Karaoke was Emma’s favorite part of every wrap party, but Jo never sang.
“I have a new duet partner this year,” Emma said. “You won’t want to miss it.”
“You’re bringing a date?” Jo said, looking up at Emma, her brow furrowed.
“I am!” Emma said. “My sister’s coming early to drop off the desserts from her bakery, and then she’ll change and come back as my date slash singing partner.”
The wrinkles in Jo’s forehead smoothed. Emma wondered if Jo thought she was bringing adatedate—not that it would have quelled the rumors: What happened at wrap parties stayed at wrap parties. Part of planning the party was ensuring there would be no paparazzi anywhere near it. That was kind of a necessity when you had an open bar and no call time in the morning.
“Are you bringing anyone?” Emma asked.
“Have I ever?”
Emma smiled. “There’s a chance that in years past I may have been too busy with karaoke to notice your date situation.”
In years past, wrap parties were easier. She was a props assistant then, had no responsibility for the party. She just got to show up and get drunk and sing. This year, even with the added responsibility, she was looking forward to the week. It would be quieter, less stressful after weeks of rewrites and reshoots and struggling to get everything perfect for the finale.
“I don’t bring dates to wrap parties and I don’t partake in karaoke,” Jo said.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very much fun?” Emma teased.
“I’ll have you know, my five-year-old nephew told me I was thecoolest.”
“Oh, well then,” Emma laughed. “You’ll never hear me disagree with a five-year-old.”
“They are your peers, aren’t they?” Jo asked, an eyebrow arched and the corners of her mouth quirked up.
“You really want to start age jokes, boss?”
Jo laughed and waved her off. Emma returned to her desk with a smile on her face.
—
The restaurant they’d rentedout for the wrap party was a rooftop bar, strung up with twinkle lights. Karaoke was inside, and most of the mingling was outside, under a night sky dulled by light pollution.
Emma had to make sure everything was in place: food, drinks, security, entertainment. It was the first wrap party she’d ever planned. She wanted it to be perfect. Avery eventually pulled her away from explaining ticket taking to the bouncers for the third time.
“They know what they’re doing,” Avery said. “Let’s get you a drink or three.”
Emma stayed stressed until her sister put a gimlet in her hand.
Emma loved wrap parties. Everyone intermingled—big-name actors and location assistants alike, coming together and having a good time. She sought out her old crew. She’d worked in the props department for three years before Jo handpicked her as her assistant. She missed the people. Even though she still saw them around, it wasn’t the same as being one of them. Phil was her best friend from back then, and he still was, when she got the chance to hang out with him. He let her set her drink down before he scooped her into a hug that lifted her off her feet.
“How’s life?” he asked. He held his arm up against hers, his skin bronze comparatively. “Remember when we used to compete to see who got the tannest? Outdoor shoots and driving golf carts all over the lot? And now look at you, whitey.”
Emma laughed. “That’s what I get for being holed up at the studio all the time now.”
“Speaking of”—Phil dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“how’s sleeping with the enemy?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I am neither sleeping with Jo nor is she the enemy. What did she ever do to you anyway?”
“Defending your girlfriend, how cute.”
She glared at him. “Come on, Phil.”
Avery butted in. “You know it’d be less fun to tease you if you didn’t get so upset about it every time.”
“It’s a reasonable thing to get upset about,” Emma said, her voice louder than she’d like it to be. She lowered it. “I don’t want anyone thinking that I am the type to sleep my way into a job, and I don’t want anyone thinking Jo is the type to take advantage of her employees.”