Page 7 of Play Room Actor

Is he drunk?

But his gaze was clear—clear enough for me to know it wasn’t alcohol. Seemingly on autopilot, he slipped on the parka. As he nodded his thanks to his friend, his eyes met mine. In the dim light, his eye sockets resembled black holes. A deep furrow creased his brow, and his eyes gleamed like polished obsidian.

Kilian radiated a darkness that was almost eerie. As if aware of it, he turned and left the club first.

The others followed, with the groom-to-be pausing to leave me a tip. “Thanks for letting us all in.”

“Thank you,” I said, pocketing the ten-frank note and gesturing toward the exit. “Is he okay? He’s like a different person.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replied, brushing a hand through his brown hair—a gesture that only made him appear more clueless.

I didn’t think much of it and returned to my seat to review my script. As I glanced out the glass door one last time, I saw Kilian breaking away from the group, heading off alone in another direction.

No, he isn’t drunk, I reassured myself and turned my attention back to the text.

3

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Kilian

Far too fast, I sped through the city on my motorcycle, revving the engine, racing past cars, and barely making it through red lights. I’d survived countless reckless maneuvers before, thanks in no small part to my heightened state. My senses were razor-sharp, almost bat-like, and I even had the eerie impression I could sense what was happening behind me.

The high I’d been riding since last Friday still lingered, and I couldn’t keep my fingers off the throttle. But I could feel it fading, which was both good and bad. Good because it was Monday, and bad because it meant I’d soon be so tired I might fall asleep standing up.

I barely slept the whole weekend. For three days, my pulse was in overdrive, pumping blood through my body like a runaway train while a constant roar echoed in my head. I felt restless and completely out of control. Sebastian’s bachelor party on Friday was just the beginning of this wild ride, the rest of which I’d sensibly tackled on my own.

Not that I disliked company, but experience taught me I wasn’t exactly good company during these phases.

I revved the engine again, roaring past the garage entrance for one last lap before heading in. I was practically floating over the asphalt.

On my second attempt, I finally turned into the underground garage, zooming down the ramp. I always kept my visor down as long as possible—the harsh fluorescent lighting was a nightmare. Although it was just barely tolerable through the tinted shield.

Once I was in the stairwell, I removed my helmet, feeling the cool air tousle my hair as I made my way toward the workshop. Karl had promised to fix the busted spotlight by today.

It was just before noon, and Mondays were usually slow at the theater. But a new production was kicking off, and a tech rehearsal was scheduled for two o’clock.

“Hey, Karl!” I called out as I dropped my helmet and leather jacket onto my work table. I had a space here since I preferred to sketch lighting plans by hand, and the control room was too cramped. “Does the color changer work again?”

“Hey, Kilian!” Karl, the workshop manager who was nearing sixty, greeted me in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and dark jeans. “Yup, it was just a minor software glitch. Good as new—you can take it with you now.”

“Thanks!” I grabbed my notebook and a pen, joining Karl at the table where the color changer was set up.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied, still a little wound up. I tried to rein it in, but the inner circle at the theater knew about my “phases.” I didn’t have to waste energy pretending to be “normal” here. The theater was like a second family to me, and for that, I was grateful. They’d forgiven plenty of my slip-ups throughout the years.

“Theo’s still in auditions. He’s torn between three possible Hamlets and two Ophelias.”

“I’d love to see that,” I said, clipping my walkie-talkie to my belt and reaching for the color changer.

“Have fun!”

“Thanks. Catch you later.”

As expected, the rehearsal was underway on the main stage, illuminated by the daylight spotlights. Theo, the director, sat in the front row with the casting director, Ludwig. Next to them was the producer, Eva, and the dramaturg, Manuela. They were all watching two actors perform the famous scene where Hamlet tells Ophelia to go to a nunnery.

Since I couldn’t install the color changer until the stage was clear, I set it down on a table near the edge of the stage and took a seat beside Eva.