Maybe this was the next step in her career. An opportunity to network, to make connections that would help her when she eventually moved on from this job. She’d rather watch the SAGs in her pajamas on her sister’s couch, but she could go with Jo. It would be fine.
“Okay. I’m coming to the SAG Awards with you.”
Jo looked up at her, intent. “You’re not going to fangirl out over some actor and embarrass me, are you?”
“No, Ms. Jones,” Emma said immediately. “Of course not.”
“Even if you see Lucy Liu?”
The eyebrow pop accompanying the comment told Emma that Jo was teasing. Normally, Emma might joke back, but her mind wasn’t working quickly enough this morning.
“Even then.”
“Good,” Jo said. “We’re leaving for the fitting at one.”
She opened her laptop. It was a dismissal, and Emma knew it was, but it took her a moment to leave Jo’s office anyway.
So. Emma was going to the SAG Awards. With Jo. In two days. Okay. That was normal.
She wrote an email to the assistant producer about the canceled meeting, but her mind stayed mostly on the awards, thedress fitting. She shot a text to her sister to invite her over that night. She had a feeling she’d need to talk.
Then she put her phone away and got to work.
—
Jo led her purposefullythrough the store. It was an appointment-only boutique. When Emma had used Jo’s name on the phone that morning, the shop’s completely booked afternoon had suddenly opened up. Emma kept her eyes straight ahead as they walked, didn’t want to look as obviously out of place as she felt. Some of the clothes must cost more than two months’ rent.
She followed Jo to a staging area of sorts in the back of the store. There were three mirrors with a small platform in front of them. A couch sat off to the side, and dresses were displayed on hangers hooked at various heights on the opposite wall. In front of them stood a tall Black woman, her box braids in a bun on top of her head. She grinned as the other two approached.
“Jo Jones, as I live and breathe,” the woman said, stooping considerably to drop kisses on Jo’s cheeks.
“Victoria,” Jo said with a smile. “How have you been? How was the wedding?”
“Beautiful,” Victoria said. “Everything was perfect, even the gift that was too expensive from someone who has never met my son.”
Jo dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment.
“Enough talk, though,” Victoria said. “I know you’ve got your mind on the clothes.”
Jo didn’t disagree. “This is Emma,” she said.
Victoria shook Emma’s hand, looking her up and down. “Jo said you were a tall brunette, but, girl, you are so much more.”
“Thanks?” Emma said. It came out like a question.
“Can I get you a drink?” Victoria asked. “Champagne? Wine? Water?”
Emma had never been to a clothing store that offered you a drink. She declined. Jo raised the stainless steel tumbler she carried everywhere—Emma knew from refilling it that it was generally either coffee or water.
“Okay then, let’s get to the dresses,” Victoria said. “I have some already picked out, but we don’t have to stick with them if you want something different.”
They all turned to look at the gowns hanging on the wall. Emma swallowed. They were fancier than anything she’d ever worn. There was a black gown that was skimpy on top but princess-poufy on the bottom, a mermaid-style dress as bright red as Jo’s lipstick, an empire-waisted strapless gown the color of café au lait, and a white dress with flowing fabric and huge, multicolored flowers painted along one side.
Jo made a noise of displeasure.
“I specifically said no—” She stopped. “V, the black dress is not the style I requested.”
“Have a little fun, Jo. Let the girl decide for herself.” Victoria turned to Emma. “You like this one, sweetie?”