“And,” he said, drawing out the word, “he wants you personally to handle this Seascape account.”
“So he told me.” She shifted in her seat and rested her arms on the chair in a vain attempt to appear calm. “I don't see the need of that. I have every confidence in Jo Hampson.”
“Yes, but the client doesn't,” Doug replied. His muddy eyes stabbed into her for a moment before his expression relaxed into one of tolerance. “I know why you have an aversion to him, Megan.”
She laughed shortly. “Aversion is too soft a word, Doug. I hate him. He worked my husband to death. How else should I feel about him?”
“I knew James, and I don't think he needed a slave driver. That young man had more energy than anyone I've ever met. An excessive amount. As a matter of fact, he did everything in excess.” He held both palms out when she began to object. “Wait. I'm not here to speak disrespectfully of him. It's just that I think you've blinded yourself to the facts, or at least colored them in your mind.”
“Are you saying that I imagined all the late hours James worked, the endless cocktail parties, deadlines, querulous clients?” Suddenly the air in the room was stifling, the chair confining, and she pushed out of it. Circling it, she braced her hands on its padded back as she said, “I watched my husband digging his own grave because that man wouldn't let up on him. Don't ask me to feel benevolent toward Josh Bennett.”
“Would it be impossible for you to work with him on this account?”
“Absolutely. In my opinion he's never done anything meritorious. He's an opportunist, a manipulator, a taker.”
Doug sighed and ran a weary hand over his fleshy features. “Sit down, Megan.” When she hesitated, he raised imperious eyes to her. “Sit down.”
Realizing that his words were more than a request, she resumed her previous seat. Instinctively, and for a reason she couldn't name, her heart began to pound with misgiving. She had a strong premonition that she didn't want to hear what Doug was about to say.
“Megan, there's something you should know, something I probably should have told you a long time ago. Josh Bennett was responsible for your being hired at WONE.”
Her instinct to be afraid had been well founded, but she couldn't have anticipated the devastating impact of Doug's words. She stared at him in stunned dismay, hoping desperately that she hadn't heard him right. His eyes looked almost pained. His expression was almost compassio
nate. He wasn't lying.
She tried to record and digest what he'd just told her, but she couldn't. It was unthinkable. That she owed the man she hated most in the world her job, her entire life as it was today, was beyond belief.
“That's impossible,” she said. “I applied for a job here on a whim.”
“Even so.”
Gaining strength, her reason gradually returning, she thought back to the days following James's death, three years ago. “I went back to the radio station, but they didn't need anyone. Then I applied here. How could Bennett have known?”
Atherton's shoulders lifted and fell in an eloquent shrug. “Grapevine. You know what it's like around here. Someone blows his nose and everyone knows about it. If you'll recall, when you applied we told you there was nothing available. There wasn't.”
“You called me back a week later and told me you'd reconsidered my application.”
“Yes, after having been paid a visit by Bennett. He was adamant, Megan. He threatened to advise all of his clients already advertising on this station to spend their money elsewhere if we didn't hire you for our sales force. He personally reviewed the account list we gave you to make sure you were being assigned a fair share of the better ones.”
“My God,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands.
Atherton barked a short laugh. “Bennett wields just about that much power. I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he could make good his threats and cost us a fortune in lost advertising. Oh, yes, once I had my little chat with Bennett, I agreed to hire you in a minute.”
He leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the desk. “But, Megan, I wasn't disappointed. I told Mr. Bennett that if you couldn't cut it, you'd be out in six months. He agreed to those terms. You've proven yourself, just as he assured me you would.”
Megan disregarded the compliment. “He didn't even know anything about me!” she almost screamed. “He still doesn't. When James was in his employ, I had as little to do with him as possible.”
Atherton shrugged again. “He made it his business to know as much as he could about you. And everything he claimed to know was accurate.”
Springing to her feet again, she paced the room restlessly. She felt like a caged beast with the walls closing in. Another thought struck her, and she turned toward her supervisor. “When the job for local sales manager became available, did he have anything to do with my getting the promotion!” Her threatening gaze forbade him to lie to her.
He shook his head. “No. Management had already decided you were the one to take over. Your sales record was outstanding, and you had the necessary leadership qualities. You'd always been able to handle even the most difficult clients.”
“Thank—”
“But,” he cut in, “Bennett called me to suggest strongly that you be appointed to the vacated position. I was glad I could tell him we had already reached that decision.”
“He knew even before I did,” she said in a voice that was deadly quiet.