Their jaws drop when I untie the bow and open the box.
“Moyo,” Sewa breathes.
“You’re gonna kill this man.” Anjie stares at the intricate, black lace lingerie set I bought from my favorite plus-size store.
Of all the things I’ve done in this relationship—planned movie dates, at-home paint and sips, bowling nights—this is my magnum opus. And I can’t wait for his five-star review.
2Niyi
A LOT OF PEOPLE WOULDN’T SAY THIS, BUT NEPOTISMruins lives.
I foolishly thought I was immune because never in this lifetime did I dream my dad would retire from the role of Saturn after one term. He was supposed to do at least two and then name an actual successor. Not the child he’s barely spoken to in years.
Clearly, my disdain for the man and his job was my blind spot. I should’ve known that after his first twenty-nine-year term—the time it takes Saturn to orbit the sun—he would find a way to drag me back into the world I’d turned my back on.
My dad has always been big on legacy, even though he didn’t do anything to foster our relationship once my mother died. After she passed, his parenting turned colder and absences lengthened, his only focus the family business, like those before him. Ever since the Saturn mantle was transferred to us after a mishap with the Jakande family, the Bankoles have worked tirelessly to ensure the next generation is primed and ready to serve. Until me.
I wasn’t ready on that early spring day at the start of Aries season. Mars was throwing her annual Spring Equinox party before returning to herlatest coaching gig. During Mars’s first term, the event was small, but this being her sixth term—thanks to Mars’s short two-year orbit, the commitment to serve was frequently renewed—she invited everyone. For once, I’d agreed to attend after an onslaught of pleading from my beloved cousins, Vee and Merc, who had already received their godhood. Venus, or Victoria, my favorite cousin, and Mercury, or Vinny, the most audacious member of the family.
The three of us stood near the bar, barely drinking, mostly talking. Alcohol doesn’t do much for my godly cousins as they are conduits of fast-moving planets, which gives them fast metabolisms. But I, with my 100 percent human self, was enjoying the plum notes of the fabulous red wine.
Indulging in the drink and lost in the chatter as our trio expanded with Moon and Mars joining the fray, I didn’t notice my dad walking up. Years ago, I would’ve recognized him by his footsteps. But after living away from him for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to be alert.
He came up to me, gray hairs peeking out of his full beard. That should’ve been my first red flag: Saturns age more slowly to allow us to complete one or two full terms. But here he was, looking every bit a man in his late fifties.
“What are you—” Before I could finish my question, he shoved the fading leather Saturn notebook he always kept on his person into my hands.
His voice boomed out the most unexpected words: “I am retiring.”
Then, as if I had already inherited his powers, time slowed. The words rang like cymbals.
“You’re the next Saturn.”
The younger me, before Mom passed and everything went to shit, would’ve loved to hear those words and get my father’s approval. But now? The role is a death sentence. Unfortunately for me, a death sentence with no chance at clemency.
Soon after the party, we had the transfer ceremony. I became Saturn—day one of the next twenty-nine years of my life—and Dad booked the next one-way flight to Lagos.
I had to quit my cozy, San Francisco tech job and move to the arctic tundra commonly known as Boston, where I assumed my new duties as one-third of the core matchmaking staff atCupid’s Bow, despite knowing practically nothing about astrology.
Everyone, including Dad, had said the job would get easier once the Saturn powers transferred to me. At the transfer ceremony, he encouraged me to study his ratty old book, claiming every crucial moment of the Bankole-Saturn dynasty had been transcribed there. But it’s been eighteen months since the powers transferred, and all I can do is useless shit like aging wine. Okay, not entirely useless since it’s allowed me to upgrade my wine collection. But still.
I’m missing the one thing necessary to make me an equal partner, both inCupid’s Bowand as a member of this celestial family. The one thing guaranteed to make the matchmaking aspect of the job a breeze: The Sight, our ability to see threads and patterns in an astrological chart instantaneously. Why do we—Mercury, Venus, and I—use it for love? And not something more important? I blame the previous Mercury and Saturn, who lost a bet to Venus eons ago. I’ve read the Saturn notebook cover to cover, and I don’t think The Sight is coming. This should worry me, but instead, it just pisses me off.
I am not good enough, thus everything about being in Boston, atCupid’s BowHQ, pisses me off. Including the stereotypically romance-themed paint job.
The brightly lit, pink-walled room offers no stimulation, despite its garish color, and my brain enters low-energy mode as I click on the next two birth charts I’ve been assigned to evaluate for compatibility. Or, like my younger cousins—and technically my bosses—Venus and Mercury like to say, evaluating charts for true love. As if that exists.
The charts sit side by side, and the lines blur as the patterns evade me. In the five minutes I spend trying to determine if the pair are “soulmates,” ten more enter my queue.
Fuck it.
I put the two nameless charts into the algorithm I created to increase my productivity.
A pop-up blinks, letting me know that the charts have been deemed “not soulmates.” I click the red button on theCupid’s Bowinterface and plug in the next pair. This algorithm has been the only thing allowing me to keep up with Merc and Vee.
Merc barges in with their locs pulled back into a braided ponytail and a navy-blue three-piece suit. The way their hair is styled and the fade on their sides make them look sleek, like the CEO they are.
“And what do you want?” I close out of the application and tilt down my computer screen. I can’t risk prying eyes figuring out I’ve been faking it for over a year.
