Free More Than A Maybe by Clarissa Monte

their IPO a few years ago. Nobody’s really sure of all the details, but he walked away with something like $1.2 billion.”
    Jayla’s eyes pop open. She just shakes her head. “The dumb luck on this bitch right here! Falls butt-first into a lap of luxury. I swear to you, there is no justice in this world. Where’s my Xavier, huh? Tell me again how you two met . . . ?”
    I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”
    She laughs. “Well, enough about my unlucky ass. Check your phone already. This guy must have left you about a million sexy booty call texts so far.”
    I sigh. “I dunno . . . ” I say, slowly unzipping the gym bag and rummaging around for my iPhone. “I’m kind of afraid. What if he didn’t call? Or what if he did — what am I supposed to say?”
    Jayla points her fork straight at me. “Either you get that phone out and check your messages, or I will stab you in the eye with this fork. My hand to God.”
    I raise my hands in front of my face in mock terror. “Whoa there, crazy! I’ll check already.”
    I manage to locate my phone and fish it out, then lay it solemnly on the table between us. I take a very deep breath. It’s driving Jayla nuts, I can tell — but I haven’t had a moment like this in . . . well, ever. I want it to have a sense of occasion.
    “Okay, then,” I say, trying with very little success to keep my pulse in check. “I should just do it, then. On what — on three? One, two, three? ”
    Jayla squeezes her eyes shut tight and pinches the bridge of her nose.
    “Will . . . you . . . do . . . it.”
    “Okay.” I grab the iPhone, unlock it with a quick horizontal swipe of my finger, and look around in frantic expectation for the message that should be, must be there . . .
    And there it is! From a half-hour ago:
> Hope you slept well.
    > A special courier is currently in front of your building, anxiously awaiting your return. He has something for you — along with instructions to wait until 1:00 PM.
    > If you’re unable to meet him . . . well, another time, perhaps.
    > X
    Jayla slaps her palms on the table, sending the dishes clattering. “It’s already after twelve, girl! You’ve got to get your ass home!”
    * * *
    Jayla gives me one more big embrace as we say our goodbyes. I’m dying to see what the delivery is all about, and she’s got to go off to class. It’s a class we used to share, I realize — one I’ve now had to drop out of. She looks suddenly sleepy as she makes to leave; a moment ago, she’d been so wrapped up in my story that she didn’t look tired at all. I’m struck by just how exhausted she must usually be.
    I make double sure that I remember my doggie bag of half-eaten rigatoni, then start to walk home at a brisk pace. The sun is warm, there’s a nice bit of breeze against my face, and there’s still plenty of time until 1:00. I don’t have to wait tables until later in the evening, and bed still sounds heavenly. I decide that when I get back I’ll just crawl under the covers and wait for my night shift to begin.
    When I arrive at my building, there’s a thin man waiting for me . . . navy blue work cap, company polo shirt, khaki pants, and an enormous black cardboard box covered with EXPRESS — SPECIAL stickers. He sees me approach, waves me over.
    “Do you live here?” he asks.
    “Sure do,” I say. “Is that for me?”
    “I hope so,” he says. “Do you know anyone living here by the name of Veronica Kane? Or possibly Alice White?”
    I nod, smiling inwardly. Xavier had remembered both names after all.
    “That’s me,” I say.
    “Oh, fantastic,” he says, breathing out with relief. “Can I just see an I.D. real quick?”
    I search around in my purse for a moment, then flash him my driver’s license. It’s almost expired, I realize . . . but then again, you don’t need a license to ride the bus.
    “Sign here, would you?” the delivery man asks.
    He holds out a plastic pen, and I more or less make my signature in the little box on