeks ago. “And something new. Alicia, we’re almost all set for a wedding.”

  Alicia pulls a gold bracelet from her arm and slides it onto Magnolia’s. “Girl, here’s your something borrowed. I think I speak for everyone when I say—congratulations. We can’t wait to see your wedding.”

  Magnolia raises the arm with the new bracelet to her chest. “Thank you, Alicia.”

  She’s brilliant. Magnolia, my Magnolia. I grasp her hand and spin her into me. The icy blue dress twirls out. It’s our signature move.

  And I kiss her. Because she’s come back to me. We’ve solved the puzzle and shamed the asshole trying to bring us down.

  The audience cheers, and I hold her close. We’re laughing and almost-crying, both of us. No shame in that. I’m the third Pickle brother, the baby. I’m allowed to cry.