Something to Talk About(8)

“It’s Martin Katz on loan,” Kelli said.

Emma stared at the open box. She couldn’t do anything else. There must have been tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars of diamonds. Emma almost sat down on the edge of the bed. She was grateful she hadn’t put her heels on yet.

“I . . . ,” she said, and couldn’t come up with anything else.

Jaden reached right into the box of diamonds and picked out a bracelet. “Girl, wear this,” he said. “You don’t need a necklace with that high neckline. Let’s find you some earrings, too.”

Emma looked at the bracelet he held out to her. It was strand after strand of small diamonds. Jaden shook it in her direction, but she just stared, slack jawed.

Kelli took pity on her and reached for the bracelet. “First red-carpet jitters is all,” she said, fastening it around Emma’s wrist.

It wasn’t red-carpet jitters—first or otherwise. This had more to do with the fact that the bracelet probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, all the clothes she owned put together. What if she lost it? What if a diamond fell out? She could be a buffer. She could be good at her job. But she couldn’t possibly wear this.

And then Jaden held up earrings, little dangling teardrops.

“Yes or yes?” he said.

“You guys, I can’t—” Emma started.

“You can,” Kelli said gently. “Put them on.”

“We did not spend hours making you up so you can get scared of some rocks and not look perfect, babe,” Jaden said.

Put that way, it was easier for Emma to wear the earrings. She had to—it would be rude to not look her best after everyone worked hard to make her look good. She focused on that rather than on how much the jewelry must cost.

And she did look good. Once she had the earrings in, she slipped on her heels and checked out the full-length mirror. She had been a little afraid, before this, about fitting in. She had been afraid she’d look obviously out of place with all the glamorous celebrities on the red carpet. But she looked the part, her hair in perfect chestnut waves over one shoulder. The bracelet balanced her look from the opposite wrist, and the earrings sparkled. She looked like she belonged.

“You guys did a great job,” she said.

“We did,” Kelli said. “Also, you’re just pretty.”

Emma smiled and rolled her eyes.

They went back out to the living room of the suite, and there was Jo, no longer in Spanx and a bra. Now she was in her dress, and that was worse.

She looked like a princess—no, like a queen. Absolutely gorgeous.

Emma hadn’t seen Jo’s dress in advance, and she was bowled over by how lovely it was. It was yellow, beautifully bright, daffodil yellow. There was still a lot of skin, with the off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline and Jo’s hair in a side updo. Strands of diamonds cascaded around Jo’s neck and over her collarbones. The ball gown bottom half of the dress fell just past her knees, and she was barefoot for now, but Emma was sure there was a pair of her signature four-inch heels somewhere nearby.

“Ms. Jones,” Emma said, no longer concerned at all with how she herself looked. “You look beautiful.”

Jo smiled, acknowledging the compliment with a nod. “Your clutch is on the table by the door,” she said. “It’s already stocked with hand sanitizer, makeup for touch-ups, and tampons, just in case.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Emma said. “I had no idea how I was going to bring anything.”

Emma headed over to move her inhaler and phone from her purse to the clutch. Jo clearing her throat made her pause.

“You look nice,” Jo said.

Emma’s face warmed. She looked at the floor, smiling. “Right. Thanks. Will we be leaving soon?”

“Yes, but there’s no rush,” Jo said. “If we show up late enough, we can hopefully slip inside fairly quickly.”

Emma nodded like she had any idea how to slip inside a Hollywood awards ceremony.



* * *



—

The ride over was interminably long until suddenly it wasn’t, and they arrived.

Emma stepped out of the car—carefully, because she was in a long dress and heels that still felt a little too high for her, even after the practice in her kitchen. She stepped out of the car, and there were already cameras. People were shouting. She didn’t know where to look, didn’t know where to go.

Jo was at her side then, a tight-lipped smile and only a glance in Emma’s direction.

“What are you waiting for?” Jo said. “Move.”

She was as straightforward as ever, because this was normal for her. Emma, meanwhile, didn’t actually move that much, just stepped aside to let Jo lead the way. It was part deferential assistant behavior and part “I have no idea what I’m doing” behavior.

Emma had grown so comfortable in the suite. The relaxed atmosphere made it feel more like a spa day than preparing for an awards show. But this—this was wild. Watching on TV didn’t capture how many people were actually there. People directing traffic, people directing foot traffic, people taking pictures with really expensive cameras, fans taking pictures with their phones from afar. There was a tent full of people, and Jo’s publicist popped out to greet them. Amir gave Emma a cursory hello before focusing on Jo, who made it clear she wasn’t doing any interviews. Emma just tried not to trip over her feet. It was loud and busy and she would really rather be on Avery’s couch.