Chapter 23 Goldilocks
Chapter twenty-three
Goldilocks
Jameson Sinclair
If I didn’t know Marigold in a way that I could find her while blindfolded in a room of a thousand people, I wouldn’t have recognized her as she hurried out of the front door of her building a little past eleven.
She’s wearing jeans, which she rarely, if ever, does. And she’s paired those with a gray Thrashers sweatshirt that makes her look like the average college student. To top off her disguise—as I have a feeling that’s what this is—she’s donned a ball cap and put her red hair in a low ponytail.
“You look the definition of nondescript,” I tell her as she approaches.
“That’s what I was going for. If something happens, I don’t want anyone pointing me out in the future.”
My stomach turns at the idea of anything happening that would require Marigold to be undetectable. I’d rather us not go at all tonight, but I’m grateful she’s allowed me to come at least.
We start in the direction of fraternity row.
The campus is fairly quiet; our only company are the stars and the occasional security officer riding around on a golf cart.
None of them stop us. There’s no rule against walking the campus at night, so as long as we don’t draw suspicion, we should be fine.
“Do you have a plan for tonight?” I ask her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Earlier she seemed intent on me being silent, but she looks a little more relaxed now. Maybe she realized that I don’t want to steal anything from her. A man can hope.
She shrugs. “I plan on showing up, taking some photos, and asking a few casual questions. The photos alone, paired with Carson’s words, will be front-page material.”
She’s not wrong. An underground boxing ring is the kind of thing that gets national recognition.
“Charlie might bow down and name you editor in chief after this,” I say, and Marigold laughs.
“The man has an ego as big as the solar system. He’s not bowing to anyone. I’m just hoping he crowns me the favorite and gives me a good recommendation letter when the time comes.”
I chuckle at her apt description of Charlie.
“I doubt you’ll need any letters from him. There’s no way this article doesn’t spread like wildfire. All the major news organizations will be banging down your door.”
I catch a glimpse of her smile as we pass under a streetlamp.
“Either way, I just need to get evidence of this place existing, and then we can leave.”
I breathe a little easier at her words. The less time we stay there, the less danger she’s in.
The rest of our walk through campus is quiet. I don’t want to push Marigold to talk if she doesn’t want to. I’ve got to keep my momentum and not get greedy. Just the fact that I’m here with her is a step in and of itself. She could have kept everything a secret and gone on her own.
As we approach Alpha Pi, the yard and house are unusually quiet. The windows are dark, and there’s no indication of any kind of gathering going on.
“Carson said it’s held in the basement,” Marigold whispers as we walk to the front door. “Maybe we just head inside? I doubt they want people to draw attention by knocking.”
My instincts are screaming at me that this is a terrible idea, but I nod anyway, and I’m the first to open the door.
It’s unlocked, and we walk in to find a darkened living area, with a trail of LED lanterns.
The lights lead us to a door. I can feel Marigold’s excitement.
She’s practically vibrating next to me. Upon opening the door, the first burst of sound punctures the silence.
There’s a group of three giggling women in mini skirts at the bottom of the stairs. Staring them down is a tall, broad-shouldered man with an intense scowl.
“No phones or cameras allowed. Bets are made with cash only. Don’t start fights you can’t finish,” the man intones. Then he waves a handheld metal detector over the front and back of each of the women.
The no-phones rule is going to be a problem. Marigold looks at me with wide eyes that say she agrees.
“Take my phone,” she whispers, holding it out between us. “Once he passes the metal detector over me, I’ll put my hands behind my back and you can give it to me again.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” I say in a low voice.
The metal detector doesn’t make a sound, so he opens the door behind him. I can make out little else beyond the door but a crowd of people.
“Welcome to the Shadow Ring,” he says in a monotone voice.
The girls walk in, giggling all the way, and then the door is shut, plunging us into silence once more.
“Pretend to be a super-protective boyfriend.” She stutters over the last word, and my heart skips a beat. “And stand extra close to me.”
“Goldie, I don’t know about this,” I tell her quietly, feeling the eyes of the guy on us.
“Please, Jameson,” she begs, looking up at me with her big hazel eyes. “I need this.”
I want to tell her she doesn’t, to remind her that her dream is to be a novelist, not a journalist. But maybe she’s changed since last summer. I don’t want to hold her back or have her think I’m trying to sabotage her.
“Okay, if this is what you want,” I sigh.
She gives me a grateful smile and passes her phone to me. “Thank you.”
We walk down the stairs. The guy stares at us with no emotion in his gaze. Now that we’re closer, he looks far too old to be in a fraternity. He must have been hired by someone to work the door.
“Password,” he says without preamble.
“Whiskey,” Marigold answers for us.
He repeats what he said to the women before us. “No phones or cameras allowed. Bets are made with cash only. Don’t start fights you can’t finish.”
I stay near Marigold, so close that there’s barely a gap between my chest and her back. The guard glances at me as he pulls out the detector.
“He’s super protective,” Marigold says with a fake giggle.
The man grunts in response, hovering the detector over Marigold’s front first. I lean back the tiniest amount so that he can pass the detector over her back.
As soon as he pulls it away, I press close to her and slip her phone into her hand.
Warmth spreads through me at how close we are.
I want to wrap my arms around her and keep her there.
“You can make out once you’re inside,” the guy grouses. “Just let me do my job first.”
I clear my throat at the implication. Marigold lets out a high-pitched laugh.
The guard rolls the metal detector over me next. Of course, it goes off when it gets to my pocket, because I still have my phone.
“Forgot to leave it back at my dorm,” I say with a grimace.
The guy holds his hand out. “You can give it to me to put in the safe or take it back up.”
“Safe?” I question.
“The Shadow Ring prides itself on ensuring the safety of all belongings. Your phone will be returned to you upon your exit. If anything happens to it, you will be reimbursed.”
I shoot Marigold a suspicious look. She gives me one that says there’s no turning back now. With a sigh, I give the guy my phone.
“Name you’re registering the device under?” he asks, pulling out his own phone and taking a photo of my home screen, which is a photo of me and Marigold right after I won the championship.
“James,” I grit out. Though I hate the nickname, I don’t want anyone to associate my name with this place.
“And a password for retrieval.”
“Goldilocks,” I answer without hesitation, as it’s been several of my passwords over the years.
I glance at Marigold, but she’s looking down at her shoes.
The guy nods, then grabs the door knob. “Welcome to the Shadow Ring.”
Without thinking, I press a hand to Marigold’s lower back and lead her inside. We enter the room, and we’re immediately transported to something far different than what I was expecting from a fraternity fight club. Something that makes me think we might be in over our heads.