Page 14 of Unexpected Pickle
She snorts, and when I look up, I realize what I’ve said. “Are you laughing at a dirty joke?”
She expertly runs her towel over the surface of the griddle, wiping it clean. “It can’t be helped, working at a pickle deli.”
“Because it’s a bigdill?”
She moves on to another griddle. “Maybe because I’ve had to makedill dough.”
This time I’m the one to snort. “Don’t they have other dirty dishes?”
“The Pickle That Goes Down Easy,” she says. “And Stuff This Pickle.”
“Who names them?”
“Anthony, mostly.”
That’s Max’s brother, who owns another of the family delis in Colorado.
I peer at the griddle. Here goes nothing. I slide the damp towel over the surface. The spray and stuck bits of batter come off easily. “Hey! It works!”
Jeannie slings her towel over her arm. “It does.” She’s already cleaned the rest of the griddles in the time I’ve wiped down one.
Our time is about to end, and I’m not sure I’ve made any headway. I’m afraid to ask her on a real date after what Max told me.
“You didn’t eat your crepes,” she says.
Huh. She noticed. “Sunshine got them.”
“Were they not to your liking?”
“Oh, I’m just, uh, careful about what I eat right before a match.”
She carries a griddle to the back counter. “Really, like what?”
“Nothing that will stay in my gut too long. Nothing high fat. No sugar.”
She returns for another griddle. “You don’t want to puke in the ring?”
“Exactly. I can’t risk eating something that might throw me off. I need my glycogen stores to be easy for my body to access.”
“Do you have a nutrition coach?”
“I did. She moved to New York a few months ago, but I’m getting by on what she taught me.”
“Who makes your meals?”
“I use an outfit down on Vine.”
She pauses. “Gems for Gyms?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Her mouth twists. “I’m not sure they’re using best practices.”
“Really? Where should I go?”
“I can send you a couple of suggestions.”
“Or…you could be my chef.”
