Chapter Five - The Return of the Boss

The Oasis Hotel was located on the busy Knutsford Boulevard. It looked nothing like it did in its hay day, even the fountain no longer worked and dry patches were prominent on the once lush lawn. The automatic glass entrance door had been replaced with push bar glass doors.

Sienta had to put a lot of effort to push the door open and she was greeted by a wave of heat that brought sweat pouring through her thin, cotton blouse. Jason had just dropped her off with enough time to push her suitcase through the back door of the car and sped off. She was still trying to put her thoughts together when the front desk receptionist greeted her with a plastic smile and said,

"Welcome to the Oasis Miss. What can we do for you today?" the pale faced receptionist asked with a smile.

"I need a room please for at least a week," Sienta replied tersely.

"Will that be cash or card?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Sheesh!" Sienta said under her breath. "What! you haven't even told me what is available, and you are trying to find out the method of my payment?"

"That is because our card machine is not working miss that is why I enquired before telling you what rooms are available," replied the woman in a more subdued tone.

"Oh crap," Sienta replied.

Her blonde hair started to mat together in the heat, with her skin clammy and felt pasty. Her blue jeans felt heavier and was almost cutting off her circulation in the five minutes that she arrived at the Oasis, her discomfort showed in her face.

Andrea smiled and said softly, "It's not normally like this but the air conditioning in the lobby went down this morning and maintenance are working on it as we speak. I can see you are quite uncomfortable, let me run your credit card the old fashion way and we can always settle the account once the system is back up. My apologies again Miss."

"It's Alexander, Sienta Alexander and thank you."

"Welcome Sienta, I can assure you that our rooms are the best in the capital compared to no other hotel."

"Frankly I was having second thoughts since I came out the car," she said as she handed the clerk the credit card with a smile.

The conversation had lifted her spirits a bit and somehow the heat did not feel overbearing and oppressive. The heavy weight had lifted from her shoulders as the thought of being away from Cherry Drive and the vixen that her mother had become, her chain of thoughts snapped when she heard the young lady ask,

"Can I see some Identification please Ms Alexander? It's standard operating procedure when a card is not signed, please understand and can you fill out this form while I check you in."

"Oh, I am sorry I did not catch what you were saying completely," Sienta replied.

"I need your Identification, preferable a driver's licence or a passport."

"I don't have a Jamaican driver licence, but I should have my passport," she said as she rummaged in her purse for the other piece of identification and then it dawned on her that she had left her passport on the dining table at home when she arrived from the airport, her shoulders fell and tears filled her eyes.

"Nothing is going my way today at all it seems," Sienta whispered.

Drops of salty tears fell from her eyes and splashed on the form that was before her and smudged the wet ink on the paper.

"You seem to be having one of those days that you just want to forget, I saw how the taxi man treated you and pushed your luggage from the back seat and I said to myself, it seems white people have shitty days too," Andrea said empathetically.

"Andrea you would not like to know."

A wry smile broke out on Sienta's face.

"Ok what kind of ID do you have in that fancy purse of yours Ms Alexander?"

Andrea asked with sympathy pouring from her words.

Andrea listened to the tears being drawn through the narrow nostrils of Sienta's nose and her heart fell for the beautiful young lady. Would you like a room with a view of the park and the sunset or would you prefer a room that has a view of the majestic Blue Mountains and the aristocratic houses and mansions on the foothills of the oldest English-speaking city in the Caribbean and founded in 1692 after an earthquake destroyed Port Royal.

"I want to see the park and the sun set on this day thank you Andrea and at last I've found my Floridian driver licences, will that work?" Sienta replied shyly with a flash of white teeth.

"Well, it is not like I have a choice Ms Alexander, let me just pop into the office and ask my supervisor, but please finish filling out the form I will be right back and Patrick will bring you a refreshing, cool, drink and a cold towel for your face."

"Thank you, Robert," Sienta said as she received the cold drink that appeared to be the typical fruit punch with the slice of pineapple wedged on the side of the glass, her thin lips caressed the straw as she took her first taste. Her taste buds reacted excitedly as the smooth ice-cold drink invigorated her spirit as it contained a touch of something that brought back happy memories.

The taste of rum, good old fashioned white rum and she slurped down the remainder of the glass with eagerness and gusto. she wanted to escape to a place where she was happy again. The towel stung her and brought back life to her cheeks; it was as if the North Pole had sent a car package for her. The alcohol warmed her blood and tingled her privates, while the rag removed the discomfort from her face and neck.

"Thank you again Patrick you saved my life." Her bubbly personality was slowly returning.

"What kind of night life you have at the hotel Patrick?" she asked bubbling with curiosity and anxiety.

"Well, Miss, tonight is dancehall night, with the chef putting out his best in Jamaican cuisine with jerk pork, chicken and I hear he has a special on jerked lobster and conch. Please come. I will be dancing and I would love for you to experience our culture since you are just coming to Jamaica."

Sienta chuckled, "I will definitely be there Patrick I need to unwind and release some stress."

Patrick flashed his perfect white teeth that matched his eyes and it contrasted drastically with his charcoal-coloured skin. His physique reminded her of Jason and she wondered if he could dance as well as Jason with his almost hypnotic dance moves that were reminiscent of passionate sex always had an arousing effect on her every time she watched him dance.

Andrea's voice again broke her from her trance,

"I have good news we will accept your American driver's licence Ms Alexander and I ran your card, I will place you on the 7th floor overlooking the park and the city. You should have a splendid view of the activities in the park and tonight's festivities. Oh, I see you completed the form, but you need to insert a next of kin in case of an emergency."

"Oh, sorry I am an orphan," she responded.

She instantly felt the pain of lying and could not take it back, but she was still feeling the hurt of the words her mother had used and wished that her mother was in fact dead.

"So sorry to hear that, well I hope your stay with us will be a pleasant one and Patrick will take you to your room 715 and here is your room key and towel card. All of our restaurants are reservation only with the exception of the 365/12 where it's buffet style and I am sure our best dancer in the house has already told you about dancehall night at the disco starting at 9 p.m."

Strangely enough the elevator was air conditioned and Patrick was quite the charmer. He talked effortlessly about the various attractions around Kingston, including the mansion of the first black millionaire in Jamaica called Devon House that sold the most exquisite ice cream and boasted a new and much improved ice cream shop built by TPDCo.

"What is TPDCo and how come you are so knowledgeable about these things and places Patrick?" she enquired.

Patrick smiled again and as he walked down the carpeted corridor with the Jamaican art work along the walls he told her about the company that was responsible for the Jamaican Tourism Product and how they had trained him to being an ambassador for tourism and he learned about Jamaica's culture, history and attractions and that he was Jamaica's best tourism product, The hallway and the room looked nothing like the lobby and she was pleasantly surprised by the ambiance of the room. All of the furniture was locally made and the rooms even had a few novels written by a local author, the amazingly talented Clinton Gene.

"Thank you, Patrick, can I tip you?" Sienta asked softly.

"No miss, it is against the company's policy, but you can reward me by being at the disco latter in order for me to show you some of the latest dancehall moves," Patrick replied with a warm smile.

"Patrick, I will be there tonight, by the way does the hotel have an internet cafe?" Sienta asked with an equally charming smile.

"Yes Miss, we have a business centre where our trained staff will assist you with any documentation, emails, facsimile, banking transactions, wire transfers and the like."

"Facsimile! Patrick nobody uses that word anymore much less the actual fax machine, you need to get with the programme dude," she replied as she laughed.

"Enjoy your stay Ms Alexander and see you tonight."

A playful smile flirted on his lips as he softly closed the door.