“So you’re saying that he won’t say if we’re dating because he’s a flirty actor?”

“No. I’m just saying that his being Southern has nothing to do with anything. Using it as an excuse for why he couldn’t answer the question about whether or not you were dating was a bit of a brilliant move, though. ‘I didn’t think people in New York had these discussions.’ That’s genius.”

“It was bad for me to ask, right?” Scarlett said, drooping. “Really bad?”

Mrs. Amberson waved away her smoke.

“Don’t worry about that, or his lack of an answer. They all dodge the question as long as they can. Welcome to the wonderful world of dating, O’Hara. You need to start thinking strategically. He certainly is. He complimented you on being urban and experienced, all the while sidestepping the issue…not because he doesn’t like you, but because this is how the game is played.”

Scarlett’s head was starting to hurt.

“I thought it was all about having someone you could be really truthful with,” she said. “I didn’t know there were games.”

It sounded so dumb saying that out loud. Mrs. Amberson gave her a look that was infuriatingly affectionate, like she was a very slow but adorable puppy who’d gotten her snout stuck in a shoe.

“You are being truthful,” she said. “You’re just being very choosey about how to present that truth. Life is an art, O’Hara, and we all have to cultivate an image. Don’t worry. It’s an acquired skill, and you’re a sharp girl. But for today, I have a plan to fix all of your problems.”

She scooped up some adzuki dip with her finger.

“You are going to run an errand for me. Tomorrow afternoon, about three hours before rehearsal, you are going to take this book down to Eric.”

With her other hand, she fished a book called Viral Theater Tactics in Shakespeare out of her bag.

“I’ll call ahead before your arrival to prepare him. You will wear that dress, so don’t get anything on it tonight.”

“I wore it today, though,” she said, thinking about Lola’s experience. “Shouldn’t I wear something different?”

“You could wear the same outfit every single day and no guy—who isn’t gay—will notice. And there is nothing about that dress not to like. It’s a classic. I’d rather have one good outfit than a closet full of half-assed ones.”

There was something reassuring in this. Mrs. Amberson was not on the obnoxious dress-snob team.

“Tell him I said that he should read chapter four, not that I have the slightest idea what chapter four is about. Of course, since you came all the way downtown, he’ll invite you to stay until rehearsal. You will refuse.”

“I will?” Scarlett said.

“Yes. Instead, you are going to wait at that little coffee place on the corner, the one with the red awnings. The lighting there is excellent. Now, I haven’t actually read this book, but from what I can tell, it’s dull enough to kill a monk. It will drive him out of his apartment. You will be seated, very prettily, in the window, writing. Get that window seat. You will not notice him unless he comes right down and sits with you. Remain intent on your work, as if he was the last thing on your mind.”