Public Relations could mean a multitude of different things.

Some people at Hudson Entertainment specialized in media relations - meaning their sole focus was building and maintaining relationships with various journalists and media outlets, and on behalf of our clients would write and distribute press releases, organize press conferences, and facilitate media interviews. Others were responsible for research and analysis, so they'd monitor things like media coverage, industry trends, and public opinion to inform any ongoing PR strategies. Big-ticket clients typically needed a team of people who did various degrees of the aforementioned - bougie skincare brands like Kiehl's and La Mer, or pop singers with party-girl problems like Briella Giancarlo.

When Martina took on Briella Giancarlo a week after I'd been hired last year, I'd immediately been thrust into the damage control and image management type of PR. I'd sat in on crisis meetings, combed through social media for negative publicity and public opinion (and there was a lot), and assisted with long-term strategy development. Granted she eventually removed herself from the public eye, moved out to California, and was dating some surfer, but I learned a lot. I'd even go so far as to say I was good at it.

Well, Raf Salinas and his merry band of metal misfits were decidedly not one of those big-ticket clients - all they needed was someone to come on tour with them to rebrand and relaunch them to the music world. Despite the fact that their lead singer ironically seemed desperately in need of image management.

I had zero experience in content creation, but Martina had thrust them upon me regardless, like she knew something I didn't. That notion alone was enough to get me to yes her to death like the god damn people-pleaser this city had made me. I wanted to be someone Martina could trust with a client like Keihl's or La Mer or Briella Giancarlo and tell them "yeah, I've got a girl for that." It would mean I'd done everything right, and in the end, that's what mattered.

Which meant eventually, I did need to learn how to do this content creation thing on my own. Thankfully, I had Lyanna to hold my hand for the time being as I tried to build a social media strategy for this upcycled metal band in hopes that they'd be discovered and sought after by the appropriate parties - whoever that may be was yet to be revealed.

"You should do a little bit of research on current Instagram and Tiktok trends," she told me when we were both in the office that Friday. "I know some of it is cringy, but trending audio is trending for a reason. You just have to cherry-pick which trends fit them. Sometimes it can be...fun."

She hesitated as she brought her latte up to her mouth, and I couldn't help but snort in response. Something told me that a guy whose own friends referred to him as the Prince of Darkness wasn't exactly oozing fun out of his orifices.

I heaved out a sigh and propped my chin up with my hand as I balanced my elbow on my desk, scrolling through Instagram on my iPad with my other hand. "Well, they deleted their old Instagram and they never had anything else, so I'm starting from scratch."

"That's almost better," Lyanna offered. "It's a blank slate for you to do whatever you want with instead of having to clean up something that isn't yours. What about their Spotify?"

I flicked my wrist dismissively without looking up from my iPad. "Raf said Devon is going to handle all of that."

I had only spoken briefly to Raf since Tuesday at Sweet & Vicious, when he'd informed me of one of the band's final sessions at a Brooklyn recording studio before their new EP was released and we left for tour in a week and a half. I had to Google what EP stood for - an EP, or Extended Play, is a musical recording that has more tracks than a single but fewer than an album. EPs are usually between 10 and 30 minutes long and have 3–7 tracks. They are often seen as a way for artists to experiment with new sounds and styles without the commitment of a full album.

Well, that all seemed to track based on everything Raf had filled me in on. I had already begun working on a press release for the EP (aptly titled Slow Burn) to show Raf, and we would finalize it the moment the EP was ready to be sent out to a few NYC-based music bloggers and news outfits. So yes, I was forgoing Friday happy hour for a recording studio session with the Prince of Darkness himself.

The disdain in my voice must have been apparent as Lyanna snickered behind her latte, her deep purple lipstick now imprinted on the cup's rim. "So you're his number one fan now, right?"

I swiveled in my chair to shoot her a wry grin. "I'm thinking of getting a t-shirt made that says 'I heart The Green Inferno' and wearing it under all my clothes."

"Very Regina George of you," Lyanna responded with a similar grin.

The reality was as much as Devon rubbed me the wrong way, I was a god damn professional, so while he went on in his annoyingly satisfying voice about how I didn't need to be there bothering them, I'd grit my teeth and do my job, and I would be all the better for it. Eventually.

⋆ ★

The Bunker Studio was nothing like what it sounded like. When I made it over to Brooklyn around 4, I expected some kind of industrial suite carved out of an old warehouse or something, with rusted metal fixtures and a natural dimness to all the lighting.

At first I thought I had the wrong address, since the front of it was nothing more than a small, generic office building lobby, all plain white and sterile. The young girl behind the desk jerked a thumb back towards the lone hallway without looking up from her phone when I told her I was looking for the recording studio.

When I made it down the hall into the actual studio, it felt more like I'd stepped into a remote cabin in the woods, with bright wood paneled walls and layers of colorful patterned rugs that felt mismatched yet entirely intentional. I had to assume the entire setup was designed for some kind of sound proofing, since I couldn't hear any of the music until I stepped into the studio.  

"Oh good, you made it." Raf stood up from one of the weathered brown leather couches pressed up against the wall.

"Good to see you again," I had to raise my voice over the music as I greeted him, and he gestured for me to sit on one of the couches.

Directly across from us was a big, blinking switchboard with about a hundred buttons and switches, where Evie, Gareth, and Clark were huddled behind it, looking over it through a glass window to the recording booth intently, like kids at Sea World waiting excitedly for Shamu to do a trick.

In this case, Shamu was Devon, pacing the tank alone with big studio headphones on and a killer look in his eyes. The music abruptly stopped.

"Again." His voice came through one of the handful of speakers littered throughout the studio space, and it cut through the sudden silence like a machete hacking through the depths of a jungle. "From the beginning."

"It was fine the first time he did it," Clark leaned over and mumbled behind his hand to Evie.

"And the fifth time," Gareth chimed in.

Evie whipped her head around to Gareth. "Do you wanna tell him that? Feel free."

"I can see you guys talking." Devon's voice came through again, pointing at his three stooges from behind the glass. "You know if any of you feel like coming in here and doing the vocals and messing around with the DAW just let me know, and I'll sit on my ass out there and press the play button for you."

The three of them shook their heads, and Devon started going on about other adjustments that needed to be made.

"Is he...always like this?" I leaned over and asked Raf.

"Yes," the three of them turned around and answered in unison, and I stiffened up in my seat when I realized their acknowledgement of my presence also meant his acknowledgment of my presence. When I looked up through the glass, his head was turned downward, playing around with what looked like a little shrunken keyboard with a bunch of extra buttons.

Raf chuckled and shook his head, and it brought my attention back to him. Today he was wearing a weathered-looking Rolling Stones tee, and I wondered if his wardrobe exclusively consisted of those t-shirts that might have actually been from when he was my age.

"Devon just likes things done a certain way," Raf explained, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever get used to the thickness of his accent. 

Which was just a nice way to say he was a control freak. I nodded politely. "Gotcha."

Without warning, Gareth dropped into the couch beside me. He gave me a dopey smile, his hair sticking up haphazardly like he'd stuck his finger into one of the many electrical sockets and outlets in the studio. "Devon's a control freak."

I had to fight the urge to snicker.

"Which is fine for us, really," he continued. "We kinda just do what he says and it works out. Raf calls us his minions."

"I said that one damn time," Raf chuckled.

I had this sudden image flash in my head of Evie, Gareth, and Clark dressed as the silly yellow minions from the Despicable Me movies, yelling BANANA repeatedly while Devon, characteristically still dressed in all black, tries to explain how they're going to steal the moon. It made more sense than it should have.

"Waiting on you now, Sunshine," Devon's voice rang out again as he gestured to Evie through the glass.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Evie grumbled as she wheeled one of the chairs in front of the soundboard over to the laptop perched on the other side, then clacked away at the keyboard. "Don't get your panties all twisted, I'm one woman."

I wasn't sure what to expect when the music started, but it was far from the aggressive thrashing I remembered from their old music. Sure there were drums and guitars and stuff you expected from a rock band, but there were additives me and my musically uninclined self couldn't recognize. Some of the sounds were coming from the little keyboard thing Devon played in front of him, so effortlessly that he didn't even need to look down at it.

I felt myself unwillingly transfixed as I watched him. Everything about it was hypnotic, from the way his shoulders swayed back and forth ever so slightly to the rhythm, to the faint echoing to his voice as he sang, almost eerie and otherworldly.

I feel my focus fading away, I had high hopes

Running from the man that I used to be, but I'm too slow

Blood signed, we made a pact

Yours dried out, you took it back

"Does he write the lyrics, too?" I asked Raf, desperate to break whatever spell Devon was trying to put on me. Besides, this was information I very much needed to know. It was an insight into his psyche. 

"He does everything," Raf replied, and I shouldn't have been surprised at the smile he wore, like a proud dad. "So when he's done with the vocals he'll overlay it onto the music that they've already recorded, and mix it all together until it sounds the way they want it to sound."

I felt my gaze drawn to him again, and I was starting to understand the Prince of Darkness nickname. There was a supernatural shroud to him that forced your attention to him, whether you wanted to or not. "Well, it sounds like he knows what he's doing then."

Begrudgingly so. 

The guitars in the song kicked up to resemble more of what I expected a metal song to sound like, and I felt the couch cushions shift as Gareth stood up.

"If he stops on the bridge again, I'm gonna go in there and bite him," Gareth said to Raf.

"You know what? I'm not even gonna act like I'm gonna stop you. I won't." Raf shook his head and sat back into the couch, and I snickered behind my hand.

"Are they always like this?" I asked with a grin.

"Oh yeah," Raf blew out a breath. "Nothin' but a buncha rowdy children at recess. You'll get used to it."

Devon continued singing after the guitar break, and I winced as his voice pitched up just onto the edge of those screaming vocals.

Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours

Why I never got a say, never got a choice?

Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours

And why I never ever got a fucking say?

When the music continued on, Gareth threw his hands up in the air. "Thank sweet baby Jesus."

Raf looked far less impressed, and it was the first time I'd seen his brows furrow up, marred with concern. "He's really pushing it."

I turned to face Raf. "I thought you said he couldn't do the screaming vocals anymore. Because of that surgery he had?"

"He can," Gareth chimed in, still on his feet as rocked on his toes. "But..."

"He shouldn't," Raf added firmly. "And y'all just let him do what he wants because I'm the one that's gonna have to handle it if his vocal rehab is set back."

"It is technically your job," Gareth grinned. "You're the Godfather."

"You putting hits out on other bands too, I take it?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

Gareth laughed and clapped a hand to my shoulder, like we were chummy old pals. "She's funny. We get to keep her, right?"

"Hope so," I replied with a thin smile. Provided the Prince of Darkness doesn't suck my soul out first.

The song finished, and the relief in the silence was palpable. While the minions scrambled to get the recording ready while Devon came out of the booth, I pulled my iPad out to go over the press release with Raf.

Lower East Side metal band the Green Inferno rises from the ashes with EP SLOW BURN ahead of opening for BEYOND THE PINES farewell tour.

"So this is going to go to Amp, along with a few local music bloggers," I explained to him. At the very least, my competence was what was going to get me to stay, regardless of whether certain other people in the band found me funny and agreeable to be around or not. "Ideally it'll generate some interest. I've also remade the band's Instagram, but it's private for now until we have some content."

"Now how about that," he looked it over with a smile. "Looks good to me."

I looked up to see Devon in the big cushy chair in front of the soundboard, his black zip-up hoodie lazily hanging off one of his shoulders as he watched us, and I shot him a beaming, sickly sweet smile. Yes, I do know what I'm doing, thank you very much. 

"So that's it then?" he sighed out. "I don't get a say in any of it?"

Raf moved to say something, but I beat him to it. Professional or not, one thing I wouldn't do was let Raf jump in and shield me every time Devon felt like spitting venom. In any and all mediums and environments, you earned respect by proving you can handle yourself, and even if I couldn't get Devon McCall to like me (I'd all but given up on that particular notion), I could at the very least earn some respect.

I turned on the couch cushions to face Devon head-on, keeping my voice even. "I'm open to suggestions, so if you have any, feel free to share them."

"No," he grumbled as he propped his chin up in his hand.

"Good," I responded, still smiling that sickly smile at him.

Evie wheeled herself over to Devon in another chair. "This is the last time I'm going to ask you, but are you sure you don't want to close with Just Pretend?"

"I'm so sure I'm practically deodorant," he fired back. "Don't ask me again. We're sticking with the five tracks we have."

Evie and Raf exchanged a wary glance, and Evie shrugged.

"So what's next? Is the EP done then?" I asked, posing the question to the general group of them. But naturally, Devon locked onto me again.

"Do you come with stupid questions or is that something I'm paying extra for?"

The blunt force trauma of his words had me seeing stars for just a moment, but it was enough for Evie to intervene and whack Devon on the arm.

"Don't be an ass," she chastised him.

"No, hold on," Devon held his hand up to Evie, but kept his attention directed towards me. "I wanna know. Why are you here? I know why I'm here, I make music. I know why they're here," he paused to gesture to the rest of the band. "So why are you here?"

This time, nobody would be jumping on Devon's grenade for me, and it was silent once again as they all waited for my response. I refused to look away from him or show any signs of deterrence, but I started absentmindedly playing with my charm bracelet without looking down. "Look Devon, I don't have any ulterior motives or anything for being here. I'm just going to do my best for the job that you guys hired me to do. Is that alright with you?"

Devon kept me in the crosshairs of his dark gaze, and even though it felt like I was waiting for him to fire shots, I remained undeterred. The moment lingered on, and I was close enough to count the faint freckles under his eyes. I felt my gaze drawn downward as he poked his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, moving almost as if it were in slow motion. I watched his Adam's apple bob behind the tattoo on his neck as he swallowed, my eyes tracing the swirls of red and orange in the tentacles of the Kraken, and I couldn't stop myself from wondering how they'd feel under my fingertips.  

"Fine," he finally muttered out in a husky voice, and the moment ended. "Didn't really answer my question though."

All I could muster up was a shrug, fearing I would sound as breathless as I felt if I tried to speak.

I knew he wanted an answer that was more than it was my job, even though that would have been my response. The problem was I wasn't entirely sure how to answer it in the way he wanted it answered, and I had no idea how I was going to spend a month with him on a bus if he was going to see through me like that.

⋆ ★

hello! a few friendly reminders -

1. i am not an expert in public relations or music production. i've driven myself nuts researching what i can for these topics, but if something is *drastically* incorrect, please feel free to (politely) let me know.

2. this is an annoyances/dislike to lovers story. i know most of y'all have come from BIG SHOT and want sienna and devon to be down bad ASAP like jo and reid were, but that's just not the case here. i mean this when i say they genuinely do not like each other right now, and y'all gotta give them (and the plot) some time to develop lol just trust me <3

3. i am unfortunately not skilled in the art of songwriting so yes we're using bad omens songs for the time being bc i love them and it's perf for the story