Something to Talk About(57)

“You can go home at lunch and change, or get clothes to change into at least,” Jo said. She looked away. “If you’d prefer I can avoid the bleachers. You can sit there with your sister and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emma said. “I’ll sit by you. We’re okay.”

“Of course,” Jo said.

She still felt like the other shoe was about to drop.

“I’ll change before we go,” Emma said. “I’d appreciate the ride, thank you.”

She smiled like Jo was made of glass. Jo gave Emma a nod and headed into her office.

Perhaps the other shoe had already dropped in the form of Barry Davis. After Emma had left Tuesday, after she told Jo Barry harassed her, Jo stood silently in her office. She had wanted to scream. She still did, a little. Barry’s assistant had called yesterday, but Jo couldn’t answer the phone. She’d tear into him if she talked to him right now, and that wasn’t going to help anyone. She had to get it together. Had to figure out how to turn him down and ruin his career without any fallout for Emma.

Emma didn’t want to release a statement, and as much as Jo hated that, she understood. This was the industry that ostracized Jo for calling out racism, and that was when she was a household name. Emma was an assistant. But Jo was rich enough now, established enough. This was something she had to do.



* * *



—

Avery called Jo midmorning. Jo could hear the rage in her voice when she said hello.

“You’re doing something about this, yeah?” Avery said, no small talk first.

“Of course,” Jo said. “It may take some time but—yes. Of course I’m doing something.”

“When she told me—God, I want to kill him.”

“I brought him here, Avery.” Jo said the thing that had been bothering her since she found out. “I invited him into our workplace. I’m the one who fucking introduced them.”

“He’s the asshole who did it, Jo,” Avery said. “This isn’t on you any more than it’s on Emma, and you know it’s not on her.”

Of course it wasn’t on Emma. But she should’ve known. She shared an industry with Barry Davis. She should have heard something.

“You’re really rich,” Avery said. “Surely you have enough money to have him murdered.”

Jo barked a laugh at that. “I can’t say I haven’t considered it.”

The tension broke a little. Jo could hear the grin in Avery’s voice as she joked, “Is this a secure line?”

They spent fifteen minutes sharing more and more gruesome ideas about what to do with Barry Davis. If anyone were listening on the line, Jo and Avery would probably both be arrested.

Jo hung up feeling better than she had in a week.



* * *



—

Emma ran home to change before they left. She returned in jean shorts and a thin plaid button-down over a white tank top.

Jo drove to the game, telling herself the whole ride that this didn’t have to be awkward. She and Emma had been in a car together plenty of times. But it was strange to have Emma in a car that was actually hers, that didn’t belong to a car service and get switched out every day so it was always perfectly clean. Instead there was a receipt on the floor beneath Emma’s feet. Jo’s travel mug was in the cup holder between them. The coffee Emma handed her every morning was always at least the second cup of the day, sometimes the third.

After surviving the stilted conversation in the car, they arrived, late enough that Avery, Dylan, Vincent, and Sally were all already seated. Avery and Vincent smirked at them as they climbed the bleachers.

“Your jerk boss let you take the afternoon off?” Vincent asked Emma.

Emma gave him a little smile. Jo rolled her eyes. She hugged Sally and gave Thomas, her younger nephew, a high five.

“You ready for ice cream after the game?” she asked him.

“Yeah!” he shouted. He tugged on his dad’s arm. “Ice cream! Ice cream!”

“Thanks for that,” Vincent muttered when he hugged her.

Jo said hello to Dylan and Avery, who slid down the bleachers a bit to make room.

Not much room, though. There were exactly two seats between Avery and Vincent. It was fine, sitting next to Emma. They went so long without really talking and now they sat close enough that their thighs almost touched. Jo edged closer to her brother, making him shuffle sideways. It gave her some breathing room. She hoped none of the parents were the type to sell a picture to tabloids. The rumors would’ve kicked right back up if people saw them like this, looking like lesbian aunts cheering on their siblings’ kids. Emma was even wearing plaid.

Avery bumped Emma’s shoulder.

“How are you doing?” She said it quietly. Jo was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear.

“I’m good,” Emma said, bumping Avery’s shoulder back.

Jo took a breath and relaxed.

The game was pretty much like any other game. Emma sat with them, which was new, but she didn’t change much. The parents still talked sparingly, Vincent and Avery both giving Jo more trouble than she deserved, as always. At one point, as Vincent joked about how annoying it was that whenever anyone found out Jo was his sister she was all they cared about, Emma scoffed.