Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,64

stay at the hotel so we can be near each other to plan the event while waiting for the competition. They follow me to the deli and even show up for guest passes at Buster’s.

It’s a lot.

Anthony is the most curious about my routine, so when I rise and shine at five a.m. on competition day to start my carb loading, he’s on a chair in the hallway, waiting for me to come out of my room.

“Hey,” I say. “I don’t remember you being an early riser.”

“Right back at you. Funny the things we adapt to when we start being adults.”

“Who are you calling an adult?” I shoulder my bag. “I’m meeting my training partner for an early breakfast. You want to come?”

Anthony jumps from his chair. “Absolutely.” He gestures to his jeans and a T-shirt that reads Pickles are a big dill. “Am I dressed all right for the day? I assume these aren’t fancy affairs.”

“Trust me. You’re classy compared to what a lot of people will wear to this thing.”

“Awesome.” We head down the hall.

When we arrive at the diner, Franklin is already there with three members of our gym.

“We have an entourage,” he says, gesturing to the other twenty-something guys. “They want to see how the champions do it.”

“Good to see you all. This is my brother Anthony. He wants to see exactly how much junk we’re going to eat today.”

“Let’s show him!” Franklin roars, and the sleepy servers glance our way. The diner is empty save for us and a lone table of two elderly men sipping coffee.

The guys whoop it up as they settle at a table, arguing over the calorie counts of French toast versus pancakes.

This day is already going better than the last competition, where I spent most of the day alone. I start to see the appeal of having a crew.

Anthony watches in awe as Franklin and I wolf down plate after plate of high-carb meals. Franklin makes a big show of taking insulin to make sure he doesn’t wreck his system with too high a sugar load after weeks of low carbs.

He’s never done that before, and I have a feeling it’s all for show. But I say nothing. This is his day more than mine. He’s been waiting a long time to feel like somebody.

When we finally clear the plates, Franklin and his crew head over to Camryn’s for his final tan. I send her a quick text as a heads-up that there will be more than her brother present.

She writes back. Thanks for the warning. Can’t wait to see you later.

I smile and tap out an addendum, Naked?

Always.

“You don’t need to tan today, too?” Anthony asks as we load into my Audi.

“I got mine last night. Camryn will touch me up on site.”

I’m careful to keep my tone even to avoid the slightest hint that Camryn is more than someone who makes me look good for competition. It seems to work, because Anthony drops the subject and reverts to talk of the various diets I do through different stages of the training.

We have time to kill, so I drop by one of the nutrition shops that open early on competition day. I show Anthony the supplements and superfood that get me through the long hours. He’s very thoughtful about the whole thing, and I finally ask him, “Are you thinking of taking up the call?”

“Oh no,” he says. “I’m always interested in different ways people eat. This is great.”

I’m glad Anthony has come along. Jason is fun, but our nonstop verbal jockeying wouldn’t help my nerves as I head into this new level of competition. Anthony is chill, thoughtful, and easy-going, the perfect sidekick for a stressful day.

I spot the chocolate bar Camryn brought me last time. I pick up a couple of them.

“What’s so great about those?” Anthony asks.

“Carbs. Fiber. They taste good without making you too thirsty.”

“I noticed you didn’t drink much at breakfast.”

I squeeze my fist to pump out the muscles of my bicep. “See these veins? They don’t show unless you’re dehydrated. Part of the judging.”

“Crazy.”

As we check out, he points out a sign that reads, Anabolic steroids are prescription only. He leans in. “So, do you do them?”

I pass my credit card to the cashier. “No. Not part of my process.”

“But people clearly do. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have a sign.”

I nod.

“Does your training buddy?”

I shrug. “Not as far as I know. Physique doesn’t require the bulk that traditional bodybuilding does. Although, they merge closer