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Kat was going to murder Jonathan. He’d promised Jocelyn that he was “on intimate terms” with Richard. What good was an introduction if Richard didn’t actually know the person introducing her?

She kept her smile up, but her grip tightened on Jude’s hand.

“Well,” Jonathan said, making a brave effort to continue. “Um. So nice to see you again. And this is Katrina Kelly!” He made a Vanna White gesture in her direction, but there was a distinct note of desperation to it. “She just moved to town from L.A.”

Kat dropped Jude’s hand so she could shake Richard’s. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m a big fan. I loved Seasons of Change. ”

Richard lifted one dubious eyebrow. “It’s not often a Hollywood person comes all the way to St. Ann’s Warehouse to see a play.”

“Well, I’m a big fan of experimental theater.” Hopefully she sounded convincing.

“Really?” Richard said. “What did you think of the staging?”

Shit.

Kat had not flown from L.A. to see Seasons of Change two years ago.

In fact, during its rather short run, she’d been filming a Netflix original show about a vampire who wanted to be a pop star (canceled after one season).

She’d read the play so she’d be prepared to flatter Richard about it, but the script hadn’t included any notes about how the production was staged.

“I loved it,” Kat said. “So original!”

“Hmm. ‘Original,’?” Richard repeated. “I suppose you could say that.” He exchanged a glance with his husband, barely bothering to conceal his smirk.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was the line Jocelyn had given her again?

Something about how the play’s overexplaining narrator represented…

commercialism? Surely that couldn’t be right.

She could feel sweat on the back of her neck. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Jude jumped in.

“Oh, I remember you raving about that play!” Jude said.

She turned to Richard. “Kat was talking about it just the other day. She kept going on about how the complete lack of props or set effectively represented the emptiness of capitalism.” She turned back to Kat, snapping her fingers thoughtfully.

“What was it you said? That the disorientation the audience feels at the lack of context mirrors the way we’re all disoriented and cut off from our true natures in postindustrial society?

” She laughed cheerfully. “Honestly, hon, I don’t understand half the things you say sometimes. ”

Kat laughed, too, hoping it sounded less manic than it felt.

Richard had stopped smirking. Instead, he nodded earnestly at Kat. “That’s exactly what I was going for! Disorientation as a way of immersion. Honestly, my plays have gotten so much more expansive since I gave up on the idea of ‘owing’ a comprehensible experience to the audience.”

“Oh, yes.” Kat nodded back at him. “I completely agree.” She was still sweating. Her throat felt like it was closing up. She needed to say something impressive.

“I’m Jude Thacker.” Jude held out her hand, and Richard shook it. “We actually sell some of your plays at the bookstore where I work.”

“Not bestsellers, I assume?” Richard said.

“Not quite,” Jude said, chuckling. “The average bookstore customer isn’t quite ready for you, I don’t think.” She glanced at Kat, who still couldn’t think of anything to add to the conversation. She could feel her pulse racing in the sides of her neck. What was wrong with her?

“But that’s actually how we met,” Jude said, the lie coming out smoothly. “Kat came into the bookstore and bought one of your plays. Which one was it, again?”

She turned to Kat, whose mind spun for a second before she said, “It was (de)forestation: a metaphor. ” The notes Jocelyn had made her memorize started to come back to her. “I loved the way it kept shifting around in time.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Richard said. “A lot of critics found it unnecessary.”

“Not at all,” Kat said. “How else would it be clear that power has been a corrupting force in every time period?”

“Precisely!” Richard snapped his fingers. “What brings you to New York?”

“All the good theater is here,” Kat said. “L.A. theater is far too commercial.”

“Well, if you’re such an experimental theater fan, the two of you must come to the little soiree Ashton and I are throwing tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to Francoise Auclair.” He winked.

Kat’s stomach gave a happy swoop. She had no idea who Francoise Auclair was, but an invitation to Richard Gottlieb’s house? Already? “I would love that.”

“Email my assistant. She’ll send over the details.”

“I will. Definitely.” Kat glanced around, trying to think of a graceful way to end the conversation. Her eyes connected with Jude’s.

“Kat!” Jude said suddenly, cocking her head as the band started up a new tune. “It’s your favorite song!” She turned to Richard. “I’m so sorry, but do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I can’t miss this opportunity to dance.”

“ Excellent choice in favorite song.” Richard Gottlieb beamed at her. “Ashton and I will have to come join you once we finish our drinks.”

“We would love that!”

Jude placed a hand on Kat’s lower back and swept her away toward the dance floor. Kat allowed herself to be swept. Her head didn’t feel fully connected to the rest of her body anymore.

“What song is this?” she said, when her tongue finally became unstuck. It was something classical, but she didn’t know anything beyond that.

“No idea,” Jude whispered. “It just seemed like you needed a breather. I’m really sorry if I overstepped. I probably shouldn’t have made all that stuff up.”

“Not at all. You totally saved me.”

Jude glanced back over her shoulder at Richard. “Unfortunately, I do think we need to dance now.”

“Okay.” Kat glanced around at the gliding couples. “Do we—How does this work?”

“Can you waltz?” Jude asked.

“Can you ?” Kat responded skeptically.

Jude grinned and held out a hand for her to take. “Why don’t you find out?”

Kat placed her hand in Jude’s and Jude tugged her inward, putting a hand on her waist. They were very close together. She had to tip her chin to look Jude in the eye, and the proximity made her feel a little breathless. She raised her hand to Jude’s shoulder.

Kat had taken enough dancing lessons in her life to follow along as Jude guided her into a confident three-step.

After a few stumbles, she found her feet, and Jude swept them along, gliding in rhythm with the other couples.

Her hand pressed against Kat’s waist, gently leading her into each new movement.

In many ways, dancing with Jude was similar to dancing with Johann, her costar from Agent Princess, who was the last person she’d ballroom danced with (for a scene where the titular princess-spy had to gather intelligence at a party celebrating the crowning of the king of Flenovia).

But it had some key differences. For one, Kat didn’t remember being aware of every finger of Johann’s hand, or feeling a little zip of sensation up her side every time their pressure changed.

She didn’t remember the scent of his cologne feeling like a drug she was desperate to inhale, urging her to step closer and closer to her partner.

She didn’t remember this sparkling sensation across her skin when their eyes met and they gazed at each other as they moved effortlessly across the ballroom, giving her the breathless feeling that they were moving exactly in tandem.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Kat asked.

“My mom. She loved to dance.”

“Thank you for saving me back there,” Kat said. “I don’t know what happened. I just froze.”

“You were totally fine,” Jude said. “If anything, you seemed like such a big fan you were awestruck into silence. He ate it up.”

“Liar,” Kat said. Then, “Have you actually seen that play?”

“Yeah. My friend Talia writes reviews for a theater blog, so she gets free tickets to shows.” Jude snorted. “It was the most pretentious thing I’ve ever seen. Completely incomprehensible.”

“Well, you seemed to understand it pretty well. Better than I did, anyway,” Kat said. She bit her lip, then added, “Do you think I made a terrible impression?”

“Not at all,” Jude said. “No offense, but why do you care so much?”

Kat sighed. “He’s casting for a new play next month. I really want to be in that show.”

“Is it good?”

“The play?” Kat shrugged. “I’m sure it’s fine. But it would be huge for my career.”

“Ah.” Jude nodded thoughtfully. The band finished their song with a flourish, and the dancing couples around them stopped to clap. As they started up a new one, Jude leaned over and said, in a low voice, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Kat hesitated. She’d promised herself that she’d be cold and aloof. But Jude had just saved her ass. Surely it wouldn’t be that bad to get one drink with her?

“I really do.”

Jude grinned. “Great. I know a place nearby.”