Sheldon Redecord, the VP, sat to the left of Jim Chamberlain, who took the head of a long cherry wood table as president. Alden Shetfield, the news director and the boss of all bosses, was seated on the other side. Beside him was the general manager, David Busford.
They sat huddled together, a collective mass of scowling faces. Not one of them was under fifty, and the only reason they hadn’t been pushed out by now was because they were powerful men with good contacts who had worked in the industry for a long time and brought a lot to the table. They worked as a cohesive unit most of the time, and when they had it in their mind to put someone’s head on the chopping block, that person would be hard-pressed to escape, let alone find work anywhere else.
Entering the room made Jos immediately nervous. She broke out in a cold sweat, the beads of it trickling from her neck down her back. She didn’t like it that no one smiled. No one offered a word of greeting. It was silent as a tomb in that room with all of the cheer of a funeral.
Her funeral.
Jos silently shut the door behind her, then took a seat across from Alden and David, in order to even out the table. She thought it would be less intimidating for her if she levelled things out instead of taking a seat at the end and getting stared down.
It was Alden who finally cracked a bit of a smile. It was more of a grimace, but that was as far as Alden ever got with displays of emotion. Jos appreciated his upfront candor. She liked it when a person just said what they were thinking, and Alden was one of those rare people who could do that, but also apply tact and a filter if needed. He was a good man when it came right down to it. He was good at reading people, and the fact that he still had what Jos liked to call a soul was probably the reason he hadn’t advanced further up the corporate ladder than he already had.
“Josella. Thank you for joining us,” Alden said smoothly. He never called her Jos. “We had something that we wanted to discuss with you.”
Your immediate termination and shipping out so that a much younger version of you with bigger boobs and even blonder hair can replace you.
Her stomach did a queasy turn, and her palms were even damper as she clenched them under the table. She refused to show weakness to these men.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew the ratings were down. She knew other stations were nipping at their heels. The fact that she was number one meant there was always someone coming up behind her, ready to swallow her whole if she paused and fell back for even a second. She knew how the industry worked. She’d expected for years that Alden or one of his bosses would have been eager to find her replacement.
It would start with a cohost. Someone they could audition and train up. No, not they. Me. I’d be the one training Miss Perky Boobs to take my place one day.
David took charge while Sheldon and Jim glowered at her. Then again, they glowered at everyone. She was sure their faces were set to perma-scowl mode. “You know that the show has been without a cohost or co-anchor for a long time. Years, actually. We were thinking now is a good time to change things up.”
This is how it starts. Operation Shove Jos Out Because She’s Too Damn Old commences now.
“The fact is, ratings are down. They’ve been slipping lower and lower. We’re losing out on interviews to other stations. Our competition is out there, and like the wolves, they are hungry. They want to be at the top. We’re there right now and we have been for a good long while, which means everyone is coming at us.”
At least they agreed on that point. Jos couldn’t find her voice. It felt like she had a lump the size of a baseball wedged in her throat. She made sure her face was completely impassive and nodded in agreement.
“We need new blood,” Alden said, but kindly. “We’re not saying that you haven’t done a good job over the years, Josella. Everyone knows you’ve done great. You’ve had a storied career. You’ve won awards for your journalism. It’s just that, you know as well as we do, this industry is a young person’s game.”
“We’re giving you a choice,” David explained, like he was doing her a favor, when in fact he was using a condescending tone. “The person we have picked out for the spot is a young up and comer. She’s garnering some big notoriety for her own style of journalism. She’s out there on the street every single day, literally, doing work with the homeless. She has a book telling the stories of San Jose’s forgotten set to be released. The stats she’s compiled on homelessness, mental health, drug addiction, lack of low-income housing, rates at which shelters are full, and the correlation between all of those things and more is astounding work.”
“Not to mention that she’s the daughter of Joe Rutherford,” Jim stated dryly. He was as dry as dust most of the time himself. He looked bored to death, like he couldn’t wait to get out of the meeting.
“We were asked by her father, who is worried about her being on the street so much of the time, if we could find her a position here,” Alden explained.
He didn’t have to tell Jos there was a big kickback for the station, and probably all the big wigs involved in the deal. She was astounded that this girl, who obviously wasn’t even working in broadcast journalism, was being considered for such a prestigious spot. One day, if things worked out for her, she’d be first in line for Jos’ job. Jos had to work and scrape and literally risk her life to get where she was. This girl? What had she done other than write a few stories and embellish with flowery statistics anyone could look up online?
Oh, right. She was the daughter of Joe Rutherford, start-up tech king turned politician. He was quite young himself, so his daughter must practically be an infant.
Jos was willing to bet her left nut (which she obviously didn’t have, but if she did, she would have staked it) that the girl was pretty, naturally blonde, and well endowed in every way aside from gray matter.
“Jos? Are you still with us?”
Embarrassed that Alden had to even ask, she snapped her head to the side and smiled softly in his direction. “I’m with you. And I agree, of course. I think the show could use new blood as well.”
I think what you really mean is fresh blood. My blood. And a pretty face to replace the head you’d like to see rolling out the damn door.
Jim nodded emphatically. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it before tucking it away. He seemed more eager than ever to get out of there and get on with his other business. He likely had a round of golf lined up for that afternoon. “I’m glad you agree, Jos, it’s important that you’re on board. Very important.”
Sheldon had been conspicuously quiet until then, but it was clear he was there to lay out the terms. He pushed a stack of paperwork from in front of him towards the middle of the table. Jos knew that was her cue to reach forward and take it. Even though she felt sick to her stomach, she managed to keep her hands from shaking.
She glanced over the paperwork, scanning the neatly typed lines.
“Three years?” She raised a brow at that. “You’re willing to give me a contract extension of three years after this one is up, guaranteed? And a salary increase?” She was genuinely confused. She’d thought she was finished the second she walked into the wolf’s den, and they were giving her an extension and more money? It didn’t make sense.
It must come with one hell of a catch.