Something to Talk About(31)

“Emma didn’t ask.”

Jo would’ve let Emma out early if she had, since it was summer. When they were shooting, though, she’d rather Emma be at work if she wasn’t. Jo surrounded herself with people she trusted because it was the only way she wouldn’t micromanage. She could leave Chantal in charge, or leave Emma to report back on anything that Jo needed to know; that was how Jo could be away from work and not be anxious. Her production company, the Jones Dynasty—yes, she threw shade in naming it and it made her laugh every time—was her baby, had her name in big bold letters. She needed to be sure its output was up to standards. Emma helped.

“I’m Dylan,” said the man who Jo assumed was Avery’s husband, offering his hand. “We’ve got Ezra and Dani out there.”

Jo shook his hand. “Jo.”

He grinned but didn’t mention he already knew who she was. She gave him points for that.

“How’s the bakery?” Jo asked, because this was one of the rare situations where small talk might be preferable to silence. Avery would probably report this whole game back to Emma, and Jo did not want to come off looking like a bitch.

“Busy,” Avery said.

“You should hire someone,” her husband singsonged at her.

“If I could pay them a decent wage, I would,” she said, mimicking his pitch back at him. She turned to Jo. “Business is good, really. How’s the hiatus treating you?”

“Gently,” Jo said, “now that upfronts are over.”

“I heard you had to deal with an asthma attack,” Avery said.

Jo stiffened, frozen by the memory of Emma gasping.

“Thanks for keeping her breathing.”

Jo let out her own breath. She tried for a smile. “Yes, well, an employee dying on a business trip would have been terrible press.”

Jo’s stomach twisted at joking about it, but Avery chuckled and let the subject drop.

“How old is your nephew?” she said.

“Just nine,” Jo said. Her heart was still racing thinking about Emma’s asthma attack. It had shaken her, and even though she knew Emma was fine, she was terrified of the idea that it could happen at any time. “His first year past the pitching machine. What about your boys?”

“Boy and a girl, actually; Dani is Danielle,” Avery said. “They’re ten.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize—”

“Their goal for the season is to trick people,” Avery said.

“Dani’s the one girl in the league,” Dylan explained. “She got a lot of crap for it last year, so this year she cut her hair short and Ezra grew his into a ponytail.”

“Clever kids,” Jo said. “They must get that from their father.”

Jo’s brother arrived then, right as Jo was chatting with a set of parents and making them laugh. He gave her a look.

“What do we have here?” he said.

“Making friends, don’t I always?” Jo said.

“Not usually?”

Avery offered her hand. “Avery Kaplan.”

Realization dawned in Vincent’s eyes. “Ah. The girlfriend’s sister.”

Avery immediately grinned, delighted.

“Do you have any tips?” Vincent asked as he shook her hand. “On how to handle the burden of being the cooler sibling?”

Avery laughed, and Jo rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t bad, though, sitting with Avery and Dylan as well as Vincent and his wife, Sally. Thomas, Jo’s younger nephew, said hi and then immediately joined the other younger siblings playing under the bleachers. Once the game started, the adults didn’t keep up inane small talk, and when they did talk, Avery was sharp and witty. She reminded Jo a lot of Evelyn, actually.

The kids won, and Jo got dragged to ice cream with the team after, because Ethan asked her with too big a grin for her to say no. Avery chuckled as she walked beside Jo toward the parking lot.

“Who knew Jo Jones was such a softie?” she said.

“Only for my nephews,” Jo said. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll have to have you killed.”

Avery chuffed out a laugh, and Jo almost wished she weren’t Emma’s sister. She wouldn’t mind having a friend, but that seemed complicated here.



* * *



—

“Good morning, boss,” Emma said the next day, handing Jo her coffee.

“Morning,” Jo said. “Thanks.”

She was a little wary, but there didn’t seem to be anything behind Emma’s smile. Perhaps Avery hadn’t discussed last night with her yet. In that case, Jo wouldn’t bring it up, didn’t know exactly what to say anyway. I watched your niece and nephew play baseball last night sounded a bit strange. She took her coffee and went to work instead.

Jo wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but she’d expected that writing Agent Silver would be easier. She was used to being television Jo Jones—a powerhouse who got what she wanted because she’d already proven herself. And while the whole point of branching out and doing Agent Silver was to push herself to do something she didn’t have experience with, it felt unsteady, not having a reputation and history of work to rely on. Film was brand new. Action was brand new. There wasn’t room for mistakes.