Aquarius
Act 2

Aquarian Personality
Positive Traits

* communicative
* thoughtful & caring
* cooperative & dependable
* scientific
* strong belief in humane reform
* independence of thought and action
* intense interest in people
* loyal friendship
* inventive

*

"Shit" Janiah said as she watched the news broadcast on the small tv hanging from the ceiling in the breakroom at work. Her hopes and dreams came crashing down when she saw Christopher Westwood had chosen another winner for his talent search. "Shit," she said again as her high stiletto heel kicked the garbage can in front of her. He looked her right in the eyes and said she had talent and was better than many rappers already in the industry. What happened?

But here he was, bringing out a white boy in glasses, what else was shocking was that he started to rap. She sighed, well at least he was good, but she was better. Chris said so himself. She had the stage presence, the choreography, the fashion, the fucking 'pizzazz', and her secret weapon, her percussion skills. All this white boy did was stand there and freestyle. He probably wins every freestyle battle he goes into but she couldn't see him selling out arenas or making girls scream, especially not the guys. She could do both. At least she believed so.

She sighed, maybe her head had gotten too big after that audition. But Christopher's words did light a fire under her ass and she's been writing and working and writing and working on new material, barely sleeping.

She was hoping to win this talent search so she could quit working and finally focus on her passion: music. However, it looked like she would be working here a little longer. She turned from the tv and walked over to her chair and sat down. She fixed the strap on her heel and got out her makeup bag and started beating her face to the Gods as usual.

Back to life, back to reality.

"You watching this?" one of the girls asked her as a few came in.

Janiah half glanced back at the tv and saw a guy playing guitar and turned back to her mirror. "No," she said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. If she watched anymore, she would be depressed and she wouldn't be able to concentrate on getting through this shift. Damn, she was really hoping to make her 'Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, actually I like you, and fuck you. I'm out!' speech tonight.

But that would have to wait.

The girl noticed her roll her eyes and sucked her teeth. What was up her ass? "Good cuz the new episode of P-Valley is on," she said as she pulled out a step stool and reached up to the tv, and changed the channel.

"No, I didn't see last week's," one of the girls said. Janiah ignored them as she primed her face.

"Yes you did, you were back here with us," the other said as other girls came in. The new shift was starting and the mid-shift was ending so now it was noisy as the sound of high heels click-clacked against the tile floors, girls saying hello and goodbye to each other, zippers and bags being packed up, and others unpacking theirs, cell phones ringing or playing videos or tik-toks, and now the tv was turned up louder to compensate.

"Can anyone really pay full attention back here?" the other said as she gestured to the full room around her. Janiah could definitely agree, these bitches were already giving her a headache. What's-her-face was already spraying her heavy-ass perfume. Janiah sighed and turned her small table fan on.

"I'll turn the subtitles on. Besides, you know they do a replay of last week before the actual episode."

"Oh yeah," the other said. "EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP! P VALLEY IS ON!"

This brought up various reactions, laughs, obscenities, claps, and cheers, and some just straight-up ignored her as they continued doing their thing. Janiah glanced in her mirror to her right and could see the tv clearly. Luckily she watched the episode on a bootleg website earlier because homegirl was right, who could pay attention to anything back here? Besides, they were here to work. You know who would be back here any minute.

She made sure to pop two pills to combat the headache that was bound to come.

She continued putting on her eyeshadow and drawing on a perfect winged liner on her eyes. She dug in her bag and got out some jewels and carefully put them along her eye crease. Even though the room was loud and annoying, putting on her makeup was therapy for her. She literally transformed herself into a work of art. She wasn't a different person, she was an enhanced version of herself. That's why she wore makeup every single day. It kept her sane and when she looked good, she felt good.

It's called self-care.

"Oooh girl, you got any lashes I can borrow?" a girl asked as she sat down next to her.

Janiah rolled her eyes, "You know you can't borrow lashes right? You can't give them back."

"Ok and?" the girl asked her.

"I've given out 5 pairs of lashes this week. I can't loan out anymore."

"That's all you had to say, what's up your ass?" the girl said and then shouted, "WHO GOT SOME EXTRA EYELASHES?"

Janiah didn't give one fuck if she was being a bitch. She wasn't in the mood. That's why she had to focus on making herself look like a top model so she would be in a better one. Janiah sighed as she finished her eye makeup and started putting on foundation, concealer, and powder. Tonight was going to be a long-ass night. She tried to stay zen and to herself so she won't snap. She found herself pausing and still thinking about what she lost. What she almost had. When she moved here to Bermuda, this wasn't how it was all supposed to go down. She never saw herself here. Ever since she stepped foot off that flight, her life had gone downhill. How? When she was literally in paradise?

She soon tuned out everyone as she contoured her face, filled in her eyebrows, put on blush, and bronzer, and highlight every spot she wanted to shine. She then put on her show-stopping eyelashes, lined her lips, and put on lipstick. She smiled. Her first smile today probably or in hours, at least. There she was. Janiah the Hot Girl was back. Overwhelmed Hot Girl had to have a seat. She had work to do.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKAS STILL DOING BACK HERE? I GOT A HOUSE FULL OF PEOPLE AND YOU ARE BACK HERE BULLSHITTING. HURRY YOUR ASSES UP! I'M LOSING MONEY BY THE MINUTE! DIAMOND, PEARL, YOUR ASSES SHOULD'VE ALREADY BEEN OUT THERE. YOU KNOW YOU'RE THE FIRST ONES OUT! HURRY UP AND GET OUT THERE AND MAKE ME SOME GODDAMN MONEY!"

There he was, You Know Who. The Boss.

"Oh shit!!" Mostly all the girls rushed and finished getting ready and headed out of the breakroom as he yelled at all of them. Janiah rolled her eyes again. Her good mood couldn't have lasted a little longer?

She stayed seated. She wasn't finished just yet and there were two things she hated: getting yelled at and being told to hurry up. He was doing both.

"Um, New Girl? Did you hear what the fuck I just said?" he said to her. She turned to him and saw she was the only one still in the room besides a couple of girls who were packing up and leaving.

"Of course, I did, as loud as you are?" Janiah said with a laugh.

"Well hurry up-"

"I got like 7 girls in front of me. It's not my-"

"That don't matter, you still need to be out there making some fucking money in the meantime. What's wrong? You don't want money? You tired? On your period or something?"

Janiah scoffed and turned away from him and reached into her locker. She wasn't even going to give him a response.

"Oh now you quiet?" he said to her as he watched her put her wig on. He looked at her backside and soon he quieted down as well. Janiah smirked. Her ass was either a conversation starter or left your ass speechless. She turned to him. Fully transformed into Hot Girl Janiah. She caught him trying to act like he wasn't looking.

Niggas. Typical.

"You ready now Princess?" he asked her.

She sighed, reached onto the table and grabbed a bottle, and sprayed herself with glitter. "I am, thank you, my loyal servant" she quipped as she walked toward the door.

"Loyal servant my ass. Keep playing with your smart-ass mouth. Don't say shit when you see shit docked from your check" he said to her as he followed her out. She made sure to switch her hips extra hard cuz she knew he was looking. He soon shut up again. She smirked.

But then her smirk instantly disappeared when she felt a hard slap on her ass, she turned around fast but he grabbed her arm before she could think about doing what she really wanted with it. He pulled her close and backed her against the wall. "Look now, I love it when bitches talk shit, it's a turn-on for sure, but not when they're on the clock. You got me? You only talk shit to me when you're on your back or that fat ass is bent over. Keep pulling this smart mouth shit and you're outta here, you got me? There are bitches dying to be in your shoes right now." Janiah just glared at him, "You got me bitch?"

It took everything in her to just nod. She didn't tolerate disrespect but she wasn't stupid either. Due to tonight's unfortunate events, she needed this stupid ass job.

"Good," he said as he licked his lips. "Now I'ma have to dock you. Again. But you know how you can get it back?"

Janiah rolled her eyes as she snatched her arm away from him.

"The code word is 'Daddy', Princess," he said as she walked away from him.

She shuddered as she walked away. She didn't know how long she could tolerate being here. She tried but when she walked out on the floor, she couldn't hide her frown. Someone noticed it immediately. "Why so sad beautiful?" someone asked her and she paused. A typical tourist, looked like he just got off the cruise ship and walked right in. He wasn't cute but he wasn't ugly either but that didn't matter. He then pulled out a stack and she instantly got into character.

"To be honest, I've been really lonely" she pouted. She saw him melt. "Can I sit on your lap?"

He smirked and leaned back in his seat and spread his legs apart. "Of course, baby, sit on Daddy's lap and tell me."

An hour later, Janiah fixed her hair and makeup as she put the wads of cash in her bag. She smirked when she saw a phone number written on one of the dollar bills. She shook her head, locked the bag up, and rushed back out. Her song was playing.

"Alright, all you get back! Coming to the stage is a girl who's new in town. Here's Princess!"

Janiah walked out on the stage and saw that her rude ass boss was on the mic, why he wanted to introduce her tonight, she had no idea. She wished she could flick him off but she instantly realized this was a test. She wasn't stupid. She blew a kiss to him and then strutted out onto the stage. She crawled on the floor and then started twerking and soon money started raining down, and now her smile was wide.

She looked at the patrons in the front row of the stage. She was really new to this. She'd only been here a couple of weeks and never stripped before in her life but she picked up from the other girls that once you seductively look someone in the eyes and they can't look away, they're yours. If they smirk or smile, even better, and soon the money will rain down. Act like you're giving him all your attention like he's the only person in the room and they're in the palm of your hands.

She crawled around the stage, stuck out her tongue, and twerked, and soon enough, there he was. They locked eyes, and she licked her lips and crawled over to him. She started caressing her body and twerking in front of him. He sat up in his seat and said, "Aye." Soon he was leaning forward on the stage instead of back in his seat, he was at full attention. Got him. He had on shades, a fedora, with a bandana underneath, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and a glass with dark liquid on the rocks. On his left and right hands, he had a gold ring on every finger and he had a gold Rolex on his wrist and a gold chain with a gold cross around his neck.

Jackpot.

He rolled up his sleeves and she could see his tanned skin and a few tattoos on his arm. He reached into his pockets. Got him. Right where we want him.

He soon made his cash rain down on her and she indulged in it. She crawled to the next person making sure he had an excellent view of her ass. She danced in front of them but made sure to make eye contact with him every now and then. And he never looked away. His eyes were on her and her only. She could tell even with his shades on. Every time she looked at him, he was looking her way. Licking and biting his lips. After she seduced the front row and got dollars out of all of them, she got on the pole and practiced some new tricks she learned.

As she slid down the pole, there he was still staring, licking his lips. He put his cigarette back in his mouth and when they locked eyes again, he started throwing out money nonstop to get her attention, beckoning her to come to him. She smiled and crawled up to him again. Once she was right in front of him, the whole stack he had was raining on top of her. She lay down on her back and gyrated on the floor as his dollars covered her body.

Then the audience cheered and whistled and she realized her song was over. Already? She smiled and looked around and saw the stage covered with money.

She could get used to this part of the job.

She started gathering her money and a few patrons tried to talk to her but of course, Mr. Fedora grabbed her attention. "Don't forget about me, Mami" he said to her as he licked his lips.

"Thank you, Papi," she said to him and winked. She and a few other girls helped her grab every last dollar and she had to rush off the stage. It took her a while to count it all backstage, she was having a great night already. She tried to count it all as fast as she could so she could get back out there. Not because she had to but because she wanted to see Mr. Fedora. There was something about him. He almost looked familiar but she knew she probably hadn't seen him anywhere before. She put all her cash away, freshened up, reapplied her makeup, fixed her wig, and rushed back onto the floor.

She strutted over to the side of the stage Mr. Fedora was sitting on, ignoring the few patrons trying to get her attention but soon she realized, he was no longer there. She looked around.

Shit. He was gone.

*

Putting their magnetic and powerful intellect to good and practical use is the best way for Aquarius to build an identifiable ego.

*

Amethyst and Henri were sitting on their old vintage couch in their tiny apartment watching the news. Henri sighed as he watched and put his hand on Amethyst's leg and rubbed it gently. Then suddenly, she reached toward the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and turned the tv off.

"You ok?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I already cried about it remember? As soon as we left the audition I knew it wasn't in the cards for me" Amythyst said with a sigh. Like everyone else on the island, she just watched Christopher Westwood's press conference announcing the winner and once she saw them walk out onstage, she turned the tv off. Whoever he was, she had no interest in knowing anymore about him. Yeah, she swore her audition sucked and she wouldn't hear anything but Henri was right when he said she 'captivated' Christopher somehow. She did notice him look as if he was impressed. She wished he hadn't said that because, in the back of her mind, a little voice had its hopes up.

What if she did get it? What if Henri was right? What if the next time the phone rang it was Christopher? She even had a dream the other night of her all dressed up like Marilyn Monroe crooning into a microphone, living in a lavish and luxurious mansion, her hair and makeup always done expertly, feather boas and high heels with every outfit (even though that wasn't really her style), she even had a beauty mark on her face. Henri would always be backstage or nearby smiling adoringly, his long brown hair slicked back, a cigar hanging out of his mouth, wearing a 3 piece zoot suit, he even had a little mustache.

But it was just a dream...a very nice one...

But as each day went by, her hopes dropped little by little. She really wished Henri hadn't hyped her up. It turned out that she was right. Her audition sucked. She shouldn't have believed him at all.

"Am? Am Bam? You hear me?"

"Huh?" she asked him, coming back to Earth.

"This doesn't mean this is over. All the greats get a million no's before that one life-changing yes."

"Too many no's will just trigger my depression," she said as she leaned forward and picked up her beer bottle off the coffee table. It was true though. She hated auditioning. She was downright frightened of them. She spent days overthinking and getting herself all worked up for 1 minute and 30 seconds of her life and then she had to leave and act as if nothing happened. That she did great. You got this!

She didn't leave auditions like that anymore. She was her own worst critic. She won't get it and what was she thinking? Soon she went to auditions less and less. She'd rather email a song or lyrics she wrote, or do a self-tape and be done with it. She hated the American Idol, cattle-call version of auditions.

"Ok, so you'll take a break but not a long break, not like last time. I really think you missed out on some good opportunities. Dust yourself off and try again."

"Yeah maybe," she said, half listening to him. She didn't know how long she could take all these attacks on her self-confidence. She barely had any to begin with. He answered his phone while she mentally checked out again, staring into the neck of her beer bottle. She didn't notice Henri get up and walk around as he talked to whoever it was. She then glanced up and saw her record player.

Her old therapist said that having coping skills helped to battle depression. Things to soothe her, distract her, make her happy, and forget whatever she was going through.

It's called self-care.

She walked over to the other side of the room and flipped through their crates of vinyls. Hmm, what was she in the mood for? Jazz? Billie Holiday? Punk? The Misfits? Grunge? Nirvana? Pop? The Backstreet Boys? Nostalgia always worked. She and Henri had an eclectic library of vinyls. They went to the only old-school record store on the island once a week and soon they both were hired.

Maybe she wasn't meant to be a musician? A huge star? Maybe she was just meant to help people find new artists and genres to enjoy instead of the same old shit. A musical type of teacher in some way.

She could hear her mother saying, 'I told you so.'

Surprisingly, she went for the nostalgia. She was only a baby when they came out but their music spoke to her little baby soul somehow. She wore out her mom's CDs and they were her most-played artist for years. Then she got into high school and submitted herself to the band geek/stoner crowd. They didn't listen to BSB so she kept them as her guilty pleasure but they all helped her find new music and genres and her whole world changed.

"Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine..."

She picked up a roach out of their ashtray, lit it, and inhaled. Weed was also a coping skill, though her therapist said it shouldn't be.

Music and Weed, what more do you need?

She even had a shirt that said so.

"Babe? Babe? Hello?" Henri said to her, interrupting her coping session. "You're really out of it today."

"Are you surprised?" she said to him as she got up from off the floor. "It's your fault that I'm surprised too, getting my hopes up," she said as she sat back on their couch.

"Ok, but I thought ahead this time. Since you swore you weren't going to get this million-dollar deal, I decided to hold my own little auditions, so to speak."

"What are you talking about?"

"JUST IN CASE you were right, I went ahead and solved our rent problem for us. We won't have to leave" Henri said with a smile.

"How?" she asked in shock. Their apartment raised their rent and this was the cheapest spot to live that was close enough to work and everything they enjoyed. Bermuda was a beautiful island, after all, a paradise; a paradise you had to pay for.

Bermuda's minimum wage is one of the highest in the world. $16.40. But with a higher minimum wage and inflation, came a horrible cost of living. You want a simple, nice house? Be prepared to dish out a million dollars.

I'm not even kidding.

"I found us a roommate that can help out," he said with a smile and she stared at him blankly.

"What? How? We live in a one-bedroom."

"2 technically," he said as he nodded his head to the smaller spare room that was for storage and for her to practice and write.

"My little guitar room? Henri, a bed won't even fit in there."

"A small one can fit, it'll just be tight."

Then there was a knock at the door, she glanced at it and then back at him. No way, was she being ambushed? Henri got up excitedly and went to the door. She couldn't believe this. They never discussed this! Henri opened the door and greeted a Latino-looking guy who looked vaguely familiar.

"Rafael, you remember Amethyst?" Henri asked introducing them.

Remember? When did they ever meet?

"Oh yeah, that name is fire by the way," Rafael said to her with a huge smile.

"Thanks," she said and looked at Henri. "How do you know him?"

"Am Bam, he works next door at the Cuban spot next to Vinnie's!" Henri said, shocked that she didn't know who he was.

It came back to her now. He did look familiar but she didn't know they were friends. They've eaten there a few times. She would see him in passing, or outside behind the shop, smoking a cigarette.

"Ohhhhh. Ok got it" she said. "Hi."

"Let me show you the room," Henri said and led Rafael over. "We'll have it cleaned out by the time you get here."

Before he did, Rafael paused, "Is that One Direction?" he asked, looking at the record player, and then followed Henri to the room.

She inhaled and exhaled. Rafael was going to have to be better than that if he was going to live here.

*

Uranus and Saturn both rule the zodiac sign of Aquarius, so anyone whose birth chart has a strongly developed Aquarius influence will tend to have original, unexpected ideas.

*

https://youtu.be/0Gl2QnHNpkA