Love y Lucha

Part 9

A miserable week had passed with Rita at the helm. She spent much of her time locked away in her office, reconciling the receipts with the debt to the Walkers. The gap appeared to be slowly closing, but Rita couldn't shake the feeling of the glass being half empty.

She couldn't erase Paco's pleading expression before she delivered the final blow that night outside the trailer. On a whim, she had gone by the arena the day after. The luchadores who hadn't left the night before were packing up, duffel bags gathered around the ring as they talked in groups throughout the arena. The next, and final match wasn't for another two weeks. Paco sat off to the side, leaning towards the pretty Roxanne, deep in conversation. They laughed amicably before noticing her presence.

"Is everything alright, Ms. Hernandez?" It wasn't Paco who spoke, but El Chivo who was serving as ambassador.

She smiled at him. "Just checking in," she murmured. "Is there anything I can do for you before the next match?" Her hospitality was a paper thin alibi.

"We've got everything we need," he replied, patting her on the shoulder. "We promise to leave everything just as we found it."

She nodded. "Great."

Shamefaced, she returned to her office. Maybe Paco had already moved on, which was fine. Good for him. She didn't need the distraction. She still locked her door and cried face down into her desk. The whole situation made her want to never leave the trailer again.

That made her easy to find. Mr. Walker stopped by unexpectedly one afternoon. He let himself in and sat across the desk from her solemnly.

"How is your father?"

She looked up from her work. "Good. Getting better."

Mr. Walker smiled. "Great news! I'm sure you haven't had time to call Barbara Shelby, with the antique malls, so I called her for you. Do you have time tomorrow afternoon?"

"I've been pretty busy," Rita replied. "It's just me after all."

"Can you make time?"

Rita leaned back in her chair. "Mr. Walker, with all do respect, these are your grounds, and you're entitled to do whatever you want with them without my input. I'm not really sure what you're interest with Barbara Shelby's antiques have to do with me."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I hear you. I just figured you could expedite the process. I'd like to evolve the whole South end of the grounds into a hub for antiquing. I think it'll be great for business. The South end has it's own entrance, allowing customers to come solely for the antiques, and then explore the rest of the what the grounds has to offer. If they want to."

"Alright."

"I'd need you to ask the vendors there now to leave," Mr. Walker said.

"Where are they supposed to go?" Rita asked. The South end was a hub for produce, fresh fruits and vegetables that the farm workers could flip for a good profit. "Produce is one of the most popular aisles."

"Oh, I know, believe me, I know," Mr. Walker said. "You'd just be moving them. Ask some under performers to leave."

"A rented space is a rented space, there are no under performers," Rita said.

"Well, maybe that's why we're in the hole now. Your end of the business gets a commission on every dollar they make. That can be cents on the dollar or it can be actual dollars," he learned forward. "Maybe it's time to evaluate how we do business here."

Rita's lip had unconsciously traveled up to curl near her nose in disgust. She was either going to be sick or say something she regretted.

"Can you excuse me one moment?"