Page 3 of House of Deceit

“They film in the summer!”

“So?”

“You would sweat just standing near it.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” she says.

We watch in silence through another elimination challenge. Jacob Jacobson, the host, tells us to cast our votes to save one of the bottom two from elimination while a message flashes on the screen reminding us that voting has closed.

“How long can you live here before your savings run out?” Courtney asks as the credits roll, bringing me back to the reality of my situation.

“About two months. I just used some of my savings to pay off my car at Scott’s suggestion, since we would be splitting bills. What a crock of shit.”

“I hate to say this,” she starts, a hiccup taking over, “but you might need to go back to work and apologize. At least until you can find another job.”

“No.”

“But—”

“No,” I interrupt.

“Well, you have to make money somehow. Maybe you should sell pictures of your feet! I’ve heard that can be lucrative. Or people will pay you for your used underwear.”

“You want me to sell my used underwear? Who the hell would buy my used underwear?” I ask, my tone incredulous.

“I bet many people would. There’s quite a market.”

“Okay, we need to talk about what you’re looking at on the internet. Do I need to parent lock your phone?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be helpful. You’re welcome,” she replies, offended at my rejection of her idea.

“I’d rather apply to be on House of Deceit before I sold my underwear to people so they can jerk off into them.”

Court sits up, turns, and puts her feet on the floor. Her eyes seem to look at two different points in the room, but she shakes her head and focuses.

“You should.”

“What?”

“Apply.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Yes, great reason, Charles,” Court says, using her favorite nickname for me as she rolls her eyes again. Sometimes I wonder if it makes her dizzy, how often she does that when we're together. “You could win a quarter of a million dollars! Just think of how long that would hold you over.”

“That would only be if I won! I need money now. A job, Court. An actual job, not whatever those suggestions from you were.”

“One, my suggestions are great ways to make money. And B, you can still apply. Who says you’d be picked?”

“I don’t want to be on a TV show.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sure I’d be kicked out on week one, and I can’t handle any more embarrassment in my life at the moment,” I say, flinging my arms in the air dramatically.

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