Chapter 2 #2
“Sun is always a riot,” she laughs, and I nod. I haven’t had the chance to visit Lagos as an adult and party with the matriarch, but it’s one of my goals.
“Any word of her retirement?” Merc asks as they pull up the slides.
A lot of the time, our weekly meetings are spent reviewing the chart pairings we can’t decipher alone.
In my first month here, the charts in question were mainly mine.
But since implementing my trusty new algorithm method, I haven’t brought a single confusing potential chart-pairing to the group.
“Sun’s not ready to give it up,” Vee says.
I wish I could relate. Aside from The Sight, everyone talks about their powers giving them a newfound appreciation for life.
For some gods, it creates a buzz in their blood they never want to relinquish.
That happened to Merc’s dad, who needed a lot of convincing to pass on his seat.
Vee’s mom gave up her seat at fifty, saying she wanted to live the second half of her life with her own beauty, instead of focusing on others.
As for my dad? I’m not sure of his motive for abdicating Saturn.
Everyone in our family has turning points in their terms. Moments of reflection before their planet’s next orbit where they can decide to either pave the way for the next generation or keep going.
Except for Sun. As the center of the universe, the choice to let go is always present.
Unlike the rest of us, Sun can abdicate without fear of illness or rapid aging because she doesn’t have a specific orbit.
I suspect, like the previous Sun, she will pass by natural causes and the next Sun will emerge from her bloodline.
Vee’s next words bring me back to the moment. “I saw your dad.” Her voice softens and pity transforms her playful tone into a melancholic lull.
“The life of the party?” I ask, even though the answer will annoy me.
“Not touching Sun, but close.”
I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the urge to rationalize my father’s illogical actions. The man didn’t have time for his family when it mattered most.
Merc taps on the table. The rough sound forces me out of my thoughts. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
“I don’t think so.” Merc squints at the overlapping astrological charts, their pink-and-blue Corgi socks on the dark oak desk.
Vee, with her fingers deep in a bag of gummy worms, says, “I think the pair can work. The Scorpio Sun person did mention wanting something transformative.”
“I agree with Merc,” I say.
Both sets of brown eyes meet mine. Vee beams, and Merc raises a brow.
I clear my throat, adjusting to the attention. “The Scorpio and Aquarius pairing could either be transformative in the positive, all-consuming way, but it’s more likely to be in the wreck-your-life way.”
“He shows up!” Merc says, and I roll my eyes. They think I don’t talk because I don’t care, which is true. But mainly I keep quiet because those two go so fast I can’t keep up.
“Two against three?” Merc asks, and we nod in agreement. Venus is more reluctant, but she goes with it because that’s always been the protocol. When three are gathered, two dictate the flow in a blockage. Most of the time, the two are Vee and Merc, almost never Merc and me.
Merc clicks out of the charts, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I get ready to head out for my evening pottery session at Aaron’s studio.
“Don’t we have to talk about the mixer coming up?” Vee’s question halts me. I completely forgot about that, and by the way Merc pauses in their cleanup, I guess they did too.
Merc winces and curses under their breath. “I forgot. Shit.” They run their hands through their locs. “Okay, our first event as the core three. Vee, are the former couples ready?”
“The two people I previously coached, and their new partners, are all excited to share their stories.” She beams. In the past, clients who haven’t found a partner through our typical methods have done personal sessions with Venus, and after she works her magic, they find their person.
“The event planner is scheduled to come in on Monday to decorate the hall,” Merc says.
“Caterer booked,” Vee says.
“DJ playlist approved.” Merc counts off item four with their fingers.
“Great. So, I’ll be skipping out, if that’s cool.” I rock on my heels. That leaves me nothing to do for the event. Luckily for me, Vee and Merc had this gameplan set up from back when they worked with my dad.
“You have to be there,” Merc emphasizes. Their eyes widen, shocking me with intensity. “Membership has taken a dip in the past year, and we need to put on a united front for the Board.”
My eyes bulge. “Board members are coming?” That’s never happened, at least to my knowledge. The stuffy white shirts have always been content in their ivory tower.
“When you drop from a ninety-nine percent success rate down to ninety percent in less than a year, they ask questions.” Merc tries to keep their voice light and not look my way, but I know it’s my fault. I am not my father, for better or worse, and in this business, it’s definitely for worse.
“Guys—” I begin.
“No, don’t worry, you’re still finding your footing. It took me a while to adjust too.” Merc sweeps aside my concern. That’s a lie, but all right.
Vee places a pitying hand on my shoulder. I let her soothing touch linger for a second before shaking her off. I don’t need any pity.
“On the bright side, your production is increasing. The Sight is coming in slowly but surely.” Merc says.
A shaky laugh bubbles up from my throat. “Yeah, every day is easier,” I lie.
As much as I detest this job, I don’t want to be the reason why all of Merc and Vee’s hard work goes down the drain.
And deep down, as much as I dislike him, I want to make my dad proud.
It’s why I started reading up on astrology again.
It’s part of why I won’t walk away, besides the fact that I literally can’t stop being Saturn.
“Soon enough, we’ll get Cupid’s Bow back where we were.” Vee rests her head on my shoulder. The weight of her belief crushes me. I gulp and give my cousins a shaky smile.
Two options run through my head as we say our goodbyes. One, fine-tune my algorithm to perfection and make sure they don’t find out. Or two, unlock the full extent of my powers and retrieve The Sight.
I’m supposed to help Aaron out tonight by creating some novelty pieces for a client, but I can’t…not with this hanging over my head. I’m a realist. I call Aaron to cancel my pottery session, head back to my office, and fire up the Cupid’s Bow system backend.