Page 83 of Play Room Actor

Is he going to that Livio guy?

What the hell kind of party was this supposed to be, anyway?

I threw my arms into the air, feeling exasperated, and turned back toward the theater. The show was set to start in ninety minutes. My plan had been to talk to Dominic, and if things went well, maybe grab something to eat with him before the show.

I reached for my phone and called Tim’s number.

“Yo!” he answered.

“Are you still in the building?”

“Nope. I’m on the train to Bern.”

“Fuck!”

Without saying goodbye, I hung up, swallowed my pride, and opened the chat with Dominic.

“Where are you going?” I typed. “I thought we could talk.”

The guy didn’t think it was necessary to answer me, even though I could see he’d read the message.

“Are you seriously choosing Livio over me?” I wrote again.

The three dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared—but no text popped up.

What the fuck?

He was on his way to Livio’s, I was sure of it. And I had no choice but to get through the performance first.

So that’s what I did, and I managed it pretty well. But as soon as we hit the break, I called Alex, the photographer. He knew Livio and would probably know where to find the guy. Plus, Alex and Dominic had talked for a long time after the art show. They knew each other from somewhere and clearly shared a secret.

Alex didn’t answer, and the call went to voicemail, so I hung up and sent him a message.

“Where does Livio live?”

Of course, Alex called me back just as we were in the middle of the second act. I would’ve loved to pick up, but with my overstimulated brain, multitasking was out of the question. I could read his message, though.

“What do you want with him?”

“To kill him,” I replied during a quiet moment.

“Dude, what happened? Does this have to do with Dominic?”

I glared at my phone, my face twisting in confusion. How the hell did Alex jump from Livio to Dominic?

“What do you know?” I typed quickly.

“You should come over.”

“I won’t get out of here until 11:30.”

He just sent a thumbs-up.

The second half of the show felt like being stuck in traffic. I wanted to scream at the actors to pick up the pace and perform faster. Time had never dragged this much. At 11 p.m., the show finally ended, and I called Sebastian on the walkie-talkie, asking him to turn off the lights for me.

“Did you talk to Dominic?” was his only response.

“I’m doing that now,” I replied firmly.