what you think. How are we doing up here?”
“Dead honest?”
“Oh Christ.” Braced, Lily cast her eyes up to the catwalk. “Hit me.”
“I know you’ve never met much less worked with Marian before this. The same with Tod and Brandon, your young Patricks. The audience is going to believe Mame and Vera have been friends forever, and that Patrick is the love of your life.”
“Well.” Lily took a long sip of water. “It turns out I like dead honest. I’d just love to have me some more.”
“It’s so different from movies, G-Lil. You don’t do a take, another, another, then sit, wait. Wait some more. Reaction shot, retake, wait. It all moves so fast. And when you’re off-book, you’ll have to remember every line, every gesture, every step, every mark to hit, every beat, start to finish. Not a run of dialogue, not a scene. All of it. So the energy’s completely different.”
“Catching the bug?”
“Me?” With a shake of her head, Cate moved deliberately to center stage, looked out. All those seats, she thought, from orchestra to the upper balcony, all those faces watching.
In the moment. In the now.
For fun, she did a quick side shuffle, tap, flung out her arms to sell it. Laughed when Lily applauded.
“And that’s as close as I ever want to get. It must be really scary and—I guess the word’s exhilarating to work live onstage. And you’ll do it eight times a week, six nights, two matinees. No, not for me. They’re both magic, right?”
She walked back to Lily. “Magical ways to tell stories. I think it takes the amazing to be really great at both types of magic.”
“My sweets. You’ve pumped me back up a hell of a lot better than this weird protein bar.” Rising, Lily rolled her shoulders. “Now, you’re dismissed.”
“Fired?”
“Not until Mimi’s back. Go, text some of your friends, go shopping or meet up at a coffee shop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Scram. Just text me if you make other dinner plans.”
“I will, thanks. Break a leg.”
Grabbing her phone to book the massage, she went out stage right. Then pulled up short when one of the chorus stepped in front of her.
She glanced up. “Sorry. Texting while walking.”
“I got in your way. I’m Noah. I’m in the chorus.”
She knew; she’d noticed. She’d watched him and the others rehearse numbers over and over, tirelessly—or so it seemed.
Up close, like now, he gave her stomach a flutter. That smooth skin, like the caramel coating on the apples Mrs. Leary had made for All Hallows’ Eve. Golden eyes, sort of like a lion’s, tipped exotically at the corners.
Inside her head, she went: Um, um, um.
But a Sullivan knew how to hit her mark.
“I’ve caught some of the rehearsals. I love the juggling bit you do in ‘We Need a Little Christmas.’ ”
“My grandmother taught me.”
“Really?”
“Yep. She ran away to the circus—seriously—for a few years when she was a kid. So, hey, I should be done by four. You want to get some coffee?”
Inside her head everything sizzled, then went blank.
“I was just heading out, but . . . I could meet you.”
“Sweet. Like four-thirty at Café Café? It’s right around the corner.”
“Yeah, I know it. Okay, sure. I’ll see you later.”
She walked away, casually, all the way to the stage door, stepped out, walked another ten feet to be absolutely sure.
Then she let out a squeal, did a quick dance—an Irish pullback—right on the sidewalk. Since the sidewalk ran in the Theater District of New York City, barely anyone noticed.
She made the booking for Lily, set an alarm to remind her when to order dinner. Then texted her Harvard-bound cousin, one she considered the most reliable and least silly.
How soon can you meet me at Sephora? The one on 42nd?
While she waited, she wondered if she should go home and change, or just buy a new outfit.
Too much, don’t be an idiot. It’s just coffee. Do you want him to know he’s the first male not related to you who’s ever asked you to have coffee?
Last class done at 2:45. Around 3?
Perfect. See you there.
What’s up?
I’ve got a date! Just coffee, but a date.
Awesome! See you there.
Since she had time to kill, Cate slowed her pace, worked out some areas of conversation. When she reached Forty-second, she went into Sephora, strolled the aisles.
Ended up filling a basket more from nerves than wants. And checked her phone half a dozen times even as she reminded herself Noah couldn’t text her to cancel because he didn’t have her number.
Should