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Kat

Kat pushed open the stage door, mentally preparing herself for another grueling rehearsal.

It had been harder than usual to leave Jude’s apartment this morning.

They’d spent the night before celebrating Jude’s new job, at one of those fake speakeasy bars hidden behind an unmarked door.

They’d brushed knees in the shadowy light while Jude gushed about everything she would get to do at Gala, and Kat had been so happy she hadn’t even cared when someone at the next table took their picture.

Ever since Kat had told Jocelyn that she wouldn’t break up with Jude, she’d felt oddly free. As if she’d been carrying a heavy weight for years and then suddenly realized that nothing was stopping her from just…putting it down.

For so long, Kat had done exactly what she’d been told to do. But she wasn’t a little kid anymore. She didn’t have to just accept whatever decisions a manager or a director made. She was an adult, and she could make her own choices. She could sayno.

Which was a little terrifying. Kat had almost no practice in making her own decisions.

She wasn’t used to thinking about what she wanted, or what would actually feel good to her.

In fact, she’d spent most of her life trying to actively ignore what she wanted.

Trying to shove all her feelings down as far as possible because her feelings only got in the way of the job she needed to do.

But she wasn’t going to do that anymore.

Kat came to an abrupt halt once she entered the theater and found only Richard waiting for her instead of the full cast. “Where is everyone?”

“I asked them to stay home today, so you and I could do a little work one-on-one.”

The inside of Kat’s cheek shot between her teeth, and she clamped down to keep herself from saying something she’d regret.

The Hollywood child star needed extra help.

She could imagine the other cast members laughing about it gleefully.

Probably at one of their after-rehearsal drinks at Bar Centrale that they never bothered to invite her to.

She pulled out her script and her pencil, then made her way to the stage. “Where do you want to start?”

“With your big monologue in act one.”

She dropped the script and strode to her mark, but she’d only made it through two lines before Richard stopped her and told her to start again, but more seductively. She gritted her teeth and tried that, but only made it through half a line. More evil this time.

She started, and he stopped her almost immediately.

“No, no, no.” Richard ran both his hands through his hair, leaving one half sticking up higher than the other. “You’re not getting it.”

“Or maybe, as both the writer and director, you’re too close to the script and having trouble relinquishing control.” Kat could hardly believe her own daring. But it was true. Richard had been nitpicking her performance for weeks, trying to dictate exactly how she said every line.

Richard pursed his lips, then released them with a smack. “Look, honey, you need to stop deluding yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t hire you because you can act.” Richard flicked his wrist, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

“Let’s be real. You need a laugh track and ten quick cuts added in post to get the simplest idea across.

You’re here to be a face on the poster so ordinary idiots who don’t go to see plays will think, ‘Oh, I know her,’ and schlep their asses over to Midtown.

Your job is to look pretty and sell tickets.

So stop being so fucking difficult and start doing what you’re told. ”

Kat gaped at him. She knew that the whole point of casting her was to boost ticket sales. But to have him say it like that ? To hear that he didn’t think she could act at all? That he clearly thought she was damaging the quality of the play? This stupid, shitty, self-indulgent play?

“Now that we have that settled, we can go back to scene three and work on—” Richard started to say, reaching for his script again, but Kat interrupted him.

“You know what?” she said. “I’m good.”

“Excuse me?”

“I quit.”

Kat tossed her script at Richard’s feet. Then she grabbed her bag and walked out.