Something to Talk About

by Meryl Wilsner

  There was a pause.

  “I can get it to you in an hour,” Evelyn said.

  Jo heaved a sigh. “Thank you.”

  The only sound was the clacking of Evelyn’s keyboard.

  “Can I react like a friend now?” she asked.

  “Evelyn . . .”

  “I want to know how you are.”

  Jo scrubbed a hand through her hair and didn’t know how to answer. “I need to handle the photographer.”

  “Okay,” Evelyn said. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Jo continued to listen to Evelyn type for a few minutes before ending the call.

  * * *

  —

  Jo kept her door closed. She asked Emma for nothing. Evelyn, true to her word, called back in an hour.

  “I emailed it to you,” she said. “How much money is he asking?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jo said. It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to pay. “Your contract ensures there’s no other copies? No chance it will get out?”

  “I know you’re stressed, but you know better than to underestimate me.”

  “You’re right.” Jo pressed her palm to her forehead. “God, Evelyn, this is . . .”

  “Fucked?” Evelyn offered. “How does Emma feel about it?”

  Jo steeled herself for Evelyn’s frustration. “I haven’t told her about it.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t talked to her today except to thank her for my coffee.”

  “Aiyah.” Evelyn dragged out the last vowel. “What are you doing?”

  “She doesn’t need this, Evelyn,” Jo said. “She doesn’t need any of this.”

  “How is ignoring her helping?”

  “I’m not ignoring her,” Jo said. Avoiding her, yes. Ignoring her, no. “I’ll talk to her after I figure this out.”

  Jo could tell Evelyn was annoyed by the way she breathed over the line. Her exasperation didn’t bleed into her tone when she talked, though.

  “What happened?”

  “She kissed me.” Jo’s voice was so small she wished it weren’t her own. “And that would be confusing enough without someone having pictures.” She sighed, then continued before Evelyn could cut in. “She just has to get through the week. Then she’ll be associate producer when Innocents comes back and I’ll be on Agent Silver. We’ll both move on. It will be fine. She won’t have to deal with any more of this paparazzi shit.”

  “Please, dear God, talk to her before you decide that,” Evelyn said. “I know you’re not used to feelings and have no idea what you’re doing, but don’t make the decision for her.”

  Jo promised nothing.

  * * *

  —

  The photographer came to Jo’s office. Best to treat it as a business deal. Jo finished a meeting with Chantal to find the man beside Emma’s desk, grinning cheek to cheek.

  “Please, come in,” she said with more grimace than smile.

  He greeted Chantal and told Emma to have a good day and Jo wanted to punch him.

  She got his signature and showed him the envelope full of cash, then watched him delete the photos before handing it over.

  He grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  Jo absolutely wanted to punch him.

  He shouldn’t have been at Emma’s apartment. The rumors had ended months ago. No one should have suspected anything enough to stake the place out. He had to be tipped off. Chantal and Emma were the only two Jo was aware of who knew enough specifics of their trip to leak it. Emma must have told someone. Jo couldn’t stomach the thought of anything else. She and Chantal had worked together for more than a decade.

  There was cake at lunch to celebrate both Emma’s birthday and the end of the year. Jo stood in the corner and watched. She watched everyone who wished Emma a happy birthday, analyzed their facial expressions, their body language. Chantal was subdued, Tate was gregarious. Nothing unusual. Jo’s heart thundered at the smile on Emma’s face. Nothing unusual.

  Toward the end of the break, Chantal tipped her head at Jo, and Jo followed her out of the lunch area. She expected a conversation about the show, didn’t expect how low Chantal kept her voice.

  “It’s not my business,” she said, “but I saw an exchange between the man in your office earlier today and a PA.”

  Jo let out a harsh breath. “With me,” she said, and quickly led Chantal to her office, closing the door behind them. “What kind of exchange?”

  “Manila envelope.”

  Jo all but collapsed onto her couch, rubbing a hand over her face.

  “This leak is so bad, I thought it might be you,” she admitted.

  “That’d be a cold day in hell,” Chantal said.

  Jo knew. “Which PA?”

  * * *

  —

  Every year Jo gave everyone on set holiday cards. They were nondenominational and included a Visa gift card and a generic thank-you. When Emma had been in props, she’d gotten the usual Thank you for your hard work with the big swoosh of Jo’s autograph. Her first year as an assistant, Jo wrote something about how quickly and easily Emma picked up her new job. She signed it boss, and Emma’s gift card was twice the amount of everyone else’s.

  Jo hadn’t written hers this year yet.

  She had written the rest of the cast and crew’s letters weeks ago, but kept Emma’s set aside. It was white with blue sparkling snowflakes on the front. Intra-office mail was delivering the letters today. Emma’s was still on Jo’s desk. Jo opened it, tried not to think too hard.

  Emma, you don’t just make my job easier, you make my life better. I am so grateful to have you in it.

  She should have thought harder. Should have made it generic. She imagined Emma’s face if she had just written thanks, and knew every option she had was a bad one.

  She held the pen just above the card for a moment, hesitating on her signature. Jo. Not Jo Jones, the looping autograph most people got. Just Jo, small and messy, with a blob of ink at the start of the J.

  Emma had meetings all afternoon, coordinating to ensure the set was shut down correctly. Jo waited until it was almost the end of the day before dropping the card on Emma’s desk while she was away. She retreated into her office and closed the door.

  Five minutes later, her door flew open. Emma marched in, swung the door shut behind her, catching it right before it slammed and closing it more gently.

  She rounded on Jo, her eyes blazing.

  “You don’t get to do this,” she said. “You don’t get to not even look at me all day and then drop this on my desk when I’m away from it.” She waved the opened envelope containing her holiday card. “I never took you for a coward, Jo.”

  Jo loved Emma for this, for her fire, for her refusal to back down. She loved her and she wanted to be with her and she knew she deserved so much more than Jo could offer. So Jo didn’t tip her hand.

  “I’ve been busy,” she said calmly.

  “You haven’t done anything but shut yourself in this office all day,” Emma snapped.

  “Yes, well, I had some calls to make,” Jo said. “Someone had to take care of the photographer who was outside of your apartment Saturday night.”

  The color drained from Emma’s face. “What?”

  “He was set to make quite a lot of money for photos of Jo Jones kissing her assistant in front of her apartment building at one in the morning,” Jo said. “It’s been taken care of.”

  She fluttered her hand like it was nothing.

  “What did you do?” Emma’s voice was wary.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Emma, it’s not like I had him killed.” Jo rolled her eyes. “I bought the photos. And the contract he’s signed means if he still has any copies and they show up anywhere, I take basically everything he owns. Including his dog.”

>   Jo didn’t want his dog, but Evelyn had added a little levity to the NDA.

  “How much did you pay for them?” Emma asked.

  That wasn’t something Jo would ever tell her.

  “You’re asking the wrong questions,” she said instead.

  Emma’s brow furrowed. It took her a moment, but she got there.

  “Why was a photographer in front of my apartment at one in the morning?”

  “There it is,” Jo said.

  “Why was a photographer there?”

  “I let your friend Phil go earlier this afternoon.”

  Jo kept her voice detached. She watched a wave of emotions cross Emma’s face: confusion, understanding, anger. Emma glowered.

  “Why does it even matter?” she asked. “It never mattered when people thought I was fucking you for months, but one picture of us kissing and you ignore me for the entire day trying to deal with it?”

  Jo gaped at her. Was it possible Emma truly didn’t understand how far over her head Jo was when it came to her? Emma didn’t flinch. Jo pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Are you serious?”

  Emma crossed her arms, chin held high. Jo should’ve taken the out, should’ve pretended it was nothing to her—she was just protecting Emma’s reputation. Instead, she snapped.

  “Of course it matters now,” she said with more emotion than she’d shown Emma all day. “It didn’t matter when it was a stupid rumor that meant nothing. This means something, okay? It meant something to me, and I don’t think the entire world should see it.”

  Her chest heaved. Emma’s arms dropped to her sides.

  “It meant something to you?” she asked, voice small.

  Jo’s voice was just as small when she replied, “Of course it meant something to me.”

  She wasn’t supposed to admit it. She was supposed to send Emma into a new position with nothing holding her back. A clean break.

  She took a breath and moved on. “Which is why I gave Phil an excellent severance package, provided he also signed an NDA.”

  “Right,” Emma said.

  She looked at her feet, scuffing them against the ground. Jo had no idea what was going on in her head. When Emma looked back up, her eyes shone. Jo pressed her lips together.

  “I—” Jo stopped. Swallowed. Wished this were easier. “Why . . .”

  This time last year, Emma would’ve finished the sentence for her. Would’ve answered the question without it being asked. Even now, if this were about work, Emma would’ve already solved it. Jo knew she couldn’t make Emma be the one to deal with this, though.

  “It’s past five,” Jo said, her voice flat. “I’m fine here. You can go home.”

  Emma turned on her heels and went. No Bye, boss. Not even a Good night, Ms. Jones. The door closed behind her, and Jo dropped her forehead to the edge of her desk.

  It was the right decision, she told herself, to let Emma go. To not explain just how much the kiss meant to her. But her heart felt like it was trying to get out of her chest, like it was connected to the woman who’d walked out the door and it was stretching to reach her.

  Jo stayed facedown on her desk and called Evelyn.

  “Hey.” Evelyn’s voice was as gentle as it got.

  “Tell me what to do, Evelyn,” Jo begged.

  “What have you done so far?”

  Jo sighed and sat up. She leaned back in her desk chair.

  “I bought the pictures and paid off the photographer,” she said. “I fired the leak on set—paid him off, too. And I told Emma all of that. And then I told her to go home.”

  “Seems like you’ve made your decision then,” Evelyn said, like she didn’t know Jo was agonizing over this. “What part do you need help with?”

  “The part where I want to go after her.”

  She did. Desperately. But Emma deserved better.

  “Go, then,” Evelyn said.

  Jo groaned and put her forehead back down on her desk.

  “Chasing her solves nothing,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if I want her, if she wants me. Just rumors of a relationship led to her being sexually harassed. Actually dating me would taint all of her accomplishments from now on. Everyone would think she only got them because of me. It’s not worth it.”

  “Talk to her about this, Jo, not me.”

  “I can’t,” Jo insisted.

  Emma could have convinced her of anything right now. Jo had to look at this with her head, not her heart.

  “For God’s sake, Evelyn, I’m not even out.”

  Ev scoffed. “You’re not out out, but come on. The media already thought you were dating.”

  “Yes, they did, and look how that worked out. Barry Davis sexually harassed Emma because he assumed she was already trading sexual favors for a job.”

  “Barry Davis sexually harassed Emma because he is a disgusting creep. You don’t get to blame yourself for that.”

  Jo would never stop feeling guilty about it, though.

  She changed tactics. “What do I bring to a relationship? I don’t even know how to be in one. Why would Emma want to date a fortysomething who has no experience? I’ve never had a long-term relationship.”

  “Why don’t you ask Emma what you offer? See things from her eyes instead.” Evelyn sighed. “Jesus, Jo, you basically just admitted you want to be in a long-term relationship with her. Can’t you at least give yourself a chance?”

  But if she ended it before she began, she could mitigate the hurt.

  “If you wanted to be talked out of it, you wouldn’t have called me,” Evelyn said. “You knew my opinion when you dialed. You knew you were going to get nothing but encouragement. Are you sure you want to be talked out of it? Or do you think you’re lying to yourself?”

  Jo closed her eyes. Breathed.

  “Jo, you’ve had thirty years in Hollywood and forty-two on this bitch of an earth,” Evelyn said. “People are going to find any way they can to dismiss Emma the way they dismiss every woman. You know that.”

  She did.

  “This is a bad idea,” Jo said.

  “So was calling out the show that made you famous, but you could do that when you were just a kid,” Evelyn said.

  “That’s a low blow.”

  Evelyn had read every draft of Jo’s essay for The Johnson Dynasty’s ten-year anniversary. She’d never let Jo quit on it.

  “What are you so afraid of now?”

  Heartbreak.

  Jo was afraid of hurting Emma. Afraid of hurting Emma’s career. But mostly she was afraid of Emma realizing Jo wasn’t worth it and breaking her heart.

  She said none of this, but Evelyn seemed to know.

  “Stop making excuses,” Evelyn said.

  “I have to go,” Jo said.

  23

  EMMA

  Emma called Avery as soon as she got home.

  “So Phil was the leak,” she said instead of hello. “Phil was fucking leaking stuff to the tabloids, and he apparently gave our flight information to a photographer and so this guy was outside my apartment late at night when we got back, which means—”

  Avery sucked in a breath.

  “Yup,” Emma snapped. “There were pictures of us kissing.”

  “What are you going to do?” Avery asked.

  Emma waved her hand around vaguely. She was pacing her apartment. “Jo already bought them or whatever, so it’s fine.”

  “Yeah?” Avery said. “And how did Jo feel about the kiss?”

  A whole day at work, and Emma still wasn’t sure. Jo had said it meant something. Or maybe only the pictures of the kiss meant something.

  “Whatever,” Emma grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Em.”

  There was a knock on the door. It was probably Raegan, her n
eighbor who locked herself out on a regular basis. She was the only person who knocked on Emma’s door.

  “One sec, my neighbor’s here,” Emma said as she grabbed Raegan’s spare key off the hook she kept it on and pulled her door open.

  It wasn’t Raegan.

  It was Jo.

  “Hi,” Jo said, a coffee cup in each hand, shoulders curled in on herself.

  “Avery, I gotta go,” Emma said. She ended the call. Swallowed. “Hi.”

  “Chai,” Jo said, thrusting one of the drinks toward her. “If you want.”

  Emma wanted to be mad. She wanted to ignore Jo the way Jo had ignored her all day.

  She took the chai instead.

  “Do you want to—”

  “Can I—”

  They both started, stopped. Jo laughed nervously.

  Emma looked down the hallway like there would be paparazzi inside her apartment building.

  “Come in,” she said then, taking a step back and pulling the door open wider.

  “Thank you,” Jo said.

  She only came far enough inside for Emma to close the door behind her. Emma had no idea what she was doing here. She was so used to making things easier for Jo, she almost wanted to start the conversation herself. But she deserved better than that. Better than Jo ignoring her all day, then randomly showing up at her apartment with nothing to say.

  “I haven’t stopped—since Saturday night—all I can think about—” Jo started three different sentences and didn’t finish a single one.

  “Come,” Emma said. “Sit down.”

  She led Jo to the kitchen island, and they sat on stools next to each other. Emma took a sip of her drink, then set it down. She swirled liquid around instead of looking at Jo.

  “This is a terrible idea,” Jo said.

  Emma’s heart did a swan dive. She thought if Jo was here, it meant—she’d been moping since she handed Jo her coffee this morning, and she thought Jo being here was going to change that, but—

  “I kept telling myself all the reasons it’s a bad idea,” Jo said. “Since Saturday. Since my dad visited. You’re too young and I’m too old and I don’t even have any idea how to be in a relationship and you work for me and, and, and.”