The CEO's Publicist

Penelope: The Unlucky

I get to the coffee shop in record time but am greeted with a closed-down building with boarded-up windows. A week before, this building had been packed to the brim with people trying to get their dose of the magic black juice to get them through the day. I’m getting chills even remembering the fragrance of roasting coffee beans when I was still a block away.

All I’m left with is a sad visage of a once vibrant local business that suddenly disappears. The only thing missing to complete the sordid scene was a rogue tumbleweed crossing past me.

            “Are you frickin’ kidding me?” I complain as I knock loudly on the locked door. It’s only then I notice the piece of paper hanging beside the door.

            Closed due to numerous health and safety violations. George Malkovich – FDA Director.

            I walk away from the coffee shop with heavy feet and head for the office with my head still throbbing with each breath I take. This place was as clean as a hospital! How in the world could it have gotten shut down like this?

            But as I check on my watch, I don’t have enough time to play Sherlock Holmes on the situation in front of me, even though I really did adore the coffee shop.  

            Besides, things can’t get any worse right?

            Because none of these things dimmed my excitement for what was supposed to be the best four o’clock signing session of my career. I’m on the verge of signing the highest-paid client in my company’s history.

            “Nothing’s gonna stop me now,” I tell myself as I drag myself to the next block where Harmony Incorporated’s office was situated.

            Our building is not the most remarkable in LA, not by a long shot. It’s a mere three-stories high and three hundred square area wide that was pretty much newly built when I started working there. But that’s our company’s beauty; we’re one of the best in ensuring that our clients get exposure and engagement with the public, but we don’t like to flaunt our success through infrastructure.

            We focus on our results.

            And the fruits of those results are quite apparent when I walk through the double-door entrance. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought that they just walked inside the NY Stock Exchange center. Almost all of our hundred or more employees are busy in the office or out in the field, managing the clients.

            Even though it seems like walking through a war-zone, I loved working here. Everything is neatly designed and placed right where it’s supposed to be. There are just enough transparent walls to let natural sunlight inside; the cubicles of our field agents are impressively stacked next to each other, which doesn’t hamper communication nor the ability to get to the other station.

            Everything almost seems as if God herself wanted me to work here.

            I walk past most people without getting so much as a greeting from them, which I don’t mind; I’m where I am today, not because I go to the office to make friends but to get my job done.

            Unlike some of my colleagues, the office parties or the after-work drinking sessions never really piqued my interest. This may have led to a tougher time whenever I needed something from another department, but persistence and the occasional donut bribes never fail.

            And yet, when I get to the second floor, where my office was, I’m glad that there was at least one person in the entire company that I admire and respect.

Especially since Madelyn greets me with a smile and a tall cup of caffeine goodness in her other hand.

            “Is that what I think it is?” I ask Madelyn with eyes wide open, staring at the cup. I never get tired of seeing her innocent smile, as if she’s lived at least forty years in this world and never experienced a second of suffering. Her primmed bobbed red-hair, and floral dress remind me that there is some good in this world despite everything.

            “Mocha latte,” Madelyn nods with a smile, “Thought maybe you’d need an extra dose of coffee for your next meeting.”

            I give her a big hug before taking the cup of coffee, “Oh, Madelyn, it was so horrible. Tia’s coffee shop got closed down, and­­­––can you believe this­­––because of safety and health violations?”

            “Oh, dear. How could that be? You’ve always had coffee from that shop for years now and never gotten sick once!” I enjoy how animated Madelyn looks whenever she reacts to something. It’s as if she’s seeing the world for the first time, and I think every once in a while, a person should be like that.

            “I don’t know, but I’ll find out what really happened after I close this deal down.”

            I check my phone, and I’m five minutes shy of my meeting with Mr. Anonymous, a big-shot sports influencer that’s going to improve my career as soon as I get them as a client.

            With the fragrant coffee re-energizing me, I quickly head to the nearest conference room, “Cancel all calls, Madelyn. And make sure to tell the client that I’ll be waiting at Conference Room A.”

            “You got it, Penelope,” Madelyn replies before answering her ringing phone. I don’t know how she does it when she’s the de facto secretary of all our execs, but she still finds the time to help li’l ‘ol me.

            I truly don’t deserve you, Madelyn.

            But all the good mood I’ve accrued so far starts to wane down when I hear laughter as I get closer to the conference room.

Marc Jones and Jacob Sullivan are laughing at the water dispenser just outside the conference room on my way to the conference room. They’re PR specialists as well, just like me, older by a few years. If only their age brought wisdom and manners with them.

Their laughter gets louder as soon as they see me walking by.

            “Hey, Penelope,” Jacob greets with his shiny hair and suit that looks like he stole it from a funeral. “I heard what happened earlier this morning with CJ and Lamar. It’s such a real shame that we lost them. They were pulling in good numbers for your section.”

            Marc struggles to contain his laughter as he butts in, “Yeah. Sorry to hear about that. Maybe the boss should have thought twice before sending a woman to do a man’s job.”

            “Nice,” Jacob compliments as he gives Marc a high-five.

            Today was not a good day to be messing with me, “Yeah, Nice one, Marc,” I snap back, “Did you get that line from the same era you bought those tacky shoes in? The 1950’s? Why don’t you click your heels and go back to Nebraska?”

            Jacob laughs at him, which makes ticks me off even more, “And you, Jacob, maybe I’d be less focused on other people’s clientele and focus more on your overcompensating with so much hair product. It’s dripping on your shirt.”

            Marc laughs back before Jacob slaps him on the back of the head, which was a feat in itself, being that he’s only five foot four and Marc’s almost a six-footer.

“Very funny, Penelope,” Jacob says, “But let’s see if you’ll still be laughing once the boss realizes that you just lost us two of our biggest clients.”

I scoff back, “Oh, I’ll definitely let the two of you know after I bag the biggest client that this company has ever had, gentlemen. Now, excuse me, but it’s almost time for my meeting with a certain someone from the Cartwright Corporation.”

Marc and Jacob ask me what I meant, but I close the door in front of them and patiently sit back at one end of the table. 4 o’clock right on the dot. The client should be coming in any minute now.

There’s an orange hue inside the conference room as I sit back, relax and appreciate the setting sun outside. The golden hour a befitting omen and backdrop for the biggest deal that I’m going to land in the company’s history. As soon as the throbbing in my head subsides, I review my notes and talking points.

But I really should know better than to jinx my expectations—half an hour pass and still no sign of my client. I check outside to see if anyone was waiting, but Madelyn shakes her head, saying that none of the people that came by the office was my client.

“Okay, Madelyn, thanks. Just let them in when they get here, okay?” I request before going back inside the silent conference room.

The room darkens as I reread my notes for the fifth time. I begin to doubt whether I should just cut my losses and call CJ and Lamar back and apologize; I missed their call after all.

Nonsense! I tell myself. Those two have always walked all over me just because they’re some hotshot rap stars. They may have gotten me the promotion, but I’m through groveling for those kinds of clients.

If I’m going to be groveling, it’s going to be for a client that will get me to the top of my career. And Cartwright Corporation is certainly going to get me there, if not even higher.

And yet, as I see the last rays of sun disappear on the horizon, my client is still nowhere to be found—only an empty cup of coffee to accompany me in the room.

My mind starts to race as I speculate on what could have gone wrong.

Could it have been a prank call from Marc and Jacob?

But I cross it out of my mind when I remembered their clueless reactions earlier. Those two bozos aren’t smart enough to act as if they didn’t know who I was meeting at four o’clock.

Could it have been Mckenzie?

As much as I hated our competitor, Mckenzie doesn’t do anything unless it profited them in some way. And making a false appointment wouldn’t even give them a dime for their effort.

“Then, where the hell is my client?” I shout loud as I bang my fist on the table, dislodging the piece of crumpled paper from my purse and onto the table.

The smell of cologne from the piece of paper reminds me of my one-night stand once again, which calms me at first until I realize that I wouldn’t have been in this position if I hadn’t gone out last night.

I grab it off the table and walk to the nearest trash bin to dispose of the accursed item.

            But as soon as the five o’clock alarm on my phone goes off, the conference room door opens as Madelyn escorts my client in.

            Finally! Let’s do this!

            I immediately get off of my chair to meet my client at the door, “Good afternoon, I’m Penelope––“ but the words get stuck in my throat as soon as I see my client.

            Chiseled jawline, strong nose, blue eyes that make you wanna drown in them.

            The words resonate in my mind as they fit the features of the person walking inside the room. But all bets are off when the client walks in, and the scent of a familiar cologne wafts in, bringing waves of déjà vu.

            “Mr. Ryan Cartwright,” Madelyn introduces him, “This is Penelope Stewart, our premiere PR Specialist. She’s the one who handled the CJ and Lamar incident two years ago.”

            Ryan gives Madelyn a smile, erasing all of my doubts that the biggest client of my career is the same man I had a one-night stand with,

“The rappers? Well, that’s quite an impressive achievement miss––,” he stops midsentence as soon as his eyes meet mine, “Have we met before?” he asks me with a raised brow, a devilish smile, and that same arrogant tone he had all night.

            You have got to be fricking kidding me.