Rika, the Cuban Flame

2. Two Middle Fingers

Lucas

Damn, this chick really is as crazy as she appears on TV!

I pull her wrist where she grips my jaw, and she swings her fist down at me. "Stop!" I thought I was done with this stupid shit?! Who still bullies people in their 20s? Someone with anger problems, clearly, or worse.

"Rika!" a voice yells.

Rika's fist stops maybe an inch from my face, and we both turn simultaneously to see a man emerge from a door in the corner. This is the same man who let me into the gym earlier when I first got here. He just waved me on through. I didn't have to pay or show a membership or nothing and that still confuses me. Now that I'm paying more attention, the man has a striking resemblance to Rika herself. They seem to be the same skin, and they share some of the same facial features, making me think they come from the same family. He's a bigger man, and by that, I mean big boned and not obese or fat by any means. There's no hair on his head and his bald head reflects the many overhead lights hanging from the gym. The navy suit he wears looks more expensive than the cost of most gym equipment, and even his fancy brown shoes shine in the lights.

"Yes, papa?" Rika asks.

Papa?

The man stops in front of us, pulls a cigar out of his pocket, and lights it right there like he doesn't give a damn in the world. He puffs air out of his mouth, lingering as a cloud near his head. Rika and I haven't moved. She's still on top of me and overstaying her welcome, not that she had one in the first place. Her grip makes my jaw hurt and I glare at her. "Can you let go of me?" I ask her.

"Let go of Lucas, mija. I let him in earlier as a favor to his father."

I look up at him, Rika's grip on my face making it difficult. "You know my dad?"

The man nods. "I do. I'm Carlos Hardric, and this is my very ill-mannered and easily angered mija, Rika," Carlos says, now squatting next to us.

"Mija?" I question. "My Spanish is a little rusty..."

Rika snaps her head toward me, and then back to her papa. "But Lucas is here without a day pass! Or a gym membership!"

"I know." Carlos answers. "I'm doing him a favor. His father wanted him to have access to a good gym, so I obliged."

Rika laughs. "Lucas here doesn't need a gym! He needs the sun!" She looks back down at me and rocks my head back and forth by the grip she has on my jaw. Right. Left. Right. Left.

"Hey!" I hiss. I squeeze her wrist, but her grip is iron tight.

"Look at the dude!" Rika yells, once again turning back to her papa. "The punching bag would beat him up! Clearly—"

"Mija!" Carlos thunders, standing back up and towering over us. "Mind your manners. There's nothing wrong with Lucas wanting to get in shape. That's what gyms are all about. Apologize to him." While staring daggers at Rika, he points directly at me. "Right now." His gaze to Rika looks terrifying, like every child in the world suddenly becomes obedient, just like that.

In my defense, I knew nothing about this. I don't even know how gyms work and on top of that, I didn't know I needed a day pass or a gym membership. All I wanted to do was blow off some steam. This is the closest gym so I literally just walked in without having ever been in one in my life. I look back at Rika, who now looks spooked and her face scrunches up. She immediately gets off me, stands up, and bows. "I'm so sorry!"

I sit up, and that makes Rika take a couple of steps back, so she's no longer standing over me. Then I grip my jaw, moving it this way and that. It's still a jaw, and it still works and thankfully never met Rika's fist. "Hey, it's no problem—" Rika bows, looking respectful, but the look on her face, the one Carlos can't see, is full of terror and that look alone interrupts me. Her eyes squint and her lips purse together, red in the face. She shakes her head, barely noticeable, but there may as well be an ominous cloud around her right now and I don't mean the smoke from Carlos's cigar.