Page 2 of Unexpected Pickle

JEANNIE, WATCHER OF WILT

I am not looking at Hex, glistening in the bright lights of the set.

I’m watching the lettuce for wilt, the grapes for sheen, and the…oh, what am I saying?

Hex is the shiny thing no one can take their eyes off of.

“Geez, Louise, look at that man.” My assistant Vera practically dissolves in a puddle next to me. She’s holding a chilled vat of romaine. We have to replace it every fifteen minutes or it goes limp.

I shouldn’t have thought of that word.

Because limp makes me think of hard , and that makes my disobedient gaze drop to Hex’s athletic shorts.

Nope. Not going there. I’m a career woman, and I’m here for work.

“Be ready to switch out the lettuce,” I whisper.

“Now give us the line,” Adriel says to Hex, hands on his hips. He thinks he’s really something in a black turtleneck and jeans, a beanie on his head. He has to be absolutely melting in that getup. It’s really warm in here.

Hex presses his fists against the tabletop, which makes his arm and shoulder muscles expand like a soufflé. With his riveting eyes and sandy auburn beard, he’s something to behold.

“I’m going to faint,” Vera says.

Hex trains his gaze on the camera. “Anyone can look like me when they learn nutrition at Eat Play Win .”

My breath catches. He’s so sincere that even I almost believe him.

The moment holds, Hex’s attention fiercely focused, then Adriel calls, “Cut! Take five for a food refresh.”

Hex steps back from the table, and everyone in the room starts to move, like we were all frozen and enthralled until the director broke the spell.

Vera hurries forward. “Oh, Hex, you are so good. So impressive. I’m just blown away.”

I grit my teeth as I pull lettuce leaves from below the carefully arranged carrots, radishes, and ears of corn. “Vera, if you’re done ogling the actor, could you fetch me the apples?” I’m not sure if Adriel wants me to replace the one Hex crushed, but I want to be ready.

“Oh, all right.” Vera sets the container of lettuce on the table. “See you later, Hex.”

I don’t look up to see if he’s following her walk. Vera is adorable, like a tiny Disney princess. She is approximately one-fourth of his size.

I’m often called an “Amazon woman” due to my height and width, and I have more freckles than a week-old banana. I wear my hair too slick, and my chef uniform too loose. I’m not in this for the attention. Not for me.

Just what I do.

I quickly tuck lettuce leaves into the circle as before, shifting all the other items back into their precise positions so that we don’t create continuity problems in the commercial should they splice random cuts together.

I’m good at this. I enjoy doing it. There is nothing more satisfying than an expertly arranged display of beautiful food. And I have it here.

Sweat beads on my brow. It’s hot under the lights, and I’m in full chef whites.

I’ve gone soft, I think. I should be in a busy kitchen, standing in front of pots, stirring and scalding and searing. A few stage lights are nothing compared to that.

Working in a deli has been too easy. We serve very few things that need heat to prepare.

I should move up, find an actual restaurant. My father, who is a Michelin-star chef, scoffs every time he learns I haven’t changed jobs. He could get me into lots of prestigious places.

But Max has been good to me, giving me a job in high school, promoting me while I got a culinary degree, and instantly naming me head of the kitchen the moment I graduated.

He’s hired me for commercials and magazine spreads. I might be more well known in the industry than I would have been at even a high-end bistro.

And none of it was with my father’s help.

But I do know I need to figure out my next steps. I shouldn’t stay at a sandwich shop forever.

A shadow crosses my vegetables. It’s Hex.

“I’d offer to help, but I’m sure I’d mess it up.” His voice is rumbly, and I feel it in places I’d rather not.

“I’m paid well for my perfection,” I tell him without looking up.

“It’s impressive. You’re impressive.”

There he goes again.

He’s a flirt. Of course he is, looking the way he does. He could have literally anybody. Flirting is easy when you know it will work.

When I flirt, I look like a chef balloon in the Macy’s Day parade, one string broken, bouncing along the tops of the crowd.

People run away about as fast.

But vegetables don’t try to escape. And I pound all the meat I want in the kitchen.

But Hex doesn’t shy away from all the attention he’s gotten today. Every time I came in from the kitchen, a makeup assistant or wardrobe girl was peeling herself off him.

Even now, they hover nearby, as if looking for an excuse to put their hands on him.

What would it be like to touch muscle like that?

An ear of corn rolls to the side, slightly crimping the husk. Focus, Jeannie. This has to look exactly like it did in the last take.

Vera returns with the apples. The hole where Hex picked up the one he crushed feels glaring to me, but I didn’t want to interrupt the last take to suggest I replace it. Maybe the director has a plan for before and after the apple.

Or maybe he’s not thinking about it properly. It wouldn’t be the first time I knew more about prop continuity than a film crew.

“Assemble!” Adriel says. “Makeup! He’s too shiny in the face.”

The artist dashes forward to blot Hex’s forehead.

I sort through the apples to find the second-most perfect one. I turn to Adriel. “Do you want the apple he crushed replaced, or do you want to keep the spot open now that you’ve recorded those last lines without it?”

“Why didn’t you replace it immediately?” Adriel asks.

“It would be unusual for it to go back in on a continuous shot,” I say. “People would notice the magically reappearing apple. What does your shot list call for?”

Adriel rolls his eyes. “Shot lists are for amateurs.” He claps his hands. “Places!”

I figured he’d be like that. He’s been full of himself all day. “And the apple?”

“Oh, do what you like.”

I don’t like the hole, so I carefully place the new one in the gap. “Oil?” I ask Vera.

She pulls the spray bottle from her apron.

I do a quick test spray into my hand towel, then aim the bottle at just the right angle to catch the light.

There. Now the apple and grapes have the same level of sheen.

“That’s always nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” asks Vera. “I always over-spray.”

I pass her the bottle. “The trick is to use the same bottle every time so you know its density and spread.”

We step aside as Hex takes his place behind the display.

“This time it’s the website,” Adriel says. “Give us your line.”

I watch Hex as he delivers the call to action. His lips are full. His jaw could break rock. They don’t make many men like him.

Vera leans in close. “I hear steroids shrivel their balls. Do you think he’s shriveled down there?”

My traitorous gaze returns to his shorts.

Not his, I’d guess. But to Vera, I say, “Probably.”

I glance at the others watching the takes. Every woman and half of the men appear to be in a trance, watching Hex’s every move.

Yeah, he’s got his pick of anyone who wants him. Probably more than one at a time.

A pretty boy like that is almost certainly nothing but trouble.

I don’t need trouble.