24. Callum
24
CALLUM
I checked my phone again to see if Nadia had called me back. She hadn’t. We were playing phone tag. I called her yesterday. Twice. She called me back last night, but I was already asleep. I returned her call this afternoon, but she didn’t pick up. I tried to time it when she was at lunch, but I must have missed her.
Today was a long one. We were on-site for twelve hours, and the commute, which typically took forty-five minutes, ended up taking over an hour both ways due to road work on the causeway that was the only way on or off the island. I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since I left her sleeping in that bed. I wondered what she was thinking about the night we’d spent together.
Did it mean anything to her? Was there unfinished business between us? Or was it just a one-off for old times’ sake?
That’s not what it felt like to me. But why would it? I never stopped loving her, so how could it?
We needed to talk, but I knew that first I had to put my house in order. So much was up in the air right now. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about Chloe. If I did retain custody of her, where were we going to live? As if there weren’t enough complications, Felicity was back. I’d tried, several times, to talk to her yesterday, but she kept dodging me, claiming she wanted to spend time with Matty, and then she went to bed early due to jet lag.
I did notice she was still wearing her engagement ring and posting that we were still engaged. I had texted her today that she needed to stop doing that and take the posts down. She hadn’t replied to my messages.
My phone rang, and my heart jumped into my throat. I grabbed it, sure that it would be Nadia. I wanted to be the one to tell her that Felicity was in town, although I was sure she’d probably heard about it by now. Nothing in this town stayed quiet for long.
I wasn’t sure how she was going to react to the news. My first instinct was that she would be pissed, just like she’d seemed when she saw me and Kendra in the parking lot or when she heard Ariana wanted to invite me in for a drink. But there was nothing for her to be upset about. Things were over with me and Felicity, whether Felicity wanted to accept it or not. She couldn’t actually believe that she could show up and act like the last ten months never happened.
Well, that wasn’t true. She could act like that because she was. But she could only avoid the conversation we needed to have for so long. Sooner rather than later, she would have to accept that we were done, and she only had herself to blame.
When I saw who was calling, I almost didn’t answer. Junior Vargas had been my agent since I was nineteen years old. He represented me when I was nobody. He was a charming, charismatic, tenacious, bloodthirsty shark who didn’t take no for an answer and could sell honey to a bee. Those traits were incredible when it came to business, not so much when it came to a personal life.
Junior didn’t understand me taking a step back from my career to focus on Matty. He saw dollar signs and placed how many zeros were in front of the decimal point before anything else. He truly believed everything was for sale and everyone had a price.
It was exhausting speaking to him. But I knew if I didn’t pick up, he’d keep calling. If I continued to ignore his phone calls, he’d show up on my doorstep. Like I said, tenacious.
“Hey, Junior,” I answered.
“You ready to get back in the cage?”
“No.” There was no point in elaborating as to why I wasn’t. He didn’t give a shit about my reasons, and even if he did, they were none of his business.
“That was a rhetorical question. Martinez is back, and he’s calling you out.”
Louis “Maddog” Martinez and I had a decade-long feud against one another. I faced him in my first pro fight and won, stripping him of his belt and title. In the world of mixed martial arts, we were Apple and Microsoft, Coke and Pepsi, Packers and Bears, Frazier and Ali.
Over the course of my career, we entered the octagon three times. He had a win, I had a win, and our last bout ended in a split draw. Before we were able to set up another fight to break the tie and definitively end the debate of who the GOAT was, Martinez was forced to retire due to medical issues, and I had to step back to be a full-time father to Matty.
At the time I announced my retirement, I added a condition that the only reason I’d ever come back to the sport was if I could settle the score once and for all with Martinez. I made that concession thinking he would never get back in the game. But it didn’t matter what my thought process was at the time; everything was different now. I had Chloe. I was thousands of miles away from my team. And I just reunited with Nadia.
Whoa . Where had that thought come from? She wasn’t part of this. Why would she be a part of this equation at all?
“I’m not interested.”
“Not interested?! What the fuck are you talking about?! You always said?—”
“I know what I said,” I cut Junior off. “But I have personal things I’m dealing with right now.”
“You have plenty of time to handle your personal shit. It’s not until this summer, mid-July. And it’s one point five guaranteed.”
Shit. One and a half million guaranteed was not something I could just turn down, especially considering I had another kid who I was potentially going to be financially responsible for. I had to think about everything from getting her a car, college, and her daily expenses like food, clothes, hair care, skincare, and makeup. I never knew how much those things cost. I took Chloe to Sephora last weekend, and the kid spent $120 on two products for her ‘nighttime skincare routine.’ I recognized all the products Chloe picked up from PR boxes that showed up on our doorstep for Felicity. Since she got those items sent to her, I had no idea just how expensive they were.
I should have been better with my money when I was younger. I was an idiot. The timing of my success could not have been worse. When I earned my first big payout, I wasn’t exactly in the best headspace to handle it. My dad had just died. I found out about his indiscretion. And the icing on the shit cake was Nadia sleeping with Jerry Clemons. I blew through that first check in less than three months. I bought stupid things that I didn’t need, paid for weekends in Vegas with ‘my boys,’ and did anything and everything, except drugs, to numb the pain I was in. And I kept living like that for the next few years.
When Felicity told me she was pregnant, I knew I had to get serious about my finances, but I didn’t have any savings. I had nothing to show for my career because I’d made an emotional bonfire with my money. The decision to step back and start working construction was scary. I had no cushion or safety net. I was living paycheck to paycheck.
This opportunity would change that. I could pay off my credit card debts and mortgage back in Arizona. I could set Matty and Chloe up with a college fund and not stress if unexpected expenses came up, which they always did. This check would give me financial stability and peace of mind.
Despite those pros, there were cons I had to consider. I couldn’t step back into the cage in the state I was in. Not just my physical condition but also my mental and emotional state. I had to switch into beast mode to face an opponent as formidable as Martinez. I had to Rocky-montage myself into the best shape of my life. To do that, I would have to move home, and that would mean taking Chloe out of school here. Once I got home, I would have to dedicate myself to my training with zero distractions. For the next six months, my entire world would be preparing for the fight. I would have to eat, breathe, and sleep MMA. Once we were twelve weeks out, the heat would be turned up when I started my rigorous training camp dedicated to strength and conditioning, cardiovascular and muscle endurance, sparring, technique development, mental preparedness, nutrition, and discipline.
How could I commit to that when things with Chloe were so up in the air? She just lost her mom. If I did end up with permanent custody, she needed someone who was there for her day-in and day-out.
“I have to think about it.” I pressed the end call button.
As soon as I did, Junior called back. When I didn’t pick up, he called again. He tried calling two more times. By the time I got home to the farm and parked, I saw he’d sent a text.
Junior: I need an answer within 24 hours. If you’re not going to move forward with this, I don’t think I’m the right person to continue representing you.
I let out a huff of a laugh. I found it funny that Junior thought he could pressure me into not only making a decision but also saying yes by threatening to drop me as a client. I wondered if his tactics worked with other athletes he represented. They must, or he wouldn’t use them. He should know better than to give me an ultimatum. I did not respond well to people manipulating me. If someone tried to use leverage to get what they wanted, even if what I wanted aligned with what they wanted, I would choose the opposite to spite them. Why? Because fuck them, that’s why.
I always hated bullies. The older I got, the more I recognized that my dad was a bully. He wasn’t the throw-someone-in-the-locker or call-people-horrible-names type of bully. My dad was more subtle, more nuanced than that. His bullying was done in the silence between the words he spoke. It was done in the stares of disapproval, disgust, and disappointment that lasted a second too long. It was done in handshakes that were firm enough to cause people to wince in discomfort but not tight enough that they would leave any physical mark.
Chuck Knight used his influence, power, and intelligence, along with his commanding size, presence, and strength, to intimidate people. He never blatantly threatened anyone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t psychologically strong-arm them. One thing was indisputable: until the day he died, he always got his way. No one dared to question or challenge him except me—his only son, which was why our relationship changed so drastically after I turned eight and I saw him for who he was.
If I didn’t let my own father, a man whom I idolized for the first eight years of my life, give me an ultimatum, Junior had to be high to think I was going to let him.
I immediately called his bluff.
Me: I don’t need 24 hours; the answer is no. I agree you are no longer the right person to represent me. I will have my attorney send you a letter dissolving our contract. You can expect it in the morning.
I pressed send, grabbed my mini-cooler and thermos, and stepped out of the truck. Before my work boots touched the dirt, I already had two texts, both of which were from Junior. I didn’t have to read them to know he was trying to crawl out of the hole he’d just dug for himself. I’d throw him a rope soon, but first, I wanted him to sweat a little.
When I reached the top of the porch, I heard Matty’s belly laugh. I turned in the direction the sound was coming from, and I saw Shadow in the pen on the south field, and she wasn’t alone. Chloe was riding her, and Matty was seated on the fence, cheering his aunt on. Buzz was walking in the center of the pen, thumbs hooked in the straps of his overalls, verbally guiding Shadow. Matty’s floppy brown hair was blowing in the evening breeze. Chloe’s face was earnest with concentration as she held the reins. Brilliant shades of red, orange, yellow, and pink created a postcard-perfect backdrop as the sun set behind them.
This was another reason I didn’t want to leave. Matty rarely spent time outside back home. He didn’t have many friends in our neighborhood, and the friends he did have didn’t play on the street there. Some of that was because the temperatures made it impossible, but it was also because kids were just on their devices these days. Of course, I knew kids were on devices here, too, but at least they had this to balance it out. They had fresh air, animals, land, and family here. This was what a childhood should be.
I didn’t have any of this to offer either of them in Arizona. And I didn’t have Nadia. There was that too.