“Yes. I know you haven’t consented to the program yet, but I’ll send the check with your prospective dating coach. You can get to know them, see if you’re a good fit, and then decide after the mixer. How does that sound, Moyo?”
“Can they be here in less than an hour?” I ask, still wanting to get to bed on time.
“Why don’t you give me your address, and I’ll make sure they arrive in thirty minutes or less. And thank you for allowingCupid’s Bowthe chance to make this right. Feel free to call if you have any other concerns. Hopefully, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
I give them my address, and we say goodbye.
I’m stunned. I just spoke to one of the city’s wealthiest people, and they were pleasantly chill.
“Who’s coming in less than an hour? Mercury?” Anjie asks.
“My check and my prospective dating coach,” I say. “Prospective coach because I haven’t decided yet, but Mercury said I can see how I feel about him first,” I quickly clarify.
Sewa smirks wickedly. “You said ‘him.’ That boy on your brain.”
“And to think I was going to ask you guys to stay so I don’t get murdered.”
“You can admit you want it to be him,” Anjie adds.
I herd them towards the door, shaking my head at their audacity. I wasn’t thinking about Niyi. Why would it be him? There’s no reason for it to be him. He wasn’t even on my mind at all till Sewa mentioned him.
“Let me know when you get home,” I say as they leave for the train station. Anjie will retrieve Mike’s car tomorrow when she’s sober, per brunch protocol.
After they leave, minutes pass as I lie on the couch, and I finally turn onReady or Notto play in the background. I ignore the film as I think about the possibilities.
I could like my coach, or maybe I won’t.
I could useCupid’s Bowagain and find love. Or I might get my heart ripped out again.
This could be the worst idea. Or the best.
The doorbell rings. Either way, it’s time to find out.
8Niyi
I KNOW THAT SCENTS AND MUSIC CAN HOLD ASSOCIATIONSwith another time and place, but I never thought working on a new algorithm would have me thinking abouther.
First, it was the moment at the hospital when theCupid’s Bowcard suddenly appeared in her hand. Now, two weeks of fine-tuning a process that typically drives me up the wall triggers a buzz in my veins now because I end up thinking about Moyo.
I don’t know what these inexplicable power surges are or why Moyo appears to be a trigger. It’s not on purpose, but if thinking about her makes my unsavory workload a little less tiresome, then so be it. Moyo is a means to an end. A potential client. Nothing more.
Regardless, every time Merc’s phone rings, my ears perk up, hoping she’s calling to accept the coaching proposal. And like a dog whose owner hasn’t thrown the ball, I’m disappointed every time. Luckily, I hide my feelings well.
It’s another Sunday without excitement, and we’re at Merc’s place because they wanted to try this fairly new Nigerian restaurant in the city. I’m lying on the couch, halfway to sleep, when Merc says, “You’re gonna run a little errand.”
I’m up, fatigue evaporating like mist. “Not your errand boy.” I might still be getting my footing in the business, and this is their house, but I will not be spoken to like that. Merc stares me down. Their brown eyes glisten with gold flecks, and the corners crinkle a tiny bit. Merc always laughs with their eyes first. They’re fucking with me.
“Thought you wanted to fix your mess with your Saturnian client, Moyo, but I guess not.”
Are my Saturn powers malfunctioning again? All I can hear is my increased heart rate.
“She called?” I croak. I know I should be excited for an opportunity to get her help for my algorithm but that’s the last thing on my mind. Her gorgeous face takes up every nook, cranny, and corner.
“Ten minutes ago—”
“You waited ten minutes?” I blurt out. I cough, clear my throat, and try again. “I mean, why didn’t you come get me immediately?”
It’s Vee who responds. “Are you gonna sit around, or—?”
