Page 19 of House of Deceit

“Hello, I’m Charlie Price.”

She looks at me from head to toe. “You’re Charlie Price?”

“Yes?”

She presses a button on what looks like a battery pack on her hip. “Hey, get Alec down to the ballroom.” A pause. “I don’t care. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

Confusion and embarrassment creep in and I cross my arms over my stomach.

“Is there a problem? I signed the contract and everything.”

“Let’s get you into makeup,” she says, pushing me toward the group of lighted mirrors. “We need you dressed and ready in ten minutes. Got it?”

“Yeah,” I say, but I’m talking to her back. She’s gone before I can get the entire word out.

I sit down and the makeup artist whips out a small bag of makeup. Without a word, she swipes some blush, mascara, and lipstick on me with a practiced hand. People in black rush in and out of the room, talking into their headsets, checking lists. The chaos seems organized. Every player is exactly where they should be, exactly when they should be there. They are the ballerinas in the day’s dance and I’m the next principal who does not know what the routine is.

“You’re done,” she says as she starts cleaning her brushes. Standing from the chair, I’m unsure where to go. Stepping up to the woman I first talked to, I tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hi, sorry, but I’m ready. Where should I go?”

She looks me up and down again and a small fire of indignation flickers to life in me. I might not be a model, but I know that I’m a beautiful woman. Courtney and I are hit on any time we go out. I’ve caught men, and some women, checking me out as I move through the grocery store, giving me little smiles or winks. I open my mouth to ask what her problem is, but before I have the chance, the person I assume is the director calls me over to be seated in the blue chair in front of the camera. The lights are so much warmer than I ever thought they would be.

The camera man steps behind the camera and soon a red light is on. A woman sits in the chair to the side and out of the camera’s eye line. She smiles at me.

“Can you introduce yourself?”

It feels like the camera is moving closer to me by the second, the red light distracting me. Trying to push the nerves out, I smile, settling down into the calm that I reserve for when I conduct interviews. “Hello, my name is Charlie Price.”

“What do you do for work, Charlie?”

“I am a, or, I was a journalist.”

“Was? What happened?” She shifts in her seat. I see her working the angles, trying to fish out a good story for the first episode, so I give it to her.

“My boss was a jerk.” I mentally smile at the thought of the indignation that Mark would feel if he saw this. “Actually, not only is he an asshole, he is an ex-boyfriend. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was tired of his shit and so I quit.”

“Is that why you applied for House of Deceit?”

“The tequila I had been drinking made that decision. To be completely honest with you, I forgot I had applied until I received the phone call that I had been selected.” I smile. “But I’m so thrilled to be here. It’s such a great opportunity.”

“The money prize must be pretty important to you.”

“You could say that.” I give her a full- watt smile. “But isn’t it important to everyone? Why else would someone want to leave their life, come on this show, and possibly get torn to shreds?”

The back door opens and a man walks in, his imposing stature catching my attention. I can’t peel my eyes from him as he strides across the room, and I miss my interviewer’s response. He’s in all black, like everyone, but he exudes power that makes my hair stand up like lightning is about to strike. Which may be the case, because he looks pissed.

Alice locks eyes with me and doesn’t blink as I stride toward her. I was in an important meeting, tying up last-minute details as the lead wrangler, when I was yanked out for this emergency. A stunning redhead sits in the interview chair. Her voice is low, smoky. Like a campfire on a fall day.

“What the fuck am I doing here? There was another forty minutes until I needed to be here to pick up Price.”

I’m trying to rein in my temper, but it’s quickly bubbling to the surface.

“Your contestant is here,” Alice says.

I check my watch before looking around, not seeing him.

“Okay? Where is he? Does he need something and why couldn’t you take care of it?”

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