Jo wanted to stay, wanted to explain. But she didn’t have an explanation, and she tried to convince herself she didn’t need one anyway. Emma never looked at her again. Finally, Jo headed back toward the bleachers.
She stood beside them rather than climbing to the top again. She couldn’t stomach sitting next to anyone, having to make small talk. In the fourth inning, Avery came down. She paused beside Jo.
“Gonna go make my sister put on sunscreen,” she said.
Jo nodded. “Good. Take care of her.”
* * *
—
The kids’ team lost, but their sadness evaporated when Avery announced they were going for ice cream. Then it was all smiles and cheers as the parents loaded things into cars. Jo stood near Vincent’s car, not quite looking at Emma, who was on the side of the parking lot with the dogs.
“Vincent, are you and Ethan coming to ice cream?” Dylan asked.
“As long as Ethan doesn’t tell his little brother he got ice cream before dinner,” Vincent said.
“I won’t, I promise!” Ethan said, his eyes wide.
“Jo?” Avery asked.
Jo was looking at Emma when Avery asked, and Emma’s eyes snapped to hers. Jo turned to Avery instead.
“I don’t think so tonight,” she said.
“Come on,” Emma said. “You should come.”
Jo looked back at her. Emma blinked a few times, smiling like everything was fine. Why was she putting up this front?
“No, I’d better—I’d better get home,” Jo said. She looked at her nephew. “Your brother wouldn’t be happy if I took you to ice cream but not him. I’ll take you both next time, okay?”
Ethan grinned. “Okay!”
Emma’s shoulders were almost up by her ears, like she was trying to sink into herself. She didn’t look at Jo again, didn’t smile until Dani and Ezra said they wanted to ride with her. Jo got in her own car and drove away.
* * *
—
Jo called her preferred coffee shop the next morning, the one where Emma picked up her latte every day. She added an iced chai to her standing order. It was something she did sometimes, after late-night shoots or before a long day. A little pick-me-up for Emma.
Usually, when Jo got to work in the morning, Emma stood and handed Jo her coffee. Usually, Emma smiled at Jo. Usually, Emma made sure that Jo had everything she needed before going back to her own work.
That morning, Emma sat at her desk and pushed the coffee cup in Jo’s direction without looking up. A second cup, with her chai, was nowhere to be seen.
“Thank you,” Jo said as she took the coffee. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Emma said.
Jo stood there for a moment.
“Emma.”
Emma finally turned to her. “Did you need something, Ms. Jones?”
Jo bristled at the formality, the distance in Emma’s tone.
“Don’t forget you’re shadowing Barry Davis on Tuesday, Ms. Kaplan,” she said instead of any sort of apology.
Jo had arranged Barry Davis’s visit because she knew he was Emma’s favorite director. She pulled strings with various connections and adjusted the Innocents schedule. There was a chance he’d end up directing an episode this season, a chance he’d like Emma enough to help set her on the right path within the Directors Guild, maybe even hire her himself. Emma needed to be prepared.
“Do you have any questions beforehand?” Jo asked.
“Nope.”
Emma turned back to her computer. Jo went into her office and closed the door.
* * *
—
After lunch, Jo had a meeting with Chantal. Emma sat in to take notes. It was general updates about the beginning of filming, including a bit about Barry Davis’s visit. At the end of the meeting, Jo gave Emma specific instructions about following up on something. She almost stopped halfway through the directions, when she noticed Emma looking over her shoulder instead of making eye contact. The woman couldn’t even look at her. This had snowballed much more quickly than Jo expected.
They didn’t interact again until five o’clock.
“You can go home, Emma,” Jo said. “Have a good weekend.”
Emma normally made sure Jo was going home, too, before she left. She normally didn’t leave Jo at the office alone without a fight. Today, she nodded.
“Good night, Ms. Jones,” she said, and left.
* * *
—
There were plenty of assholes in Hollywood. The assholes walked all over their employees. You worked for them because you had to, not because they were good bosses. Their recommendation letters were written by assistants because they didn’t know their employees well enough to write anything themselves.
Jo could’ve been one of those assholes if she wanted to. She had enough money, enough power. She got called a bitch simply because of her standards, but being an asshole wasn’t a reputation she had. Her employees liked her—liked her enough to tell a reporter she’d be amazing writing Agent Silver. There was a leak now, yes, but there were also people like Chantal who had been with Jo since before Innocents. They were loyal, because Jo had never been an asshole.
She felt like one now, though. The longer Emma was mad at her, the worse a job Jo did at convincing herself that she didn’t need to apologize. Yes, Avery should have told Emma about Jo coming to the baseball games, but that didn’t absolve Jo of the responsibility. Yes, Jo was Emma’s boss, but she didn’t have to be an asshole. Emma had been helping her with Agent Silver—with her presence and support, sure, but also by actually reading the script. That wasn’t in her job description, but she did it. Why, then, was Jo acting like their relationship was nothing more than professional? It wasn’t intimate like the tabloids claimed, but being friends with Emma didn’t give the rumors merit.
Jo had hurt Emma. She had been so focused on how telling her seemed hard and confusing that she gave no regard to how Emma might feel about the situation. That was worth apologizing for. She considered sending a text Friday evening, barely more than twenty-four hours after the baseball game, but decided Emma deserved the apology to be delivered in person.
Jo continued fretting right up until she met Sam for dinner Saturday night. He met her in front of the restaurant, wrapping her up in a hug that made her feel cherished. He towered over her—she remembered when he’d hit his growth spurt while they were filming The Johnson Dynasty, how awkward and gangly he was back then. Almost thirty years later, he had more than grown into it. His hair was still brassy blond, no sign of gray. Just seeing him made Jo feel better than she had for days.
He had chosen a restaurant that specialized in molecular gastronomy. It was supposed to be all the rage. Jo couldn’t help but make fun of it.
“Cotton candy foie gras?” She snorted a laugh. “Sam, were you always this pretentious?”
“We’re ordering that now,” he said. “And you’re going to like it.”
She did end up liking it, though she absolutely refused to admit it.
At the coffee and chocolate bar they went to after dinner, Sam crowded into the same side of the booth she was in. He poked her in the side like he did when he wanted something from her when they were kids.
“So tell me about Agent Silver,” he said. “How’s the script thus far?”
“You know if I told you anything, the studio would have me shot on the spot,” she said.
“C’mon,” he whined. “Just one little thing.”
She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. Spoilers were on lockdown for something as big as Agent Silver.
But that hadn’t stopped her when Emma asked to help. Emma didn’t just know some of what happened, she’d read it, right there in the script.
Sam hadn’t mentioned Emma all evening. Jo didn’t know whet
her he was being a gentleman or he simply didn’t put any stock in the rumors and thus didn’t feel a need to bring them up. The thought of Emma made Jo’s chest clench. What would she do if Jo asked her to take a look at the script now? Was she so hurt that she’d refuse? Jo picked at her fingernails.
Sam poked her in the side again, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I’m looking forward to all the assholes who thought you couldn’t do it eating their words when you blow this thing out of the water.”
Jo laughed at the sudden compliment. She tried not to think about who else believed in her so strongly.
11
EMMA
When Emma’s alarm went off on Sunday, she snoozed it and lay staring at the ceiling until the alarm went off again. She shoved the covers down and dragged herself out of bed.
She shivered against the chill in her apartment as she put a protein waffle in her toaster. She’d blasted the AC the past few days, keeping it cold so she could sleep with heavy blankets and not sweat through her sheets. The highs were near ninety, but Emma wanted to burrow into her mattress. She’d cleaned her apartment twice, and she’d clean it again if it weren’t already spotless by this point. She used a plate for her waffle and left it on her counter just so she’d have something to tidy when she got home. The boxers and tank top she wore to sleep ended up in a pile on her bedroom floor.
She was up early enough that when she headed to Griffith Park this time, it was neither too busy nor too hot. The tourists weren’t out yet and the sun wasn’t too high in the sky.
Jo had apologized for snapping at her. That was nice, Emma guessed. But it was like she didn’t even realize she’d done anything else wrong. Who cared that she’d been lying to Emma for months? Emma had admitted that Jo was one of her favorite people, but Emma was just her assistant, didn’t matter enough for Jo to consider her feelings.
Emma felt stupid, being stuck on this. But she’d loved her job for so long, loved going to work, loved working for Jo. All of that left a bad taste in her mouth now. Emma deserved better. She deserved to be treated better. Even if Jo was just her boss, she still should have been honest with Emma.
Emma doubled the length of her run this morning. She finished the observatory trail, up and back down, her calves burning, and then kept going. This section was flatter, letting her catch her breath even while she kept pace. The slap of her feet against the ground was steadier here. Consistent. Like a mantra.
She decided not to be sad anymore.
How she felt about Jo didn’t matter. Neither did how Jo felt about her. Emma was smart and capable, and she knew what she wanted to do. Tuesday she’d be shadowing an accomplished director, taking steps toward her new career. Jo had set that up, yeah, but it didn’t matter why. If Jo needed her to do well so Jo herself looked good, who cared? The means to success weren’t as important as the ends.
And Barry Davis was a great means to Emma’s success anyway. Emma tried not to fangirl, and she was usually pretty successful at it. She’d dealt with so many famous and powerful people as Jo’s assistant that it was easy to remember that everyone was just a person. But Barry Davis was an Oscar nominee who had directed some of Emma’s absolute favorite movies. The thought of getting to see him in action was thrilling, even if he was just a person. He was an incredibly talented person, and Emma couldn’t wait to see him work. Better still, she got to shadow him.
She was actually looking forward to the workweek by the time she got back to her apartment. Her shower was refreshing, and she smiled as her phone buzzed with a text from Phil.
Is your girlfriend cheating on you?!
There was a shocked emoji and a link to a TMZ story. Emma tried to hold on to her good mood, but its tendrils slipped through her fingers. She clicked the link.
JO JONES AND SAM ALLEN:
REUNION OR ROMANCE?
There were pictures of Jo and a former costar. Emma of all people should have known better than to judge a relationship based on pictures, but they sure seemed cozy, first leaving a restaurant together and then sitting on the same side of a booth in a coffee shop. Jo’s eyes sparkled. Her smile was wide. Whether she was dating the guy or not, she certainly hadn’t spent her weekend worried about how Emma might be feeling.
Emma locked her phone and climbed back into bed. It wasn’t worth crying over, but Emma cried anyway.
* * *
—
As Emma stepped out of her apartment building Monday morning, she heard shutters click. Paparazzi. The first time they’d been around since before hiatus. Of course it was the week after Jo had been seen out with someone else. Emma probably looked exhausted, and she hadn’t expected the cameras, so she was grimacing. It was going to be an all-around terrible photo. It would look like she’d just been broken up with.
Just like there had been on Friday, there was an iced chai waiting for her when she picked up Jo’s coffee. She hadn’t taken it then, but she did today. She could be mad and enjoy a free drink at the same time.
Just like she had on Friday, she slid Jo’s coffee across her desk when Jo got in without bothering to look up.
Just like she had on Friday, Jo stopped beside Emma’s desk after picking up her coffee.
This time, she actually had something to say.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” she said. Emma’s pulse shot up. “I should have told you I was spending time with Avery.”
Emma looked up at her. That was apparently the end of her apology.
“Okay,” Emma said.
“Okay?”
Jo admitted she did something she shouldn’t have. That had no effect on Emma.
“Just because you apologize doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt,” Emma said. Her voice wavered, but she held eye contact. “Just because you apologize doesn’t mean you suddenly have my trust again.”
Jo’s face fell so much, Emma almost took her words back. Her boss looked crushed, and Emma hated it. But she was right. Hurt didn’t go away with an apology. And trust was earned. Emma deserved to be treated better.
“I understand,” Jo said quietly. “I hope you’ll let me earn your trust back.”
“That’s really up to you,” Emma said.
She wasn’t quite sure where the steel in her blood had come from. Jo probably didn’t know, either. She probably expected to be easily forgiven and they’d move on. She didn’t look prepared for Emma to actually stand up for herself. Jo opened her mouth, but Emma didn’t want to give her a chance to try to further apologize.
“Everything is ready for Barry Davis’s visit tomorrow,” Emma said. “I appreciate you letting me go for the day so I can learn from him.”
She did. She knew it was all business, and that was fine. She could be professional.
Jo nodded, head hanging like there was an albatross around her neck.
“I hope it goes well,” she said, and disappeared into her office.
* * *
—
After lunch, Jo leaned against her doorjamb and looked at Emma. Emma tried to stay focused on her email. She considered asking what Jo was doing, but she wanted to see where this was going to go.
Finally, Jo said, “You have your inhaler, right?”
Emma opened her desk drawer, picked up her inhaler, and waved it at Jo.
“Good,” Jo said. “Good.”
She went back into her office.
There was a part of Emma that wanted to make this easy on her, wanted to forgive and forget and make Jo smile again. But as Emma kept reminding herself, she deserved better. She appreciated the apology, but it didn’t matter if Jo was sorry that she hadn’t considered Emma’s feelings unless she wasn’t going to do it again. Sorry meant nothing without changed behavior. That was what Emma had told herself, months ago, her mouth accidentally landing on Jo’s at the wrap party. She hadn’t had to apologize out loud then, because her apology
was changed behavior, never letting anything like that happen again. Jo needed to do the same. Emma had forgiven too many people in her life too easily. She was finally learning to stand up for herself.
* * *
—
Tuesday morning, Emma handed off Jo’s coffee.
“Is your asthma worse in this heat wave?”
“It’s fine, Ms. Jones,” Emma said.
“Okay,” Jo said. “Good.”
Emma managed not to roll her eyes. She was sure Jo wasn’t really that hung up on her asthma—it wasn’t what she intended to keep talking about. But if she couldn’t come up with the words of a better apology, couldn’t figure out how to promise Emma she’d be better, Emma wasn’t going to help her.
Especially not on the day of Barry Davis’s visit. It was basically a simple set visit for now. He might end up directing an episode, but he might not. He might like Emma enough to help her get a job, which was something Emma tried not to think about too hard or her throat would close up with anxiety.
Barry was to arrive around ten, and Jo would be greeting him, rather than Emma, who would usually. He was important enough that they were pulling out all the stops.
Emma sat at her desk with nothing pressing to do while Jo went to greet Barry. She tried not to fidget too much. When she heard Jo returning, talking to someone who must have been Barry freakin’ Davis, Emma made sure to look like she was hard at work.
She was typing a fake email when Jo and Barry rounded the corner. She looked up at them and smiled. Barry Davis, in the flesh. His shrewd eyes behind his distinctive rectangular glasses. He had a five-o’clock shadow even though it was morning.
“Barry, this is my assistant, Emma Kaplan,” Jo said.
Emma stood and hoped her face wasn’t too flushed. She offered her hand.
Barry shook it with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma.”
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