[Eric]

Behind the curtains, a teenager volunteering at the theater helps fit me into my plush costume. Sucking in a deep breath, I let her shove the giant costume over my head with my arms straight up. It's a tight fit, but finally I am covered head to toe in an Elmo costume. The material scratches against my skin, and it still smells like the cologne of the last guy who played the role. They probably didn't wash it.

Acting gigs were competitive right now. Otherwise, I would never do children's theater, but here I am, acting as "detective" Elmo for $200 per show night. The audience is a bunch of four year olds and their parents.

Acting is no loner considered a career, besides broad way. Movie acting is managed by AI and special effects, who always play their roles flawlessly. The only ones who make money in the industry is the directors. Even stories are written by AI. It's a shame, honestly, considering I haven't watched anything good since they made the switch in 2040.

Now that I am fixed into the costume, the girl retreats to the shadows. She doesn't make any money doing this, yet she is so committed to it. I don't even know her name, but she's here every day, bringing me coffee and creating sets. I'm sure she's hoping I'll be the gateway to getting her foot into the competitive world of acting. Too bad she hasn't figured out that I still haven't done that. To a high school student, making $200 dollars a night three days a week for a running show period of two months was a lot. It was not. It barely even kept me fed, let alone paid my rent.

She gives me a thumbs up, then puts on her headset to communicate lines to me under the costume in case I need it. I don't. A fifth grader could memorize my lines. With a sigh, the currents open, and I'm met with tonight's unenthusiastic crowd. Snot-nosed children sit in their seats. Some are eating snacks, some are clapping, some cry when they see me.

"Hello everybody!" I call out in a high pitched voice.

Children erupt in laughter. Some parents look up from their phone. My voice is much more masculine than most Elmo's, no matter how squeaky I try to make it.

I do a dance upon the stage, then call out to the children again.

"Today, I am going to be a detective, and we are going to look for friends to help us solve a mystery..."

I can't believe parents pay $40 per ticket for this shit.

When it's over, the cast has to stand by the exits, hugging children and waving to them as they leave. Still in costume, I try my best to sign a kids shirt with my large, hair-covered fingers. A child is urged by their parents to approach me for a picture. Of course, as soon as the child nears me they begin to wail. The camera flashes while the child shrieks. What an ego boost.

The next child in line approaches, holding the hand of a man who is clearly wealthy. He looks like money, with his Cartier sunglasses and gold watch. Most parents dress casually for the Elmo show, but he is dressed professionally, in a tailor fitted suit. For once, I am glad to be wearing the costume. I crouch down to take a picture with his son, but the child keeps walking on. To my surprise I was handed a business card.

"We are urgently hiring," he says.

Then, he and his child are gone, disappearing out the doors of the popcorn scented building. The next child approaches me, but I am too busy squinting at the business card to notice her. A parent clears their throat, and I look up in surprise. A woman in a gaudy yellow floral dress she probably thrifted at goodwill is shaking her head at me.

"We pay for you to stay in character," she snaps.

To say I tried would be an understatement. I really needed this gig. Having a good reference could land me my next role; a better role. Yet, I couldn't resist sticking my middle finger up at the lady. I wasn't very good at taking criticism.

"Hope you enjoyed the show, bitch," I say in my sing-song voice. My fellow cast look at me in horror.

Before the yellow-dress mom can yell at me, before my boss can say the infamous last two words, you're fired, I shrug my shoulders and walk out of the door. I'm still in my costume, but I really don't care. I can drop it off at the door tomorrow.

Outside, the air is bone-chilling. Luckily, my sweat-filled, furry nightmare of a costume keeps me warm. The sun sets early now, especially since it's easy for the sun to hide behind the tall buildings of the city, and the distant mountains. Oftentimes, it's dark by five. The show started at six, so it has to be nearly seven, meaning the night around me is pitch-dark.

On the streets of downtown Denver, everyone stares in horror at the six foot Elmo trudging down the sidewalks. They all have to move out of my way when I walk by. I don't care. They don't know who I am, and they'll forget this by tomorrow. There's so many weirdos in the world that one man dressed as Elmo won't stick in their minds. Unfortunately, I have a long walk back to my car. Parking in the main part of downtown is expensive. I park for free in the closest lot I can find, which is about a mile away from the theater. I still don't really mind. The walk helps me think.

What I do care about is the fact that I'm negative 3k on my credit card. That rent is coming up and I don't have the money to pay it. I care about the fact that my entire acting career has been flushed down the toilet.

Tearing off the mask of my costume, I look at the business card the man gave me. His job title is unclear, even on his business card, but it contains his personal number and email. There is the symbol for justice, and the outline of what looks like a police badge. Considering how much money that man had, he was no simple police officer.

He must still be driving home from the show now. Only twenty minutes have passed since he handed me his card. Would that seem desperate, calling that soon? I decided to anyway, because I am desperate. Remembering his words, he also clearly said that they were urgently hiring. They might be desperate, too.

Even though I had no security/officer training, I figured I would be a quick learner. I had plenty of experience acting in security and police roles. Also, I was in perfectly good shape, considering most actors had to look near perfect in order to have a better chance at roles.

The phone rings, once, twice, then goes directly to voicemail. He must have declined my call. Typing quickly, I send him a quick introductory text. Maybe it's too late for him to answer business messages. Even though it's only seven.

There's nothing more for me to do. Around me, the city of Denver still bustles. Delivery drivers race by with pizza boxes stacked in the backseat. Girls in groups laugh while peering into the window of every store they see. I feel so detached from them all. I don't belong here. Everyone here is happy, they don't seem afraid to swipe their card. I'm more like the homeless on every corner, who are wrapping themselves up in warm sleeping bags to brave the Colorado night.

While the sun slinks behind the tall buildings, I pull myself into the front seat of my car. There's a ticket tucked into the windshield wipers. I am un-amused, but not surprised. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if a spacecraft fell from Mars on top of my car. I kind of want one too.

As I'm driving, my phone vibrates on my lap. The number is from an unknown caller, but the area code is local. Removing my eyes from the road for a moment, I swipe to answer the call. I have to quickly swerve back into my lane before I clip the back of a Tesla.

"Hello?" I answer immediately.

"You don't sound like Elmo," a gruff voice sounds on the phone.

"Ha ha," I responded.

The man continues,

"How desperate are you?"

I take a deep breath. The biggest part of me wants to snap on him, or give him a snarky better. I am desperate though. If his job offer isn't too shady, and has good benefits, I will take it. I don't care what I'm doing or who I am working for.

"Enough to answer your call."

"Hmm, that's good enough for now," comes the voice. "Meet me at Stefanie's tomorrow." Than, he hangs up.

If I wasn't concerned before, I am now. Either this man is in the high ranks of the police force, or the low underground of some law-breaking force. Maybe a group of robbers. It wasn't uncommon now, for groups of people to band together and steal for a living. Now, when jobs were so few...

In the passenger seat, the face of Elmo stares at me. A girl should be there, or a friend, or even a dog would do. I have nothing. Just a fucking Elmo costume. From here on out, I will not put that back on. From here on out, no matter what the costs, I will rise above where I was. Besides, Stefanie's had the best bread and espresso in town. Worst comes to worse, I would turn the guys job offer down and get a free meal.