Something to Talk About(84)

There was a pause.

“I can get it to you in an hour,” Evelyn said.

Jo heaved a sigh. “Thank you.”

The only sound was the clacking of Evelyn’s keyboard.

“Can I react like a friend now?” she asked.

“Evelyn . . .”

“I want to know how you are.”

Jo scrubbed a hand through her hair and didn’t know how to answer. “I need to handle the photographer.”

“Okay,” Evelyn said. “I’ll get back to you.”

Jo continued to listen to Evelyn type for a few minutes before ending the call.



* * *



—

Jo kept her door closed. She asked Emma for nothing. Evelyn, true to her word, called back in an hour.

“I emailed it to you,” she said. “How much money is he asking?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jo said. It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to pay. “Your contract ensures there’s no other copies? No chance it will get out?”

“I know you’re stressed, but you know better than to underestimate me.”

“You’re right.” Jo pressed her palm to her forehead. “God, Evelyn, this is . . .”

“Fucked?” Evelyn offered. “How does Emma feel about it?”

Jo steeled herself for Evelyn’s frustration. “I haven’t told her about it.”

“What?”

“I haven’t talked to her today except to thank her for my coffee.”

“Aiyah.” Evelyn dragged out the last vowel. “What are you doing?”

“She doesn’t need this, Evelyn,” Jo said. “She doesn’t need any of this.”

“How is ignoring her helping?”

“I’m not ignoring her,” Jo said. Avoiding her, yes. Ignoring her, no. “I’ll talk to her after I figure this out.”

Jo could tell Evelyn was annoyed by the way she breathed over the line. Her exasperation didn’t bleed into her tone when she talked, though.

“What happened?”

“She kissed me.” Jo’s voice was so small she wished it weren’t her own. “And that would be confusing enough without someone having pictures.” She sighed, then continued before Evelyn could cut in. “She just has to get through the week. Then she’ll be associate producer when Innocents comes back and I’ll be on Agent Silver. We’ll both move on. It will be fine. She won’t have to deal with any more of this paparazzi shit.”

“Please, dear God, talk to her before you decide that,” Evelyn said. “I know you’re not used to feelings and have no idea what you’re doing, but don’t make the decision for her.”

Jo promised nothing.



* * *



—

The photographer came to Jo’s office. Best to treat it as a business deal. Jo finished a meeting with Chantal to find the man beside Emma’s desk, grinning cheek to cheek.

“Please, come in,” she said with more grimace than smile.

He greeted Chantal and told Emma to have a good day and Jo wanted to punch him.

She got his signature and showed him the envelope full of cash, then watched him delete the photos before handing it over.

He grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Jo absolutely wanted to punch him.

He shouldn’t have been at Emma’s apartment. The rumors had ended months ago. No one should have suspected anything enough to stake the place out. He had to be tipped off. Chantal and Emma were the only two Jo was aware of who knew enough specifics of their trip to leak it. Emma must have told someone. Jo couldn’t stomach the thought of anything else. She and Chantal had worked together for more than a decade.

There was cake at lunch to celebrate both Emma’s birthday and the end of the year. Jo stood in the corner and watched. She watched everyone who wished Emma a happy birthday, analyzed their facial expressions, their body language. Chantal was subdued, Tate was gregarious. Nothing unusual. Jo’s heart thundered at the smile on Emma’s face. Nothing unusual.

Toward the end of the break, Chantal tipped her head at Jo, and Jo followed her out of the lunch area. She expected a conversation about the show, didn’t expect how low Chantal kept her voice.

“It’s not my business,” she said, “but I saw an exchange between the man in your office earlier today and a PA.”

Jo let out a harsh breath. “With me,” she said, and quickly led Chantal to her office, closing the door behind them. “What kind of exchange?”

“Manila envelope.”

Jo all but collapsed onto her couch, rubbing a hand over her face.

“This leak is so bad, I thought it might be you,” she admitted.

“That’d be a cold day in hell,” Chantal said.

Jo knew. “Which PA?”



* * *



—

Every year Jo gave everyone on set holiday cards. They were nondenominational and included a Visa gift card and a generic thank-you. When Emma had been in props, she’d gotten the usual Thank you for your hard work with the big swoosh of Jo’s autograph. Her first year as an assistant, Jo wrote something about how quickly and easily Emma picked up her new job. She signed it boss, and Emma’s gift card was twice the amount of everyone else’s.