Page 7 of Unexpected Pickle
I can push and force my way out, but usually it’s best to just get it over with.
I drop my right leg back and bounce, lifting my arms into a defensive position.
Then my fists shoot out in a rapid series of jabs. I twist, shifting my weight, and my foot arcs through the air in a roundhouse kick, knocking a makeup brush right out of one of the women’s hands.
She lets out an excited shriek, then everyone cheers.
Okay, enough of that.
I make an exaggerated bow and excuse myself before anyone can ask me to teachthemhow to do it, which is usually phase two of a situation like this.
Max is near the kitchen door. “Dog-and-pony show. I know it well.”
“I made it out alive. Is Jeannie still in there?”
“Yeah, but it’s not an opportune time to talk to her. She gets a little, well,abruptwhen she’s finishing a task.”
“I’ll risk it.” I try to push past him.
His arm blocks my path. Even though Max’s biceps could crush an average human, I’m bigger.
I could force the issue, but he’s a friend.
“What gives?”
He blows out a breath. “I should put it another way. It will not further your cause of wooing my kitchen manager if you go in there now. And you might lose an ear.”
“She’d throw a knife at me?”
“No, she’d cut your ear off.” He curls an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere and spend your pitiful modeling fee on overpriced beer.”
“I’m on pre-fight this week,” I tell him.
“Of course you are. So we’ll head to the Hearty Bean.”
I stare at the kitchen door. I’d rather see Jeannie than hang out at a health-food cafe, even with Max.
But I need to see the big picture. “All right. But I’m coming back here tomorrow.”
“Good man.” He cuffs me on the jaw as we sneak out the side door.
It’s warm for January, and SoCal doesn’t get all that cold, anyway. The Hearty Bean is only a few blocks down, so we walk.
“Will you open the deli when they’re gone?” I ask.
Max shakes his head. “Nah. Too close to closing.”
People literally stop in their tracks as we walk by. I’m used to attention, but not like this.
“You should have changed shirts,” Max says with a laugh. “You’re subjecting the world to your man titties.”
I glance down. He’s right. Damn. “Hold on.” I jog back to my car in the deli lot. Some of the crew is dispersing. I see the makeup ladies and duck down to avoid being spotted.
My workout bag is in the back seat. I snatch a normal T-shirt and drag it on as I bump the door closed. Inside of a minute, I’m back with Max.
“Better?”
Max laughs. “We can mark the citizens of LA safe from your nipples.”
