Love y Lucha

Part 7

Rita buckled the ankle strap of the maroon pumps she had chosen to match the robin's egg blue of her sleeveless chiffon dress. She grabbed her wrap and clutch and exited her room, retrieving a beer and a napkin from the kitchen to give to her father. He was set up in front of the TV in his favorite chair, a tray of stuffed poblano peppers drowning in salsa roja in front of him.

Taking a seat on the couch, Rita looked straight through the TV as she dreaded each passing moment til eight o'clock.

"You look beautiful," her father commented. "But not too excited. I thought you liked art."

"I do," Rita replied. "I think I'm just nervous. Mr. Walker said there would be a lot of important people there tonight."

"Eh," her father said dismissively "Don't be nervous. Important people are just regular people with money."

"They're obnoxious, dad," Rita said. "Be honest."

"Well," he said, sipping his beer. "Get all your complaints out before you leave the house."

Rita rolled her eyes. "God forbid I don't make the right impression."

"Ay, Rita," her father said. "Now who's being obnoxious? What's gotten into you?"

"I don't want to go. I just agreed to go because I felt obligated to. I don't even like Mr. Walker."

Rita's father shook his head. "You're just saying that because you're distracted by the other guy."

"What other guy?"

"Sabes!"

"I don't know, dad," Rita said stubbornly.

"I know you've seen that wrestler guy more than once," her father said. "Don't go falling head over heels for him. You two are in business together."

"And Mr. Walker and I aren't? I know you knew he was going to ask me out that day in the office."

"That guy will be gone in a matter of weeks," her father said, ignoring her. "You don't fall for people like that. The road always comes before you do."

"Oh, dad, really?" Rita said. "You're really gonna make this about her?"

"She was a gypsy, Rita. She was more enticed by the road than her own family. It was all she knew!"

She sighed. Her father was getting emotional. It wouldn't be a good idea to tell him he had been more enticed by the business than her mother in those early years of Ricky and Rita's childhood, that that was probably what drove the one time vendor turned then-Mrs. Hernandez away.

"It's nothing serious," she said, adding, "I'm an adult."

"Learn from my experience, Rita," he warned.

A horn bleeped from outside. Really, she thought. He was picking her up like they were driving to high school together. "I've gotta go, jefito." She stood and kissed him on the cheek.

"Bye, sweetheart," Rita's father told her, delving into his plate once more to hide his real feelings.

Mr. Walker's Porsche was waiting at the curb. Rita opened her own door and got in.

"Rita, you look ravaging, as usual," Mr. Walker said, turning his head to take her in. "Very retro."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Would you like the top down?" he asked.

"No thanks."

They drove in near silence until they hit the expressway.