Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,2
and the journey to a pro card.
He holds out his arm for a fist bump, because even a handshake can impact the smoothness of his oil and tan at this late stage, “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“A little nervous I’m gonna screw up.”
“No way. Amy is a great posing coach. Don’t let the nerves get to you.”
He surveys my face and hands. “You’re good and dark.”
“Just got my last round done.”
“You carb up this morning?”
“Yep.”
“You have more carbs and some weights to get your pump before you go on?”
“I do.”
He smacks my shoulder. “I think you’re going to do great. You’re a natural. Let’s take a look at that tan.”
I unzip my top.
Franklin frowns. “She was in a hurry. I see some areas where it could’ve been blended better. Take that off.”
In any other situation, having two people examining each other’s mostly naked skin would mean something else entirely. But here, it’s happening all across the room. Women adding bronzer to the cleavage of other women. Dudes kneeling in front of other dudes’ junk, adjusting the fit of an elastic band.
Franklin tilts his head. “It’s probably good enough. Turn around, though. Your rear lat spread is where it’s at. You don’t want to have points deducted after all the work you’ve done on it.”
He’s right. My back is my strong suit, according to our posing coach. It’s where I’ll have an advantage.
I turn and hear a sudden intake of air.
Franklin’s voice could peel paint. “I don’t know what the hell she did, but you’ve got a white line going down your spine.”
“What?” I turn my head as far as it will go, like a dog chasing its tail.
“The spray has to dry before you relax a pose, or it will pull the color. It can even wreck an old tan.” Franklin says. “The most amateur tanning artist should know that.”
My gut twists. Pro Tan had me wait. There was a timer in the pod. I remember that now. Miss Ride ‘Em Shiny had rushed me through. “How bad is it?”
“Enough to blow the score on your rear lat.”
Well, shit. “What do I do?”
“Let me see if I can track down Camryn.”
“Your sister?”
When I turn around, Franklin already has the phone to his ear. His eyebrows are drawn together, and his expression is murderous. I want a mirror to see how bad this is, but despite all the people preening in the room, there aren’t any.
I watch Franklin, tempted to pull my jacket back on, afraid of feeling ridiculous. How can I go on stage like this?
He finally speaks. “Yes, I know I’m supposed to text you. I was afraid you wouldn’t look at it.”
He pauses. “My buddy Max is doing his first show today and some crap-tastic amateur gave him a spine line.”
The squawk in his ear is so loud he pulls the phone several inches away from his head.
When it quiets, he says, “Over by registration,” and shoves the phone in his bag.
“So, your sister can help?” I ask.
His jaw hardens for a moment, and I have no idea why. I’ve never met his sister. Maybe they don’t get along.
He leads me over to a quiet corner. “She’s a pro among pros, and booked solid today, but I can’t let you go up like that.”
“So, she’s coming?”
“She’s going to squeeze in a three-minute patch job on you.” He walks behind me again and grunts in irritation. “Bro, next time you need a tan, sign up in advance.”
“I got the first two done by Pro Tan like you said.”
“And who did this horrid last-minute job?”
I don’t want to say the name. But Franklin’s in my face. He probably feels like he blew all the time he’s put into me.
“Ride ‘em Shiny,” I finally admit.
Franklin spins away, his hands on his head. “Ride ‘em fucking Shiny? Do you know who their primary clients are?”
“No.” My voice sounds as stony as I feel, but my gut drops when Franklin utters his next two words.
“Porn stars.”
2
Camryn
I might be short, but I’m hard to intimidate.
The woman in front of me is over six feet tall even before you account for her three-inch heels. She towers over my head like she’s ready to devour me whole. I’m five-two. My rainbow sparkle Converse do not help with the height differential.
And this woman is pissed.
“I have been your client for two damn years,” she hisses down at me. “And you’re saying you can’t give me ten minutes right now?”
This woman could break me in half. No