Simone
SIMONE
Y esterday, Simone had struggled to keep the panic attacks at bay.
She could have walked home from Mantl but only made it around the corner before she had to call an Uber. She sat behind the driver’s seat so he wouldn’t notice her burying her head between her legs, fighting to draw deep enough breaths. Once home, she’d gone straight to bed.
The panic attack returned the following afternoon. It’d been creeping up on her since the morning, but Simone had been able to get past each one, convinced that because she’d never suffered two panic attacks in a row before, she had no reason to start now.
Yet in the afternoon, once her last student had been collected, Simone reached her car with shaking hands and sweat dripping down her back.
She drove home safely enough, but barely made it through the front door, struggling out of her clothes and stumbling toward the bathroom.
She ran a cold bath and plunged herself into it.
“ You fuck men for money, too?”
Everyone froze at Dominic’s words. For a moment, Simone contemplated how it was possible for silence to be so loud, and if there was a word for that particular absence of sound. But her father soon broke the quiet with his booming voice. “Young man, what did you just say?”
Simone studied the lock in his jaw and the vein in his temple that pulsed whenever his anger simmered.
She managed to keep her face relatively neutral, but Simone could feel the droplets of perspiration collecting across her hairline—her nerves at attention when a brave bead of sweat broke free and raced toward her eye.
But Simone couldn’t brush it away. She had to remain perfectly still while everyone focused on Dominic; any sudden movement on her part would only draw attention away from him and onto her.
“Dominic,” Jenni said, looking up at him with an expression of pure bewilderment, “why would you say that?”
The truth was, Simone didn’t blame Jenni for casting her out. She wasn’t sure she even blamed her parents.
She’d had time to consider their points of view while she lay miserable for seventy-five days after the disastrous dinner with her family and Dominic.
It had been seventy-five days, forty-nine ignored calls, fifty-five missed meals, four unauthorized sick days, two missed job interviews, two lost potential clients, and two days of extreme dehydration.
Yes, Simone believed her parents should love her no matter what, and she was convinced they still did.
They were simply disappointed, and she couldn’t fault them for that.
What devastated Simone was that while disappointment would fade in time, heartbreak would leave a mark.
And there was no doubt that Jenni was now heartbroken.
Simone could also talk herself out of blame.
She didn’t know who Dominic was at the time, after all.
He came through the agency two months prior to their meeting, and while Simone preferred regulars and the steady income that came with them, every now and again she said yes to one-off clients if they paid enough, and since all payments went via the agency first, Simone was awarded the opportunity to use an alias: Raven.
Apparently, Dominic had already sampled a few of the agency’s other offerings, but Simone had fit his type perfectly (which now made so much sense) and was willing to pay her one-time rate. So, she agreed.
Simone spent weeks afterward thinking about whether she could have put two and two together, but thankfully, it was impossible.
She and Dominic had not discussed their personal lives; they’d kept their preamble vague and minimal.
That was usually the case with one-off clients: Only one thing was expected, as opposed to Simone’s regulars—Jonah, for example, a client who’d selected the girlfriend package.
That meant that when together, Simone and Jonah were a couple.
They picked up conversations where they’d left off, knew more about the other’s personal lives (although each withheld enough from the other to maintain professional distance), went on typical dates, hugged, kissed, and held hands.
Jonah didn’t have time for a partner, but one-night stands were too impersonal for his taste; a part-time girlfriend made the most sense.
Simone thought of the failed conversations she and her parents had days after Dominic’s revelation—where Jenni was never present—and how the last one had ended with her mother in tears and Simone feeling so sick, she ran out of the house. She had not been invited back.
Simone was relieved to have been offered the job at Linwood Primary because the start date had given her something to work toward.
The morning of her first day, Simone had dug her purity ring—a twin to the one Jenni wore—out from the depths of her jewelry case and held it in her palm.
She used to wear it to family dinners, even though Jenni knew Simone was not a virgin, and hadn’t been since university.
Jenni was aware that Simone only wore the ring to avoid questions from their parents.
Jenni hadn’t judged; she’d never felt the need to control aspects of Simone’s life or to be exactly like her.
She had simply appreciated being told the truth.
But, even when she wasn’t with her parents, Simone would sporadically wear the ring on different fingers, the most recent time being Esther’s book event, just to feel as though Jenni were with her during the day.
The approach of her new job and the move to her new flat in order to be closer to work gave her the inspiration for reinvention. The benefit of having kept her circle so small to begin with was that, when she left that circle, she was known to no one.
Simone’s biggest surprise had been that she didn’t mind the silence; she allowed the absence to shape her, almost—to form a new person.
She spoke less and read more. She curated her home to be the safest space.
She went early to the gym and did her food shop online.
She treated herself to new clothes and dove into her work.
She quit her escort agency and managed herself, investing in background checks and cultivating long-term clients.
She studied the men during each booking until they believed her to be their perfect match.
She read up on every child in her class until she’d memorized their personalities and learning capabilities, drawing up gentle but affirming plans to help them do well in the year she would have them.
Months after, the Simone who had fled her parents’ house and the Simone who sat in Linwood Primary School’s staffroom on the first day of term were two completely different people.
But Simone had not yet realized to what extent she’d changed in order to survive in a world that made sense to her. That these two Simones were so dissimilar from each other, she’d soon begin to forget she’d been someone else before.
Simone emerged from her bath to see that goose bumps had turned the surface of her skin unrecognizable.
She climbed out to stand in front of the mirror; her eyes were red-rimmed and she shivered.
Just then, Simone’s phone buzzed with a text; still dripping, she lunged for it even though it couldn’t possibly be Jenni—and it wasn’t.
It was Client no. 3, with the address for tonight, even though they’d been meeting at the same hotel for months now.
Simone pulled on a robe, tightened it across her waist, took one last look in the mirror, and proceeded to get ready, looking forward to the escape.
Cillian O’Connor was the newest of Simone’s three consistent clients.
Tonight, as the car Cillian sent drove her through the golden-spotted darkness, steadily creeping toward Soho, Simone remembered a specific time when all anyone could talk about was how robots and artificial intelligence were threatening to take over jobs and render humanity useless.
With the rise of social media and the increasing popularity of video content, the threat did indeed loom over Simone’s head.
Thankfully, there were still men who hated the reflective screen wedged between them and their desires; there were still so many men who preferred the personal touch.
Simone was due to meet Cillian at the bar of a hotel in Soho.
She arrived five minutes early and sat peacefully in the lobby.
Seconds away from 8 PM Simone stood, swept the hair off her shoulders, and smoothed any lines that had formed in her dress, a caramel-colored piece that clung to her.
The diamond studs in her ears glinted along with the hotel’s chandelier as she approached the bar’s host. He, dressed in a suit with hair gelled back, let her know her date for the evening had already arrived.
Simone of course knew Cillian would be early. He always was.
Cillian was a conventionally handsome man with jet-black hair and bright-blue eyes; tonight, he wore trousers and a white shirt with a black jumper on top. He sat at the bar and Simone thanked the host and crossed the last yards of the dining room alone.
Simone had met Cillian for the first time in the same bar downstairs, but only for an introduction.
He had to like what he saw and agree with her terms, of which the main were to respect one another’s privacy, strictly remain within the time purchased, and pay in full before meeting.
They had spoken for thirty minutes; he’d been vocal about his likes and dislikes.
He preferred submissiveness but enjoyed being under a woman occasionally, and he was not interested in a relationship.
All in all, it was a concise and pleasant meeting.
Tonight, when Cillian caught sight of her, he downed the remains of what Simone knew had once been a Negroni, watching her over the rim of his glass. He casually scanned the room and was very pleased to find other eyes following Simone’s steps and tracing her silhouette.