Campaign for Love

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Campaign for Love Page 4

by Annabelle Stevens


  She picked up her handbag, gathered up the layouts, and dropped them on his desk on her way out. Sharon had also already left for the day, she noticed.

  As she headed for the elevator, Suzanna thought of how much she enjoyed working for Quentin. He was generous with his praise when he thought something exceptionally good, and never failed to pass along the credit to management. Suzy was proud of the fact that although she was new in her job, she hadn't yet had to call on him for help.

  Well, thank goodness for another day over, Suzy thought to herself with anticipation. Now I can go home and get out of my harness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next day Suzanna was somewhat surprised that Quentin didn't remark on her work when he called on the intercom to say that he had another batch of layouts ready for her. She also had to admit she was rather disappointed. She had been so sure she had hit just the right note with the piece.

  "I'll be right there, Mr. Pierce," she answered.

  When she went into his office to get them a short time later, they talked for a time about this and that, until finally their conversation began to lull. When he still made no mention of the layout she had stayed late to finish, she couldn't resist asking, "So, what did you think of my idea for the Reynolds account?"

  "I thought it was great, Ms. Sills," he said with a rueful smile. "Really great."

  "Then what's wrong?" she asked, staring at him, looking for any clue as to what the problem might be.

  "Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea just before you did. He presented it to the top brass yesterday afternoon and they were most impressed, so he's going to get all the credit for it, though am of course going to show them your layout, since it's all been fully conceptualized by you on paper rather than just chatted about at an informal meeting."

  "Oh, er, thank you. Someone else? Really?" Suzanna said, knowing how unlikely, though not impossible, it was for such a thing to happen. "Would you mind telling me who's on the same wavelength as me?"

  "Of course I don't mind. It was a Junior Exec named Brad Sherman. To tell the truth, I was a bit surprised. Brad isn't exactly known for his original ideas around here."

  "Well," said Suzy, shrugging, "I guess there's nothing new under the sun."

  He looked up at her for a moment, and then rose from his chair. "Yes, I think I'll just head up now myself and drop this off to them. Even if the two of you both came up with the same idea, it's so fresh and original, we wouldn't want the competition to steal a march on us."

  "No, of course not."

  "Sorry you lost the account, but there will be others, I promise."

  She smiled and held back the bitterness in her tone as she said, "We're all playing on the same team here, Mr. Pierce. I'm glad you're so sure we'll be award the account, and I'm glad my concept board can contribute to the success of the campaign."

  He nodded, though again she sensed a strange coiled tension in him that had definitely not been there before. "That's the spirit, Ms. Sills. Your turn to shine will come soon enough if you keep producing work like this." He lifted all the work she had left on his desk the night before. "I'll see you later," he said, then headed out the door.

  On her way back to her office, Suzanna recalled the feeling she'd had the day before when she had come back from lunch. She had been sure that her papers had been disturbed and had even asked Quentin if he had taken a peek at her work.

  Now she recalled that Brad had left the staff cafeteria about twenty-five minutes before she and Sharon had.

  For the rest of the week, Suzy examined her papers when she returned from lunch, but found nothing amiss. She also made sure to change the password on her computer and lock all her filing cabinets, where she hid most of her good work.

  She baited her mousetrap with a few inconsequential pieces, copies of which she time stamped on her computer to show when she had created them in case anyone tried to get ahead of her again.

  But by the end of the week, she had no evidence of anyone having tampered with her work. She tried to tell herself she was just imagining things, but all the same, she needed to know what was going on, and where she stood...

  That weekend Suzanna and Elsa went out on the town. They started window-shopping in the mid-town area, worked their way to Bloomingdale's, lunched at a great deli, took in a foreign film, an award-winner at the Cannes Film Festival, and dined at one of their favorite bistros.

  Over their meal, Suzanna told Elsa all she knew about Quentin Pierce, which was pitifully little. She did know he had a following. According to what Sharon had told her, some were jet-setters, some career women, all were stunning. From her office, Suzanna sometimes caught his end of a phone call. None indicated any degree of intimacy, so even if he was dating, he certainly wasn't involved or committed in any sense that she could see.

  "All the same," said Elsa, "if I were you I'd give up the disguise immediately, and I'd show up at the office tomorrow as my sexy self."

  But Suzy knew instinctively that this would be a bad move. "No," she said with a shake of her head, "I don't think so. Not only would Mr. Pierce be shocked at my deception, he'd feel like a fool too. You know how offices are. It would spread like wildfire that he'd been duped. He'd never forgive me, and my job would go right down the drain.

  "Besides, Quentin is one smart man. I think, given time, he'll realize there's more to me than meets the eye. Besides, there's no point in rushing things. I'll wait and see what happens. If I find he's getting interested, I'll start to change gradually. The glasses will go first. I'll use more make-up, take my hair down, start wearing heels and sheer hose again. Then I can take off the sports bra and finally wear a dress that will reveal all. In the meantime, I'll try to keep up the masquerade as long as possible so I can get to know him better."

  "I hope you get away with it, but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes at the moment."

  Suzy shrugged. "It won't be too bad. This is September. I'll try to hold out until the office Christmas party for the great unveiling. Everyone will think I had myself made over for the occasion."

  "Lotsa luck, dearie, but I still don't like it," said Elsa.

  They paid their check and went out to hail a cab. On the way uptown, Suzanna also told Elsa her suspicions about Brad Sherman having stolen her idea and presented it as his own in order to get ahead. Elsa agreed that he'd probably bear watching very closely in future.

  When they got to Elsa's building, Suzanna kept the taxi waiting while she saw her safely inside her own apartment. A few blocks later she asked the cabbie to do the same for her. New York taxi drivers could often be very understanding. Of course, he was rewarded with a handsome tip, but for a doll like Suzy, he'd have done it anyway.

  She laughed at his words, but it was a painful reminder of how most men treated her, as a doll or plaything for the games they wanted to run and make up all the rules to. She fought down the wellspring of anger that started to bubble up at the thought of Brad helping himself to her hard work. She needed to do a good job, stand on her own merits, if she was ever to break through the glass ceiling that had been holding her back ever since she had started her working career.

  As much as Elsa had encouraged her to bare all now that she had her feet under the desk, she couldn't help but feel like she was walking in quicksand until she got at least one really great account under her belt. Brad had cut her off at the pass this time, but she was damned if she was going to let him do it again, she decided as she opened her front door, and shut it with a decisive click.

  It was one thing confiding in Elsa, but in the office, Suzanna said nothing of her suspicions about Brad to anyone.

  How can I, she thought. I really have no proof except that he had time and opportunity, but then so did a lot of other people.

  Had Suzanna felt more secure and relaxed in her position, she'd have realized that the fact that Brad was the one to submit her idea amounted to proof positive he had been poking in her papers. It was too much of a coincidence,
and as everyone had said, he hadn't had an original idea in all the time he had been working there. He was well connected and talked a good game, according to Sharon, but he was more of an administrator than a creator.

  Apparently he was making the most of the new account he had been given, which might explain why he had not come back for more material from her desk. But sooner or later, he would have to 'prove' himself all over again, so he would be back, of that she was sure.

  It's always going to be this way, thought Suzanna, as long as Quentin, Sharon and I take the same lunch hour. I'll never turn him in, in no matter what happens, but he'll never get my best work again, if he is the thief.

  She continued to take the same precautions, locking her best ideas in her filing cabinet and her computer, but leaving the merely good ones in a folder on her desk. She measured the distance of the bottom edge of the folder to the edge of her desk carefully using her ruled blotter, so she'd know without a doubt when they'd been disturbed.

  After almost another whole week went by without incident, Suzanna was beginning to think that, against all odds, it had been coincidence after all.

  But the very next morning when she went in to discuss the previous day's work with Quentin Pierce, he remarked that everything she'd done was good. A couple of her ideas were excellent, but she could tell from his cool tone that something was amiss.

  "So what's wrong with them?" she asked quietly. "I don't exactly see you bubbling over with joy."

  He heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, Suzanna. This is another brilliant campaign, but someone else already beat you to it again."

  "Was it Brad again?" she asked quietly.

  "As a matter of fact, yes." He gave her a long assessing look, but remained silent.

  She felt as though she had swallowed ground glass but managed to shrug one shoulder and murmur, "Oh, well. You can't win 'em all. I guess that old chestnut about great minds running in the same channel are true."

  She got up before he could say another word, and headed back to her desk with a sigh. He had been clever, she had to give him that. She had never even noticed that her folder had been moved.

  But now she was sure she was right about Brad. A couple of times at lunch, he had got up almost as soon as he had seen her come in, and vanished, begging off on the excuse of being so busy.

  Much as she burned to tell the truth and not be the victim of this injustice, she knew she couldn't. It was another great account, but again, not something she would die if she didn't get.

  Plus, she still hadn't been there long enough to feel like she was on solid ground. Yet at the same time, she needed to hit a few more out of the ballpark soon, or else they would wonder why they had ever hired her, when they clearly supposedly had so much talent in Brad.

  So she continued to leave her less spectacular work unguarded on her desk, in the hopes that Brad would get caught sooner or later.

  And as she predicted, about once every two weeks, Brad would turn in one of her ideas a day sooner.

  About the fifth time it occurred, Suzanna had been working with Quentin for almost two months. Belatedly, he seemed to realize that something strange was going on.

  "Most unusual," he remarked, as he told her that once more Brad Sherman had turned in one of her ideas, getting a day's drop on her again.

  "I'd like to talk to you about this in your office later, Ms. Sills. I'll be in about four, if that's agreeable."

  "That will be fine, Mr. Pierce. I'll try to have my desk cleared by then."

  She had gone in to wash up and was back at her desk when Quentin Pierce knocked and walked in, closing the door behind him.

  "I'd like to keep this private, Ms. Sills. My assistant hasn't left yet, and I'd like to keep this just between ourselves."

  "Of course. I understand. Whatever it is, would a cup of coffee make it easier? I have a fresh pot already made."

  "Yes, please, thanks, if you already have it made," he answered. He smiled a slightly embarrassed smile and said, "I really want to discuss the Imperial Foods Account with you, but let's get the unpleasantness out of the way first."

  "Unpleasantness?" she echoed in confusion.

  "I mean the series of 'coincidences' that have been occurring over the last two months. You know what I'm talking about, so don't bother to deny it."

  "Oh, er..."

  He was already sipping the coffee Suzanna had poured for him, and now indicated the seat beside him with a nod of his head.

  "Would you mind bringing your coffee around to this side of the desk? We can use these two chairs and won't have to talk across the desk to one another. Besides, you'll find the chair more comfortable, and this could take a while."

  "I don't mind. It'll be a pleasant change," she said, taking her place beside him as he had suggested.

  "I think this is more conducive to informality, talking person to person rather than executive to assistant. For starters, suppose you tell me what explanation you can offer for the fact that Brad Sherman keeps getting the same dynamite ideas you do, but a day earlier. Do you know Brad at all?"

  She shook her head. "We've been introduced and exchanged pleasantries, but that's about it. Are you about to accuse me of picking his brain?"

  He grimaced. "Hardly. The pickings would be pretty slim, I'm afraid. How often do you see him?"

  "Just about every day," Suzy replied. "He's usually finished eating and is on his way out of the lunch room when Sharon and I get there."

  "Then you've never spoken to him about your work?"

  She shook her head. "No, never. But somebody must have, because the first day I met him, he mentioned something about my being your new 'girl wonder.'"

  "Then there's no way he could have caught any of your ideas through conversation?"

  She shook her head. "No way. There's also no way I could have gotten any ideas from him."

  "I never asked you that, Ms. Sills. But it does help answer my question."

  His gaze rested upon her thoughtfully for a moment, before he finally said, "I don't like to talk disparagingly about a fellow employee, but I know Brad never had a really good idea in his life. I know you must have given this some thought. I only wonder why you never came to me with any accusations against Brad. Surely you know he's been stealing your work for months, yet you said nothing. You've lost at least half a dozen fantastic accounts because of him. Why did you remain silent all this time, when he's stolen so much from you?"

  She shrugged one shoulder. "Because of past experience. I don't like to make waves. I also wouldn't like to see anyone get in any trouble on my account. After the first time, I simply took precautions not to have any of my best ideas stolen."

  Quentin laughed. "That was another thing that puzzled me. His later ideas were never as good as his first one."

  She nodded. "I suspected Brad from the beginning because he was the only one with reason and opportunity, so I set out to prove it to my own satisfaction, which I did.

  "After the first time, I simply locked my best work in a drawer. I didn't mind his taking an occasional idea off my desk. It couldn't hurt me or even help him, really, and the company still got the work I did. And the customers were happy. He's a good administrator and an excellent wheel greaser, if you know what I mean, even if he's not very creative. So, I, well, I felt sorry for him, and just let it pass. As I said, no real harm done, except that they're six wins we could have had on our team."

  "You're a compassionate young lady, Suzanna. Do you mind if I call you that?"

  "Of course not. It sounded so natural I never even noticed. And it is my name, after all."

  "I hope you'll call me Quentin - or even Quent, if you will."

  "Fine. And since we're being so informal, will Brad lose his job over this?"

  He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate charcoal gray trousers. He sighed and shook his head. "I think I'm going to take a leaf from your book. If it were up to me, I'd fire him straight away. I know what he would say if the shoe
were on the other foot. He would accuse you until he was blue in the face, and move heaven and earth to make sure you were fired."

  She quirked one corner of her mouth. "Ah, but wouldn’t that be killing the goose that laid the golden egg."

  "True, but again, I don't give him credit for much common sense for brains. But you've handled yourself with class and discretion and as you say, he's administered the accounts well, and freed us up to work on other projects which, if I am reading this situation correctly, are a lot more interesting to you?"

  She nodded.

  "So you only gave him what you really didn't want in the first place."

 

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