His Secret Bodyguard

Part 1

"Yes, I handled that. Listen, there's a lot of pictures being posted from last night's show. Do I need to remove the ones with the—" He cut me off. "Yes, absolutely. Remove those. Just.. Use your own judgement, ok? You don't need my approval. If you think it's benefitting Harry, do it." He stated, hanging up. I rolled my eyes, easily hacking through the back end of Instagram. I quickly removed all the pictures where Harry had had the wardrobe malfunction during his show. It was actually pretty funny.

Jeff forces me to attend every single one of Harry's concerts, as an "extra security measure."
As if he doesn't have enough security. But, it's part of the job.

Last year, I graduated fourth in my class at a highly-ranked college, with multiple degrees in computer science and technology. Jeff found me a year before I graduated, and immediately hired me to work as an extra "assistant" to Harry Styles.

Apparently I am not to be seen, not to be heard. I'm an invisible, unknown asset on Harry's team. I know everything there is to know about him. I watch his every move, without him knowing. Bad news article? Negative publicity? Less than a minute on my computer and they get permanently deleted from the Internet. Doesn't seem possible? Well, my friend.. If it can be put on there, it can be taken off. You just have to know how to do it..

Harry doesn't know that I exist, and it's vital that it stays that way. It's the number one rule, that Jeff made sure I understood before hiring me. I'm not to ever come in contact with Harry.

I'm only 22, so still pretty young. I immediately got snatched off the job market though. Apparently computer science majors are in high-demand but fairly uncommon. However, I've always loved it.

**
I'm currently on my way to Harry's first Atlanta show. He has another one in two days, which I also have to attend. And as-per-usual, I am to blend in with all the other girls. Which, gets annoying after a while. Because all I want to do is wear my sweatpants. Yes, even in July in Georgia..

But, I'm not wearing that. Jeff won't let me. I'm wearing some jean shorts, a tank top and a hat (different from picture). I've learned to occasionally wear a hat, especially if I'm closer to the stage. Because, I'm at every show, and if he's seen me multiple times, he's more likely to recognize me. But, that's the benefit to having thousands of girls all around me—he never sees me...

I'm on my way into the venue. He goes on in five minutes. But, after a while, I learned that I don't need to see the opening act this many times..

I let the usher scan my ticket, and thanked her. I made my way through the concourse, and cursed when I heard him already on the stage, talking.

I shoved my phone into my back pocket, adjusting my earpiece, which was connected to Jeff's. He was to alert me of anything that was going on. I turned it on, and immediately cut the volume down since he was yelling into it. "Oh my god, shut up Jeff I'm coming." I commented.

"Brynn, how many times have I told you not to be late? Your seat is front row in the mid-section right by the stage; he's going to see you come in late." He stated. I rolled my eyes, opening the door to the bowl. "Yeah yeah, whatever." I replied, making my way down the stairs, keeping my head down. The ear-piece was small enough that it couldn't be seen unless you were looking for it.

I excused my way to my seat, and sat down between two girls, still keeping my head down.

"Oh my god." One of them squealed. I glanced over at her. She was staring at the stage. Which, was placed in the middle of the arena, with four platforms, each one extending from the different sides. One came out right in front of us. I looked up, internally cursing. He was right there, looking at me. "Told you." I heard Jeff say into my ear piece and I laughed.

"Is my show not interesting enough for you to arrive on time?" He asked into the microphone, followed by thousands of girls screaming. I just shrugged, pulling my phone out and ignoring him.

I didn't care if I offended him, or the girls around me. I'm not here to make friends; I'm here to do my job. The goal isn't to make him like me. He isn't supposed to know I exist. You have to leave all emotions out of it. Jeff puts me front row, to keep me close to the stage in case I need to do the security-part of my job. Even so, he should really put me a few rows back.

He walked back to the main stage, and the girls around me were looking at me. "I can feel you staring at me. I recommend you stop." I commented loud enough for them to hear, while keeping my eyes on my phone.

They went back to watching Harry, and I turned my brightness down some more, texting Jeff. I have a privacy-screen, so the girls around me couldn't see it.

"He looked right at me. This is why I shouldn't be front row." I sent it, turning my phone off as one of his songs started. I'd already heard them all dozens of times.. I'd learned to tone them out. I enjoy his music, and yes, it's very well written and performed. But, after attending all of these shows, they start to sound the same. And you know how you listen to a song enough times, you get tired of it and can no longer listen to it? That's exactly how this is...

Nearing the end of the show, during his encore, Jeff suddenly started shouting into my earpiece, and I winced, turning the volume down. The volume was connected to my phone, through my pop-socket. It's very advanced, new technology. Still in its testing stages.

He wasn't talking to me though. He'd just activated my channel for some reason.. "Whatever you want, just take it." He said, and I sensed fear in his tone. "I don't want anything, except for that man out there to be dead. He has crossed too many lines, influenced this generation into thinking they can be whoever they want. Well they can't, and this needs to end now." I heard another man shouting at him. I realized they were talking about Harry, and panic shot through my veins..