The phone rang. It was my mum.
‘You’re home, I don’t believe it. How’s work?’
‘Great, fantastic,’ I lied.
‘I worry about you, you know. Not so much the peepshows but the bucks’ parties. What if the guys get out of hand? What if it turns violent?’
‘It’s really not dangerous. There’s always heaps of security. And the bucks are more scared of us than we are of them. Just last weekend—’
‘It irks me. It just does.’ She actually said irk. I wondered if I’d heard anyone say it in conversation before and decided I hadn’t.
‘I know.’ I started craving a cigarette.
‘And apart from your physical safety I worry about your psyche.’
‘My psyche?’ I would have killed for a cigarette. And something a bit stronger than wine. I leaned back in the canvas director’s chair and put my bare feet up on the balcony railing.
‘It’s got to affect you, pandering to men, reinforcing ridiculous stereotypes about women, buying into the whole madonna/whore thing—’ ‘I don’t buy into—’ ‘I know you don’t but by working in that industry you perpetuate the myth. And to think I named you after Simone de Beauvoir.’
My mum was an old school feminist who lectured in women’s studies and I couldn’t win an argument with her. I turned into a petulant fifteen-year-old every time I tried.
‘It’s an art form, Mum, like . . . like Josephine Baker or Gypsy Rose Lee.’
‘Did Josephine Baker do “f loor work” and show the world what she had for breakfast? I think not.’
I picked at an ingrown hair on my leg and didn’t say anything until she changed the subject: ‘I heard from Jasper.’
‘What’s he up to?’
‘He’s doing really well, said to say hi. He’s in New York doing some stuff for GQ, then he’s off to Canada for fashion week in Montreal.’
My brother had scooped the family gene pool and worked as a model. I considered asking my mother if she didn’t think modelling was similar to stripping but restrained myself.
‘How’s Steve?’ I asked instead. Steve was my mother’s ‘partner’. They met a few years after the Russell episode and had been together ever since, eventually moving to Sydney where my mum became an academic. Steve ran courses in mud-brick housing and solar power at the College of Adult Education.
‘He’s great, really busy though, organising a rally against the government’s stance on greenhouse gas emissions.’
‘I’ve got my inquiry agent’s licence,’ I said. ‘There might be some work coming up.’
‘Why don’t you finish your degree? You’ve only got one semester to go and you could finish it in Melbourne. I’ve looked into it.’
‘I’m a bit busy at the moment.’
‘You could study part time. A qualification would get you out of the sex industry.’
‘I dunno about that, heaps of strippers have arts degrees.’
There was a beep on the line. Call waiting. Hallelujah.
‘Mum? I’ve got another call, I have to go . . .
‘Hello?’
‘Simone,’ Chloe sounded out of breath, ‘you’ve got to come quick. Someone’s trying to kill me.’
Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS