Page 14

Kat

The day after the charity gala, Kat woke up and ran seven miles.

She wasn’t supposed to run like that. Not overexercising was a key part of her eating disorder treatment plan.

During her P.R.O.M. days, Kat had worked out every morning before filming and every night before bed, barely sleeping so she could spend more hours on the treadmill or elliptical, constantly telling herself that if she did just fifteen more minutes, then she would finally feel like she’d earned a rest.

It had been almost four years since she’d spent two months at the Serenity Center, the most discreet inpatient eating disorder treatment center in California, and, for the most part, Kat was okay.

The urge never fully went away, though. Treatment had helped her turn down the volume, but there was no off switch.

Her therapist back then had told her that was normal—the disorder would probably be a voice in her head for the rest of her life, and it would get louder at some times and quieter at others.

Resisting the impulses to restrict calories and overexercise helped her keep that voice quiet, but sometimes the anxiety got so bad, she would do anything to drown it out.

And then she would run and run and run until she couldn’t think anymore.

The morning after her date with Jude was like that. There was too much panic ricocheting around in her head. She gave in to the urge and, for a little while, it felt good. Later, though, when she was back in her apartment with her aching feet and her shame, her anxiety was just as strong as before.

What had she been thinking ?

She had planned to stay professional. But sometime during the waltz, all of Kat’s resolve had melted away.

Jude had bought her a plate of pancakes, and in return, Kat had spilled her guts.

She’d told Jude things she’d never said out loud to anyone before.

Things she couldn’t afford to have leaked to the public.

All during her run, Kat’s brain had kept up a steady rhythm of What if she tells, what if she tells.

If Kat was smart, she would cancel tonight’s date and never see Jude again.

But Richard Gottlieb had explicitly invited both of them to the party. And, if Kat was being honest with herself, she wanted to see Jude again. Spending time with Jude was exciting. When was the last time Kat had actually been excited about something?

Besides, wasn’t the whole point of this to get queer dating practice? There was still so much she had to learn. She would go on a few dates with Jude, boost her confidence a little, then walk away. And if she had some fun along the way, even better. Right?

?????

Richard Gottlieb lived in a brownstone on the Upper East Side, near the park.

A server in a black vest and bow tie opened the door and took their coats as they passed through the hall into a huge living room with gleaming hardwood floors, glass doors open to a large back garden, and a spiral staircase leading to the upper floors.

“I didn’t realize theater paid so well,” Jude said in an undertone as they made their way through the crowd toward the bar in the back of the room. She was wearing a white button-down and black sweater over gray dress pants, and every time their eyes met, Kat felt a little zing up her spine.

“It doesn’t,” Kat whispered back. “His grandfather founded Gottlieb & Grove.”

“The publishing house?”

“Mm-hmm.” Kat took her drink from the bartender: sparkling water with bitters in a tumbler, so it looked like she was drinking but she could keep her wits about her. “They’re a very wealthy New York arts family.”

Jude craned her neck to look around, staring at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall of the living room. “Oh my God, I think those are all first editions.”

Kat shrugged. “Probably.” She let her eyes rove over the crowd, her spine relaxing as she confirmed that Madelyn wasn’t there.

She spotted Richard Gottlieb in the far corner, but he was deep in conversation with someone.

She would wait to make her move until she was sure they could have a full conversation in peace.

Instead, Kat tugged Jude over to greet his husband, Ashton.

She was half convinced he wouldn’t remember who she and Jude were, but he greeted them warmly and urged them to check out the library upstairs, since he knew they were “book people.” Kat had never been described as a book person in her life, but she accepted the descriptor cheerfully.

New York Kat was different from L.A. Kat.

New York Kat was well-read and sophisticated, interested in contemporary art and experimental theater.

She wasn’t the same Kat who’d made a career out of pratfalls and running into cakes.

Across the room, Kat saw Richard Gottlieb disengage from his conversation partner and head for the spiral staircase.

“Can you entertain yourself for a few minutes?” she whispered to Jude, who nodded. Then she counted to fifteen and slipped up the stairs after him. It felt a little rude to go upstairs at a house party, but Ashton had specifically told her that she should check out the library.

She climbed the tight spiral staircase. It deposited her in a stunning room: dark wood floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, illuminated by lights on the undersides of every shelf.

Gorgeous leather furniture. A bust of someone smart-looking in one corner.

Art on the wall in gold frames. A bar cart full of expensive bottles.

A sliding glass door leading to a dark balcony. It was beautiful. And it was empty.

That was fine. Kat knew how to wait.

She positioned herself in front of one of the shelves, cocking her head as if deep in contemplation of the titles.

She didn’t have to wait long. Richard appeared after a few minutes, adjusting the tuck of his button-down shirt.

Kat turned as if startled. “Oh! I’m so sorry to intrude. Your husband told me it would be okay if I checked out your library.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Richard said graciously.

Kat looked up at him bashfully through her lashes. “It’s gorgeous. Have you read all these books?”

It worked. Instead of heading for the staircase, Richard turned and considered the shelves.

“Not all of them, but most.” He lifted his hand and ran a finger along some of the matching leather spines.

“Wow. I’m impressed with your dedication.” It was a slight gamble. Some people would shy away from this level of blatant flattery. But Kat got the sense that Richard Gottlieb was a man who liked to be complimented.

She turned out to be right. Richard stroked the slight mustache above his lip, as if trying to hide the quirk of his mouth.

“When I was young, I made a vow to dedicate myself to a life of literature and art,” he said.

“It hasn’t always been easy, but the internal rewards have been very rich.

Reading the classics allows me a certain… insight into the human condition.”

It took all Kat’s professional training not to roll her eyes. How much could this man have struggled to pursue the arts, when he had inherited hundreds of millions of dollars?

Instead, Kat turned slightly so she was facing him, leaning in a little. “And what have you learned?”

“Ah,” Richard said, shaking his head slightly. “Life is nasty, brutish, and short. But art, true art, makes it worth living.”

“I completely agree,” Kat said, shifting her tone from simpering to serious to match Richard’s.

“That’s how I feel about acting. Dissolving into a character, making something bigger than myself…

that’s the only time I feel like I know who I am.

When I have a part, everything seems clear and meaningful and ordered.

When I’m in real life…well, everything else falls short, doesn’t it? ”

Richard turned and studied her for a moment before responding. “And would you consider the kind of acting you’ve done to be true art?”

Kat dug her teeth into her cheek to avoid grimacing at the insult. “No,” she said. “But making any art, even low art, is better than making no art at all.”

Richard hummed thoughtfully in response. She added, “And I hope to make more meaningful art in the future, as my career evolves.”

One side of his mouth turned up. “You know what, Miss Kelly? I believe you’ll be very successful here in New York.” He held out his hand. “I hope I’ll see you around more often.”

Kat shook it. “I hope so, too.”

“Enjoy the library.” He started for the spiral staircase. “And bring your girlfriend up to check out the balcony. It’s very romantic.” He winked and gestured toward the sliding glass door.

His head disappeared down the curve and Kat closed her eyes.

She’d done it. She hadn’t mixed up her words or come across as a dumb Hollywood bimbo. He’d literally told her that he thought she’d be successful in New York. This couldn’t have gone better.

She wasn’t a failure. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life appearing in listicles called “Ten Child Stars Who Faded into Obscurity.” She was going to keep impressing Richard Gottlieb, get this role, and get her career back. She was going to act.

Kat laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it. Then she took several deep breaths, shaking out her arms, before skipping down the stairs to look for Jude.