Page 38 of House of Deceit

“I haven’t brought any back in a long time, but that’s a story for a different day.” He runs a finger up the side of my thigh before rolling onto his back. I lie down next to him, the edge of my hand touching his. I wrap my pinky around his and we both lay there staring up at the sky through the pergola above us.

I’m obviously attracted to Parker, but even though I typically want to smack Alec, I can’t seem to get him out of my head.

My finger slams down on the space bar, pausing the footage. Frank emailed me the clip of Charlie and Parker’s time on the daybed, letting me know he’d like to add it as part of the clips for the week. It’s a good angle. A great angle, really. Not only will it feed into the audience’s love of a good “will they, won’t they” story, it will pretty much guarantee that shows will want to interview them together if they can make it far enough.

But why does the thought of an on-screen romance make me want to keep Charlie as far away from Parker as possible?

The minutes tick by and I get closer and closer to the deadline to submit clips for today’s privilege show. Since there are so many contestants right now, each wrangler must provide up to three clips excluding entire cast activities like the competitions. Sheila and Bradley take care of picking out what will be shown from those bits as they are the main part of the show, whereas the clips we provide are more supplemental stories. I always pick clips based on the image I’m trying to sell for my contestant and I weigh the pros and cons of the clip Frank sent, ignoring my annoyance at their obvious flirting.

The twinge of irrational jealousy makes the decision for me.I type out an email telling Frank to submit the clip and hit send. Instant regret grips me, worried the romance will distract her, and I try to recall the message, but a loud voice pulls my attention.

“Joshua, what’s the problem?” I ask as he stomps past my office door. He stops at my hard tone.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. My contestant is just an asshole,” he says.

“Who’s your contestant?”

“Cain,” he says, puffing his chest.

“You pick a contestant that says he’s willing to do anything to win, they tend to be assholes. I understand you’re new, but you need to get your emotions under control. Twelve weeks is a long time after all, and if he’s already getting under your skin, it’s going to be an issue.”

“Actually, bud, Cain has an issue with your girl being here, which is a pretty fair issue to have. Maybe I should go talk to Sheila about the dissatisfaction of a promising contestant.” His eyes flash with the threat and it takes everything in me not to physically slap the little pissant down.

“Watch your fucking tone, Josh. Sheila might be our boss, but I’m still the head wrangler and my opinion influences who is brought back next year. If you think for one moment Sheila and the whole host of attorneys for Cost Communications weren’t consulted to make sure Charlie could still compete once we realized the mix-up, you are sorely mistaken.

“Now, why don’t you stop your infantile crying, tell your contestant to win on his own merits, and scurry along to whatever closet they’ve designated as your office.”

A rebuttal presses against his lips but he holds it in. The best choice he could make, really. He storms off down the hallway, but as I move back into my office, I have to ask myself if I would have stood up for the reputation of my contestant on any other season.

No, no, you wouldn’t, bubbles up from the back of my mind, but I silence the voice, shutting the door behind me.

My contestant’s reputation is my reputation. It’s as simple as that.

The viewing room is crowded for our Wednesday morning team meeting. Everyone mingles around the table laden with various breakfast foods. Cutting in the line, I grab a simple croissant before shuffling further into the room, my usual breakfast tea in my hand. Sheila stands at the front of the room, notes in front of her on a table while her fingers fly, texting on her phone.

“Alec, get up here, please,” she says, not looking up from her phone. I never should have doubted if she noticed my entrance.

“What do you need?” Many people find my brusque demeanor rude, but Sheila loves the no-nonsense approach.

“Status on the items I gave you,” she says.

“The outfits for the elimination challenge on Friday are good to go and Cain refused a reward as Head Deceiver this week. Apparently, he didn’t like any of the options,” I say, providing Sheila an update on all the items she had left in my care, in addition to my wrangler duties with Charlie.

As head wrangler, I act as Sheila’s right hand. The promotion five years ago was appreciated but expected. Every year I have done my best to take on any additional responsibility I could, trying to bolster my resume.

“Great. Now sit.”

Without another word, I take my usual chair in the front row.

“Let’s get started,” Sheila says, and the room immediately goes quiet. “The privilege episode aired last night to eight million viewers, slightly up from the elimination episode, as we expected. Viewership will normally drop some in the middle weeks as people are weeded out. Encourage drama where you can. That is always a big draw. Also, I received some requests this week about new notebooks for a few contestants because they lost theirs. These requests are denied. As previously informed, they only receive one.”

“But they don’t have anything to write in!” one of the newer wranglers adds.

“Not my problem. Alec, come up and give the reminders, please.”

I stand from my chair, brushing the crumbs from my pastry off my pants. All the eyes settle on me. This doesn’t bother me in the slightest, but it makes me think of Charlie and how she sometimes feels the viewers’ eyes on her, and my gut twists with sympathy as I go through my list.

I catch my name in the credits as the end of the episode runs on the left of the screen while the next show starts on the right. Watching the rerun is important to me so I can see how the audience’s viewing experience of my participant is.

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