More Than A Maybe Read Free Page A

of my Goddesses had done their share of burlesque in their day. True, the dancing Jayla did was no doubt a bit racier than the burlesque shows back then, but still . . .
    I raised my eyebrows. “Anyway, that explains why you’re so sleepy all the time.”
    Jayla grinned.
    “Ha! Sleepy like a fox, bitch. That money pays my tuition, pays my bills . . .” She paused, and a cloud seemed to pass over her face for the briefest of moments. “Look: I never told you this, but my family doesn’t really come from money, you know? They always did their best, but . . . I dunno. Med school was always my dream, not theirs. And if you want anything in this life, you have to get it yourself. Sounds  cliché  I guess, but it’s true.”
    I realized I was seeing the real Jayla. I didn’t see a sleepy and somewhat irresponsible classmate . . . I saw an independent woman who saw what she wanted and went for it, without worrying about anything else.
    It was simple. It really was. I felt a new respect for Jayla growing inside me. There was more than that, though . . .
    I saw a person who had something I wanted. I envied her courage; her happy-go-lucky sense of assurance that everything was going to work out just fine. If I was really going to make it on my own, I’d need to figure out where she’d gotten it.
    Jayla looked at me — she clearly expected me to say something. “Well?”
    I looked back at her, a bit startled. “Well . . . what?”
    She blinked. “What do you think?”
    Looking back, it was obvious — but I really had no idea what she was talking about. At all.
    “I think it’s great,” I said, as cheerfully as I could. “I hope I can figure out something like that.”
    It was Jayla’s turn to look startled. “ Like that?” she asked quizzically. “Why not . . . that?”
    I finally understood what she was getting at — but I could only open my eyes in a wide stare.
    “ME? Dance? On a stage, with everyone . . . ”
    Jayla laughed the same carefree laugh that she always kept at the ready. “Yes, you! I mean . . . okay, not to be mean, but I know you could make more in a single night dancing than you make in an entire week of slinging pancakes at that café. You’re young, you’re hot . . . ”
    “I am not. And I’m as flat as an ironing board.”
    Jayla shook her head at that. “You bad-mouth those boobs all the time! You gotta knock that shit off, girl. You are hot. There — I said so. You could be using what you’ve got! Look, the boss at the club is a pretty good guy. Billy. He’s got a good heart.”
    “It’s not his heart I’m worried about. It’s the whole idea. I mean, isn’t there like — y’know, a creepy back room or something?”
    Jayla just shrugged. “You mean the Champagne Room? Sure. But you decide if you wanna go back there, and who with. Shit, or you could bartend, if that’s not for you. Those bitches behind the counter make good money. Can you make drinks?”
    I shake my head. “No. Maybe I could mix a gin and tonic, but . . . ”
    Jayla smiled. “Well, whatever. It’s fine if you can’t. But look . . . I’m not trying to pressure you, okay? And there isn’t a girl at that club that loves doing that job. But it lets you take charge of all the shit in your life, you know? Take control. And that can get you any where.”
    She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. “Amateur Night is Fridays. Amateur School, they call it. I’ll introduce you, walk you through it. Let me just put my work cell on here . . . ”
    Are you serious? I thought. Amateur School!?
    I tried not to let my feelings show on my face as Jayla wrote out her digits and placed a card on the table in front of me.
    I looked at it doubtfully:

    M I R A G E S
    Gentlemen’s Club

    Jayla tapped the card. “I keep this part of my life separate. If you want to talk about it, call me at this number, okay?” She checked her watch, then stood as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. “Sorry . . . look,