"I know," Emma said, and you could see the disbelief in her eyes, like her brain was still trying to process what she'd actually done. "I told him that all of us standing there were just looking for a chance to prove we're good enough. We just haven't had a shot yet." She stopped to catch her breath. "He looked at me. Then he looked at the others. Then he looked back at me."
"Then what?"
Emma's eyes went a little distant, the way they do when you're reliving a memory instead of just telling a story.
The morning had been gray and overcast—the kind of sky that doesn't really care what's happening below it. Emma had gotten to the Brassica building at eight-fifteen. She knew he'd be there early; she'd "casually" confirmed his schedule with the guy at the coffee cart where his assistant went every morning.
She'd stood by the entrance with her portfolio tucked under her arm, wearing her good heels despite standing on the concrete for forty minutes. There were others scattered around the door, all trying to look like they weren't waiting—leaning against the wall, scrolling through their phones, looking up every time a car slowed down.
When the black car finally pulled up, everyone tightened up. You could practically feel the collective intake of breath. Ledger Jonas stepped out of the back. He was taller than he looked in photos, with broad shoulders and that slow, unbothered way of moving that only really powerful people have.
Emma didn't stop to think. She just moved.
"Mr. Jonas." Her voice was loud and clear, and he actually stopped—mostly because it's hard to ignore someone who sounds that sure of themselves. He turned and looked at her. "How are you a producer if you never see any new actors?"
The people near the door went completely still. His assistant, who was half a step behind him, froze with his tablet in mid-air.
Mr. Jonas just looked at her for a long time. His face was impossible to read—not mad, not laughing, just... something else. Emma thought he looked like a man who hadn't been spoken to that directly in a very long time.
"I told him," Emma said, gesturing to the others who had started to crowd around, "that we're all just looking for a chance. But his people—the ones who are supposed to find new talent—are never around. They're always 'in meetings' or 'at lunch.' At ten-thirty in the morning."
Something changed in his face then. He looked annoyed.
He called for someone named Angie, and a woman from the front desk practically scurried out onto the steps. She had that look of someone who already knows they're in trouble and is just trying to survive the conversation.
"Have you seen these people before?" Mr. Jonas asked. His voice was quiet, which honestly made it sound way more terrifying.