Page 26 of House of Deceit

My packed bags wait by the door. This will be the last time I can talk to my best friend until who knows when. I’ve told her all about my conversation with Alec and begged her to keep my job hunt going.

“You’re going to kill it, and when you come home, we are going to a beach somewhere with your winnings so hot men with palm fronds can fan us while others feed us skinless grapes. Just wait. It’ll be the vacation of our lifetime.”

I laugh. “Sounds perfect.” I hear movement outside my door and pause. My heart skips a beat, but the person continues past me, and I relax.

“You’re like a deer in the middle of the road staring into bright headlights.”

“I want to peel my skin off to keep from freaking out. I have taken about five nervous shits already this morning.”

Her eyes go big, sending off alarm bells in my head. “What?

“You have to poop,” she whispers, “in public.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’ll be fine.”

“But remember the gas station—”

“Oh my God, that was one time. One.” I hold up a finger to emphasize my point. “I’ve gotten better since then.” She looks skeptical.

“Plus, it’s not like they have microphones in there.” She looks everywhere but at me. “Court?” I ask, pleading in my voice.

“Well, some of the later seasons have times when contestants have conversations in there. They don’t show what’s happening in the stall; I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal, but there are microphones.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Holy. Fuck.” As the panic sets in, a solid knock sounds at my door.

“Court, I gotta go. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. Stay strong in there. I know you can do this. I hate you.”

My eyes go teary. There has not been a single day I have not talked to Courtney since I met her in third grade.

“I hate you, too.” And just like that, she’s gone.

It feels like I’m marching to my death as I open the door.

“Are you ready?” Alec asks.

Black dots appear in my vision as my breathing becomes ragged.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, looking up at him.

“Whoa, what happened?” He steps forward and grabs my shoulders, squeezing them.

“I’m going to be on TV. I’ve never wanted to be on television. I’m going to make an absolute fool out of myself.” Tears tighten my throat.

“Charlie, I need you to breathe.” He takes a deep breath, and I try to match it. He repeats the motion a few more times until he can feel me relax. “I would never let you embarrass yourself. How else would I get you those brand deals you want?” He smirks. “We are in this together, okay? Me and you.”

“Me and you,” I repeat. “Okay. I can do this.” I stand stock still as Alec and the nameless production assistant move back into the hallway. Seeing my hesitancy, Alec steps into the room.

“Give us just a moment. We’ll be right out,” he says, closing the door. “I don’t want to rush you, Charlie, but we have a pretty tight timeline to stick to. I want to give you as much time as you need to collect yourself, but unfortunately, I can’t.”

He puts his arm around me and forcibly moves me to the bed, pushing me to sit down.

“You say this is you and me,” I tell him, “but you’re not the one in front of the camera. Wranglers aren’t shown when they interview their contestants!” I get up and start walking around the room.

Stress typically leads to my fingers finding their way to my hair, running through the strands, but in deference to my imminent stardom, I crack my knuckles instead.

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