Page 23 of House of Deceit

“Dessert before lunch?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a stickler for food consumption order? Let me tell you, your stomach doesn’t understand the difference between eating ice cream at the end or beginning. Enjoy life. Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

He stands up straight, affront etched on his face. It makes me want to sit on his mouth. I mentally slap myself. These smart comments might not be helpful to anyone in this room. Especially me, if I have to work with him daily.

Trying to keep myself from saying anything else snarky, or worse, flirtatious, I shove more ice cream into my mouth. The hot fudge melds with the vanilla ice cream, sliding down my throat in a dichotomy of temperatures. My smile is surprised when he grabs up his portion of dessert and digs in.

“If you want me to stick with you, and I can tell you do, you need to tell me why. What’s in it for you?”

He sighs heavily and ignores my question as he takes a few more bites. I refuse to retract it. Either he answers, or I get assigned a new wrangler.

“I want to go into directing,” he says.

I wait.

Nothing more comes.

“Okay? And?”

He scrapes the last bit of ice cream from his dish. We both set them down. As I start on my salad, he runs his hands through his lush hair.

“Fuck, okay. It’s like this. This season, the wrangler of the winner gets the chance to be moved to the department of their choice for a new show with Cost Communications. I have tried to move to sitcoms for years and could never break in. This industry is a hierarchy and reality shows are at the bottom. It was the quickest way for me to get a foot in the door, but now it’s biting me in the ass. Add to the nepotistic way the industry is run, and, well, this could be the only shot I have to make this change and get where I want to go.”

My heart breaks for him. I think about how my job was supposed to be my big break but was a dead end. And then I think of all the things I would be willing to do for the break of getting my writing into the hands of someone who could make my novelist dreams come true, and the limit to those things would be minimal. How could I deny someone an opportunity to get what they want when it asks almost nothing of me?

I chew my salad, letting him stew in the uncertainty like I did this morning. Plus, he was an ass. He put his hands on me when I didn’t consent to it; for that, he deserves to squirm. When he can tell I’m not going to answer immediately, he picks up his salad and digs in. Once the dishes are cleared and the cart is back in the hallway, I take pity on the man.

“You should know, I don’t plan to stay on the show beyond the first week, at most,” I inform him. Guilt racks me at the thought of my choice leading to his dream not being realized, but I’m sure he’ll get another shot.

“All of my contestants in the past six years have made it to the final three. So long as you’re athletic and can keep yourself out of the bottom two, I can help make you likable. I’ll be watching all of your footage and choosing what parts are included in the show, as well as editing your interviews that we do together.”

His confidence is enticing, but I notice a tightness around his eyes that divulges his nerves. Plus, my need for a job beats the slim possibility of winning. But I noticed the wording of his statement. He didn’t say winners, he said top three, and only the winner receives a prize.

I scoot back onto the bed, arranging pillows to prop me up against the headboard.

“I’m sure you’re competent at your job, but I have some money troubles I need to get back to.”

“Half a million dollars could solve quite a few money problems,” he says simply, crossing his ankle over his knee.

“It could, but only if I win it.”

“It sounds like we both have a pretty good reason to make sure you’re the last one standing, then.”

My competitiveness rears its ugly head.

“What’s in it for me? If I keep you as my wrangler?”

“I’ll make you the fan favorite. The one everyone loves. The one the audience follows after the show. Brands give deals and endorsements to the contestants they feel like the audience clicks with. That could be money in your pocket, and you just said that’s a draw for you. Do you know how much brands pay? Thousands. You’ll barely have to do anything, and you’ll be able to say goodbye to those money troubles.”

I think of some of the contestants who have been on House of Deceit and how, after their season, I keep seeing them around. On other shows. With brands, like Alec mentioned. Even landing higher profile jobs. One is now a blockbuster actor.

The fame aspect doesn’t attract me, but the thought of having some income on the side through brand deals is appealing in a way I can’t ignore. And I’m sure I can convince Courtney to apply for jobs while I’m on the show. With the slowness of the hiring process, it could be weeks before I hear anything about the positions. I could very well be back home before anyone even wanted to interview me.

“Fine. I’ll stick with you, but there are some conditions.”

His smile morphs his face from simply stunning handsomeness to a complete work of art.

Sweet relief bleeds the stress from my body. “What are the conditions?”

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