Page 38 of Lost Room Lawyer (Room #4)

Play Room Actor

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Working nights didn’t bother me—if anything, it kept me out of trouble.

I stood under the covered entrance of a strip club called Red, checking IDs while Vasily, my backup, maintained order. Vasily was a trained martial artist and built like a tank. I, on the other hand, hit the gym two or three times a week—that had to be enough.

“IDs, please,” I said, holding out my hand.

Five young men stood in front of me, already a little buzzed. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they were here for a bachelor party—they were quite a mismatched group. Their chatter died as they handed me their IDs, and I examined each one, comparing names and faces.

While it was obvious they were all over eighteen, this wasn’t just about age. Maurice, the club owner, had given me a list of people banned from entering.

After checking four IDs, I turned to the guy in the black parka, raising an eyebrow in expectation.

“I left my wallet at work,” he said matter-of-factly, flashing a charming smile.

“It’s true,” added the guy in the denim jacket, adjusting his glasses— Sebastian, if I remembered correctly . “He didn’t have it at the first bar either.”

Without saying a word, I pointed at the sign beside me: No entry without valid ID.

“Oh, come on!” chimed in the red-haired guy in the dark blue rain jacket behind Sebastian— Jacob, I guess? “He’s our buddy! We’re celebrating Seb’s bachelor party. Come on! We even work together.”

Another voice joined in, this time from the guy in the green jacket. He placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Come on, man. He’s getting married soon. We’re just here to have a little fun.”

The guy in the parka stepped into the covered area, where the red light illuminated his pale yet striking face.

His features were soft but expressive, especially his dark eyebrows, which gave him an intense look.

His hair was short on the sides and longer on top, styled with gel in a way that suited him.

I felt a twinge of envy—my hair was much more unruly.

“We vouch for him,” Sebastian spoke up again, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “His name is Kilian da Silva, and he’s twenty-seven years old.”

Not a name from the banned list and the same age as me , I thought, though I still crossed my arms and gave Kilian a scrutinizing look.

Four years of acting school had sharpened my ability to read body language and understand human behavior, but I couldn’t get a read on this guy.

In a situation where most people would be showing some discomfort, he remained perfectly at ease.

His gaze was open and curious, as if it didn’t matter whether I let him in or not.

In fact, he looked at me as though I was more intriguing than the women inside Red or a private show in one of the playrooms.

Gay.

“I can’t celebrate my bachelor party without him,” Sebastian said with a serious expression. “He’s part of the group. I’ll even give you my phone number to prove he’s with us.”

I tore my gaze away from Kilian’s mysterious dark eyes and turned to the groom-to-be. Before I could respond, Kilian interjected.

“No. I’ll give him my number,” he said, flashing a sly smile.

Is he flirting with me?

Behind the group, new guests were already lining up, and Vasily handled their entry. Two men in suits squeezed past the group and disappeared into the club.

I glanced at Vasily, who silently checked if everything was okay. I nodded and turned my attention back to Kilian.

“All right,” I said, pulling a club flyer from the wall display and a pen from my back pocket. “Write your number on this.”

Kilian squinted at the pink paper, a mischievous grin creeping on his face. “Why don’t you give me your number instead?”

He’s flirting with me.

With a blank stare, I held the paper and pen closer.

“Fine!” he relented.

“You’re awesome!” Sebastian said, clapping me on the shoulder as Kilian held the paper against the wall and jotted down his number.

Cheers erupted as the group filed into the club one by one. Kilian handed the flyer and pen back to me, then gave me a pointed look as he gestured toward the pink paper.

“The number’s for you. Call me if you feel like it.”

I grabbed the paper and waved him inside.

Vasily stepped closer, watching as I wrote “bachelor party group” next to Kilian’s name and number.

“Did that guy just hit on you?”

“Mm-hmm,” I grunted in reply.

“You two know each other?”

“Nope.”

“So how did he know you’re into guys?”

“No idea,” I said, sliding the paper into my back pocket. “Some people must have a sixth sense for that.”

No one here knew I was bi. I’d left the retirement home job because the place depressed me, and I hit it off with Maurice, my boss at the club, from the very start.

When he explained the company rules and my duties, he quipped, “No touching,” to which I replied that I wasn’t into women anyway. His response? “When can you start?”

“And you’re just okay with that?” Vasily pressed on.

We stood side by side, watching the street.

“Yeah,” I said. “Why not? He probably likes women too. Otherwise, why would he be at a strip club with his friends?”

“It’s a bachelor party. They don’t care where they go as long as they’re together.”

“Fair point,” I admitted.

There was a brief silence before Vasily spoke again.

“So, not your type?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line and took a deep breath. “Don’t take it personally, but I don’t know you well enough to talk about stuff like that.”

“This is your fourth week here.”

“And we only see each other three times a week,” I shot back.

Vasily grinned broadly. Ever since he got a crew cut, his hair no longer stuck out in all directions when it was damp—a problem I still dealt with. I’d been growing my hair out since last year, and it was finally long enough to tuck behind my ears—or, like tonight, tame it down with a bit of gel.

With my current full beard, I resembled a lion a bit. But I had an appointment with my barber tomorrow to shave it all off. I’d also be parting ways with my nose piercing—it was time to leave that phase behind for good.

“So, we’ve already seen each other twelve times. That’s enough to become friends who talk about these everyday things,” Vasily teased.

Everyday things … If only he knew.

“Hmm,” was all I said. “Sorry. We can talk about anything else, just not that.”

Vasily frowned in mild confusion.

I was relieved when new guests arrived, keeping us busy.

Over the past few months, I’d been making progress toward a healthier lifestyle, but things were still far from easy.

Only my roommate Nico and my therapist knew about my struggles.

For months, I’d frequented chemsex parties, taken all kinds of garbage, and somehow managed to come out of it in one piece.

My relationship with sex had changed dramatically.

I hadn’t been able to get it up for months—whether with men or women.

To ease the pressure, I came up with an idea my therapist fully supported: three months with no sex and nothing remotely related to it.

I wasn’t just abstinent—I was living like a monk!

It was like I’d taken a vow of celibacy.

The first three weeks were hell. It struck me how hypersexualized our society was.

Once I started to get a handle on it, Nico fell head over heels in love with someone.

A few months ago, I would’ve extracted every last detail out of him, but now I was the one forbidding him from talking about it—at least until my three months were up.

I’d already made it through five weeks, and thankfully, things were starting to get easier.

Gradually, the pressure lifted, and I could focus on other things—like auditions and memorizing lines.

My efforts were also paying off. After a callback at the theater, I got an invite to a scene test to gauge the dynamics between actors.

I assured the director I’d arrive freshly shaved for the test, and this seemed to please him.

“I’m going to the restroom,” Vasily said, disappearing inside.

“Mm-hmm.”

It was a chilly night, even though it was already mid-May. The dampness clung to my clothes and hair, which I combed back with my fingers. The job only required me to wear a black jacket; the rest was up to me, so I opted for ta simple shirt and jeans.

“Hey! How’s it going?” A voice suddenly broke the silence beside me.

Before I turned my head, I heard the click of a lighter. It was Kilian. He took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling light, and then shot me a sly wink.

“What?” I asked curtly. “Don’t you like it inside? You can smoke in there too.”

“I just wanted to get some fresh air.”

I shook my head in irritation, turning my gaze back to the street. “And you just had to do it while my buddy’s on break?”

“Oh, come on! I just wanted to thank you again. It was really nice of you to let me in.”

“You’re not into tits, are you?”

“Sometimes,” Kilian replied with a cheeky smile that vanished as he took another drag.

“And you don’t smoke either,” I added dryly.

“Now and then. What else do you think you know about me?” He strolled over to the wall-mounted ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Nothing,” I grumbled.

“Have you worked here long? Do you like the job?”

I frowned and gave him a puzzled look. “Why do you care?”

“Such a grump,” he said, unfazed. Leaning against the wall, he casually crossed one leg over the other. “I’m into both. Which is super convenient. Imagine if my buddy were gay and wanted to spend his bachelor party at a gay bar. The other three would’ve been totally out of their element.”

I internally rolled my eyes.

“I’m guessing you’re bi too, or you wouldn’t be working in a titty bar.”

“What does one have to do with the other?” Kilian opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off by raising a finger. “No. You know what? I don’t even want to know.” I gestured toward the entrance. “You’re done smoking, so you can go back inside now.”