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The moment I opened the airport door, I was greeted with the heat of the Bahamas beating down on my face. The sound of children's roughhousing along with adults' upbeat chatter filled the air amidst the distant hum of the sea. The bustling tourists and natives mixed together, all having a motivation evident within their strides. A warm feeling grew in my stomach at the realization that I was actually here. I mean, it was only yesterday I was storing payments and taking orders at Builder Brothers Pizzeria. Don't get me wrong, I love my job more than anything in the world! Nothing makes me happier than being able to help people no matter how big or small! Even if it's something as simple as striking up a polite conversation with a customer or wishing them a good day. But I'd be a liar if I said there weren't days that I had to tug on the fallen blonde strains of my loose ponytail in order to stay awake. There comes a point after working at the same place for so long that if I had to work another night shift, all the life would be sucked out of my body. I mean, after being called into work on every holiday for the last 7 years, I thought a vacation to Paradise seemed well deserved. Plus, I had spent the last 3 weeks learning about Bahamian culture because that was the only way my manager—or in simpler terms, my dad—would allow me to take time off. I'm a full-grown adult who lives on my own, by the way. My manager just makes it his mission to make my life harder.
Regardless, I'm finally here now—and nothing's going to stop me from experiencing the wonders of Nassau and its culture! A wave of excitement rushed through my stomach at just the thought of everything I was going to do—going to the clear crystal sea, swimming with sharks, going to Senor Frog, maybe even going on the Nassau City Tour—and then an arm was thrown around my shoulder, a reminder that destroyed all my hopes and anchored me back to reality.
"Hey, El. Eli. El-Bell."
“Elliot,” I corrected, exasperation and fondness fighting for dominance in my tone. I saw the look in his shade-covered eyes at that moment and knew exactly what he was thinking. “Uh, Chance, Can we please just not go to a casino? We’re here to have fun and experience the native culture firsthand!” A teasing smirk formed on Chance's lips. “Oh yeah’? Why? So Daddy won’t give his 28-year-old son a lecture for taking 4 days off of work? Make it into some sort of learning moment so he doesn’t have a meltdown?” “What—no! I mean, yeah—but if you just wanted to gamble, why did we fly all the way out here when you can just do it for free back home?” A soft snort exited from Chance’s mouth as he quipped, “Aye—what can I say? It gets boring gambling in your own casino after a while.”
I met Chance for the first time 4 years ago, in mid-November, I think. The pizzeria was mostly dead, and I was working the register on a night shift when he came in. The first thing I remember was noticing just how out of place he looked. I mean—to start off, this man came into the local Builder Brothers in a tuxedo, wearing a black fedora and designer sunglasses at 10pm in the dead of winter. I wasn't quite sure why, but there was something about his demeanor that captivated me. From the moment he walked in I wasn't able to take my eyes off of him. Although they were mostly hidden by his shades, I could still feel his eyes peering into mine. It was almost like a shared feeling of synchronicity. Like we were supposed to meet each other. I forget exactly what he ordered when he walked up—but I explicitly remember that being the only time I've ever seen him appear outwardly nervous. For God's sake—Chance practically ran to the booths after I took his order up front. His ears were bright red, and he kept stumbling over his words. And when his order was ready, he tried to play it off but ended up almost tripping over his shoes as he walked over. At that point—I’m pretty sure he lost all of his confidence because without thinking he frantically slapped 50 bucks down (which was only 15, mind you), snatched the box out of my hand, threw a napkin at me with his number on it, and bolted out the door. What I remembered most vividly about that night was me just being doubled over at the cash register for the next 3 minutes, laughing my head off at the outrageousness of the interaction. I reached a time of my life where I was extremely burnt out and stressed, so this was the first time I laughed in months. I simply couldn't comprehend having such a childish encounter with someone at my age—I thought we left all of that back in high school. Regardless, I couldn’t help myself from putting the number in my phone.
He returned the next day to apologize for acting so immature—and properly introduced himself. To make it up to me, he said I’d have a life free pass to his casino. I tried to tell him that I wasn't offended and couldn’t accept such a thing—but I learned quickly he had a stubbornness hidden within his ambition. And after that, he started coming every Monday. As time passed, I began to really like talking to him. He was charismatic, eccentric, entertaining, and most importantly made Mondays something to look forward to. After 2 months, I started taking my 15 to sit and talk with Chance as he drank his Pepsi. At 5 months, I started spending my lunch breaks driving down to the casino to bring him something to eat while he did his finances. After a year, I started spending more time in his apartment rather than my own. It came to the point that he already had a spare toothbrush there for me. I'd usually get up early to get ready and cook us eggs for breakfast before I'd have him drop me off at work on his way to the casino.
Now, I’m not entirely sure why Chance decided to treat me to Nassau suddenly—it was a quick thing. But he seemed very desperate to take me—telling me I needed a break. Not that I’m complaining; I can always do with some sunshine therapy.
“Hey, uh—you doing okay?” A softer expression formed onto his face—I could tell his eyes softened, even under his shades. I quickly snapped out of my train of thought, a pang of guilt blossoming in my stomach. “Oh yeah—sorry, I’m fine, just zoned out for a moment.” I said quickly, my hand reaching to scratch the back of my neck. “Listen, if you really want to go to a casino, we can. I'm sorry, you paid for all of this after all; I'm just being difficult.” Chance just stared at me for a moment, an expression mixed between condescension and amusement plastered on his face. Then, suddenly, an airy laugh escaped from his throat as he threw a playful jab into my side. “Jesus, I was just messing with you, El— Don't go on and have a stroke on me! C'mon, let's just go find our hotel, and we can figure out what to do from there. You can tell me all about your ‘Elements of culture’ nonsense you've been studying, yeah?”
I couldn't stop the smile that twisted onto my lips, all of my previous anxieties melting away. It’s hard to not feel comfortable around Chance, he just has a way with people..
—
We didn't do anything too exciting the first day. I mean—for Chance at least. He was definitely a good sport about it, but I could tell he was bored out of his mind. He lives off of adrenaline and taking risks—which he didn't get very much of at the Nassau walking tour. The tour was mostly focused on one of the natives showing us and our tour group around the island and introducing us to the local buildings. To my surprise, the lady who guided us ended up being much more interesting than I anticipated. She primarily led us through Rawson Square, where she showed the group the flamingo-pink government houses. I personally enjoyed her brief rundown on the Bahamian system of government, where she explained in detail the constitutional monarchy. I know this may be a little boring, but stay with me. The head of state—who’s run by one representative, The House of Assembly, run by 39 elected representatives; the Senate, run by 16 appointed members; the executive (the cabinet), led by the PM, which handles administrations and answers to the House; and the judiciary, based on English common law—with a court of appeal and supreme court—ultimately linked to the Privy Council in London. Which I suppose on its own was fairly boring—I remember the countless nights weeks prior I'd sit on the floor of my bedroom half passed out researching the Bahamian government. But what really interested me was when she explained the effect it played on Nassau's culture. The system fostered strong local identity with strong debates central to national life—though often overshadowed by tourism, reflecting a blend of British tradition. I guess after I heard it from a native themselves, it all felt more…real. More than Just an Article: I had to read about the culture of a faraway country.
I can proudly state that by the end of the tour I grew a greater appreciation for the natives of the Bahamas. Chance, on the other hand? Halfway through he started unconsciously twirling the loose strands of my hair in order to keep himself preoccupied. Every time I looked over at him, he had a smile plastered on his face, but from the corner of my eye, I could tell that his mind was swirling with hundreds of emotions. He practically jumped for joy once I nudged him to let him know we were at the end of the tour. His face lit up as if he just won the Powerball, and my lips that mouthed the word ‘over’ were his paycheck. As we walked away, I thought I saw the muscles in his throat form to say something–but he ended up just smiling at me.
—
“So where are we going next, pizza boy?” Chance asked as we walked through the crowded streets of people walking amidst each other. He had a cocky grin stretched across his lips—but something about it felt…wrong. At the same time, it's hard to tell what he's thinking behind those designer shades that are glued to his face. He doesn’t like talking about his emotions very much—anyway, even if I asked him, he probably wouldn't tell me. If anything, the safest option would be to try and distract him in the hopes of raising his spirit. “Uh, I'm pretty sure there's a restaurant not too far from here called Senor Frog. It's one of the best jobs people can get around here, being that it's primarily tourist-centered.” A hint of worry flickered over Chance's face for a quarter of a second—before returning to his normal expression. “Senor frog? You're telling me a restaurant with a name like that is expensive?” I couldn't help the laugh that escaped from my throat from Chance's comment, my hand flying to cover my mouth. “What? No! I mean, yeah sure—it's a little pricey, but it's not like it's a fancy Italian restaurant or something. The reason they make so much is because of the countless tourists who go there.” A wide grin formed on my face. “Why do you care how much it is anyway? You have a casino, for god's sake—you're loaded!”
For a millisecond, I could have sworn I saw Chance's expression flicker again—but before I had time to process, it was already gone, replaced with a confident grin. “Aye! Just because I have money doesn't mean I have to flaunt it to the world, Eli.” He said in a teasing manner as he pulled down his shades slightly before he murmured. “You never know who’s listening, eh?” That was the first time I ever saw Chance's eyes. He never explicitly told me—but I always had a feeling he didn't like them very much. But then I was met with a quick flash of Hazel Gold burning into me. There was a good moment where I was stunned by their beauty. But I quickly recovered—not wanting to make a big deal out of it.
“Anyway, do you have any more Bahamas culture to wonderfully educate me on?” Chance shot playfully, shoving his hands into his pockets. His shoulder brushed against mine as we walked. “Uh-yeah sure. What do you want to know?” I watched as his gaze bounced around under his shades, considering his options, before probably making the realization that he had no clue what he’d even ask. “Uh-I dunno-just tell me about the Bahamas economy or something, kid.” I felt a slight pang of irritation bubble inside of me. “Only 4 years younger than you, wise guy.” I reminded him. “Yeah yeah, 4 too many, I get it—now please help distract me from my impending doom with the sound of your beautiful voice.” I couldn’t resist throwing him a condescending side glance, although there was no actual resentment in it. “Chance—Senor Frog’s will not be that bad, I swear. If it is—I promise we can leave.”
I said with a slight snort—as I began to carefully organize my thoughts to be mindful to not spread any misinformation. “So Nassau’s economy ties in a bit with what I was talking about before. Uh, you know what an open economy is, right?” Chance threw me a playful glance. “What? You think I’m stupid or something?” “What? No! Of course not—I just wanted to make sure!” I said quickly, a slight smile twisting in my lips. “Okay, so The Bahamas is a service-based open economy heavily reliant on tourism.” I said, taking a pause to think of the best way to explain it. “Look at it like this: The Bahamas are a country of islands with very little natural resources—the main ones being oil, timber, marine life, and salt. The country heavily leans on other countries for trades in order to obtain resources. Because the Bahamas are so reliant on the tourist industry due to 70% of their GDP being due to the U.S. supporting them through trades and visitors, it results in 50 percent of the Bahamian workforce being employed by tourism in order to keep the economy thriving and steady.”
I took a short pause to enjoy the gentle breeze of wind against my skin, which gave my body a temporary release from the blazing heat. “Therefore—the reason Señor Frog's is one of the best places to work in Nassau is not because it's some extremely expensive 5-star gourmet restaurant, but because of the number of tourists who pay to eat there.”
Chance gave his full attention to me while I spoke. His head was tilted towards me in interest, and he nodded every once in a while to show he followed. He didn’t interrupt once, making sure I was completely finished with my explanation before he even attempted to respond. “Huh. I guess I never thought about it that deeply, kid.” His head shot straight ahead as he studied something in the distance. “Aye—speak of the devil, isn’t that it over there?” I followed where his finger pointed to. “Uh—yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s it.”
—
It was about 5pm when we made it inside Senor Frogs. Though the sky still had that golden glow to it, the streaks of pink and red were starting to make their appearance known. Upon entering the restaurant, my senses were already overwhelmed by its chaos. Most of the tables were packed with all different kinds of people—families, couples, and groups of friends. I saw waiters in the distance with motivation within their strides—some pouring drinks and serving food, while others took dishes to the back, all with the most excited grins on their faces. Their uniforms had some kind of inappropriate joke on them—but nothing too vulgar or offensive. The sound of Bruno Mars intertwined with the overlapping chatter of customers.
In the front of the house stood a nice-looking waitress. She wore the same uniform as everyone else—her curly black hair neatly clipped back in a bun. Her skin was slightly on the darker side, only a bit lighter than Chance’s. I’m guessing she was mixed—however, I couldn’t tell for certain. Around her neck, she wore a silver cross necklace and gold hoop earrings. I also noticed she wore a small pin on her shirt with multiple shades of pink and orange on it—but I couldn’t get a good enough look. Call me crazy, but I could have sworn I saw her eyes light up in recognition for a quarter of a second when they met with chance shades. At the same time, I’m probably just seeing things today.
“Hi! Welcome to Senor Frogs! I hope you're having a wonderful evening! Is it just you two?” She cooed, warmness bubbling in her voice. What Chance blurted out in the next following seconds was something I wouldn't have expected in a million years. “I don’t understand it with you people—always gotta flaunt your unnatural lifestyle on our young ones.” At first I was completely lost at what he was going on about. “What? Chance, what are you to—" Then I took another look at the pin on her shirt, and then it hit me. “Uh-Excuse me?” A wave of dread washed through me as my eyes widened in understanding and horror. It felt as if all the blood drained from my face as my hand flew to my mouth. I couldn’t believe that Chance actually just said that. I felt my stomach twist in agony. For a good 10 seconds I couldn’t even move. Just as I was about to feverishly apologize to the lady in front of me, when I met her gaze, she immediately burst into laughter. “It’s a prank, it’s a prank!” Dumbfounded, I immediately turned to Chance—who wore the most smug expression on his face. You know what he did? He put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Elliot, meet Veronica, the girl people pretended I dated all throughout high school.”
By then her laughs had mostly died down. “I’m so sorry—really-we just used to love to pull pranks on our friends—it’s great to meet you, Elliot,” she said, sitting up once more. “Anyway, a table of two for you and your…?” She trailed off, raising an eyebrow. I could feel the mild irritation radiating off of Chance at that moment. “…Friend.”
“Friend—sure. Right this way.”
—
“How did you know she worked here?” I said, taking a sip of my drink. My gaze was mostly focused on the mosh pit where people were dancing. “I didn’t. I mean, I knew Vee lived here, and she worked at some restaurant in Nassau—but I wasn’t even sure that was her.” At that moment, I almost coughed up my drink. “Wait—so that could have been a random stranger?!” He shrugged slightly before shoving a chip in his mouth. “But it wasn’t. What can I say—sometimes all you have to do is take a chance.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his poor excuse for a joke. Irritation was fuming inside me. I felt a pang of guilt as it was only a prank—but someone could have gotten seriously hurt for God's sake! What if this was just some random lady who happened to look like his old high school girlfriend? He's a great guy—but sometimes he just doesn’t think! I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to him right now.
Though he was trying to talk to me about something—he could have even been apologizing to me for all I know—I refused to listen. Sure—call me childish, but I was angry at him, and I didn't want to say something I would regret. Maybe I was even trying to gain a rational understanding of my thoughts. Plus, he never really liked to talk about serious things anyway, so what's the point? This one-sided conversation went on for about 20 minutes—until our food was out. The whole time he kept his voice calm—and every once in a while I’d respond with the occasional hum when it seemed appropriate even though I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t really care, honestly.
Halfway through shoveling food into my mouth, suddenly he muttered something from across the table, which made my head shoot up. “The ethnicity in the Bahamas is different than America—with the main three descents being African, European, and mixed. It shapes a culture of African roots—while maintaining some American and British influences, Christianity being the dominant religion.” My eyes widened in confusion and bewilderment. “What? What are you—“
“Bahamians build strong communities based on the celebrations we throw, such as Junkanoo festivals with rake-n-scrape music. Though historical power dynamics create subtle social tension between ethnic groups, we try to put it aside and connect with one another as best as we can.” Saying I was at a loss would be a complete understatement. “You know all this?”
Chance took a small bite of his food before he continued, “Did you know that Nassau is known for its arrays of bars, clubs, and casinos?”
In that moment—the realization hit me like a slap in the face. “You—” “I was born in Nassau; my family's casino originally was from here. Over the next decade, it ended up doing so well that when I was in college, they got a deal to transfer all the way to Miami for loads of money. I ended up having to quit to help them out with the finances.” For a good 10 seconds I was completely stunned. Eventually, when I was able to find my voice—the only thing that could come out of my mouth was, “Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Even under his shades—I could see Chance’s eyes dart to the side. “I dunno, you just seemed so excited to share all the stuff you learned, why would I want to take that away?” A wave of tension-filled silence between us hung in the air for a good moment or two as we finished up our food. A hundred thoughts swirled through my head—all with their own feelings attached to them. Eventually—Chance gave in and forced the words out, “El, I know I screwed up big time, okay?” He tugged on one of his dreads as he continued. “Sometimes I act like an absolute moron—I commit to actions without thinking about their consequences or how they’ll affect others.”
He took out his wallet as he continued, “But you have to understand, for the first 28 years of my life, I got everything handed to me. An education, fortune, wealth—for God's sake, my parents gave me the will to the casino out of all my brothers. Sure, I do have to do business and management—but I never had to work for something a day in my life.” Chance placed his fork and napkin onto his plate. “But then one day, after making a terrible bet and getting myself in loads of debt—I went on a drive to Nowhere. And somehow ended up stumbling into Builder Brothers pizzeria—and by some twist of fate—ended up meeting you.” His eyes flickered to the side for a moment. “This is the first time in my life I’ve ever worked so hard for something. And I know I mess up—I'm selfish, unempathetic, and one-dimensional—I’m nothing close to perfect! But I swear on everything inside me that I am really trying to be the greatest… friend I can be, alright? I just wish I could—” Chance cut himself off as an idea washed over him. He suddenly pulled his chair out, stood up—and held his hand out to me. “Come with me, please. I got something I’d want you to see.” My eyes were wide with surprise—shocked by the sudden request and everything he dumped on me in the last 5 minutes. “I—don’t we have to pay…?” I reminded him, still trying to come back to reality. I watched as Recollection washed over Chance’s face before he grabbed his wallet from the table and carelessly threw 500 dollars on it. His gaze once more snapped back to mine. “Elliot Builder—Please come with me.” Before my brain could process that I was still angry at him, my hand was already in his.
—
“You know, as much as I love Nassau's casino entertainment—I’m pretty sure it does more harm than good.” Chance noted, as we walked through the beach. It was about 6 pm now, and the sun just began to set in the sky. By this time, almost all of my annoyance was gone with the wind—and if anything, I was just tired. “Hm, why’s that?” I said, my eyes glancing over to meet the silhouette of his. I already had a basic idea of what he was talking about, but it’s always more interesting to hear it straight from a native themselves. “Well sure, it’s great for economic development, and the money often helps provide funds for education—but it also creates gambling addictions, increases social issues, and some people end up losing some of their cultural identity.” My eyebrow raised in slight confusion. “Well, it’s not exactly the best for the citizens in America either, now is it? And don’t usually only tourists gamble in Nassau?” A playful grin formed on Chance's face. “You really don’t think people in the Bahamas gamble?” “I don't know, I guess? I mean, it just seems more like a tourist thing to do or something.” I shot back with an awkward chuckle. “I mean–who knows? I’ve never really been the average citizen—maybe that’s not usual for Natives to do.” Chance shrugged slightly as he pushed his sunglasses more securely onto his head. “I remember when I was younger I loved the vibrant cultural events—once a month they’d always have some sort of festival celebration! And I used to love to pretend I was a normal kid and participate in the community gatherings.” I watched as a reminiscing expression washed over his face. “Oh—and at these festivals—at least one person would be playing Goombay music, which was Indigenous music that involved goatskin drums, cowbells, and whistles. I remember when I was a kid I would be so excited anytime that music played—I would kick off my shoes and dance and dance and dance and dance until my feet began to bleed and blister. I’d dream about the gatherings almost every night—and dance in my room on weekends, trying to remember the melody of the songs.”
It made me feel a sense of happiness to see Chance so happy over something.
“Do you think you can show me?” I asked, tilting my head. He looked at me for a moment, a wave of embarrassment washing over his face. “Oh—I, uh, dunno—hey look, we’re here!” He said quickly, pointing ahead of us.
It was a place completely deserted by others. The beach was covered with seaweed and other wildlife—but it had a natural beauty to it. The sunset was vivid in the sky, and the ocean had a calmness that filled me with a sense of belief. Chance walked ahead of me and found a spot that was less seaweed-covered and sat down. After a moment of taking everything in, I made my way over and sat down beside Him. There was a good moment where neither of us said a word. We just sat there and listened to the song of the sea while the sun slowly drowned in the night sky. Then suddenly, Chance took a deep breath and broke the silence. “Look…there’s a reason why I brought you to the Bahamas, El.” His eyes never left the ocean as he continued to speak. “I…need your help. What I’m going to ask of you might be a lot to take in—but I trust you more than anyone else, so you’re the only one I can ask.”
“Yeah—of course, chance. What do you need help with?” He took another pause for a moment, likely to gather his thoughts together. “I…have a problem when it comes to spending money. At first, I thought I could handle my financial issues alone—but now that it’s starting to cause obstacles surrounding the finances of the casino—I think it would be the best option to have someone to combine my bank account with in order to make sure I don’t spend more than I need to.” He dug his hand into the sand. “I know that’s a lot to ask from you, being that you already have your own job that you have to worry about. However, this contract also comes with benefits on your end as well; I mean, you'll gain rights to the casino, tax benefits, discounts on home/auto insurance, and even inheritance rights.” Then, for the first time, Chance completely removes his sunglasses. I’m able to feel his golden hazel eyes burn into mine. I’m able to finally see his face, completely exposed. Then, he fishes in his pocket and pulls out a small black box and slides it to me. “The only downside to it is that if you agree—it’s kind of hard to go back from.” Chance said with a slight playful grin on his face. “So whaddya’ say?”
“Is this a…” My voice trailed off, as a wave of shock ran through me along with a hundred different emotions. My eyes flicker between him and the box for a good five seconds. At first, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything at all. But then—I looked him in the eyes and asked the only question that came to my head at that moment, “If I say yes, will I get to see you do your exotic goombay dance?” “…I’d consider.” I couldn’t stop the grin that formed on my lips. “Well, you got yourself a deal then.”