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Someone always said sex. Or penis. Adults were all snickering twelve-year-olds at heart.
Monique cupped her hand around her ear. She’d be the one choosing which word got selected.
“Serial killers!” shouted a woman from the back.
Monique pointed in her direction and then to Jasper. “Serial killers.”
Monique then stepped back with the rest of the group, and Jasper took center stage. His mind raced through all the possibilities, his brain like a slot machine of memories when he was onstage. This was supposed to be a true story.Serial killers. Serial killers.
Bam.The idea hit like flint on steel, sparking bright.
Jasper looked out to the audience, the spotlight blinding him. “So I started a new job this week. It’s a really important job. Lots of training involved. The world would stop turning without it.” He looked up with a serious expression. “You know, making coffee.”
A few titters of laughter from the audience. He smiled even though he wasn’t necessarily trying to get laughs at this point. This wasn’t stand-up. The monologue was the setup for the players—just a story to give them lots of possibilities to riff on. If you tried too hard to be funny in the monologue, it would fall flat and give the actors nowhere to go.
“I really thought this would be an easy job. You grind things, you mix things, you pour them into cups. You try not to burn yourself or eat all the pastries. But the customers at this new job have me worried. They all work in the same building with me. I’ll have to see them every day, and I fear I might not be safe if I mess things up.” He walked slowly across the stage, trying to make eye contact with some of the front-row faces he could decipher in the shadows. “The first woman I met there is obsessed with serial killers. Like legit obsessed. She’s read all the true crime books, has seen all the documentaries.
“She recommended a list of them to me—documentaries, not serial killers. But she probably collects Ted Bundy and Son of Sam trading cards and sends lots of letters to guys in prison.” He smiled thinking of Andi grilling him when he first arrived.Why are you here? I don’t recognize you. How did you get in without a card?“Then there’s this guy who blogs about the caveman diet but ordered milk and sugar in his coffee and threatened to get me fired if I outed him.” Jasper winced for effect. “Oops. I probably shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t hear that from me.”
The audience laughed.
The pain in his side throbbed, and he wished he’d drunk more water before coming onstage. The lights were extra hot tonight. “And then another woman probably started a voodoo doll in my honor. She hated me on the spot the first day when I brought her coffee.” He thought of his first run-in with Hollyn and could smile about it now, but he stuck with that first day interaction because it was better material. “No matter what I said, she made these faces like I smelled bad. I actually had to step out in the hallway and do a sniff check.” He mimed a surreptitious underarm sniff. “But alas, mountain fresh. Maybe she just wants to kill me. Maybe she should talk to serial-killer lady to get some ideas.”
He heard the back-line shuffle, letting him know that his group had enough to work with, and he stepped back. Danica and Barry carried their bentwood chairs to center stage and sat across from each other, launching straight into the scene. Danica scrunched her face up like she’d eaten something sour. “I’d like to report a terrible smell on the third floor.”
Barry crossed his legs and pretended to write on a notepad. “I see. Did someone forget to empty the trash can again?”
“This wasn’t trash.” Danica shook her head and twisted her face into another ugly expression, her voice coming out high and nasal. “This was a person. A guy. He’s got a terrible smell and I can’t concentrate.” She grimaced and tapped her nose. “I can’t get the stench out of my nose. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Hmm,” Barry said in a businesslike voice. “Perhaps I can have a talk with him about hygiene expectations at the office.”
“Well,” Danica said, smoothing her hands over her jeans. “That’s not going to work.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s dead,” she said.
The audience erupted in laughter, and Monique touched Danica’s shoulder, tagging her out of the scene. Monique slid into the chair, a tense expression on her face. “I can’t be fired. This is only my second warning. I’m supposed to get three.”
“Doris, we’ve talked about this. You can’t keep killing coworkers. The smell is bothering Susan,” Barry said.
Danica jumped back into the scene and made a hissing sound, motioning like she was spraying air freshener, her face contorting into a disgusted expression.
Monique huffed. “But you can’t get your own serial-killer trading card unless you kill more than one person, Derrick. I’m almost there. Why are you gonna hold me back like that? You know how few female serial killers are out there? I’m blazing a path here. You’re really standing in the way of my dreams.”
The audience laughed, but a sudden movement on the left side of the audience caught Jasper’s eye. He lost track of the scene for a moment when curly blond hair flashed in the beam of one of the lights. Jasper held his hand up to shield his eyes, and he caught sight of a familiar face.Oh shit.
Hollyn.
Hollyn who he’d just used in his monologue and who Danica was still imitating.Shit shit shit.
Jasper watched with dread as Hollyn got up from her seat and slipped into the darkness as the audience laughed at something else. He was onstage and could jump into a scene at any second. He needed to be paying attention to what was happening. But a queasiness settled in his gut, and he couldn’t concentrate.
Dammit.
He shifted over to the back line and next to Antonio. Jasper leaned over and whispered. “I’ve got to go. Emergency.”
Antonio turned his head toward him, clearly confused. He mouthed.Bathroom?
