Lunch arrived as Emma’s nails were finishing drying. Mai made her let everyone else get a plate before she was allowed to, just in case.
Emma salivated over the spread while she waited. It was a variety of appetizers. There was toothpick caprese salad and spring rolls and three different types of bruschetta.
“Is that seriously pigs in a blanket?” Kelli said as she loaded her plate. “Jo, are you losing your refined taste?”
“I love pigs in a blanket!” Emma said.
“I believe they’re technically cows in a blanket,” Jo said. “They’re kosher.”
“Sweet!” Emma said, even though she didn’t keep kosher. She would’ve eaten them anyway, but it was nice Jo took it into consideration.
Kelli smirked and Emma shrugged at her. Pigs in a blanket were delicious, kosher or not, refined or not.
When Emma finally was allowed to get her plate, she piled it high, couldn’t say no to anything she saw. There wasn’t enough room. She would have to come back for dessert.
“You know, Ms. Jones,” she said, “not to advocate nepotism or anything—but my sister owns a bakery. Next time you need mini cupcakes.”
“Does she now?” Jo asked. She had zero pigs in a blanket on her plate.
“Yep,” Emma said. “Floured Up, over in WeHo.”
“Talk to craft services tomorrow,” Jo said. “See if we can’t get her some business.”
Emma grinned around the bite of spring roll in her mouth.
* * *
—
Jaden did Emma’s hair after lunch. He talked the whole time. When he broke for a moment to find some product in his bag, Emma glanced over at Jo, who was getting her toenails done.
“And you said I was going to talk their ears off?”
Everyone laughed, except Jaden, who either didn’t hear or at least didn’t seem to mind. Once he’d found the product, he was back to explaining this fight his sister had with his mom earlier in the week.
After hair came makeup. On a normal day, Emma wore a swipe of mascara and lip balm, maybe concealer if she had an especially bad pimple. She was a little afraid of Kelli and her menagerie of liquids and powders and brushes. But Kelli was gentle, and she explained everything she was going to do before she did it, like she could tell Emma needed to know what was going on.
Kelli worked on her eyes, and Emma was surprised at how comfortable she felt, here in a suite with her boss and all these stylists, getting ready for an awards show. She had her inhaler in her purse—and she still wasn’t sure how she was supposed to carry anything to the ceremony—but she wasn’t feeling anxious for the time being, so maybe she wouldn’t even need it.
Kelli finished brushing something onto Emma’s lids. “Open,” she said.
Emma opened her eyes. She opened her eyes and saw Jo across the room, in nothing but Spanx and a bra. Emma immediately closed her eyes again. Kelli cleared her throat.
“Open.”
Emma opened them again, studiously not looking at Jo. All of her comfort disappeared. She was glad for the layers of foundation and whatever else Kelli had already put on her cheeks—maybe the way Emma blushed wasn’t noticeable. Kelli seemed too focused on Emma’s eyes to care much.
It wasn’t that Emma saw anything she shouldn’t. She would’ve seen more had Jo been in a swimsuit. It was just—it was a lot of skin. And it wasn’t that Avery was right, because she wasn’t. Emma did not have a crush on Jo. But Jo was an objectively beautiful woman, all creamy skin and surprisingly long legs for such a petite person. So Emma was a little flustered, was all. She was glad when Kelli told her to close her eyes again.
By the time Kelli finished, Jo was nowhere to be seen. Emma breathed a sigh of relief.
“Your dress is in that bedroom,” Kelli said, gesturing to the door on the right. “I’ll bring in jewelry choices when Jo’s picked hers.”
Emma hadn’t considered jewelry. She didn’t consider it much then, either. She simply went to get dressed. It wasn’t until she was adjusting the zipper and Kelli and Jaden came in with a box that Emma realized just what “jewelry” entailed.
“It’s Martin Katz on loan,” Kelli said.
Emma stared at the open box. She couldn’t do anything else. There must have been tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars of diamonds. Emma almost sat down on the edge of the bed. She was grateful she hadn’t put her heels on yet.
“I . . . ,” she said, and couldn’t come up with anything else.
Jaden reached right into the box of diamonds and picked out a bracelet. “Girl, wear this,” he said. “You don’t need a necklace with that high neckline. Let’s find you some earrings, too.”
Emma looked at the bracelet he held out to her. It was strand after strand of small diamonds. Jaden shook it in her direction, but she just stared, slack jawed.
Kelli took pity on her and reached for the bracelet. “First red-carpet jitters is all,” she said, fastening it around Emma’s wrist.
It wasn’t red-carpet jitters—first or otherwise. This had more to do with the fact that the bracelet probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, all the clothes she owned put together. What if she lost it? What if a diamond fell out? She could be a buffer. She could be good at her job. But she couldn’t possibly wear this.
And then Jaden held up earrings, little dangling teardrops.
“Yes or yes?” he said.
“You guys, I can’t—” Emma started.
“You can,” Kelli said gently. “Put them on.”
“We did not spend hours making you up so you can get scared of some rocks and not look perfect, babe,” Jaden said.
Put that way, it was easier for Emma to wear the earrings. She had to—it would be rude to not look her best after everyone worked hard to make her look good. She focused on that rather than on how much the jewelry must cost.
And she did look good. Once she had the earrings in, she slipped on her heels and checked out the full-length mirror. She had been a little afraid, before this, about fitting in. She had been afraid she’d look obviously out of place with all the glamorous celebrities on the red carpet. But she looked the part, her hair in perfect chestnut waves over one shoulder. The bracelet balanced her look from the opposite wrist, and the earrings sparkled. She looked like she belonged.
“You guys did a great job,” she said.
“We did,” Kelli said. “Also, you’re just pretty.”
Emma smiled and rolled her eyes.
They went back out to the living room of the suite, and there was Jo, no longer in Spanx and a bra. Now she was in her dress, and that was worse.
She looked like a princess—no, like a queen. Absolutely gorgeous.
Emma hadn’t seen Jo’s dress in advance, and she was bowled over by how lovely it was. It was yellow, beautifully bright, daffodil yellow. There was still a lot of skin, with the off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline and Jo’s hair in a side updo. Strands of diamonds cascaded around Jo’s neck and over her collarbones. The ball gown bottom half of the dress fell just past her knees, and she was barefoot for now, but Emma was sure there was a pair of her signature four-inch heels somewhere nearby.
“Ms. Jones,” Emma said, no longer concerned at all with how she herself looked. “You look beautiful.”
Jo smiled, acknowledging the compliment with a nod. “Your clutch is on the table by the door,” she said. “It’s already stocked with hand sanitizer, makeup for touch-ups, and tampons, just in case.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Emma said. “I had no idea how I was going to bring anything.”
Emma headed over to move her inhaler and phone from her purse to the clutch. Jo clearing her throat made her pause.
“You look nice,” Jo said.
Emma’s face warmed. She looked at the floor, smiling. “Right. Thanks. Will we be leaving soon?”
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“Yes, but there’s no rush,” Jo said. “If we show up late enough, we can hopefully slip inside fairly quickly.”
Emma nodded like she had any idea how to slip inside a Hollywood awards ceremony.
* * *
—
The ride over was interminably long until suddenly it wasn’t, and they arrived.
Emma stepped out of the car—carefully, because she was in a long dress and heels that still felt a little too high for her, even after the practice in her kitchen. She stepped out of the car, and there were already cameras. People were shouting. She didn’t know where to look, didn’t know where to go.
Jo was at her side then, a tight-lipped smile and only a glance in Emma’s direction.
“What are you waiting for?” Jo said. “Move.”
She was as straightforward as ever, because this was normal for her. Emma, meanwhile, didn’t actually move that much, just stepped aside to let Jo lead the way. It was part deferential assistant behavior and part “I have no idea what I’m doing” behavior.
Emma had grown so comfortable in the suite. The relaxed atmosphere made it feel more like a spa day than preparing for an awards show. But this—this was wild. Watching on TV didn’t capture how many people were actually there. People directing traffic, people directing foot traffic, people taking pictures with really expensive cameras, fans taking pictures with their phones from afar. There was a tent full of people, and Jo’s publicist popped out to greet them. Amir gave Emma a cursory hello before focusing on Jo, who made it clear she wasn’t doing any interviews. Emma just tried not to trip over her feet. It was loud and busy and she would really rather be on Avery’s couch.
She didn’t need anyone else to know that, though. She needed to look like she belonged here, because she would, one day. She tried to keep a small smile on her face as she followed Jo.
Of course, then she didn’t get to follow Jo anymore. Because Avery was right about the red carpet—Emma was sent one way, away from the photographers, while Jo went down the other, posing every few feet. The show was set to start in twenty minutes, so the carpet was emptying out and Jo moved quickly. Emma held Jo’s clutch and shuffled along, never getting ahead of her boss. Everyone focused on the famous people, not on all the boring people who came with them. Emma wasn’t in the spotlight anymore, and her heels were easier without as much pressure to be perfectly graceful in them.
She wasn’t quite calm, though, because while she had promised Jo she wouldn’t fangirl out over anyone—well, she wasn’t fangirling. She wasn’t. But Annabeth Pierce was two people ahead of Jo on the red carpet, and Emma might have been fawning a little. She’d loved all of Annabeth’s movies since her breakout a little over five years ago. Her dress was this sleek white gown with a sparkling pattern in the front. Emma barely paid attention to Jo until Annabeth finished the red carpet and headed for the door to the theater.
When she finally did look back at her boss, Emma narrowed her eyes. Jo looked stiff. Uncomfortable. Her smile was fake. Not the “I’m getting my picture taken and being forced to smile” fake, but the “if I smile through this, maybe it will end sooner” fake. Her cheeks were tight and her eyes wider than usual, like she was actively trying not to furrow her brow.
Emma heard a voice from somewhere in the crowd. She wasn’t sure if it was a photographer or a fan, couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from as the person shouted about Agent Silver. Another voice then, asking if Jo was worried that backlash had begun before anything was even official. Jo moved toward the last posing area on the red carpet, and people kept yelling.
This was what Emma was there for, right? She was supposed to be a buffer, was supposed to be keeping people from asking about Agent Silver. Jo put her hand on her hip and looked more like she was grimacing than smiling.
Emma moved without thinking. She maneuvered herself to the real red carpet, the red carpet where the celebrities were. Jo didn’t notice Emma until she was barely three feet away, suddenly unsure what her next move should be.
Jo’s smile remained tight. “What are you doing here?” she asked through her teeth.
Emma took a step closer. “I’m supposed to be a buffer.”
It was then that she registered how many cameras were pointed in her direction. People were still yelling at them, asking her name, telling them to smile. Emma needed exposure, but this was too much. Her throat went tight. She stepped backward, ready to flee to the safety of the other path, but Jo wrapped a hand around her wrist and held her in place.
“Just smile for a second and let them take a picture,” Jo said. “Don’t be weird.”
Emma tried really hard to smile like a normal person. “Don’t let me fall on my face. I don’t know how to walk in these heels.”
“Right, of course,” Jo said. “You’re an Amazon.”
Emma stiffened, and Jo tightened her grip on her wrist.
“I only meant you’re tall,” she amended. “Compared to me? Of course you’re an Amazon.”
Someone appeared and fixed the train of Emma’s dress, disappeared just as quickly.
“Anyway,” Jo said. “The Amazons were mythological women warriors, so really it’s a compliment.”
Emma smiled, a real smile, without even thinking about it. “Didn’t they kill all men who entered their lands?”
Jo slid her a glance, smirking slightly. “See? Definitely a compliment.”
Emma giggled, and Jo grinned, and then just like that, they were ushered on. Jo let go of Emma’s wrist and placed her hand gently on her lower back instead, directing her toward the theater. Emma had survived the red carpet. She had even forgotten she was there for a moment. She tried to think of neither the number of pictures that now existed of her nor the gentle stroke of Jo’s thumb against the skin of her back.
Emma’s phone buzzed inside her clutch. She wondered if Avery had seen pictures of her already, if she showed up in the red-carpet coverage.
“Shall we?” Jo said, gesturing toward the doors.
Emma put her phone on do not disturb and followed Jo into the building.
3
JO
A phone call from her publicist before Jo arrived at the studio was never a good sign. She rolled up the privacy window between her and Chloe, then answered the phone.
“Good morning, Amir.”
“Yes, right, good morning,” her publicist said. He didn’t bother with small talk, which Jo appreciated. “Have you seen the response to your red-carpet stunt?”
Jo bristled. “I wasn’t aware I had pulled any kind of stunt.”
“People think you and your assistant are dating.”
Jo couldn’t help a short laugh.
“I’m not joking,” Amir said. “We have to get ahead of this.”
“Amir.” Jo tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice. He was only trying to do his job. “There’s nothing to get ahead of.”
“This rumor is going to get legs,” Amir said. “And we don’t need to give anyone any ammunition when it comes to reasons you shouldn’t be involved with Agent Silver.”
He never bullshitted her, she had to give him that. Amir didn’t sugarcoat his opinion.
“I don’t comment on my love life,” Jo said. “And I’ll be officially announced as writer and producer of Agent Silver on Thursday—that’ll be enough to make them forget about whatever this is.”
“Since you aren’t actually dating your assistant”—he said it with less certainty than Jo would’ve hoped—“this isn’t technically your love life. A short denial, nothing special.”
“I know Judy stressed that there would be no such denials before she handed you the reins here.”
Judy had been Jo’s publicist since she was thirteen. Not commenting on her love life began because no teenager needs that kind of public scrutiny. Jo grew up, but the no comment pol
icy stuck. Nothing changed when Judy retired two years ago.
“Ms. Jones, you do not need any more bad press at this moment,” Amir said. “A short statement would be an easy fix.”
Amir obviously couldn’t see her, but Jo shook her head anyway.
“A short statement after almost thirty years of never commenting would not be an easy fix,” she said. “You know better than that.”
Amir sighed. Jo could only assume it was because she was right.
“Perhaps Emma could—”
“Do not involve Emma in this,” Jo said.
“She’s already involved. And most of what’s being written isn’t particularly complimentary.”
Jo’s fingers twitched. The thought of Emma being disparaged in the media made her consider letting Amir make a statement.
“Leave it be,” she said instead. “It’ll pass.”
Amir sighed again, but he didn’t fight her. They said their goodbyes as Chloe pulled up to the studio.
From the look on Emma’s face as she stood by her desk with Jo’s coffee in hand, she’d seen the rumors. Jo made a split-second decision to pretend she herself hadn’t.
“Thank you,” she said, taking her coffee.
Emma followed her into her office, which wasn’t unusual. She often gave Jo a rundown of the schedule for the day first thing. But today, as Jo put her bag down and hung up her jacket, Emma simply stood there, twisting her fingers together.
“Did you need something?” Jo asked.
“Um,” Emma said. “Ms. Jones.” She paused. “Have you by any chance seen TMZ this morning?”
“I have not,” Jo told her honestly.
“There’s—well.” Emma took a deep breath. “There’s some speculation. About why you took me to the ceremony last night.”
“Oh?”
Jo was being unfair. She should’ve made this easy on Emma. But she rather enjoyed watching her work her way through something.
Something to Talk About Page 3
