Something to Talk About(47)

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.”

“You, too, Mr. Davis.”

He laughed. “Please, call me Barry.”

Emma nodded and could tell she was blushing. Jo gave her an inscrutable look.

“I just need to grab my water from my office,” Jo said. “And we’ll be on our way.”

As soon as Jo disappeared into her office, Barry stepped closer to Emma. His cologne smelled like . . . lumber? Was that a thing expensive cologne smelled like? Emma smiled at him and tried to remind herself that he was just a person like anyone else.

“I’m excited to take a look at set. See what Jo Jones can do,” he said.

“She’s incredibly talented,” Emma said. It was true, even if she was still mad at Jo.

“And you know those talents well, don’t you?” Barry said.

Jo returned with her tumbler then, and Barry slid easily into step with her, somehow making it look like he hadn’t been in Emma’s personal space, like he hadn’t made an inappropriate comment. Emma’s feet stayed rooted to the ground.

Maybe he didn’t mean it that way, she told herself. She was just being sensitive.

Jo and Barry were almost around the corner before Jo stopped and looked back at her.

“Emma, are you coming?”

Barry’s smile was guileless.

“Of course,” Emma said. “Sorry, one moment.”

She pretended to do something on her computer, grabbed her tablet off her desk, then followed.

Jo led Barry on a tour of the studio. This was normally Emma’s job. Emma was usually the one who charmed people with anecdotes as they moved through the building. Today, though, she stayed quiet, couldn’t stop looking at Barry’s face. He was perfectly nice. He didn’t stand too close or say anything inappropriate. She was probably overreacting. Maybe she had misinterpreted.

On set, Chantal called for a break and Barry got introduced around. Emma let out a breath. Her whole upper body felt tight, like she’d been holding perfect posture for hours. Jo furrowed her eyebrows at Emma, but asked nothing.

Barry circled back to their side eventually. Emma shuffled a little closer to Jo.

“Feel settled in?” Jo asked Barry.

He grinned. “Feel great.”

“Then I suppose I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

If it were any other week, Emma might have said something to get Jo to stay, might have somehow indicated she didn’t want to be alone with this man. But Jo had barely looked at her since asking about her inhaler that morning. She didn’t look at her then, either, just turned and headed toward her office, leaving Emma beside Barry as Chantal announced the end of the break.

“I get what you see in her,” Barry said at Jo’s retreating form. His eyes were glued to her ass.

Emma swallowed. “She’s certainly something.”

Barry laughed. Emma would have rather heard nails on a chalkboard. The quiet-on-set call went up, and Emma was grateful for the reprieve.

This happened. Of course it did. They were in Hollywood. Just because more people talked about it now didn’t mean it stopped happening. Emma had dealt with plenty of disgusting, overstepping men. She knew how to handle the situation. Keep her smile polite but her nails sharp.

But this was Barry Davis.

He hadn’t even done anything all that bad, she knew. A couple of rude comments that he could pretend weren’t meant that way. It was nothing, really. And nothing she couldn’t handle. She straightened her posture, kept her head up.

They watched filming for a while. Emma’s eyes stayed on the actors until Barry took a step closer to her. She countered, stepping away, and his quiet chuckle sounded predatory, but he didn’t pursue her.

He didn’t try anything the rest of the morning—didn’t stand too close, didn’t say anything inappropriate. Emma knew she hadn’t imagined what had happened, but she still doubted herself.

He hadn’t meant it that way.

It hadn’t been a big deal.

It was fine.

She had to win him over, anyway. He could help her career or destroy it, if he wanted.

And, really, he was fine now. He made insightful comments about the show, taught her more about directing over the course of two hours than any of the books Jo had suggested for her. They ate lunch together; craft services had set up under a tent outside on the lot today. Emma sat across from Barry at a folding table. Normally she liked to plop down in the middle of anyone eating at the same time she was, but everyone gave the two of them a wide berth. She knew it was because she was supposed to be learning from him, but all she wanted to do was sit next to Phil and steal food off his plate. Instead she picked at her salad and tried to keep up conversation.