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The Cover Girl

 

Want to know what happens behind closed doors? Come with me, I will tell you everything I know!

Just kidding, I don’t know shite. No, I am not an escort, I do not sleep with people for money or date them for them to show me off to their friends and colleagues. I do something much, much worse….

Bet that got you thinking. Tell me how badly did you picture it? I can promise you it’s nothing like the horrible things you thought of you dirty buggers!

To be honest I don’t know anything about what happens behind closed doors. I am paid to make sure that I and the client remain in the spotlight. The client calls me up and we set a date; we go out to a show, a club or dinner. We make a lot of noise or a scene. In these days of social media, it is difficult to be invisible but it makes life easy if you want to be in the public eye. The more witnesses and publicity the better. So, when something occurs and the client gets pulled in to the authorities I am the alibi. They are released as the evidence of the night in question takes them away from the scene of the crime. Then that’s it, we go our separate ways, done and dusted and I have a large wad of cash in my very expensive designer purse.

No, I don’t think what I do is wrong. I’ve never been charged with anything except having a good time with my client. Our transactions are untraceable. So, don’t get your dirty knickers in a twist. I do not have a name in the industry or paperwork. I simply have a card, which reads The Cover Girl.

 

 

My real name is Alexandra Shaw, Alex for short. At work, I am Katy Jones. Normally you would look at me and not bat an eyelid; sports leggings, hair up, glasses. However, everyone notices Katy. After so many years, I know exactly how to draw the room’s attention and subsequently how to avoid it as Alex. But it hasn’t always been this way. Let me take you back to the beginning when this whole thing started.

I don’t really know how I got into this business. I just remember being in primary school. My mother left us for her French lover and my father was in the army so I lived with my aunt who had little attention for me. I grew up in my own world (Disney) and became friends with a boy named Michael, who was kind and sweet. He grew tall and strong and started mixing with the bad crowd in the playground.

We moved up through the school and he became the playground bully, but one day I found him crying. There was going to be a big fight with weapons and he didn’t want to be involved, he could be expelled. I grasped his hand and took him into the middle of the playground by the supervisors and we played chess.

When the fight started, the boys who started it ended up expelled and sent to trouble makers schools. Michael was not involved as he was playing with the smallest, sweetest girl in the class. After that, Michael gave me his desert every Friday and made sure that no one picked on me. We went our separate ways when high school started as his family moved to the coast when his dad got a job on an oil rig.

Now, high school that’s when things really began to spiral out of control. I had a small close group of friends; we never drew attention to ourselves. Until one night in my fourth year, I was leaving the school grounds when I bumped into one of the football players walking around the corner. I was too busy paying attention to my homework diary instead of looking where I was going. I bounced right off the guy and my bag burst open all over the wet concrete. The player helped me up and offered to carry some of my books back into the school so that I could put them in my locker to dry. I nodded and he tried to engage me in conversation. I was spotty, braced and shy. I had no idea why he was even talking to me.  He was with me still police rolled up at the school. There had been a massive fight at the games hall with multiple kids ending up in hospital. Consequently, half the football team were called into the office. The boy who helped me who turned out to be the captain got pulled in to the office. He was accused of being the ring leader.

I was called into the office to validate the captain’s story; he had not been involved or led the assault like his teammates were claiming. The headteacher let him off and held me back to double-check it was true and that he hadn’t been blackmailing me. I assured him of the latter and left as fast as possible before anyone else could question me. The captain came up to me the next day and thanked me for helping him; football was going to be his way of getting into university on a scholarship. It would have been jeopardised if he was involved in the fight. Odd coincidences like this kept happening throughout my school years until at the very end of my sixth and final year; I was called into the office yet again.

The headteacher rolled his eyes when I was brought into the room. I was nearly hyperventilating; I had never broken the dress code let alone a school rule. I was someone of inconsequential existence; straight As, prefect, part of the hockey and swimming team. But this time there were policemen in the room. I saw the football captain sat there, looking distraught. He had been accused of arson and trying to attempt to set fire to the sports block. I was questioned about where I was at the time of the arson. Blushing red, I looked at my feet and refused to answer. Until the captain blurted out that we had been making out in the library.

I blinked at him and our eyes connect as he pleaded with me silently to back up his story. The policeman looked at me hard and asked if that was indeed true and I nodded profusely, face growing even redder. I skin had cleared up and my braces were gone so it was more believable that someone could have noticed me than two years previously. The headteacher believed my embarrassment and the captain was released once again. It got around the school that I had bailed him out and he hadn’t been charged.

Somehow the news got out of what we had been allegedly been up to in the library. I got a bit of hassle from my girls for kissing the hottest guy in the year. Apparently, my social status meant that I was inadequate and not worthy of kissing him. My friends supported me through the abuse and we spent lunchtimes at one of their houses to avoid the rest of the year until it died down. Easy to say that I was upset by the whole events. I avoided the captain for nearly a week, not wanting to fuel the gossip before he finally cornered me in the hockey cupboard.

He explained that the other boys on the team who had not been chosen for scholarships had tried to burn the gym down. He had tried to turn them in but their numbers convinced the teachers that he was the perpetrator instead. He had run into the library to hide out and only seen me in there alone and thought he could use me for an alibi. He thanked me once again and kissed me hard before leaving the cupboard. I was both shocked and high from the kiss that I needed a few minutes before I left the cupboard myself. He used social status and influence to ensure that I was never bothered or bullied by anyone else in the school again. I did get the devil stares off some of the angrier girls. Safe to say that I had a little bit of a crush on him after that. However, you see what I mean that this stuff has always been happening to me.

Now university, I moved to London, the city which I now call home. Vibrant, expensive, buzzing and it’s all mine! I wanted to reinvent myself away from the nerdy, socially awkward teenager. I would be social and cultured and make the most of what the city had to offer. I was studying economics, Spanish and French at UCL, a campus in the heart of the city which felt like Hogwarts. Yet the captain changed his scholarship and came to the same uni. He told a few of his friends what I did for him and I came into the business. Now I cannot give you his actual name, as I am very strict with my client’s privacy. Let’s call him Aaron. That suits him.

Well, the lovely Aaron told his roommate about how I had helped him twice and gotten a little bit of a reputation as the alibi. This was something I hoped had been left behind in our small home town. Their third roommate, unfortunately, sold some drugs on the side to pay for a basic flat in the city centre. I got a call from Aaron asking to meet up out of the blue. I didn’t want to go but he insisted and I went to meet him.

Aaron was waiting at a bar with his roommate, I tried to leave but the pair of them begged for me to hang out with them for the evening. They explained what was happening and gave me a hundred pounds and promised me “a fun night”. Of course, I slapped both of them twice. Then a few shots later we were dancing and having a good time. They offered to walk me home and subsequently crashed on my floor. It was a squish in my tiny studio but I managed to get to sleep before they started snoring. The next morning, they were gone, the money on my bedside table. But later, I got a call from the police.

There had been a raid on the guy’s flats and their flatmate had been found harvesting drugs in his room and selling at a party in their flat the previous night. Subsequently, Aaron and his flatmate being out with me and their rooms locked and empty of any drugs put them in the clear of being charged. Yet my statement and details were taken and I was released. When Aaron and his roommate were released from the station, I confronted them. They both thanked me profusely.

Aaron tried to kiss me again, instead, he received a mouthful of my ponytail as I whipped my face out the way. I told him I was keeping the money and walked off without any further explanation or shites given. Now come to think of it, it was probably drug money. I didn’t talk to him again after that.

That was my first real tie-up with the police. I promised myself that nothing like this would happen again and I avoided Aaron for a long time afterwards. But a series of events kept cropping up. Plagiarism, breaking into student centres, sports scandals and then there was a serious incident at a party when the perpetrator ended up back at my flat (Not what you imagine, we were smoking weed!). Yet people always thanked me for helping them and I would get little gifts on the side which they refused to take back; vouchers, gift cards and cash. Like it or not I had earned myself a reputation and so one day I decided not to fight it but to embrace it. After all, if you are never charged then you have no criminal record. If I was going to keep getting put at risk I might as well charge a decent amount for my special services!

Now there are certain rules that the client needs to agree to before the meeting;

1. Payment is to be made upfront and in cash
2. There is to be no touching than otherwise agreed upon.
3. My contact details cannot be shared with anyone.
4. My alias remains confidential and my real name is private.
5. There are bonuses for time spent in the police station or at court.
6. All my expenses including security are paid for by the client.
7. We take separate transport home.
8. I must know nothing of why the client needs an alibi.

 

Occasionally there has been the odd exception to these rules, sometimes my information has been shared. Now and then, well like any girl I have desires, especially if the client is hot there may be a little bit of touching. I mean I’m only human and some of them are really handsome and know how to treat me! I will leave that thought there. We may need to share a ride back to keep the continuity of our story. Sometimes they find out my name and the situation become more daunting. But I have a way around that. If there is something wrong, I have a silent alarm and GPS which goes straight to my hired security and the situation gets dealt with. This is mainly in terms of paparazzi. I don’t ask for any specific details on how my security deals with threats. Thus far my services have been untraceable.

On the whole, I would say that I enjoy the job. The excitement, the opportunity, the parties and the people. But the danger side gives it a thrill which I just cannot match with any else. But I am not here to brag about how I have figured out life. It’s not all champagne, canapes and parties. I am here to tell you about what happened when I got in way over my head. This is not a survivor’s tale or guide on how to get into the business. This is a warning, from my experience. I think you need to know about what happens in our society under the protected and hidden radar of the system. Come with me and let me tell you what I found out…