Something to Talk About

by Meryl Wilsner

  “Are you bringing anyone?” Emma asked.

  “Have I ever?”

  Emma smiled. “There’s a chance that in years past I may have been too busy with karaoke to notice your date situation.”

  In years past, wrap parties were easier. She was a props assistant then, had no responsibility for the party. She just got to show up and get drunk and sing. This year, even with the added responsibility, she was looking forward to the week. It would be quieter, less stressful after weeks of rewrites and reshoots and struggling to get everything perfect for the finale.

  “I don’t bring dates to wrap parties and I don’t partake in karaoke,” Jo said.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re not very much fun?” Emma teased.

  “I’ll have you know, my five-year-old nephew told me I was the coolest.”

  “Oh, well then,” Emma laughed. “You’ll never hear me disagree with a five-year-old.”

  “They are your peers, aren’t they?” Jo asked, an eyebrow arched and the corners of her mouth quirked up.

  “You really want to start age jokes, boss?”

  Jo laughed and waved her off. Emma returned to her desk with a smile on her face.

  * * *

  —

  The restaurant they’d rented out for the wrap party was a rooftop bar, strung up with twinkle lights. Karaoke was inside, and most of the mingling was outside, under a night sky dulled by light pollution.

  Emma had to make sure everything was in place: food, drinks, security, entertainment. It was the first wrap party she’d ever planned. She wanted it to be perfect. Avery eventually pulled her away from explaining ticket taking to the bouncers for the third time.

  “They know what they’re doing,” Avery said. “Let’s get you a drink or three.”

  Emma stayed stressed until her sister put a gimlet in her hand.

  Emma loved wrap parties. Everyone intermingled—big-name actors and location assistants alike, coming together and having a good time. She sought out her old crew. She’d worked in the props department for three years before Jo handpicked her as her assistant. She missed the people. Even though she still saw them around, it wasn’t the same as being one of them. Phil was her best friend from back then, and he still was, when she got the chance to hang out with him. He let her set her drink down before he scooped her into a hug that lifted her off her feet.

  “How’s life?” he asked. He held his arm up against hers, his skin bronze comparatively. “Remember when we used to compete to see who got the tannest? Outdoor shoots and driving golf carts all over the lot? And now look at you, whitey.”

  Emma laughed. “That’s what I get for being holed up at the studio all the time now.”

  “Speaking of”—Phil dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“how’s sleeping with the enemy?”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “I am neither sleeping with Jo nor is she the enemy. What did she ever do to you anyway?”

  “Defending your girlfriend, how cute.”

  She glared at him. “Come on, Phil.”

  Avery butted in. “You know it’d be less fun to tease you if you didn’t get so upset about it every time.”

  “It’s a reasonable thing to get upset about,” Emma said, her voice louder than she’d like it to be. She lowered it. “I don’t want anyone thinking that I am the type to sleep my way into a job, and I don’t want anyone thinking Jo is the type to take advantage of her employees.”

  “It doesn’t count as taking advantage if you’re super into it, does it?” Phil said.

  “Good point,” Avery said.

  Emma sighed. “I regret ever introducing the two of you.”

  She didn’t, though, because even if they made fun of her, Phil and Avery also plied her with drinks and made her laugh harder than she had in months. She dragged them both to karaoke to do backup for their props manager, Aly, then spent half the song unable to sing because she was cracking up at Phil’s outrageous dancing.

  Afterward, the three of them crowded around a high-top table outside and shared cheesy breadsticks.

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” Phil asked. “Don’t you think she’d want some?”

  Avery snorted.

  “Look,” Emma said sharply. “There’s like—there’s a leak, or something, okay? Like remember when I organized that article about how Jo was gonna do great on Silver and then there was a follow-up about how I organized it?”

  Phil was a part of that whole thing, and Emma had relayed the story to Avery in detail, so they both nodded.

  “Jo didn’t say anything about it but, like, obviously someone had to leak that, right? Because I wasn’t even the one who talked to the reporter, so like. Someone had to.”

  Phil and Avery stared at her with no response.

  “So I’m saying don’t call her my girlfriend!” Emma said. “What if the leak overhears?”

  “Babe,” Phil said. “Everyone here is definitely too drunk to bother eavesdropping about whether or not you’re sleeping with your boss.”

  “Whatever,” Emma scoffed. “Get me another drink.”

  * * *

  —

  Later in the night, Avery was putting their names in to sing, and Emma had lost track of Phil. She wandered outside to look for him and spotted Jo and Chantal standing at a high table in the corner of the roof. She grinned and headed over.

  “Ms. Jones, I’ve signed you up to sing ‘Love Is a Battlefield,’” Emma said as she approached. “I think you’re up after Holly.”

  Emma hadn’t, of course. She liked teasing Jo, but she didn’t want her boss to kill her. Jo offered a smile and a roll of her eyes. Emma couldn’t help but giggle. She knew she was tipsy. Perhaps more than tipsy.

  Chantal cleared her throat. “I’m going to get another drink,” she said.

  Emma wanted to tell her she didn’t have to go. Emma liked to think everyone on set knew she and Jo weren’t together. They should’ve known. But then something happened like Phil made fun of her for sleeping with the enemy or Chantal excused herself when Emma came over.

  Jo sighed. “Ms. Kaplan,” she said. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “I am. Are you?”

  Emma wasn’t asking to be polite; she wanted to know.

  “Wrap parties are always enjoyable,” Jo hedged.

  Emma’s smile turned into a frown. “Ms. Jones.”

  “I think you get to call me Jo at a party,” Jo said, like she hadn’t just called Emma Ms. Kaplan.

  “Boss,” Emma said instead. “I was really proud you—or well, we, like, the show—won the GLAAD award. I didn’t really say anything but I was. And your speech was really wonderful. But also, like—” She looked at her drink, rattled the ice around in her glass. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say, but kept talking anyway. “My sister said you looked great and you did but—you didn’t look all that happy. And it’s probably stupid but I thought about the SAG Awards and I kind of wished I was there at the GLAADs. I thought maybe I could make you smile, is all. Sometimes I don’t think you smile enough.”

  Jo blinked. Emma felt stupid. She didn’t think she explained herself well.

  “I just mean—” Emma furrowed her brow. “It’s basically my job to make you happy.”

  Jo did something between a scoff and a sigh, and Emma didn’t understand it at all.

  “Whatever,” Emma said. “I just want you to be happy, and if I am sometimes the one who makes you that way, great.”

  That felt too heavy. God, especially with the rumors, what was Emma thinking, coming over and saying this to Jo? She tried to power through like it wasn’t awkward.

  “I can probably make you laugh, actually,” she said. “My sister and I are doing ‘A Whole New World’ from Aladdin next on karaoke. You should come watch.”

  “Have you
done the proper warm-ups?” Jo’s voice was overly serious.

  “If singing backup while Aly rocked ‘Build Me Up Buttercup’ counts as warm-ups.”

  That, at least, got Jo to smile. Emma took a sip of her drink to hide her grin.

  “You know I appreciate everything you do, Emma,” Jo said. “That award belongs to you, too—I wouldn’t get half as much done without you.”

  Emma shrugged it off. “Sure you would.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Jo insisted.

  She held eye contact for a moment before glancing over Emma’s shoulder.

  “I believe your sister is trying to get your attention,” she said. “It must be your time to sing.”

  “Right,” Emma said. She turned to go, then turned back. “You really should come watch. Better than the original, I swear.”

  Avery was on the other side of the rooftop. She could have walked over, but apparently she’d rather try to get Emma’s attention like an idiot, waving her arms around. Emma planned to tease her for it, but Avery teased her first.

  “How’s your girlfriend?” Avery asked, dragging out the word.

  Emma smacked her on the arm. “Seriously, could you not do that? Especially here. God, what did I tell you about this? I do not need people thinking you’re serious.”

  Avery rubbed the place on her arm Emma hit. “Somebody’s touchy.”

  “Somebody’s annoying,” Emma grumbled. “You don’t even know if she’s interested in women anyway. She’s probably straight and definitely isn’t my girlfriend.”

  Avery leveled her with a look.

  “No straight person writes queer characters as well as Jo Jones.”

  “Maybe she’s got a lot of gay friends!”

  Avery gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “No straight woman would’ve watched you walk away from that conversation the way she did.”

  Emma could feel her face go red. “I said shut up. God, some of the crew already believe the rumors.”

  She didn’t wonder how Jo looked at her. It didn’t matter. Jo was—Jo was her maybe straight boss, and Emma didn’t have a crush on her anyway.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Avery said, “by singing Aladdin’s part.”

  Emma gasped. “You never let me sing Jasmine’s part!”

  “A one-time offer.”

  Emma squealed and threw her arms around her sister.

  When Emma sang about an endless diamond sky, she spotted Jo, at the back of the crowd, just inside the door from outside. She was smiling.

  Emma really loved wrap parties.

  * * *

  —

  Later, Emma traced patterns onto a tablecloth as the last of the partygoers filtered out. Avery was—somewhat drunkenly—directing one of her employees in the collection of Floured Up’s platters. Avery’s chocolate Guinness cupcakes had been such a hit that Emma no longer felt bad about using her position as wrap party planner to give her sister business.

  Emma watched Gina, one of the lead actresses, give Jo a hug before getting on the elevator. Emma and Jo were officially the only members of the cast and crew left. It was probably time to go. Emma bumped the table as she got up, but managed to catch her cup before it spewed its contents everywhere. At least no one was left to witness her clumsiness.

  She made her way over to Jo, who still stood by the elevators.

  “Do you always stay until the end of the party?”

  “Honestly, no.” Jo’s eyes crinkled with her smile. “But this was an exceptional party. It must have had an excellent planner.”

  Emma giggled. It had been a successful night. She hoped everyone else agreed.

  “I meant what I said earlier, Emma,” Jo said. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

  Emma scuffed her shoe along the ground and bit her lip. “You would. You just probably wouldn’t be as entertained. I mean what other assistant is going to pull off ‘A Whole New World’ that well?”

  “That’s true.” Jo’s smile was tender. “You have a beautiful voice.”

  If Emma weren’t already red from the alcohol, she’d be red from the compliment.

  “You ready to go?” Avery appeared at Emma’s shoulder.

  Emma nodded. Avery pushed the elevator button, and Emma looked back to Jo, who was still smiling at her.

  “Good night, Emma.”

  “Good night.”

  Emma stepped in for a hug. A half a beat, then Jo slid her arms around Emma’s waist. Emma breathed her in. Jo wore the same perfume, every day, just a dash of it. She smelled fresh—like clean sheets or snowfall or something.

  Emma turned her head to press a quick goodbye kiss to Jo’s cheek. Jo was pulling back from the hug at the same time, and Emma misjudged the distance. She didn’t realize what was happening until she suddenly suddenly suddenly knew exactly what was happening. Her mouth was on Jo’s. Just the corner, just a little, but unmistakably there. Emma jerked away quickly enough to lose her balance. She took a stumbling step before catching herself, straightening up. Jo’s face was—stricken wasn’t quite the right word, but it was close.

  “I’m—” If she said she was sorry, she was addressing it, and addressing it made it real and it couldn’t be real. She could not have just kissed her boss. So instead she said, “See you Monday!” much too loudly, and fled—except she couldn’t flee, because she had to wait for the elevator to arrive.

  Emma listened to Avery and Jo say good night while she stared unblinkingly at the silver elevator doors. Jo didn’t sound upset. Emma could tell by her tone of voice she was smiling. So maybe kissing her wasn’t the worst thing in the world?

  Fuck.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  It was definitely the worst thing in the world. It could not have just happened. Emma could not be that drunk. She wanted to die.

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Emma did not look back at Jo. She did not look at her sister, getting on the elevator behind her. She pushed the button for the first floor, kept her finger on it even after it lit up. She didn’t breathe until the doors closed.

  It had been dark on the roof—maybe Avery hadn’t seen. No one else was close enough to have noticed at all, probably, and it was just event staff at this point anyway. But Emma wasn’t worried about anyone else. She was only worried about Avery beside her, suspiciously silent until she took a breath like she was gearing up for something. Emma cringed in advance.

  “So I don’t get why you spent the beginning of the party lecturing me and Phil about not calling Jo your girlfriend when at the end of the party you literally kissed her goodbye.”

  “Noooooo.” Emma slumped backward against the wall of the elevator. “I didn’t mean to!”

  “You kissed her! Right on her fucking mouth!” Avery only swore when she was drunk.

  “I didn’t mean to!” Emma said again, loud enough that Jo might have been able to hear, now five floors away. “I just meant to kiss her cheek!”

  “That’s still a fucking weird thing to do to your boss!”

  Emma realized that now. Realized a lot of things now. Like that she should have stopped three gin and tonics ago.

  “I’m drunk and she smelled good and she said such nice things about me tonight and I love wrap parties and it was an accident, okay? Can we please forget about it? It doesn’t mean anything!”

  “It means you’re super gay for your boss, just like everyone has been saying.”

  “I hate you.”

  It did not mean that. It meant Emma was drunk and dumb and had bad depth perception. It meant she was embarrassed as all hell and would probably have to deal with some awkward lecture from Jo on Monday about appropriate behavior in the workplace.

  “We’re not done talking about this,” Avery said as she put Emma in a Lyft.

  Emma didn’t bother saying bye. Her driver was
silent, thankfully. She sat in the back seat in a stew of embarrassment and disbelief. What was she supposed to do now? What did one do after accidentally kissing their boss? She could apologize. Should, probably. But it seemed like the much less mortifying solution was just to ignore it.

  Yes, an apology would be nice. She didn’t want to do things that were inappropriate or made Jo uncomfortable. But maybe apologizing would make Jo uncomfortable—bringing it back up and having to address it. The best apology was changed behavior, and it was already never going to happen again. Emma didn’t want to kiss Jo. Jo knew that, even if the rest of the world—including Emma’s own sister—thought otherwise. Emma would just be professional. That would be her apology.

  She drank two full glasses of water before climbing into bed. She didn’t think about Jo’s lips once.

  * * *

  —

  The sun was too bright. Emma pulled her pillow over her face. Her head pounded, not horribly, but enough that she regretted drinking so much. Then she remembered saying goodbye to Jo, and her stomach rolled. Her hangover wasn’t bad enough to make her nauseated but her embarrassment sure was.

  She’d kissed Jo.

  She’d kissed. Jo.

  She threw the covers off and got up. It was fine. It had to be fine. There was not another option. She was meeting Jo for lunch Monday to talk about her career path. The rest of the cast and crew were off until late summer when they started filming the next season. Since Emma worked for Jo, she had a job year-round, but she had a week off after the wrap party. Except for lunch on Monday. She was supposed to tell Jo what she wanted to do with her life.

  Unless the wrap party changed things.

  Maybe instead of asking Emma what career she wanted, Jo would ask her why she thought she could kiss her. Maybe Emma would be fired. But Emma remembered Jo’s voice saying bye to Avery. She sounded normal. Not fake normal like when she was actually upset—Emma had worked with her long enough to know when she was pretending like that. And she wasn’t. She was fine. So this whole thing had to be fine. It was an accident. Accidents happened. People made mistakes. Jo knew that. She gave people second chances. She wasn’t going to fire her. Emma was almost certain.