Page 15 of House of Deceit

“I thought you didn’t have time to break in a new best friend?” I remind her.

She waves away my comment. “Sacrifices must be made.”

We get out of the car and I look at the email for the suite number once more.

“I think it’s on the left,” I say.

“I’m going to haunt your ass when we get murdered,” she says, following close behind me.

“I’ll be murdered with you, so I won’t have an ass to haunt.”

“Then I’ll haunt you in heaven,” she hisses. “J.D. will get remarried ‘cause he’s a catch and I’ll have to haunt him, too. This is going to be a very exhausting afterlife.”

“Maybe you should save your energy and stop talking,” I say, trying to suppress my smile at her fake outrage. Grabbing the handle, I push the door open.

The office is a fresh, serene blue. All the furniture and fixtures are up to date and beautiful, a stark difference from the outside. A sleek, well put together receptionist taps away at his keyboard behind a glossy marble desk.

“Hi, my name is —”

“Charlotte Price, yes, we’ve been expecting you. Hello. And your friend?”

“This is Courtney.”

“Is she additional legal counsel?”

“No, just emotional support,” I say, half joking, half not.

“She’ll have to wait out here as there are things that must be discussed that require an NDA. In the meantime, may I offer either of you refreshment?”

“No, we are fine. Thank you,” I answer for both of us.

We move to take our seats on the couch and wait. The plush seats swallow us. Courtney’s feet don’t touch the floor, and I fight against the giggle rising in my throat.

“Shut up. This couch is too deep!” She scoots back, her legs flailing a bit as she shifts backward. A snorting laugh escapes me as the attorney emerges from the hallway, wearing the exact same outfit as his online picture. He smiles at me.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, but if you could follow me, Ms. Price?”

I smother the laughter still sitting in my chest as I get up to follow the man. He’s shorter than my five-nine, but not terribly so. His suit is bland but fits him like a glove. The lights above us reflect as a soft glow off his bald spot. He stops outside an office, holding his hand out for me to lead the way.

“If I understand correctly, Ms. Price, you’re here to sign a contract to appear on House of Deceit. Is that correct?” He flips through the papers in front of him, skimming them as he goes. “This seems like a straightforward agreement, but there are a few clauses I want to point out for your knowledge.

“The first is that you agree to take part in all competitions and any repercussions of losing said competitions. These punishments can include but are not limited to: deprivation of food, sleep, and clothing, loss of access to things in the mansion, manual labor, ice baths, and any other acts that do not include permanent physical harm or death. Do you have questions about that?”

“So, they can do anything they want but disable or kill me?”

“Basically, yes. And if you don’t play, they will not be required to pay you any winnings.”

“Okay, and the other clause?”

“Cost Communications will not be responsible for loss of employment or loss of any current or future income resulting from the show or its editing of any footage of you.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“In layman’s terms, if you get fired or have a hard time finding a job in the future due to any notoriety from the show, it’s not their problem. With these shows, they edit them for the most entertainment value they can. Sometimes, that means something you say or do can be edited out of context and the audience could, very much, end up hating you. This could lead to people being fired or denied a job, as the cost to the company’s reputation is not worth the risk of employing you. Someone who is recognizable by the public, good or bad, can become a liability to their employer.”

I pick at the seam on the leg of my shorts, weighing my options. With my plan to only be on the show for a few days, it wouldn’t be long enough to damage my reputation that badly. However, with my current desperation and lack of funds, the possibility of financial insecurity makes my stomach knot.

“Got it. I’m just going to be upfront with you. I don’t have a job right now. And if I don’t get that five grand sign-on bonus, I’ll lose my apartment. So, I guess I’m okay with that.”

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