“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.
She didn’t need anyone else to know that, though. She needed to look like she belonged here, because she would, one day. She tried to keep a small smile on her face as she followed Jo.
Of course, then she didn’t get to follow Jo anymore. Because Avery was right about the red carpet—Emma was sent one way, away from the photographers, while Jo went down the other, posing every few feet. The show was set to start in twenty minutes, so the carpet was emptying out and Jo moved quickly. Emma held Jo’s clutch and shuffled along, never getting ahead of her boss. Everyone focused on the famous people, not on all the boring people who came with them. Emma wasn’t in the spotlight anymore, and her heels were easier without as much pressure to be perfectly graceful in them.
She wasn’t quite calm, though, because while she had promised Jo she wouldn’t fangirl out over anyone—well, she wasn’t fangirling. She wasn’t. But Annabeth Pierce was two people ahead of Jo on the red carpet, and Emma might have been fawning a little. She’d loved all of Annabeth’s movies since her breakout a little over five years ago. Her dress was this sleek white gown with a sparkling pattern in the front. Emma barely paid attention to Jo until Annabeth finished the red carpet and headed for the door to the theater.
When she finally did look back at her boss, Emma narrowed her eyes. Jo looked stiff. Uncomfortable. Her smile was fake. Not the “I’m getting my picture taken and being forced to smile” fake, but the “if I smile through this, maybe it will end sooner” fake. Her cheeks were tight and her eyes wider than usual, like she was actively trying not to furrow her brow.
Emma heard a voice from somewhere in the crowd. She wasn’t sure if it was a photographer or a fan, couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from as the person shouted about Agent Silver. Another voice then, asking if Jo was worried that backlash had begun before anything was even official. Jo moved toward the last posing area on the red carpet, and people kept yelling.
This was what Emma was there for, right? She was supposed to be a buffer, was supposed to be keeping people from asking about Agent Silver. Jo put her hand on her hip and looked more like she was grimacing than smiling.
Emma moved without thinking. She maneuvered herself to the real red carpet, the red carpet where the celebrities were. Jo didn’t notice Emma until she was barely three feet away, suddenly unsure what her next move should be.
Jo’s smile remained tight. “What are you doing here?” she asked through her teeth.
Emma took a step closer. “I’m supposed to be a buffer.”
It was then that she registered how many cameras were pointed in her direction. People were still yelling at them, asking her name, telling them to smile. Emma needed exposure, but this was too much. Her throat went tight. She stepped backward, ready to flee to the safety of the other path, but Jo wrapped a hand around her wrist and held her in place.
“Just smile for a second and let them take a picture,” Jo said. “Don’t be weird.”
Emma tried really hard to smile like a normal person. “Don’t let me fall on my face. I don’t know how to walk in these heels.”
“Right, of course,” Jo said. “You’re an Amazon.”
Emma stiffened, and Jo tightened her grip on her wrist.
“I only meant you’re tall,” she amended. “Compared to me? Of course you’re an Amazon.”