PROLOGUE
Maverick May was losing his temper now.
"Why does he always have to do this?" He said to particularly no one.
"What do you mean?"
That was Elizabeth Quest, the head of marketing and Wesly Frost's current girlfriend. Her question was punctuated with the snap of those tiny palm-sized mirrors that come with makeup kits. She looked like a movie star. Perfect in her uniqueness. She wasn't the typical caricature of modern beauty standards as established by Instagram models. Her lips were thin and naturally devoid of color unless they were livened by the blood-colored lipstick she was putting on a second ago. Her eyes were small and beady, like those of a snake constantly searching for its next prey. Her skin was a few shades over a natural yellow. Her slender camera-friendly frame was halved by the large maggot-white oak of the table that cut across the MeetFirst headquarters' meeting room.
"Yeah, what's got you on the edge, May?"
Separated by a chair from Elizabeth was Henry Grosse, the company lawyer. He was the embodiment of gluttony and unattractiveness (a mirror of his duties at the company). He had loose and flappy jowls beneath small, tightly worn specs. Flecks of slimy stubble grew in patches from his ashy black skin. His expensive suit jacket trying its hardest to hold together the sausage-stuffed body of Grosse.
May couldn't stand his coworkers, and it wasn't because they were what was wrong with Cooperate Zimbabwe. What they were doing at that very moment is what made him despise them. The man he had co-found Simu Date with in a college dorm room a decade ago, the man they were currently waiting for, had called an emergency board meeting two hours ago. May should have been used to it by now, but the fact that it was a Saturday, the same Saturday that he had promised to take his wife and son out for dinner because he was always at work, made Wesley's inconsiderate behavior quite disrespectful. And he knew that Quest and Grosse felt the same way, but instead of just head of marketing and company lawyer, the walking lust and gluttony also doubled as enthusiastic bootlickers. They had made a pact somewhere that they would worship their boss at any possible moment. Sometimes May wondered if he was angry that everyone treated him like the Wozniak to Wesly's Steve Jobs. But the fact of the matter is that that was the fact of the matter.
May sighed and broke off his impatient stroll by standing at the floor-to-ceiling length window of the fifth floor of the six-story building. Harare, the capital city of Zimbabwe, was alive as it deserved to be on a Saturday night. A mess of lights and car horns, tire screeches, planes, and concerts sprinkled throughout the city reached the headquarters even though it was located on the outskirts of the city. Grosse joined him, a presence signaled by a strong-smelling scent that was far from appealing but undoubtedly expensive.
"I should call the boss," he said as he pulled out his phone. "You know, just to check if he's having a good weekend."
Grosse tried a WhatsApp call three times before deciding to admit defeat.
"He must be somewhere without a network," he said with a tight-lipped smile.
"He always has a network; Wes uses VSAT."
Another reason why May hated Quest. Unlike handling a rumor like the average person and denying it, when everyone at the company got wind of the fact that she was sleeping with the CEO, she took most chances to embrace and validate it. She wasn't wrong; Wesly did have VSAT and would only be offline when he was six feet under. But May knew that because he spent a lot of time with him. Elizabeth was just making sure that it was known that she did as well.
Then, the dying roars of an engine from the parking lot below...
The neon pink light of the company logo revealed a matte black Range Rover. Its ghostly blue lights blinked off like the eyes of a resting predator. From the driver's seat emerged a silhouette equally black and menacing as the vehicle itself. The figure's shadow was tethered to the darkness that enveloped the sparsely occupied lot. Elizabeth had joined the two men at some point to state the obvious.
"Well, that's not Wes."
The figure was illuminated as it marched towards the building. It was a muscular man dressed in knee-high military-style boots, black skinny jeans, a black shirt partially revealed by a black leather jacket, black shades, and a black cap with a thick white 'H' on it. Before he reached the entrance, the man shot a glance up at the three. Grosse flinched and looked at his watch. May and Quest shared an uneasy glance.
"Staring is rude, you know."
That cool, calm voice That voice that could only belong to a man who was never in a hurry belonged to Wesly Frost.
He wasn't exactly that, but the CEO of Simu Date looked like a woke social justice warrior. His French braids were knotted into a tight bun. On his face were copper-rimmed, clear glasses that were more for fashion than for medical reasons. Small black crosses hung from both ears. Something about the obsidian color made the accessories kind of blasphemous to May. The fact that he was also a staunch Catholic probably played a role in his perception. From Frost's neck dangled multicolored crystal-like beads and a bunch of silver and copper chains bearing miscellaneous pendants that meant one thing or another. Unlike being dressed in formal attire like the rest of them, Frost looked like he got his clothes from the thrift store. A thin cream-colored throwover, which reminded May of the clothes those old white ladies who can see your future wore, clung loosely to his best friend's lanky frame. Underneath the throwover was a mostly green shirt with lush flowers of yellow, blue, and green. It seemed like his torso was an oasis-like swamp. And below, as usual, were gray Nike sweat pants and rafters.
"Good evening, sir!" boomed Grosse
"I'm sorry for being late, May." Wes said as he strolled to the head of the table, "Traffic was a hassle."
Both Grosse and May saw Wesley throw Elizabeth a glance. She blushed and failed to find something to do with her quivering hands. At times, May felt sorry for the woman. She was well into her twenties, an age that began raising questions if one wasn't married. Anyone could tell that she was hopelessly in love with Wes, but she'd been recently employed at the company, and she didn't talk to any of the other women who had worked there for years. If she did, maybe they would've warned her that Wesly Frost would not commit much less marry her. He had been that way since college, and May believed that he may have been that way since birth. He also could've taken the responsibility upon himself to forewarn the woman, but she didn't like him, and it wasn't his place.
"Why are we here on Saturday? I had made plans with my family."
"Oh, I'm sure Van will forgive you," he said as he reclined in the mud brown leather chair and placed both feet on the table. "She always does, doesn't she?"
May sighed and took a seat.
As if on que, the man from the parking lot entered. He was taller up close. It is estimated that the man may have been a head taller than Wes, who was really tall. His glasses were an impenetrable black that locked his eyes from anyone else's view. The white H embossed on his black cap seemed to glow in contrast to the rest of the man's clothing.
He sat down right next to May.
From his body rose a heavy, minty odor that could only belong to menthol cigarettes. May had quit the habit when Charles was born, but to this day, the scent of tobacco made him wonder if cancer truly was as bad as people made it seem.
"Okay, now that everyone is here..."
"Hold on," interjected May.
Everyone shot him a questioning glance. Everyone besides the man in black He reached into his jacket and pulled out a lighter and a thin cigarette. Soon the room was full of a sharp menthol cloud of second-hand smoke.
"No introductions?" May asked as he gestured to the man beside him.
Wes smiled and said, "Don't worry, you'll know everything there is to know about H if and when the need arises."
Frost rose from the chair. He walked over to the whiteboard. He grabbed a marker and wrote something on the icy surface. He spun around to reveal the word SimuDate.
