The Sun, Moon & Stars [GxGxG]

Prologue

The late September sun sets early on a bustling city, and throughout, public spaces unfit for nightlife begin closing down. Studio Janelle, a private, Black-owned, up-and-coming fashion corporation, is no exception. Residing in Queens, the company's headquarters and several warehouses statewide become principally inaccessible past 9 p.m., except for the few individuals assuming an elite position. Board members were the only people permitted to be on properties after hours, granted they used keycards to bypass security measures. It is rare for employees to stay late, but doing so eliminates the need to use such feats. Like this one, Friday nights are the most vacant, and among many subordinates eager to leave, one higher-up remains broodily overlooking a darkening landscape.

The woman catches sight of her reflection in the glass and is taken aback by the exhaustion evident on her face. Her multicolored stare doesn't linger long. She flops back down and spins about-face in her chair before sidling to a crowded desk. This has been her reality for the last three, going on four, months; somehow, it managed to be less daunting than her home life.

She takes up her pen and busies herself with the minuscule work left over from a productive day. Fatigue chips away at her as time passes but doesn't slow her momentum. She finishes the paperwork within the hour and is left to her thoughts, riddled with negativity. What's worse is that she can't keep them at bay. Lucky for her, someone always brought the energy and made it so she didn't have to fight alone.

His timing was impeccable, too.

The woman deviates from her head-in-hand position when her office door swings open, and a masculine frame clumsily navigates through the semi-darkness. All is revealed with the flip of a switch: his identity and her poor condition. The man is none other than her best friend, whose brow creases with concern at the sight of her.

"Mr. Callahan. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Formalities they need not, considering their history.

"Cut the shit, Hunt."

She combats an indignant green-eyed stare with a playful one and watches his handsome features loosen to match her grin. The light-skinned man then moves to sit across from her and shows his hand, an oyster pail he sets atop messily stacked documents.

"I come bearing gifts," he announces proudly. "You hungry?"

"For Chinese takeout? Always."

They unpack the food with haste, eager to fill the voids in their stomachs.

"I don't know how you do it," the woman says suddenly. "Pulling off stunts like this can't be easy. How do you manage it?"

Her friend suppresses a smile by stuffing his face. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

"Don't play dumb," she sneers. "You know what I'm talking about. How the hell do you get into the building after hours?"

"Uh, the same way I do during hours," he snorts. "The door. Duh."

"Sure." She's not buying it but knows better than to question him further. "One of these days, your ass is gonna end up behind bars."

"So you've said."

The man had a knack for mischief and often utilized his unique skillset to bend the rules. In all their years of friendship, he'd never openly admitted to breaking the law, regardless of how incriminating the circumstances were. Like now, here he was, trespassing on private property.

Again.

"I'm serious," she presses.

"Right, and when that day comes, I'll know exactly who to call for bail."