That damned light. It was tipped straight down, and something in the wiring was off making it flicker when it did work. I crawled out onto the catwalk, and then moved to the lighting truss, keeping my body low against the frame. I clipped my tether to new spots the further out I climbed.

Finally, I made it to that damned light. It had been giving us trouble for the last two shows. I pulled the wrench from my toolbelt, noting that one of my techs had broken the safety chain that connected it to the toolbelt, amateurs, I'm gonna kill someone with this thing and whose fault will that be? I looked down at the dark stage, almost sure that it was empty, but blinded by the lights, it was hard to tell. I reached out and ratcheted the lamp in place, as I turned the wrench it bumped into the scaffold and all at once and as time stood still as quickly as I could notice, it was sliding through my fingers, proving gravity as more than just a theory. Of course! Of course this would happen. The one untethered piece of equipment.

"Heads up on stage!" I shouted.

The dropped wrench banged on the stage, sound echoing through the empty theatre.

"Sorry!" I called to no one in particular, the stage itself maybe.

A figure I hadn't noticed, a man, jumped at the sound, and pulled his headphones off. I noticed a roll of bright orange tape in his hands.

"Can you… help me?" I asked him softly, still not able to see his face, not sure who it was.

The man disappeared into the shadows again and I rested my cheek against the cold metal of the truss, really not wanting to climb back down the length of it, down the ladder and then all the way back up again. I blew an errant curl away from my face and waited, tapping my fingers on the metal. I heard his voice, grumbling, frustrated.

"I would love it if you could not make your problem my problem. You're just as competent as I am! I'm your last resort. Figure it out."

"Well, fine, that's cool, too. Sorry to bother you," I called loud enough to be heard, and then followed it under my breath, "asshole."

I started the long journey down and he looked up, rising again out of the shadows, he pulled off a headset I hadn't seen, he wasn't talking to me, adding it to his neck with his headphones. He made a visor over his eyes with his hand to see me through the lights and picked up my wrench.

"Sorry, do you… need this?" He held it up over his head.

"Please!" I nodded and scaled to the ladder, he climbed the bottom five rungs, and I shimmied as far as my tether would let me.

He clutched the ladder tightly, looking afraid despite being less than eight feet off the ground, he held the wrench up as far as he could and I reached for it, barely able to grasp it, our fingers touched and I grinned at him, able to see him now in the low light.

He was alluring even through the crease on his forehead, tired look in his eyes, missed spot of stubble high on his cheek, patchy goatee. I was nervous... nothing made me nervous. I was fine being clipped by a carabiner alone forty feet in the air to a piece of metal. But this man, this man made me nervous. I liked it. I liked the thrill and excitement of the feeling. When you choose to risk death every day to not make enough money, they classify you as an adrenaline junkie, I chased the thrill.

"Thanks." I grinned and made my way back up, exchanging the safety chain on the screwdriver I wouldn't need and replacing the broken strap on the wrench to ensure that this was a one time only mistake.

I scaled back out quickly and fixed the lamp, securing it in place at the right angle and shoring up the wiring to make sure that it wouldn't flicker, it came on and illuminated the man with the tape all the way. He recoiled at the light and I saw him for what he was, a little shorter than me, tanner than me, too. Long hair pulled back into a messy bun, 'Wicked' hoodie on, a little too baggy, half zipped up, sleeves pushed to his elbows, roomy carpenter jeans and beat up sneakers. I moved back to the ladder, crawled down and dismounted it. I adjusted my harness where it had ridden up and went over to say hello to the man who made me feel nervous.

"Hey." I stood over him, blocking his light as he tore the tape with his teeth.

"Hi." He kept working, taping the stage around a scenery wagon.

I crouched down beside him, heart thumping, "thank you for that."

"Yeah, no you're good." He didn't look at me, instead flipping through a binder at his feet, he drug his finger across the text, "so, they come in… and then we have to get… okay, this moves to… got it." He put his headphones back on, leaving his headset around his neck.

He stood from his crouch and pulled the wagon downstage, backed up toward the pit to look at it and then moved it imperceptibly before tearing another length of tape with his teeth. I watched, not sure if he was busy or ignoring me. Okay, cool, yeah, well good talk. I resisted the urge to shoot finger guns in his direction.

"Ugh! What?" he grumbled to himself, switching his headphones for the headset again, "let me guess, you still can't find it? …No. No. I didn't see it there, either. So help me God, if you bother Lafayette, I'll have your head for a prop, got it? Yeah, I'm on my way… No, the light dude fixed it, no problem, he can actually do his job, so, we're golden... I really have to finish spiking, so you'd better make this quick."

He turned the headset off again and slammed his binder shut before he stormed off the stage.

From that conversation, I knew two things:

One: He knew Lafayette… I mean, Laf was directing, so of course he knew him, but still. He knew him.

Two: I, 'the light dude' was on his good side, and that seemed like a very good place to be.

I went back into the light booth and tested the spots, all good. Everything was set. I got out my sketchbook and occupied myself until something else broke. I didn't realize the microphones were hot, and neither did he.

"'Alexander, I can't find my wig.' Go to Hercules. 'Alexander, do you know why mic number three isn't working?' Go to Madison. 'Alexander, I'm not off book.' Go to Lafayette! Jesus fucking Christ. Stage manager. I'm the stage manager. I'm not your mother."

I listened to him rant, his voice was scratchy, maybe from not sleeping, maybe from smoking, I looked down at the stage and watched him pace on the stage, hands in fists. More and more of his hair falling out of his messy bun. Instinctively, I tucked my own hair behind my ear. He disappeared into the wings and I kept sketching.

I now knew three more things:

Three: His name was Alexander.

Four: He was the stage manager for this production.

Five: I had to talk to him.

Lafayette came into my booth and startled me.

"How's it going up here?" he asked.

I shrugged, "got overhead B fixed… again. Hey who's goatee? Stage manager."

He stared at me for a moment, thinking about the question I had asked, his full lips twitched a smirk.

"That is Alexander Hamilton, he's our stage manager. Why? You like him." Everything sounded deadpan in Lafayette's thick, French accent.

"I… no- I was- I just…" I stuttered.

Lafayette gave me a look and then left my booth.

I stayed and sketched until actors took the stage. We ran full dress and the light that was the bane of my existence cooperated. Lafayette and the stage manager… Alexander, looked through the binder together, pen working furiously in Alexander's hand. Lafayette was gesticulating wildly at the stage. I hit every light cue since the actual lighting team wouldn't in the booth until opening night. The light guy can do his job.

I snuck out for dinner while Laf ran notes with the cast. While I sat alone, eating greasy pizza off a paper plate, I looked for Alexander Hamilton on Facebook… to no avail. I wanted to know this guy. Who was he? I thought about what my 'in' with him could be. I thought through conversations I could strike up with him. Most of them ending with me on top of him, both of us naked, but that seemed to be getting a little ahead of myself.

I went back to the theatre in time to patch the last few things that Lafayette wanted changed before opening night and then took myself to Dressing Room C… or as I liked to call it, home. I kicked off my shoes and pulled the futon into my bed. I took off my pants and curled up on the lumpy futon mattress, watching Netflix on my phone until I fell asleep.

When morning came, I grabbed my toiletry bag, towel that smelled vaguely like mildew and a fresh set of clothing and made for the men's bathroom backstage, through the green room and took a shower. I dressed for the day and traversed back through the theatre. He was on stage. I watched from the booth as he retaped the stage, spiking different areas, talking to himself as he did so.

"You know, John, you really don't want any of that." Lafayette teased me, I didn't hear him enter my booth, too caught up in my thoughts.

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brow.

"He has some issues."

"Like?"

"Not my place to say."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes and opened a bag of pretzels... breakfast. Lafayette took a handful and went back down to the stage.

The rest of the day passed without much stress, I circled my team and we quickly ran cues. Lighting was locked down. We were ready. The actors busied themselves with preparations and I slipped down to the wings to see how things were coming along, mostly out of curiosity. Then, I saw him.

My heart fluttered and I inched closer, chasing the thrill.

"Hey." I leaned against the black wall where he stood, face in his phone, mouthing whatever he was reading.

"What?" He looked at me expectantly.

"I was just saying 'hi.'"

"Hi." He smiled curtly and went back to reading on his phone.

"I'm John…. Laurens. John Laurens. Master electrician. Hi."

"Alex." He kept reading.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Mhm." He picked up a cup of coffee and drank deeply from it before retrieving his binder again, scrawling new notes onto the script.

"Seems like it's gonna be a good show."

"Yup…. Fuck, that's not what's supposed to… goddammit." He muttered to himself and picked up a can of Red Bull and drank from it while hurrying behind the stage.

"That went well." I sighed.

I paced around the theatre, waiting for showtime. Once it got close to the house opening up, I harnessed myself and climbed to the truss, to the spot completely hidden from the audience. Best seat in the house. I could watch everything. The stage, backstage, it was all visible from up here. The lights went down and I felt the rush of the first show. Exhilarating. George Washington stepped onto the stage, looking dapper in his suit. He welcomed the audience.

"Thank you so much for being here. It has been my true honour to produce this show. I could not have done it without the amazing team of hardworking people that we have working, and so without further ado, the show!"

With the mask of applause I opened a package of Sour Patch Kids and ate my candy while I watched the show. I could see Alex from my vantage point, following the red light on his headset as he weaved backstage, getting the actors where they needed to be, wrangling the crew, getting scenery on deck. It was mesmerizing to watch the frenzied pace that he worked at. I shifted my weight on the truss, folding my legs criss cross, the movement caught his eye and he looked up at me. In the dark I could make out his shocked expression and I waved at him and ate another piece of candy. He shook his head and went back to working.

The show went well, the musicians played flawlessly, my team hit all of the cues. There were only a few mishaps with the crew, the actors doing about as well. I listened to Lafayette give notes to the actors and waited to hear what he had to say about the lights. He wanted the gobos adjusted before the matinee. I promised to get to it in the morning.

"You are sure you don't want to come out and celebrate?" Laf asked.

"As much as that sounds like fun, I have, like eight dollars to my name right now."

"I understand." He clapped a hand on my shoulder and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

The actors made their way out the stage door. Alex was in the green room, cleaning up. I picked up a makeup covered tissue, "here, I'll help."

"Huh? Oh, thanks." He smiled at me.

Disarming. His smile. It reached his dark eyes, lighting them up, made him look younger.

"Good show tonight." I complimented him.

"Went okay, yeah. Did something go wrong with the lights?"

"Nope, why?"

"Well, you were out on the rig." He said it like it was obvious.

"Best seat in the house." I grinned at him.

"That's a hard pass."

"You don't like heights." I smirked, remembering him on the ladder yesterday.

"It's not the heights, it's the falling I don't like."

"I suppose that's a good way of putting it. Are you going out with everyone?"

"Oh. No. I'm gonna finish up here and then go crash. I was here until almost five today. I'm fucking beat."

"I saw you drinking coffee and Red Bull earlier." I giggled.

"That's opening night for you. Let's see if I actually get to sleep tonight."

"Got it, yeah, that's cool."

"You're John, right?"

"Yeah." My heart raced when he said my name.

"Cool. John. Cool."

"Yeah, cool." Was this flirting? Is that what we were doing.

All of the trash was cleaned, I excused myself to go hide in the booth and pretend that I wasn't a squatter in the theatre and waited for him to leave. He wouldn't. He kept working. Pen still in his hand going over the binder, his bible. Finally, he left.

I put myself to bed on the futon and talked to myself.

"You talked to him… and it was a pretty good talk, I'd say that's progress. I mean, he's probably straight, but still. It counts."

I thought about when he smiled at me until I fell asleep.