Rika, the Cuban Flame

13. I Hanged Him?

Rika

Uri and I have that history no one ever wants to talk about. Luckily for me, it's easy to get away from him like I've had many times in the past. He's also a fighter in the same league. He's busy, has his own gym, and travels around a lot more than I do. He hates to admit it, but he doesn't have time for a relationship right now, even if that relationship is with me. Good. I'm not going back to being that stupid girl on his arm. We aren't compatible. Simple as that. I don't care if Uri comes after me, but he sure as fuck better leave Lucas alone.

Seeing him yesterday caught me off guard. I froze up and I never do that. I really wish Lucas wasn't there to see that side of me. It sort of took over and I'll be damned if that side of me over comes up again. Not on my watch. I can't believe that... Lucas looked at me like he didn't recognize me. He looked betrayed and looked at me like I'm just some stranger that wasn't wrestling around with him on the ground. I wanted to keep that conversation going... I was enjoying it. Getting to know Lucas and what he's about because, according to my papa, Lucas means more to me than I realize given what happened in my match with Lisa. God, why did Uri have to show up and fuck up my head?

I walk down the third floor hall of the main administration building with my large plastic cup of coffee in hand. I'm dressed casually in a baby blue t-shirt and white athletic shorts, comfort wear, as I call it. No logos, no sponsors, just me. Although I hate wearing traditional shoes, I wear sneakers today because somehow my one pair of sandals and my one pair of flip-flops are missing. My hair is up in its normal bun and I don't wear any make-up. Make-up, and other things such as spending hours doing my hair, were never really my thing. So only on the rarest of occasions will I pretty myself up. Not to brag, but I'm pretty with no need to do anything else, such as paint a face on my make-up. And yes, I said that expression right.

After my loss to Lisa, my public relations manager, Ellis, has been all over my case about fan interactions. If fans approach me, I sign whatever they want. If they want a selfie, I smile like I mean it to make the picture memorable. If I'm surrounded by a sea of them, I'm to make time for each one, including any signings or pictures. Most of them just want an autograph or want me to sign some piece of clothing, usually shorts or a plain white t-shirt. So I always have a marker with me. One of those large black permanent ones to sign anything that people approach me with. I've already signed my name over 50 times this morning. I really try not to count, but when my hand gets tired, I wonder how many I'm signing in less than a day. That's a lot of loops to make on shirts and pieces of paper.

Doing all of this for my fans made me late. Lucas's disciplinary hearing started forty-five minutes ago, and he didn't even tell me about it. I had to find out from Coach Perez that maybe Lucas wants me in his corner but he's too ashamed to tell me that. I'm not surprised. He can be a bit of a pussy.

I even got here on time and I'm late for everything. I parked my supercar on time. I got here before the hearing even started, but I quickly got swarmed when I left the safety of my car. Not that supercars are super safe to begin with. Men ran up to me, impressed and jealous of my ride. Women ran up to me, wanting to be me, and asked about how they could get into fighting. A mix of them wanted me to sign something and almost all of them wanted a selfie with me. I'm cool with all of this, though I'm not on campus to meet with fans. I'm here for a reason.

At least it's isolated up here on the third floor. Everyone needs to go through reception to access the elevator to get up here. I wander around a bit, taking sips of my coffee, looking for the first hearing room. I see a set of double doors up the hall and that has to be it since it's the last set of doors on this floor to check. I'm only halfway to the doors, which suddenly fly open with enough force that they smack the wall with an audible thud. That probably left a dent. An older looking man, with grey hair, a bald head, and wearing a nice suit, bursts into the hall and looks around. "We need some help in here! Anyone!"