Public Relations

2

The one and only Styles Co. I was stuck with quite possibly the only corporation in the state of New York with a CEO under the age of 30. He was the typical work-hard-play-hard twenty-something mind you. Everyone knew his success story, 'from rags to riches', the guy had lucked his way into an ivy league, and the rest is history. He went on to have a big idea and enough confidence and perseverance to make it happen, and now he's on the road to becoming the world's youngest billionaire. Not to mention he was a cocky asshole who recently made headlines after brutally firing his last PR rep. No one wanted to represent him anymore, except I was stuck doing exactly that.

"Woah Elise, that seriously sucks." Layla gawked at my announcement. Well no shit it sucks, I thought to myself. Externally I let out a deep groan.

"My career is officially over, there's no way I can do this." I explained to them, shaking my head.

"We'll all help you with whatever you need, you'll get through this." Frankie comforted me. "But for right now, I've got to head out to go meet my client." she noted, picking up her purse and a stack of files. "Catch you guys later, we should do drinks to get to know each other and celebrate our first day." she added.

"Sounds good to me." Garrett nodded in agreement, along with Layla and I.

"Cool, we can just meet here when we get off. See ya!" and she was gone. I was extremely jealous of her assignment. Why did I have to get stuck with the hardest one of us four!

"I better get going too, we're all supposed to meet our advisers for the assignments by ten." Layla began packing up as well, checking her watch.

"Me too, wouldn't want to make a bad impression on the first day." Garrett spoke, following suit.

I began to skim my folder once more, still in shock at the hell I was going to be put through for the next 8 weeks. It said that I was to be the only PR rep for their company, since there wasn't enough work for an entire team. I would report to Harry Styles himself, since he didn't trust secretaries or assistants (or so I'd heard, this wasn't written in the file itself) My daily duties would mainly include press releases and investment launch announcements, which is a piece of cake for any PR, but when you're working for Harry Styles: you're screwed no matter what you're doing for the prick.

-

It took me twenty minutes by cab to reach Styles headquarters with the painfully slow New York traffic clearly not on my side. By the time I pulled open the heavy door underneath the 'STYLES CO.' sign on the skyscraper he called an office, it was coming close to 9:45. I walked up to the main receptionist.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Styles?" I politely questioned.

The petite girl with large glasses looked at me like a deer in headlights. She couldn't have been over 25, and must have been fairly new taking in her reaction.

"I'm sorry miss, um, Mr. Styles cancelled his appointments and meetings today. Um I think, maybe not yours, I'm not sure, er..." She began looking through a stack of files on her desk.

Cancelled his meetings? What the hell? There was no way I was letting this detour me. Nope, my first day I would start out on the right foot. I was determined to do this job right and prove everyone wrong, no matter who I was working for. Either way, that didn't sound like the Harry Styles I had read about. The media was simply obsessed with this man, they projected him as a busy and always working young CEO, very controlling, they would have described him. All of this on top of his track-record for sleeping with many well known woman of high status. How he managed to have time for that when he was always working, I personally wasn't sure.

"Well then I guess I'll just show myself up, I'm his new PR Rep," I decided and let the flustered girl know, making my way to the closest elevator which had just opened, letting out multiple men in business suits with stone-faced expressions. "Thanks," I smiled at her, trying to ease her discomfort. But the way her face contorted as the elevator doors closed, let me know she was now not only nervous for herself, but for me as well. And even though I felt it, I refused to let it show. I pressed the button for the top floor, and waited until we reached the CEO's level. Stepping out, I reached another receptionists desk, which I assumed to be Mr. Style's assistant.