Page 17 of House of Deceit

“What are you going to be doing, sweetie?”

“See, here’s the thing. Court and I, well, we were drinking after I quit and Scott left me—”

“We know, honey.” My mom rolls her eyes.

I ignore that and continue. “What you don’t know is that we signed me up for a game show. And I was picked.”

“Oh, my goodness! That’s so exciting! Which show?” My mom clasps her hands to her chest while I wonder if my dad heard me. I finish the pie and ice cream and push my plate to the side.

“What’s a six-letter word for fraud? It has an ‘I’ in it.” I look at my dad as he taps his pen to his lips.

“House of Deceit.”

“That’s it!” Dad exclaims. He spells out deceit as he writes the word in the space. “That’s so nice, Lottie. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

“You’re going to meet the Jacob Jacobson?” my mother asks.

“Well, maybe not in person, but definitely over the screen in the mansion.”

“Your mother really loves that man. He’s on her pass list,” Dad adds as he tries to solve the next clue. My mom blushes and swats at his arm.

“I didn’t need to know that,” I say, wishing I had more pie.

“Now, honey, I’m all for you doing what makes you happy, and not losing your apartment, but can I ask you a question?” Fearing the worst, I motion for her to ask. “What about your, you know, issues?”

“What issues are we talking about?”

“You know, your shy sphincter?” She whispers the last two words like someone might overhear us.

“What are you talking about?” My dad puts down his pen, a light smile on his face, knowing what’s coming.

“I don’t have a shy sphincter.” I can’t believe we are having this conversation, but then again, my mother holds the deep belief that no area of my life is off limits to her commentary.

“Well, honey, you’re not being completely honest with yourself. You wouldn’t even poop in the bathroom that was on your floor at your office.”

“I figure it would be hard for people to take me seriously in a meeting if they hear my ass noises, mom.”

“Don’t be vulgar. What about that time you were seeing that nice boy, I forget his name, but he only had one bathroom and you left in the middle of the night to go to the gas station to relieve yourself and your car got stolen. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I remember that. My car got stolen.”

“All I’m saying is that I’ve watched that show and they only have those communal toilet stalls,” she says, trailing off.

“Deborah, leave the girl alone. You’re not exactly pooping with the door open every night, yourself,” my dad laughs.

“There should be some secrets between a husband and wife,” my mother sniffs.

“I’ve been in there after you. I think we are past that.” My mother’s face flames red, almost as deep as our hair. Dad and I laugh at her discomfort until she’s reluctantly laughing with us.

“Thank you for your concern, Mom,” I tell her, “but this is an opportunity that will probably never come around again, and I have nothing keeping me from taking it. Plus, they are giving me five thousand dollars just to be on the show for a day.”

“When do you leave?” my mom asks.

“In a few days. We have to be there a week early to record some introductions, promotional things, and stuff like that.”

“My Lottie Lou Lou is going to be on House of Deceit. I hope you kick all their asses.” Dad has a wicked gleam in his eye as he pats my hand. His smile unknots the nerves in my chest, and I smile with a lump in my throat. I’m going to miss my parents while I’m gone.

My ear buds die as the tires of the plane touch down on the ground in California. I take them out and sink into the sounds of the crying baby in the row behind me. The parent tries frantically to shush the kiddo, but nothing works. People around me grumble, but I let the wails wash over me.

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