Something to Talk About

by Meryl Wilsner

  Emma’s heart twisted a little. Jo continued.

  “I know you’re mad at me, Emma,” Jo said. “And I deserve it. Not telling you about meeting Avery was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  Emma stiffened. That didn’t need to be part of this conversation.

  “And I’m sorry I acted like it didn’t matter, like I didn’t have to apologize,” Jo said. “You deserve better than that.”

  This was exactly what Emma had wanted Jo to say this morning, before Barry ever showed up. Now, she didn’t feel ready to address it.

  “But you can’t take that out on me like this,” Jo said. “I had to tell you off because you were out of place. Going easy on you would’ve just stoked the fire of people believing we’re sleeping together, and that’s bad for both of us. Stop being mad and think about it for a second.” She sighed. “You think people don’t look at pictures of us and think I’m corrupting this lovely young lady? I’m a predatory lesbian in the middle of a midlife crisis. I’m a frigid bitch who just hasn’t found the right dick. I’m a dragon lady who’s stealing a pretty white girl from the white boys she should be dating.”

  Just like that, all of Emma’s anger collapsed.

  “Boss, no,” she said, horrified. “You’re not any of those things.”

  Jo stared at her for a moment, then shook her head like she was clearing it. “It’s all about perception, Emma. You can’t talk like that to directors, especially not to directors like Barry Davis. No matter how wrong they are.”

  Emma nodded. “Right. Won’t do it again.”

  “You know you can trust me with these characters. I’ll step in when someone is out of line,” Jo said. She offered Emma a small smile. “You can trust me even when you’re pissed at me.”

  “I wasn’t pissed at you.” Emma was, obviously, but she didn’t want to admit it now.

  Jo tilted her head at Emma, her smile disbelieving. “Of course you were,” she said. “You should’ve been. I assumed Avery would tell you things, and when she didn’t, I just—I didn’t know how to say anything.” Normally she commanded the room from her sleek white desk chair, but now she looked open—vulnerable, even. Her shoulders were down, her neck long. “The longer it went on the harder it got. Not that that’s an excuse. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you, and I shouldn’t have pretended like it wasn’t my responsibility to tell you, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not,” Jo said. “I care about you, Emma, and I want you to thrive. I made a hostile environment for you, and that was wrong and not fair. You deserve to be mad at me, but I hope you can forgive me.”

  Emma scuffed her toe against the carpet. “Of course, boss,” she said quietly.

  “And I’m sorry it coincided with Barry Davis’s visit,” Jo said. “I know how much you were looking forward to meeting him and learning from him. I will talk to him tomorrow and hopefully, if not salvage a recommendation to potential employers, at least not get a warning about you either.”

  Emma kicked her foot harder into the ground, looked down at it instead of up at Jo. “No,” she said. “I don’t want a recommendation.”

  “Emma.” Emma didn’t have to look at Jo to imagine the incredulity on her face. “It could help you quite a bit.”

  “Yeah, but—” Emma tried to swallow the frog in her throat. “I don’t want it from him.”

  Jo hmmed. “He didn’t live up to your expectations, did he? What with that terrible direction and all.”

  Emma played with the hem of her top. She glanced at Jo, who looked more at ease than she had in a week.

  “That and—” Emma didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to say anything, didn’t want to think about it. But his set visit wasn’t just about her shadowing him—there was still a possibility he could direct an episode. Emma had to do something to stop it. “He said something not great to me.”

  Jo’s eyes flashed for a moment. “What did he say?”

  “Just a couple of comments,” Emma said. “I thought I was maybe overreacting but . . .” She cringed a little. “He indicated if I gave him . . . if I . . . he said he’d recommend me to a friend for a second AD position if I gave him a hand job.”

  Jo blinked slowly. She put both hands flat on her desk and stood. “He said that?”

  By now, Emma had learned the outward signs of Jo’s moods. This—eyes narrowed and fingers twitching on the desk, almost like she was shaking? This was anger. This was fury. Emma shrank, wanting to take her words back. She said nothing.

  Jo took a deep breath. Emma was ready for her to yell. She didn’t do it often, but this seemed like a moment it would happen.

  Instead, she said softly, “Emma. Are you okay?”

  It wasn’t quite bursting into tears, but Emma’s eyes definitely welled. She shook her head—at herself, at this stupid emotional response, not at Jo.

  “I’m fine, boss,” she said. “It was just—it was dumb. And I was upset and—I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.”

  “Emma.” Jo’s voice was so gentle. “You do not have to apologize for being upset over sexual harassment.” She paused. “Do you want to sit down?”

  Emma nodded. Jo came around her desk. She led Emma toward the couch without coming close enough to touch her, then she sat down, too, a good two feet away.

  “Do you need any water?” Jo stood back up. “Have you eaten recently? I have granola bars or yogurt or—”

  “I’m fine, boss,” Emma said.

  Jo sat down again. Her hands started toward Emma and then stopped, ended up in fists in her lap.

  “I’m so sorry this happened, Emma,” she said. “I am so sorry this happened to you. And I am sorry I did not know. He will not be directing an episode nor allowed back in the building, ever.”

  “No, Jo, I—”

  Jo held up her hand. “It’s nonnegotiable. Anyone who treats you like that is not welcome here.”

  It made Emma want to cry harder, for some reason. A minute ago she accused Jo of not having her back, and here she was standing up for her without hesitation.

  “I would also like your permission to release a statement explaining that he was not asked to direct because he sexually harassed one of my employees.”

  Emma’s eyes went wide. “Boss, no. I don’t want to cause any trouble. He’s Barry Davis and—”

  “And he sexually harassed you. He’s the one causing trouble.” Emma swore Jo’s voice shook. “I won’t mention your name, obviously. But I would like to release a statement.”

  “He’ll know it was me,” Emma said. “If I ever want to do anything in Hollywood, he’ll make sure I can’t. He said he could get me opportunities, which means he can definitely make sure I don’t get them, too.”

  “Fuck whatever opportunities he says he can get you,” Jo snarled. She took a breath, but she was still obviously angry when she continued. “I’m sorry, I’m just—he might not know it was you, actually, because men like that don’t just pick one woman to harass. And even if he does, the statement is going to be my first step in making sure he can’t work in the industry anymore, not you. He thinks he can come in here and treat you like that? Treat anyone like that? If he hadn’t already left, I’d throw him out myself.”

  Emma smiled a little at that. She rubbed her nose and sniffled.

  Their whole relationship felt like it had been turned on its head in the last five minutes. Emma had spent so long thinking Jo didn’t care about her, thinking she wasn’t important enough to her.

  She didn’t think that anymore.

  She couldn’t, not with the way Jo looked at her, worried and nervous and desperate to do something. Jo was supporting her. That wasn’t always how it went in situations like these. Too often, bosses didn’t believe you; people overlooked horrible things because other people were talented. To have Jo so ready to fight—Emma d
efinitely couldn’t think Jo didn’t care about her. Something swooped within Emma’s stomach.

  Jo took a deep breath and let it out slowly, like she was trying to calm down.

  “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow, if you’d rather,” she said. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “I’m fine,” Emma said, even though she wasn’t.

  Jo smiled gently at her, and more tears leaked out of Emma’s eyes. She laughed at herself.

  “I’ll be okay, boss,” she said. She sat up straighter. “Is there anything more to do today? Are they finished on set?”

  “Emma.” The amount Jo was saying her name made her chest feel tight, especially with how she had called her Ms. Kaplan for most of the day. “They’re done on set. There’s nothing you need to do today except go home and take care of yourself.”

  “Right,” Emma said.

  Jo stood, and Emma did, too. She wanted to ask for a hug. But Jo was her boss, and they’d been talking about sexual harassment, and it didn’t seem like the best idea. Emma sort of shrugged at her instead.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

  “Have a good night, Emma,” Jo said. “Drive safely. If you need anything—if you want to take tomorrow off—anything, just let me know.”

  Emma bobbed her head in a nod, gave a half wave, and left.

  12

  EMMA

  Emma went home, unlocked the door to her apartment, locked it behind her. She dropped her keys and her purse on the table by the door, dropped herself in the middle of her couch.

  It had been a day.

  She stared blankly at her TV. Restless energy filled her body, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She flexed her calves, wiggled her toes. She thought about this morning, how she’d tried not to fidget while waiting for Barry Davis to arrive. It felt like a week ago.

  Emma rubbed the back of her hand hard against her wet eyes. She was so goddamn frustrated. Women shouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore. No one should. Everything felt dirty now. Emma’s favorite movies. Her dream to direct. Her workplace itself. She needed to shower.

  She wiggled her toes more. Didn’t get off the couch.

  He was one of her heroes. Twelve hours ago, he was near the top of the list of people she’d like to meet in life. Now she never wanted to see him again. Never wanted to think about him. And yet he’d make more movies; people would continue to love him. If she stayed in the industry, she’d never escape him.

  If she stayed in the industry.

  One day, and he had her doubting her dreams, her goals. She rested her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. Maybe she could learn how to bake, work for Avery for the rest of her life. She’d dropped out of film school, people thought she only had her job because she was sleeping with her boss, and she’d publicly challenged a guy who could make or break her career. How the hell was she ever supposed to become a director? She exhaled hard through her nose.

  Jo would never let her quit.

  Jo, who she wasn’t mad at anymore. Jo, who supported her immediately. Jo, who was a lesbian. Emma leaned back and kicked her feet up onto her coffee table. She bit at her thumbnail.

  Jo had apologized. Sincerely. She apologized about how she hadn’t apologized at first. Emma hadn’t forgiven her when she’d said sorry yesterday, but today? Today, Jo had fixed all the reasons Emma was mad at her. Emma wondered if Jo was still at work. She should’ve stayed, made sure Jo left at a reasonable time. But Jo was an adult. She could get herself home. It was just that—well, maybe Emma wanted to take care of Jo.

  No. Not maybe. Not anymore. Emma had said maybe she’d had feelings for Jo when her mom had pointed out how upset she was about Jo being at the baseball games without telling her, but Emma wasn’t unsure anymore.

  Today, Jo had made her feel safe and warm and cared for, and that was how Jo had made her feel for months now. Emma was finally ready to admit it, was finally able to see it. She wondered what her life would be like without the rumors. She and Jo had definitely gotten closer over the year, but that made sense—she had been just a props PA last year. She’d never worked closely with Jo, could hardly believe it when Aly told her Jo wanted to steal her away. But they’d been together constantly the past year, so of course they’d gotten closer. It wasn’t the fault of the rumors.

  Neither were these feelings. Rumors didn’t make Emma feel safe around Jo. Rumors didn’t make Jo gorgeous and caring and kind. Rumors didn’t give Emma a crush. In fact, Emma probably would’ve figured her crush out earlier without the rumors. She’d been so focused on how wrong the rumors were, she’d never really considered that they weren’t wrong at all. Or—they might have been off base when they began, but somewhere along the way her feelings shifted.

  Not that Emma realizing this changed anything. Jo was still her boss. She might care about Emma, might be taking care of her, but that didn’t mean there were feelings. This whole thing was about inappropriate behavior at work. Jo would never be interested in an employee.

  Instead, she wanted to release a statement about Barry. She wanted to ruin his career. It sounded nice, maybe, getting some kind of revenge. Except he was Barry Davis and Emma was an assistant everyone thought was sleeping with her boss. Who’d be believed in this situation? Emma needed to be realistic.

  This was something that happened. For all the men who had gone down for it, Hollywood probably had thousands more who hadn’t. Who hadn’t gone down for it and who hadn’t stopped. They’d just moved deeper into the shadows. Even if people did believe Emma, would it be worth it? She didn’t want to be in the news or the tabloids or anything anymore. She was sick of it. She was sick of people talking about her and thinking they knew her and judging her. She didn’t want to bring any more of that on herself, didn’t want to bring any more of it on Jo. A statement would be bad enough for Emma’s career—a slut making false accusations about an industry golden boy. Jo didn’t need to be connected to that, too. She had pulled strings to get Barry to set. Emma didn’t need to damage Jo’s career along with her own.

  Emma leaned back into the couch cushions and took out her phone. Usually she only read stuff related to the rumors if Phil or, rarely, Avery sent it to her. Googling her name brought up way more than she expected. There were articles from today. She clicked one.

  “How do they have this already?” she asked her empty apartment.

  It was an article about Jo cutting her down on set. There were quotes from a source; the leak was apparently back, because they knew exactly what had happened. They knew Jo had told her no one cared about her opinions, knew she got dismissed after returning with the iced latte.

  Emma clicked away from the article to text Jo.

  Somebody on set is leaking stuff to the press. There’s already an article about me talking back to Barry and everything.

  The article went on to talk about Jo being seen with her former costar. Emma knew now that they weren’t dating, but the author of this article didn’t. They posited that Jo and Emma had broken up. That was good, Emma supposed. If no one thought they were together, maybe she didn’t have to worry about being comfortable in Jo’s office or laughing at her jokes or whatever else people saw and decided meant more than it did.

  I know. Not much can be done without it looking like I’m going on a witch hunt for my girlfriend’s sake.

  Jo calling her her girlfriend made the butterflies in Emma’s stomach flutter, even though it was obviously a joke.

  Didn’t you see? Emma texted back. We’re not girlfriends anymore. Apparently you broke my heart.

  She was quoting the source from the article, who said she’d been sad for a week, but it felt weird anyway. The source was right, was the thing, and Emma’s sadness was because of Jo. It wasn’t actually hard to see how everything had been misconstrued.

  That doesn’t sound very plausible, Jo texted,
just as Emma was thinking about how plausible it was. Another text came through quickly: Hopefully the idea that we’ve “broken up” sticks. It will be nice to be rid of these rumors.

  Go out with that former costar again and we should be fine.

  Emma typed it but didn’t hit send. It felt weird, felt jealous. It showed she was aware of Jo’s actions outside of work even when they hadn’t talked about them, and that definitely felt weird. Jo had probably read an article by now, anyway, probably saw exactly what Emma saw, things saying she and Sam Allen were now dating. Emma didn’t need to point it out.

  I’ll try to look appropriately depressed at work, Emma texted instead.

  The three dots showing that Jo was typing appeared for a long time before Emma got her next message.

  I meant it when I said I want work to be a place you can thrive. Don’t let any rumors, or anything at all, prevent that.

  I know, boss.

  Emma kept their conversation open. The three little dots appeared on and off for almost five minutes. Jo didn’t send another text.

  Emma opened a new message and texted her sister that they should hang out tomorrow after work. She’d tell Avery about Barry, she would, but she was going to take care of herself tonight. That meant ordering in Vietnamese and drawing herself a bath after dinner. She kept the bathroom lights off, lay back in her tub illuminated only by candlelight. She considered getting a cat—something easy to take care of, but something she could snuggle after hard days. She couldn’t keep asking her sister to bring over the rottweilers. Avery was the one who suggested it this time, actually, which meant she must have figured out things hadn’t gone well today. Maybe she’d read about Emma and Jo’s “breakup,” and thought Emma was sad about that. Emma really hoped the breakup stuck. Anything to get her out of the tabloids.