Something to Talk About
Meryl Wilsner
To Brooke,
who makes me feel bigger than words
1
EMMA
Jo Jones in the running for Silver gig, the headline on the screen said. Right beneath that, in italics, it read, But should she be?
Emma huffed as she scrolled through the article for the fifth time. She didn’t normally spend her mornings reading gossip columns about her boss, but earlier that week, Jo had had a meeting with the studio producing the next Agent Silver movie. As her assistant, Emma knew which appointments were on Jo’s schedule but not what happened within them. She wanted to know how the meeting had gone.
The article didn’t clear that up for her. Jo was on the short list, at least, but was apparently a terrible choice. No experience writing a movie, certainly not an action flick. It was like they forgot she was the showrunner of TV’s top drama five years running. Sure, Innocents didn’t have explosions or fight scenes—except that one time in season 2—but it was good. It was quality television. Jo had the Emmys to prove it.
Not good enough for this columnist, though. He didn’t come out and say it was because Jo was a Chinese American woman. Instead the article was filled with worries about too soft a touch and a concern she would somehow miss the truly American essence of Silver. Emma rolled her eyes. Jo was born and freaking raised here.
Emma wasn’t going to tell Jo about the column. While it might be good for Jo to know what people were saying about her, it would also be an unnecessary distraction that did nothing but hurt her feelings. Emma wouldn’t bother her with it. Jo had more important things to do with her time anyway.
The click-clack of Jo’s heels came from the hallway, and Emma quickly closed the browser tab. She stood, tucking her long hair behind her ears. By the time Jo rounded the corner, Emma was ready with her coffee and a smile.
“Thanks,” Jo said, taking the latte without breaking stride. That didn’t bode well for the day. Neither did her ponytail, high and tight enough to look severe. “Clear the afternoon for the both of us.”
Emma stopped analyzing Jo’s hairstyle choices and grabbed her tablet off her desk. “Sure, boss,” she said, pulling up Jo’s schedule as she followed her into her office. Most of the afternoon was blocked off for writing. All Emma had to cancel was a check-in with an assistant producer. “What do we got?”
“Dress fitting.”
Emma stopped in front of Jo’s desk and looked up at her. She tilted her head, confused. “You need me at a dress fitting?”
“Given that it’s your dress fitting”—Jo took a sip of her coffee—“that would be ideal.”
She set her purse on her glass-top desk, her long black ponytail swinging as she leaned over to take her laptop out of the bag.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re coming to the SAG Awards with me on Sunday,” Jo said. She sat behind her desk. “You’ll need a dress.”
Working for Jo, Emma was used to expecting the unexpected. In her nine months as Jo’s assistant, she’d dealt with paparazzi and hate mail, overnight shoots and fans who’d loved Jo since she first appeared on their TV screens almost three decades ago at thirteen years old. Emma went to events with Jo, too, but those events were usually studio parties or advance screenings. They were things Jo needed her at for work-related purposes. They weren’t the SAG Awards.
“I’m coming to the SAG Awards with you?” Emma’s voice was higher pitched than she’d like it to be.
Jo arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that not what I said?”
Emma nodded once. “Um. Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about that damn movie,” Jo said, fluttering her hand like it wasn’t all that important.
So much for keeping Jo’s focus off the Agent Silver rumors.
Maybe Emma shouldn’t push it, but Jo always told her to ask questions if she didn’t understand something. “And I’m helping with that how?”
“You can cut in if anyone tries to talk about it,” Jo said. “You’ll be a buffer.”
Right. That seemed reasonable. Emma had been a buffer for Jo on multiple occasions, though never at an awards show with a red carpet and a bunch of famous people. But if that was what it took to be good at her job, she’d do it.
Emma had liked her three years as a production assistant in the props department.
Being Jo’s assistant was better.
Sure, there was getting coffee and picking up dry cleaning, but there was also scheduling meetings with TV’s top players and mitigating problems, smoothing over ego issues. Emma helped Jo assemble production teams, had to know everyone’s personality to figure out who’d work well together. She had her hand in every pot. The only thing she wasn’t involved in was the script writing, which was fine with her.
Emma liked knowing how the whole thing worked. She knew every part of the machinery of the show. Five years ago she had basically flunked out of film school, and look where she was now.
Getting asked to accompany her boss to the SAG Awards.
Maybe this was the next step in her career. An opportunity to network, to make connections that would help her when she eventually moved on from this job. She’d rather watch the SAGs in her pajamas on her sister’s couch, but she could go with Jo. It would be fine.