Page 12 of Out of Office
“Adrián, go get that girl’s luggage and put it in your room!” Claudia hollered from the side path that led to the back of the main casita. Genevieve stiffened in my arms, and I immediately felt the shift in our connection. I turned around to face Claudia who had a basket of linen propped on her hip. I stroked my beard, hoping it kept me from saying something like “mind your own business, old bat.”
“Genevieve’s a guest. I wouldn’t put her in such uncomf—”
Again, Claudia interrupted with a loud scoff.
“Ay por favor. Look at the two of you. I give you two days max. Genevieve stay in his room. It’s one of the largest cabanas and is not part of the inventory. Y’all can figure it out.” Claudia rolled her eyes and stomped away as Chichi called her.
“Listen, you don’t have to worry, I asked you for two weeks, but I’d never presume...”
“How big is the cabana?” Genevieve’s question took a minute to penetrate fully. When it did, my body flashed hot and cold. Images of the two of us in one of my most cherished spaces raised my temperature, but I played it cool. I always did. Keeping my cool helped when kids at school had learned early how to hurt me because they considered my bisexuality a thing to condemn. And it had helped when my cool then translated into being considered unflappable in business and in relationships.
“Big enough for company.”
“My company?” she replied, that shyness peeking through, but she held her gaze with that determination I had seen in her before.
“Genevieve, I’d love to host you for two weeks in my cabana if you want to stay here.”
“Okay, I’ll stay.”
My chest tightened at Genevieve’s easy capitulation; it was like she’d wanted this solution all along. Emboldened by her choice, I stepped closer to her again, this time keeping my arms to myself.
“Good, I’ll make sure you have the time of your life.”
Six
Genevieve
“Good, I’ll make sure you have the time of your life.”
Those words resonated in my brain a couple of hours after Adrián spoke them to me, with his deep rumbly voice, so close I could have gotten on my tiptoes and stolen a kiss. How would his plump lips taste? Probably as delicious as he looked in the current board shorts and white tank top as he carried some additional rollaway beds with Chichi to one of the guest rooms. I could spy him through the window next to the front desk in the casita, which was deceptively more extensive than expected.
The front desk was adjacent to a little living area with beautiful, colorful decor. The walls sported clay plates and houses hand painted in watercolors with Panamanian folkloric motifs. There was a second expansive room with additional wooden furniture and what Claudia explained in between tasks was the only TV in the hostel. That opened to a large outdoor area and a gorgeous crystalline pool surrounded by palm trees, wicker loungers, and patio furniture.
The group of Americans ended up being a Black “grown and sexy” excursion for singles and married couples. I learned more about the group as I helped Claudia with the check-in, taking credit cards and swiping them for incidentals.
One of the guests, a single woman of forty who recently divorced, accompanied by her two best friends, explained this was a package they’d bought through a magazine for Black travelers and adventurers.
“So what’s this excursion about? How do you know all these people?” I asked them.
“You haven’t heard of Black Travel Chronicles?” The woman flashed her phone to me showing an aesthetically pleasing IG page with photos of paradise or Black people traveling in each post.
I immediately struck up a conversation with them, finding out that Black Travel Chronicles was an up-and-coming paper and digital publisher that showcased destinations, hotels, restaurants, and cities that were friendly for Black travelers—not only that, but they highlighted rich cultural experiences for Black millennials and Gen Xers.
“I love the concept! I don’t travel for leisure often, but when I do, I’m always looking for information on the city’s Black history, neighborhoods, and Black-owned businesses to give my money to!” I said, excited to have found this website and social media accounts. This was a game changer for me when I traveled next. Wow, thinking of my next vacation felt like a step too far, but...why not? There wasn’t anything wrong with plotting my next adventure.
“Yeah, girl, we found their social media page a few years ago and have loved their articles and posts ever since. When they advertised this excursion, I knew I had to jump on it,” Telisha, the guest, said as I finished her check-in process.
This little hostel being exposed by the magazine was fantastic. I’m not certain how it had happened, because Adrián and his sister seemed to be surprised by the business, but this was at the heart of the conversations Adrián and I had often shared—how could we invest in us? The possibilities of Black Travel Chronicles and Black-owned hospitality lingered on while I continued checking people in.
Thank God Claudia and Adrián had the same system we had in the Tropics; it allowed me to jump in and help Claudia. Once we finished with the line, Claudia sagged with relief.
“Well, now I can go to the Buenona and help out Mario before the excursion descends on the fonda for dinner.”
“Oh, you know the owner of the Buenona? I’m looking forward to trying out the food there.”
“Waooo, girl, you really just came here with my brother knowing nothing about him? The Buenona is the family’s as well. You really must be dickmatized if he got you to come, and you two barely know each other. I mean I wouldn’t, but hey, I get it, he’s a handsome man. He could really have been taking you to your death, and you just went willing.” Claudia’s whole body language exuded “couldn’t be me” energy.
Damn. She wasn’t wrong. I floundered for what to say, shocked at Claudia’s assessment. I prided myself on my methodical and meticulous evaluations. Still, for some reason, I’d blindly hopped into Adrián’s car and traveled two hours to a remote town in a country where I had very few people that knew me. All on a whim. But of all the people I had connected with in Panamá, Adrián was the one I connected the most. And subconsciously, I recognized I could trust him, and I decided to trust my gut. I did it all the time with work, why not in my personal life as well?