"Sir, I think it's best if you agree with me on this one. There's no other way we can tackle this issue at hand. Taking down the news might cause a whole lot of damage to the company and it's best if we avoid getting involved,"
Seated inside the director's elegant office, Ryan stated his mind to the director seated behind the desk. His words were firm but sounded precise.
Troy Smith, the middle-aged director, leaned back on the chair as he observed Ryan and the other man intensely. His suggestion made sense but there was a personality involved. He couldn't risk going against that personality lest he put the company in a more difficult position.
"We could always make use of PR if the issues go beyond our control, or what do you think Mr Williams?" The director threw the question at the other man.
By Ryan's left was a man seated with a slight frown scrunched up on his face. Brent Williams, the news director of the organization.
"I agree with you, sir." Brent Williams stated and directed his gaze to Ryan's direction. "Mr Stones, you don't need to panic. If this issue begins to go beyond our control, we could simply hand it over to the PR department to resolve it for us."
Ryan sighed. This conversation was going nowhere if they couldn't see reasons with him. He was thinking of how to help the company, they were thinking he was going through a 'panic'. How absurd! He only has the company's best interest in mind, nothing else. To convince them, he still had more points to put in place though.
"There's one thing we should all remember here. This company is among the best in the country. I hope this doesn't sound impolite but we should be setting examples for others to follow not going with the trend."
"Not when we're up against the Rubens..." Brent Williams replied.
"The Rubens do not own this organization," He countered sternly, getting a bit exasperated.
The two other men exchanged surprised glances. What was Ryan saying? Doesn't he have an idea about who the Rubens were? Of course he does. Literally everyone in the city of San Angels knows the biggest elite family, even in the whole of the Border States.
"Mr Stones, what do you mean?" Brent Williams asked.
He turned to face the news director. "Mr Williams, I have a question for you. Once we get into a complication, would the Rubens help us out?"
The news director shook his head in response to the question.
Ryan continued. "Maybe you haven't taken a look at the other media organizations that took the action but so you know, they're in a big time crisis now! This should signify that we shouldn't follow up with the same move they made."
"You're not thinking of us going against the Rubens, are you?" The director had to ask.
"No, I'm not. I only think we just need to refute whatever order they put out. We are not theirs to command." Ryan stated.
The director narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you mean by that? Who says it was was an order from them?"
Ryan's expression immediately turned to a neutral one. He was trying to make sense out of what the director just said. Was the director trying to fool him? Isn't it much too obvious that it was an order from the Rubens? Since the director wants to keep it under wraps, it was best if he just play suit with it.
"I'm sorry sir, that came out wrong." He apologized. "But please, still think it through. I'll be taking my leave now," Standing up, he adjusted the chair and headed out of the office.
Still leaning his back on the chair, the director watched Ryan's retreating back as he walked out through the door. He stared at the now void space as he became deeply lost in thoughts for about a minute, thinking hard on what Ryan had suggested.
"What do you think we should do regarding this matter?" Brent Williams interrupted his thinking with a question.
He focused his gaze on the news director who stared at him curiously. He then sat upright as he replied, "Mr Williams, you'll need to excuse me, I have a call to make. We still need to sort out the issue, I know, so I'll send for you once I'm done,"
"Okay, sir," Brent Williams stated while standing up to his feet. He then proceeded to leave the office.
He was now alone. Stretching his hand, he picked up his smartphone from the table. He tapped the screen and went into the call log before dialing a particular number. As the line began to go through, he placed the phone on his ear.
"Hello... Mr Ruben."
.....
The office was a medium-sized type. Grey painting with a splash of white was on the wall which had a decoration of a picture of the company logo.
At a side of the office stood a desk filled with a pile of documents, a receiver, a desktop computer and a glass plated inscription of the word 'president'. Behind the desk, a mobile chair stayed firm on the tiled floor.
A cloud of smoke instantly filled the air as the brown haired man who had his body rooted on the chair in a relaxed manner, exhaled a large puff of smoke from his mouth, with a little amount of the smoke emitted from his nostrils as well.
He held a stick of lighted cigarette in between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. Using the weight of his body, he turned the mobile chair to face the wall. His eyes were closed as he took up the cigarette close to his lips to take another drag from it. But then, his phone interrupted him.
Brrrng...
Shifting the chair back to the initial position, he stretched his left hand to pick up the phone on the desk. He looked at the screen to know whosoever was calling him.
After seeing the ID of the said person, he pressed the green icon on the screen to answer the call before tapping the speaker icon. He then placed the phone back on the desk as he waited for the person on the other end to speak.
"Hello," A deep baritone voice came out from the receiving end, silence ensuing for a second before the said person spoke again. "Mr Ruben."
"Director Smith," He called out as he took a drag from the cigarette. "Anything the matter? Have you done what you were asked to?" He then puffed out the smoke from his mouth.
"That's the major reason I'm calling..."
"What's wrong then?" He asked as he picked up the ashtray from the desk. He hit the butt of the cigarette on the tray, killing the light from it and placed both items on the desk.
The man from the receiving end replied, "I don't think I can proceed with what you requested from the organization,"
He arched his brows as he scoffed. Was it even a request? "And why's that?" He inquired with a calm tone.
"I think you need to check the reactions of the public to the other organizations who went through with it. It's all negative. I wouldn't want the company to have a bad name because of this,"
He went silent for a while as he pressed his temple with two of his fingers. Sitting upright, he traced his hand up to the power button on the keyboard and clicked it. The monitor, which was on 'sleep' mode, came on instantly.
"So, literally, you haven't taken down the news?"
"Yes..."
"Why didn't you just try it first? You never can tell what the public's reaction would be to yours. Just because the public reacted negatively to the others doesn't mean they would do the same to your organization." He told the man.
"But—"
"Just do it Director Smith."
"You need to hear me out first. Another thing is that the chief editor didn't totally agree with it,"
"Chief editor?" He scrunched his face at the statement. "Aren't you supposed to be his superior?"
"That's not how things work over here," the man stated from over the phone. "You see, before any decision is made regarding any news, the news director and the chief editor must have a little say in it. Even the board of directors need to be aware sometimes but I didn't relay this particular one to them because they might not be approving of it.
I even had to lie to both news director and chief editor that I have informed the board already, that was just to make them not to go against it. But it seems the chief editor still remains adamant on us not taking down the news,"
"Hmph..." He hummed. "I'd advice you keep that editor of yours in check. It's best to let him know who he's dealing with. Take care of him or I'll do that on your behalf. Good day,"
Immediately, he cut the call.
He put his index finger on his lip as he ruminated on the conversation. He then let out a wry smile which had a wicked intention behind it.
"Chief editor huhn? He's messing with the wrong people."
He picked up the receiver on the desk, input some digits then placed it on his ear.
"Claire, in the next five minutes, I need a detailed information about the chief editor of Sky Broadcasting Organization."