Opulent - L.S.

1.

Harry likes his coffee black. No cream, no sugar, no milk. Just black coffee every day, three times a day. Black coffee is faster to make, and none of the ignorant interns have yet to get it wrong.

Harry sits in his office, overlooking the Paris sunrise. His sketchbook is in his lap, colored pencils and pens scattered about, and steaming black coffee by his side. Music plays off the old record player as the tip of the pencil glides across the page. He hums to himself as he glances out the window and enjoys the pink and orange rays that fill the room. Sunrises are always the best.

He's not usually the first one in the office, but on days like today, where he woke up at 4am with a new look clawing inside his head, screaming to be drawn and modeled, he enjoys the silence and alone time. That is until his assistant, Laurel, comes bounding in the room, with no makeup on, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and her sneakers basically falling off her feet. Harry shoots her a questioning look and sits up even though he has no room to judge, clad in his Superman flannel pajama pants and slippers.

"Laur-" Harry starts to question.

"Giorgio's plane is landing in a few hours, and he expects the spring looks to be finished." She pants, while rubbing her eyes and brushing a loose strand of her blond hair into her messy bun.

Harry nearly chokes on his coffee at her rant.

"He what?" Harry nearly screams, the sketchbook slipping from his hand. He runs a hand through his disheveled morning hair as he stands to meet his assistant.

"He'll be here tomorrow morning." Laurel says, rubbing her temples.

"He wasn't supposed to be here until next week." Harry sighs, tapping his foot.

"His daughter moved her wedding up a few days, so he decided to visit us early." Laurel says quietly, her hazel eyes filled with worry. She knows how Harry gets when he's stressed.

Harry's eyes widen in horror as he tries to come up with a solution of what to do. Out of the 120 looks that needed to be done, he and his designers have only come up with ninety, thinking they had almost another week to complete the rest.

"Shit!" Harry yells as he throws his coffee mug across the room, shattering a hung picture.

Laurel whimpers at his harsh tone, and this isn't even Harry at his worst.

"Call everyone in right now; it's going to be an early morning." He growls as he glances at the time, 4:37, before popping his knuckles.

Laurel slips her sneaker over her heel before nodding furiously. Before she can reach the door, Harry calls her name once again.

"I don't care if everyone's in their pajamas, they need to be here. Immediately." Harry says sternly.

Laurel just nods and types something into her phone before exiting quickly.

Soon enough, the entire office is hustling and bustling, everyone either still in their pajamas or in similar lazy attire.

Harry is flustered to say the least. It's been almost two hours, and even though work is steadily being done, it seems like the time is speeding by way too quickly. There is so much to be done. The usual calm, quiet, and clean office is now a hectic, noisy, and cluttered environment. Harry feels like he could rip out his hair any moment.He's currently on the phone, cussing out an unfortunate employee, when Laurel re-enters his office.

"Harry, we have a problem." She says while clicking her pen.

Harry suddenly hangs up the phone and leans back in his chair. Many possibilities rush through his head about what could be wrong. He's still in his daze when Laurel snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

"What! I'm listening, what is it?" Harry suddenly jumps in his chair, now fully alert.

"Today was supposed to be the fitting for some of the models, not including the ones we haven't hired yet." She states, jotting something down in her notebook.

"Yeah, and?" Harry asks as his brows furrow. He has much more important things to be dealing with at the moment.

"We still have to hire thirty more models." Laurel huffs and slaps Harry's shoulder. After working for him for almost five years, Laurel knows her boundaries with Harry. He's almost like a brother to her.

Harry fakes a groan of pain and rubs his shoulder.

"How am I supposed to deal with them, I have plenty of other things to do." Harry shrugs, doodling on the sticky notes on his desk.

"You have to interview them. I already called Mr. Payne." She smiles proudly, pushing back her bangs.

"What the hell did you call Liam for? He has his own fashion line to be working on." Harry pouts, slapping his pen down.

"He is very organized, unlike some people, and has already finished his line." Laurel says matter-of-factly. "And we could definitely use his help with the outfits."

"Whatever. Just send all of the models here at like 10:00." He groans, checking his watch.

"Perfect. Thank you Harry." She smiles as she leaves his office.He waves her away, grinning as he does. What would he do without Laurel?