The Invisible Woman

Some women were made for the spotlight, as if their skin glistened with diamonds or their smiles radiated with the warmth of the sun. Other women, though plain, made up for the lack with other virtues: kindness, patience, demureness. But the women who slid into shadow as if the darkness were a second skin—those were the women to be wary of.

One might say those women knew too much of a little thing called power.

But tech guru Kirk Monaghue, whose gaming app WizHigh had skyrocketed among tweens and up, honestly couldn’t have cared less about the nuances between women—at least on this night when he was supposed to come attached before a crowd of his peers and the other nouveau riche that ruled Silicon Valley. It may have not been New York high society, but it could likely be just as damaging, given that everyone had a smartphone plugged into every social media network across the wide scape of the internet.

As he stood in the lobby of the Four Seasons, he teethed his thumbnail while staring down at the app, Little Black Book, that had answered his prayers last night: he had found a woman free and willing to do his bidding tonight, and all it took was twenty-thousand dollars cash wired to a PayPal account attached to the app. Sure, it was just a charity event, but he could not have withstood the staring eyes that would have reminded him of high school when he had shown up to prom solo.

(It made him feel a little less guilty that he had donated five times the price of the escort to the charity, a fund for immigrant children. He would be able to sleep at night, at least.)

After he had paced for about fifteen minutes, he was ready to call foul on the app and its nonrefundable surcharges—

But not before he saw a woman step off the elevator. One glance, and she could have been overlooked, but his eyes traced back to her—elegantly cut black dress, matching clutch and heels, her red hair pulled back from a pale and narrow face. The only other spark of color was the blue of her eyes, a gaze that found him across the way, and her lips drew up into a faint smile.

“Mr. Monaghue?”

“Right,” he said—and then could have kicked himself as he cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. I’m Kirk Monaghue.”

“A pleasure,” she said, her mouth lifting higher at the corners. “I’ll be accompanying you tonight, if you’re willing.”

I already paid the fee, so I’m willing no matter what. But he figured he would save her the dignity. Even for an expensive escort, he figured she did not delight in the work. Who knew how many sleazy men had claimed her for parties and more?

Not that he was the same. Of course he wasn’t—or so he told himself.

“We’ll be late,” he said, voice gruff, and motioned for her to follow him to his waiting car outside the hotel.

It was actually a mercy that she wasn’t the talking type. On the ride over, Kirk’s mind buzzed with all the possibility of how this night might go. It would be his first major event after the initial success of his app, and he wanted it to be perfect.

“Just follow my lead,” he said, and the woman watched him with a gleam in her eye as his chauffeur opened the car door and led them out to the waiting venue, already brimming with people from all corners of California.

When it came time to appear like a couple, he actually found himself balking a bit—his last outing from a dating app had left much to be desired—but the escort appeared to be educated in all manner of making appearances matter. She slid her arm easily into the crook of his arm. An outside lens would have filed in the blanks for anyone watching: a few weeks by way of how casually they orbited each other’s sphere, definitely the honeymoon phase from the brief sparks of laughter and the whispers that came with them, maybe a ring in the near future at the way she twirled her fingertips along his suit as if she owned him by touch alone and relished in that kind of control.

It was a narrative Kirk approved of. Too bad it was all just play-acting, and he was all too willing to be led along rather than assert himself in even a fake relationship aired before the local elite.

She perfected the image even further by laughing into Kirk’s ear, her lips only a breath away, as if secrets were things they shared on a regular basis—as if the world was theirs to laugh at on a sliding scale of can you believe it to how utterly scandalous!

“Smile,” she urged, her tongue flicking like a serpent coiled around its prey, and Kirk beamed at the air around him. But he felt like an idiot, a fool, for doing just as she said. As she directed.

“Monaghue!”

Kirk and his escort turned their heads to the new voice, belonging to Adam Ernest from a rival game-app company. Beside him was a pretty blond who made the color green look very appealing.

“Good to see you!” Adam clapped a hand on Kirk’s back. “And who’s this dame you’ve been hiding?”

Kirk’s mouth was dry as he fell upon a blank. What was her name? Even this long into the ruse, he hadn’t asked her even once. He had been so caught up with the other little details that such a small thing—a small yet significant thing—hadn’t even brushed his mind.

“Joanna Morris,” the escort seamlessly supplied as Kirk likely looked like a fish gasping for water. “Kirk’s told me all about you.”

“Has he?” Adam’s eyes looked mischievous. “All good things, I hope.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far,” Joanna said, a knowing glint to her eyes.

And they tittered like this conversation was only just another scene in the act. It boggled Kirk’s mind how he couldn’t even keep up with his own little charade.

The night only got more convoluted from there as Joanna—he knew not to trust that was her real name—stepped into the good graces of his acquaintances, some that had never even had a full conversation with him in the months he had known them. Something that felt much like jealousy stabbed his ego every time she made another would-be industry colleague laugh. It was infuriating in a way he had never quite expected.

By the time Joanna and Kirk were alone outside while he vaped, she was all aglow while he was stewing inside.

“What’s your real name?”

The question seemed to startle her, and the pleasant look on her face melted into a curious state of blankness. “What’s the point in knowing?”

“Why is that a problem?” His voice had the hint of a whine to it, and he hated it even as he continued to blubber like a child. “Just because I want to know your name?”

Joanna’s face was a cold twin to the one she had been parading about the room all night. “That wasn’t in the contract.”

“To hell with contracts! I pay you twenty grand, and you can’t even give me your name?”

“No wonder you don’t have a woman to call your own, with that kind of mouth on you. Not exactly the patient type, are you?”

“Do you even know who I am?” He barked out a laugh. “You should do more research. I could get you arrested just for looking at me the wrong way.”

The woman’s face showed little change even with the threat lingering in the air. But she surprised him by unclasping her clutch purse and pulling out a small pocket-sized black notebook. “Oh, dear,” she said as she flipped open to a page, a small pen in her hand, “I think we know how your review will be, come night’s end.”

Kirk would have been the first to admit he was the hasty type, but there was something about this woman that...irked him. And he wasn’t above getting physical to make sure she didn’t embarrass him tonight or any moment onward. All he had to do was snatch the stupid book out of her hand—

When he tried, however, she twisted his hand, whirling him around until she had his arm pinned behind his back. “Now, now,” she said, her voice as calm as if this were just another facet of the conversation, “no need to get hasty, Kirk. We were just getting to the fun part of the evening.”

“Let go,” he said between gritted teeth.

“I’ll let you go when you have the decency to apologize.”

“Sorry,” he spat, and she mercifully released him.

Joanna—the escort just looked at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. “You’re all the same,” she said. “All you men with your little egos inflated by your toys and games.”

“That little ego made you richer than you were last night,” he said spitefully.

“Maybe so,” she said, “but I wonder which of us is the sadder sight at the end of the day?”

Kirk had nothing to say to that.

“I’ll be leaving now,” she said.

And the worst part was that he didn’t stop her. Didn’t want to stop her.

Kirk Monaghue deleted the Little Black Book app a few minutes later.

But Joanna Morris, whoever she was? His dreams would be haunted by her for a while after.