42. Calista
FORTY-TWO
CALISTA
“ T his is a happy medium,” I reminded Harper, shutting the gym locker with a bang. “You want to move your body, and I need to practice mindfulness, so my nervous system doesn’t constantly feel like I’m being chased by a grizzly bear.”
Ever since that conversation with my mother while I was home for Winter Break, a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I was taking things more day by day, really considering what I wanted to do once I graduated from Fenton, whenever that would be.
Since being back, I had sent out an email to the Academic Office to see what the process of switching majors looked like.
There had been no answer yet, as they were still closed for the holidays, but checking that off my to-do list had alleviated some of the stress I had been storing since the beginning of the school year.
Harper’s unenthused expression came back into view now that the metal door was shut. She had been waiting for me to store the small drawstring bag I had packed for our impromptu yoga session. A groan filled the empty room as she pushed herself off the locker next to me.
“I miss Ella.”
I allowed myself to laugh. Harper was well aware that I was not a fan of exercise in any capacity that exceeded a brisk walk.
I had been that way all my life. There was not one athletic bone in my body.
And while I knew of the health benefits that came along with working out, I just couldn’t keep myself committed.
Not even during our senior year of high school, when Harper had offered to be my personal trainer.
If anything, her rigorous regime and drill-sergeant demeanor only made the disdain worse. I lasted a total of two weeks.
“You’ll return to your regular scheduled programming after she’s back from break,” I mused before continuing. “Don’t you still have a home gym in your basement? I don’t know why you bother driving all the way here when you could work out in the comfort of your own home.”
Having been in the military, Harper’s father was very adamant about keeping a healthy lifestyle.
On a few occasions, she had mentioned how he often acted like a lieutenant both on and off duty.
The home gym they had was kept pristine—from the last time I saw it, anyway—and had a good array of equipment.
Maybe that’s where she got her meticulous personality from.
“I can’t spend too much time in that house anymore,” Harper admitted as I clicked the lock shut, swirling the knob for good measure. “My father needs to find a hobby. Retirement isn’t for him.”
“You should suggest crocheting. It’s becoming more mainstream again, lots of people I know are picking it up. ”
I grinned at the image of Harper’s gruff, army-veteran father with giant needles and a ball of yarn perched on his lap while he sat in the armchair in their living room. It was only a half-serious suggestion.
I picked my water bottle off the bench, my phone in the opposite hand.
We made our way out of the locker room. Harper was going on about how her mother had been trying to find something for him to do outside of the house when I received an incoming text. I peered down at the screen, Lincoln’s name popped up.
A small smile emerged as I swiped up with my thumb to read whatever he’d sent me.
I need you.
At the Pit.
All of a sudden, my shoes were made of lead. I came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hallway. My smile slipped off, and soon, I was staring down at my phone with scrunched brows.
“What is it?” Harper asked, stopping short of the door.
“I don’t really know.”
I pressed the call icon next to Lincoln’s name and brought the phone up to my ear. It rang for what felt like an eternity until it sent me to voicemail. I hung up and tried again.
Harper’s green eyes bore into mine.
“I don’t know why he isn’t answering,” I said, more so to myself. He had just texted me; shouldn’t that mean his phone was nearby?
“Lincoln?” Harper asked, putting pieces of the puzzle together .
All I could do was nod as I reached his answering machine for the third time.
Tightness began to spread through my chest. “Something is wrong.”
“Do you think he’s hurt again?”
“I don’t know,” I breathed, my mind whirling. “He said he’s at the Pit. I need to go find him.”
Harper couldn’t stop me as I handed her my water bottle and rushed towards the door.
“Wait,” Harper tried, but I was already slipping out into the general area of the gym. “Cal!”
The bottom of my running shoes slapped against the padded floor as I took off. I didn’t even consider going back to grab the light winter coat I had shoved in my locker. My leggings and sports bra were the only things that protected me once I broke through the doors that escorted me back outside.
Wet snow drifted down from the sky, planting frozen kisses on my skin and soaking into the black set I was wearing.
Halfway through my run to the Student Centre, I wished I had taken a moment to tie my hair up.
Thin strands stuck to my face as I sprinted through the ugly weather, a mix of sleet and rain dusting my skin.
I barreled through the entrance of the Student Centre, narrowly missing a couple of students who were meandering a little too close to the doors. I threw an apology over my shoulder. From the cursing, it wasn’t well received.
The Underground came into view, and I launched myself down the dim stairwell, two steps at a time.
It was later in the evening. The dinner rush had ended a couple of hours ago and a good number of students were still off-campus for the break, so I wasn’t surprised at the low turnout. Even for a Friday night .
Music vibrated through me as I dashed across the dance floor, passing the billiard tables in the corner. On a regular night out, the sight of them would have had a warm feeling spilling throughout my body. Memories of Lincoln’s strong arms caging me in would materialize in my mind.
But the panic pumping through my veins transformed those images into the ones with Lincoln sitting in that stuffy boiler room, bleeding out.
If I wasn’t in such a rush, I might have taken a moment to empty the contents of my stomach.
I jerked open the heavy door of the storage closet. There was a small, logical part of my mind that told me to check to make sure no one else was around, but I didn’t listen. What were the chances that a random, drunk college student would try to follow me?
With a single bang, I was thrown into darkness. The familiar scent of lemon cleaner was overwhelming in the cramped closet. Light from my phone flashlight accompanied me as I searched for the box of borax that unlatched the secret entrance to the Pit.
One quick tug and the wall cracked open. A sliver of light seeped through from the other side. But it was void of anything else. Unlike the last couple of times I had come to the underground fight club, there was no cacophony of screams mixed with the heavy bass of house music.
The palm of my hand met the cold concrete of the faux wall. I poked my head through. There was no sign of anyone. No security. No crowd. No half-naked bottle girls.
No one.
The echo of my footsteps ricocheted off the damp walls as I wandered deeper. If Lincoln wasn’t here, where else could he be? What other reason would he have to send out an SOS ?
The Pit wasn’t a welcoming place. Even without anyone around, it gave me the creeps.
I had made it halfway to the caged boxing ring, deciding I would check the makeshift change room Lincoln was in last time, before someone spoke from behind me.
“I knew you’d come running.”
I almost jumped out of my skin, spinning around on my heel to find Claudio ogling me. An overt grin was growing on his wide face. It was so unnerving that a shiver scurried down my spine. He was sitting at a booth in the back of the basement, his fingers fidgeting with something.
The black rectangle slid back and forth as he spoke again, “But I don’t think you’d get here so quickly.” Claudio’s pointed gaze shot down to the watch on his wrist. “Four minutes. Pretty impressive.”
This time, when he brought his eyes back to me, he took his time scanning my body. A grunt of appreciation came out of him, and I suddenly wished I had something, anything, to cover up the exposed skin.
I wrapped my arms around my torso, half to protect myself from the chill that had settled into my bones and half in a poor attempt to shield my body from Claudio’s leering eyes.
“You’re the one who sent that text?” I asked, not liking the direction this was going in.
Claudio was standing in front of the table now.
With slow, tantalizing movements, he stepped off the platform that housed a few of the booths, flashing the black device in his hand.
When he clicked a button on the side, the screen lit up to show a photograph.
I squinted in an attempt to make it out.
It was of Sadie, her delicate cheeks covered in cookie crumbs.
Lincoln’s phone .
“Yup,” he said, stumbling even closer. For a moment, I questioned if he was drunk. “That would have been me.”
“Where’s Lincoln?”
Claudio shrugged his shoulders, lifting his arms up in the process. If I weren’t aware of who he was, I could have thought he was completely innocent.
“Who knows these days? It’s hard to keep track of that fucker.” The already harrowing smile he was wearing hardened with malice. “Especially since he came down here yesterday, claiming that he quit .”
The last word was spit out like a curse. He continued his advance towards me, making no indication of stopping. I moved back a step, then two, trying to keep the distance between us.
Until my back collided with the metal cage around the boxing ring.
The clang echoed throughout the Pit, causing my chest to balloon with anxiety. I gave a sidelong glance towards the secret entrance. Would I be able to make it before he could catch me? My mind whirled like a car stuck in a crater of mud.
I was trapped.
Claudio was dangerously quiet, waiting for a response that I did not have. His eyes were glossed over, and while standing there, I noticed the slight sway in his husky frame.
Maybe I could outrun him.
Even if I were able to escape or not, I knew this wouldn’t be over.
Claudio had already sought me out once. I still remembered the thinly veiled threat that he had uttered that night.
It wasn’t made out to me. At least, it didn’t feel that way.
But right now, below Fenton University, I was the target.
Regardless of the truth, Claudio believed that I was the reason behind Lincoln removing himself from the Pit. That’s all he cared about.
“I thought we had a pretty good arrangement going,” he said, coming to a slow stop. His head tilted as he regarded the concrete walls. “I stay out of his personal life, away from his family, and throw some extra cash his way. All he had to do was fight for me.”
Claudio pursed his lips, running his tongue against his top teeth.
“This place was supposed to be rammed tonight. That bastard made me look like a fucking idiot in front of some really important people. So that promise I made with him? Consider it broken. He threw it all away for some fucking whore .”
He drilled his gleaming eyes into me. The dopey expression he was wearing had transformed into a look of pure hatred that physically hurt me. My stomach turned in on itself, bile rising to my throat. I had to fight to keep it down.
“He shouldn’t have to fight for his freedom,” came my wobbly reply.
Claudio’s nose scrunched as if he took a whiff of something rotten. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my own son .”
An ounce of bravery—or perhaps it was pure stupidity—wormed its way up my chest. I braced myself. “Lincoln’s not your son. You’re nothing to him.”
The thin line of Claudio’s mouth morphed into a sneer that had me wishing the cage I was pressed against would swallow me whole.
“Soon you won’t be much more to him either.”