Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,1

this part, not even my best bud and training partner Franklin. And I thought he’d told me all the bad shit.

I finally manage to get the tiny blue trunks in place, and everything tucked in. I snatch up a loose hoodie and slide it on. Next, baggy sweatpants to avoid rubbing the tan, but keep my legs warm. It’s not cold out, but Franklin warned me that letting my muscles use their glycogen stores to keep warm will lessen their bulge when it’s time.

I’m trying to do everything right.

I slide into my slip-on shoes and shoulder my bag to head out of the tent. The woman gives me a wink as I lay a tip in her hand. “Good luck, baller.”

I mumble my thanks and take off. After that show of flesh, I could use a beer. But I won’t be doing that anytime soon.

The parking lot’s a circus. Tents for supplements and weight systems line up in a row, banners whipping in the wind. Men pose with women in bikinis dangling on their arms.

There’s skin everywhere. Bronzed, shiny, bulked-up bodies are on display in every direction. They aren’t competing, obviously. You can separate us by what we’re wearing. The marketers don’t need to protect their tan or keep their muscles warm. They’re selling stuff and trying to show off what it can do.

I wave off several who approach with samples and swag. I was supposed to meet Franklin five minutes ago. His prejudging is in less than an hour. He wants to give me a pep talk and make sure I look the part.

I fish my badge out of my bag and flash it at the guard sitting by the back door. Then I’m inside, air conditioning flowing over me like a Bahaman breeze.

The pre-staging area is a madhouse. Some weight categories are already headed to the stage, so tricked-out bodies turn sideways to avoid bumping into each other and messing up their perfect oil. The air is full of tension and angst.

I spot Franklin grabbing his pin at the registration table. He’s prepped and ready, a loose towel across his shoulders, slip-on shoes, and red board shorts. He does the physique category rather than classic, so he gets long loose trunks that almost reach his knees. Not like my tiny bit of stretch. His tan is glossy and perfect.

He’s a regular on the regional circuit. When I first started, he was a beast compared to me. But during this last bulking phase, my muscle mass developed beyond his. I’m glad we’re in separate classes and don’t compete against each other.

I spot an empty bit of wall out of the way of the crowd, a place to stand and wait until Franklin leaves the line. The sea of bronzed humans fascinates me.

I don’t think I would’ve taken up the call if I hadn’t reconnected with Franklin. We were roommates at UCLA as undergrads, but lost touch after I started running my family deli.

When I felt the excess of too much pastrami on rye, I asked around for a good workout joint. Franklin had been the one to recommend Buster’s Gym. Thing is, it’s an old-school, free-weights place where once you start pushing hard, you need a qualified spotter to work in pairs.

He was already competing and needed someone more reliable than his current training buddy. Even though I was a wad of flab compared to him in those early days, I got bitten by the fitness bug and soon both of us were hitting the weight room five or six days a week.

When I started putting on muscle, it became a bit of an obsession. Franklin motivated me to push as well as kept me in check. He reminded me there was life outside the gym, and after my brother Jason screwed up his own franchise good and hard by ignoring it, I knew I needed to find some balance between my workouts and my business.

Today is the day I will test that balance.

I don’t expect to compete anywhere near the top. But there’s always the possibility I’ll get up there and knock everybody dead.

I don’t know how I’ll manage my business if that happens, but I guess I can only do what Grammy always says and crunch that pickle when I get to the jar.

Franklin leaves the desk and spots me. His stride is confident as he threads his way through the crowd. I hope this is his night. He’s waited a long time to qualify for Nationals