Once outside, I google the playwright. He’s an older man with a gray beard and thinning hair. Happiness Is for Other People is his sixth play, and most of them debuted at this theater. Several websites say he’s gay. I think about why he chose to write Wanda this way and what he wanted to accomplish. He probably wanted to feature a trans character, and show how difficult life was in shelters, and call out the injustice. Or maybe he didn’t think about it all.

I head back inside and hop over my seat from behind—successfully avoiding having to ask the entire row of people to stand up again. The producer is drinking wine from his sippy cup. “What do you think?” I ask, curious about his take.

“I’m intrigued. But I would cut thirty minutes out of that act.”

I can’t help but be in awe of this man. “You have the best job in theater,” I say.

He laughs so loud the two ladies in front of us turn around and give a look. “What makes you think that?”

I wave my hand over the sea of people here on a Sunday afternoon. “All these people paid to be here. That’s a lot of money.”

This gets another loud laugh from the producer. “Let’s do some math.”

“Fun,” I say.

“Stick with me. Assume each ticket costs a hundred dollars. And each row has about twenty seats. The first row would pay the actors, the next row the crew, the next four-ish rows would go to theater rent, two rows for the upfront money to get the show on its feet, one more row for equity dues, taxes, fees, and that leaves us”—he counts the rows with his fingers—“with two rows for producers.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I admit.

“Shoot, sorry, one row for marketing and management. One row for producers. But what happens if the show isn’t sold out? We still pay everyone. Sure, there’s money to be made. The producers of Hamilton aren’t worried about too much anymore. But producing is not for the weak of heart, and very few shows make money.”

“Then why do it?” I ask.

“Because I’m desperately and helplessly in love with theater.”

“I feel it, too,” I say.

“You better, because acting is also not for the weak. But you’re special, I can tell.”

“Thanks,” I say, hoping that means he will ask me to star in his next show.

“Now, my new friend, should I produce this show?”

I’m not ready to give my verdict. “Can I tell you at the end?”

He smiles. “Sure, kid, you know where to find me.”