The Agent
“Simone,” I heard my name from an unfamiliar voice. Deep, dark and dripping in sin. “Simone,” it called again in a sing-song tone.
In the darkness, I couldn’t see much, but the sound sent a tingle down my spine. My stomach twisted into knots and my first thought was to get out of there. To get away.
My legs took off underneath me, but I couldn’t feel the surface I was running on. Everything around me was black. It was like I was running in an empty void.
“Simone,” the voice called again. Closer this time and paired with an eerie smile. As if it couldn’t wait to catch me.
I tried to pick up the pace, but I couldn’t see even an inch in front of me. I didn’t know how far I’d gone or where I was heading too. Run! My thoughts roared. Run as fast as you can!
My heartbeat thudded in my ears as I ran faster, desperate to escape the unseen monster chasing me.
Warm hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders. Fingers dug into my skin and pulled me backwards. “Simone!” The voice rang again.
“Huh!” I yelled, jolting up in my bed. I quickly glanced around, searching for the monster in the newfound light.
My chest heaved up and down as if I’d finished running a mile.
The quick rhythm of my heartbeat pulsed in my ears.
Rather than coming face-to-face with the faceless creature in my dream, I was met with my sister, Isabelle’s, concerned light brown eyes.
“Are you alright?” She asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I breathed, running a hand over my bonnet. “Just a weird dream.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d had it. Ever since I came off after my conversation with Logan, I’ve been feeling off.
I couldn’t blame it on the gruesome case files I’ve been looking at in search of my potential hitman.
I became numb to those a long time ago. And the thought of catching such a predator didn’t bother me.
I’ve done it countless times before with my team.
Yet, there was still this uncanny feeling rumbling down my spine. One that told me to keep eyes in the back of my head.
I’ve been trying to shake it off, ignore it.
But, now the feeling was trickling into my dreams and disrupting my sleep.
I might need to see our company’s psychiatrist if it continued, just so I could find the root and crush it into tiny pieces.
If I was going to maintain my job, and stay on top of my personal case, then I needed all the energy I could get.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I rubbed my heavy eyelids. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“It’s Saturday. We’re going dress shopping, remember?”
Oh shit. With all the chaos earlier this week, I completely forgot about the plans I made with my mother and sister. “Oh, Izzie, my bad. This week has been-”
“I know,” she cut me off. “Logan called mom.”
“Why?” I groaned. Now, I had to prepare myself for a lecture I did not want to hear.
She shrugged. “I think he was just worried.” She tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I scooted away from her and out of the bed. “Give me ten minutes to wash up and get dressed.”
“Okay. Mom and I will be downstairs when you’re ready.”
I held back another groan. My mother being here already meant I’d be getting the lecture sooner.
Suddenly, I didn’t see a need to rush through my morning routine.
If it wasn’t for the respect of my sister’s time, I would’ve moved slower than molasses.
But, I knew how excited she was to go shopping for wedding dresses at one of the best bridal boutiques in town.
Unless I wanted to hear both of their mouths, we needed to be there on time.
I took a quick five minute shower and threw on a tee shirt with a pair of jeans.
Once my teeth were brushed, I spritzed some scalp moisturizer on the parts in between my braids and tacked down my edges that were beginning to grow out.
I left my braids hanging over my shoulder since I didn’t have time to style them.
As I padded downstairs, I heard my family’s voices in the living room.
My mother and sister were sitting on the couch with hot coffees in hand.
My mother sat like a proper matriarch with her shoulders poised and her legs crossed.
Beside her, Isabelle sat with her brown curls pulled up into a ponytail, exposing every inch of her blemish-free bronze skin.
Both of them looked in my direction at the sound of my footsteps. Isabelle’s wide smile contrasted against my mother’s firm frown. ”Here!” Isabelle said as she gracefully rose from her seat. I hadn’t realized she held another coffee cup in her hand. “I got you a mocha latte.”
I tried to match her enthusiastic smile. “Thanks.”
“You look like you need it,” my mother commented. “Did you stay up late last night?”
“Mhm,” I replied, bringing the coffee to my lips for a long sip.
“Logan said you need to be getting as much sleep as possible to make a full recovery. He said you took quite a beating the other night.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“You know, Cyrus Templeton is looking for another lawyer for his firm. If this job is becoming too dangerous, you could always move to his firm. Or William Asher - he’s still asking about you after all these years.
Calls you the best intern he’s ever had.
He thinks you have potential to make partner if you work there. ”
“I’m perfectly happy where I am.” I crossed the living room towards my small shoe rack. “Are y’all ready to go?”
“I’m just saying, Simone. This criminal nearly killed you. Maybe it’s time to hang the badge up for a little while. You can always go back after some experience in the courtroom. Maybe in a supervisory position.“
“Mom,” I said, my voice harder than I intended. “I. Am. Fine.”
“For now,” she countered. “What happens when the next one puts a bullet in your head instead of a concussion? Your father wouldn’t want-“
“Don’t,” I hissed. “Don’t talk about what Dad would want. You don’t know what he’d want for me.”
“I know he wouldn’t want his daughter standing in the line of fire every other day. He’d want his daughter healthy and alive. He’d want better for you.”
I held back the scoff I wanted to let out. “Sure, Mom.” As much as I wanted to refute her claims, remind her that her version of dad’s wishes were the complete opposite of the truth, I didn’t want to ruin Isabelle’s day.
She was already looking back and forth between us, a frown brewing on her lips. Whenever the topic of my father came up, she tried to stay out of it. She hadn’t known him. Didn’t have an opinion. But, sometimes our mention of him brought up her own.
The man my mother spent the last year of my father’s life having an affair with. The one she was divorcing him to be with. The one my mother claimed my father would’ve wanted her to marry after his death.
Isabelle was younger than me and, at the time, had even less perception and understanding of the situation.
She didn’t even know about me and my mother until my father was six feet under.
And then, all she knew was she was getting a new mother and sister.
She had no idea her own father stole them for her.
I used to hold it against her when we were younger. Tried to ice her out. Ignore her. Make it known I wanted nothing to do with her. But she followed me around like a lost puppy, happy to have someone else to play with. To look up to.
Eventually, her big brown eyes and wholesome intentions wore me down. Now, all I wanted to do was protect the goodness she selflessly gave away.
“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s go find your dream dress.”
The light in Isabelle’s eyes immediately returned. A smile spread across her lips as she hurried to my side. Interlocking her arm around mine, she followed me out of the house and towards my mother’s Lexus sitting in the driveway.
Isabelle filled the silence of the car ride with babbles of more wedding plans. She showed me pictures of the venue she and her fiancé decided on, described her vision for the bridesmaids dresses and my maid of honor dress, and of course: her ideal wedding gown.
We were on our way to the best bridal boutique in town, so they were bound to have what she was looking for. Still, Isabelle was teeming with anxiety at the idea her dream may not come to life.
When we finally arrived at the shop, Isabelle towed me inside. As soon as we walked in, I was blinded by all of the white, sparkling dresses displayed around the room. All of them were beautiful, but they were bright as hell.
The employee at the front desk offered her a kind smile as we approached her. “Hello, welcome to the Blushing Bride. My name is Chelsea. How may I make your bridal dreams come true today?”
“Hi, my name is Isabelle Andrews,” my sister replied. “I have an appointment for ten o’ clock.”
The employee checked the tablet in her hands and nodded her head. “Yes, I see you right here.” She paused to give Isabelle another big grin. “Congratulations, Isabelle!”
Isabelle beamed. “Thank you!”
“You can follow me this way.” She started leading us towards the back of the shop where the fitting rooms and three-way mirror podiums were. “I see you already completed the online survey. Our stylists have looked at your responses and put together some potential gowns for you to try on.”
Chelsea parked us at one of the fitting rooms before flitting off to grab the selection of dresses the stylists left out for her.
For the next hour or so, Chelsea helped Isabelle try on all of the dresses.
They’d disappear behind the dressing room door for five-to-ten minutes at a time and emerge with Isabelle wearing the most exquisite dresses I’ve ever seen in my life.
Each one, encrusted with crystals and dramatic skirts, hugged her figure perfectly, emphasizing her air of elegance and grace.