hourglass | h.s.

i

When Harry was called into his boss' office one dreary, gloomy afternoon, he knew what was coming. He'd been preparing for it for weeks, and he was ecstatic that the moment had finally come. All of his hard work — the elongated hours, the extra workload, all of the stupid seminars and workshops he'd been attending — were finally paying off. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help the smug smile on his face as he entered the large office on the top floor.

The lift ride up was composed entirely of him quickly fixing his appearance. Running his fingers through his hair, adjusting his tie, straightening his jacket, popping a piece of gum — the works. He could practically hear his dear mother scolding him for his vanity in the back of his head, but he paid it no mind. Right now, he needed to look his best. After all, one needs to look good when they're about to be promoted to being the youngest Chief Brand Officer Caplin Co. had ever seen.

Taking a deep breath, Harry exited the lift and walked down the hall, greeting the receptionist politely before knocking.

"It's open!"

Opening the door, Harry was met with the image of his boss, Mr. Don Caplin. Don Caplin was a middle aged man who was a good fifty pounds overweight, and looked exactly like every other smarmy business executive in London. He wasn't a good man by any means, but Harry still respected him. Even though Don Caplin had had the business handed down to him from generation to generation, he was responsible for making it into the world famous brand it has become.  And Harry respected him a lot more now that he was going to be the man responsible for giving his career the last push into the world of success.

"Harry, my boy!" the man greeted, spinning around in his squeaky chair. "Sit, sit!"

Obliging, Harry sat across from him, his smile never once faltering.

"Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Whiskey?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Caplin, I'm fine, thank you—"

"Annette! Fetch Mr. Styles and I some whiskey!"

It took everything in Harry not to flinch at his boss' volume, but he held it in. The last thing he needed right now was to look scared or skittish. He needed to project that same energy he'd been projecting since he was an intern. Charming, sharp, well educated, driven, and confident.

Annette was back before Harry could even realise what had even happened. He placed the glasses in front of them, leaving the bottle on the desk before making her swift exit.

"So," Don began, sipping his drink. "I suppose you already know why I've called you in here today, son."

Son. Harry wanted to cringe at the nickname he detested so much. It wasn't a secret that Harry was the youngest out of his colleagues, nor did he really care about it at first. But then they all started calling him that. Son. They were all on equal levels, and yet, they still found any way they could to make him feel inferior. He hated it more than anything, and it only made him more eager to climb up the ranks.

But he held it in.

"I'd like to think I've got an idea as to why I'm here, sir."

"Well, I think that idea of yours might be correct."

If Harry was smiling before, he was the Cheshire Cat by now.

"Harry, you've done a lot for this company, and for me, these past, what is it now, seven years?  Eight years?"

"Nine years in June, sir."

"Even better. You've had to bust your ass and work harder than most everyone in that office just because you're younger than those old bastards. And let me tell you, you've done an exceptional job in everything you've done."