Page 59 of House of Deceit

Alec and I agreed I would have to prank myself as well this week so as not to raise any suspicions of my involvement. What I didn’t anticipate was how hard it would be to clean the honey off my feet and the floor. Production ended up bringing in a set of professional cleaners to help us out.

I would have felt guilty for creating this work for them had Alec not convinced me they are being compensated very well for the work.

The house is dark, but there are dim lights illuminating the hallways so we can move around without hurting ourselves. I think about Alec having to watch my lackluster James Bond impression as I sneak through the house in my gold pajamas, thankful these segments are never aired based on previous seasons.

“Oh, hey Charlie. How’s the sleepover going?” Jayden asks, as I run into him in the bathroom.

“Hey, Jayden, it’s good. Someone’s asleep in the Head Deceiver bathroom from too much champagne.”

I add a little dance to my stance, trying to sell that I have to go to the bathroom.

“I’ll let you get to it. Good night,” he says, making his way out of the bathroom and presumably back to the bedroom.

His steps fade as he shuffles away. I stand in the bathroom, waiting to see if anyone else comes in. After no one does, I make my way into the dressing room.

Without turning on the light, I find one of the hampers, emptying it in a dark corner. Moving from one dresser to another, I search for each person’s undergarments, dropping them into the hamper in a large pile.

At my dresser, I pull open the top drawer.

“I should have picked things I didn’t have to include myself in,” I say, pocketing a clean pair of underwear so I can still shower in the morning before dumping the rest of the pairs I brought with me into the hamper.

The wheel of the hamper squeaks as I move toward the kitchen.

“Shush,” I hiss at the wheel, but it doesn’t listen.

I check around the corner before making my way into the kitchen. Moving quickly, I turn on the faucet, dumping the contents of the hamper into the massive sink.

The freezers are full of food, but I tuck underwear into every nook and crevice I can find. Filled with evil glee, I shove the last handful of underwear into the last open space in the freezer door.

Molly is shoving a breakfast burrito into her mouth, trying to finish eating as Jacob Johnson comes on the screen in the primary living room. His suit today is a teal that looks nice against his skin. His ultra-white teeth are slightly off-center.

“Hello, housemates!” His consistency in the enthusiasm of his greeting always surprises me. It’s like when the camera is on, nothing else exists. Although, it must be much easier for him since he’s not on camera all day, every day, maintaining a steady demeanor every second.

“As you all know, the weekly elimination is in two days, making today an elimination challenge day! The competition set for today will be done in pairs, which have been randomly assigned, and you will be informed of after this message. Cain, because you won the exemption earlier this week, you can sit this challenge out, but it excludes you from winning the prize.”

He smiles in a way that tries to come off as humble happiness but all I see is the jerk behind the mask.

“Now, the top team this week will receive an extraordinary surprise. Instead of winning the private bedroom this week, each person on the winning team will receive a thirty-minute private phone call from home,” he finishes.

The announcement is met with twitters of excitement around the room. It has been hard for many people to be cut off so completely from their families and friends, including me. Being unable to text or call Courtney whenever I want has been eating away at me week after week.

Even with connections in the house, they aren’t Court.

“Yes, very exciting. The not-so-fun part is this. This week, the elimination will be slightly different. There will be no audience vote this week.” He pauses dramatically. “Instead of voting to eliminate a house guest, you will vote for who you want to stay! One person from the bottom four teams will continue to week seven. The top three teams will make this decision, and if there is a tie in the voting, Cain will be the tiebreaker. This singular person will be the one to continue in the game, all others will be eliminated.”

My jaw drops as shouts of outrage rise from the majority of the players.

“That’s not fair!”

“We’re getting rid of half?”

“What’s the competition?”

“Please, everyone, let’s calm down. This does mean seven people will go home in forty-eight hours. Good luck!"

And with that, the TV flips off once more. A moment of stunned silence echoes loudly before everyone explodes. I try to maintain a cool demeanor, sure it’ll help me with the audience if they see I’m not easily shaken, if I make it past this week.

A production worker I do not recognize walks into the room and attempts to call for silence, but panic has taken control of the group, and no one hears him. I wait while he continues to try before I roll my eyes, stick two fingers in my mouth, and issue a sharp, loud whistle.

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