Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Oh yeah, that thing,” said Lauren, squinching up her nose. “It was fucking unbelievable right? Forty-six thousand? It’s fucking grand larceny, and that didn’t even include extra fees and housing,” she said.
I shook my head slowly, feeling defeated.
“It’s just that … honestly, I don’t know if I’m still going to be here next year,” I confessed. “My stepdad just got called up to Afghanistan, so he’s getting military pay now, and my mom doesn’t have the cash to make up the shortfall,” I said quietly. “I mean, I love Trinity, but my family can’t afford for me to be here, not really.”
Lauren was silent for a bit. I could understand her awkwardness. As a rich girl, it was probably the first time she was putting herself in someone else’s shoes. She probably didn’t know what to say. But Lauren surprised me.
“Mel, you know I’m not from a wealthy family, right?” she asked slowly. “I mean, I have expensive shit and stuff, but I pay for it myself. I don’t have a Daddy Warbucks. In fact, I’m footing the tuition bill here at Trinity on my own.”
My mouth fell open. Really? Unless she had some kind of trust fund, I didn’t see how any eighteen year-old could afford this school.
Lauren just shook her head.
“I dance, Mel,” she stated. Seeing my look of confusion, she clarified. “I’m a stripper at the Donkey Club in the city.”
Donkey Club? Which city? What was she talking about?
Sighing, my roomie began to explain.
“You know how I disappear every weekend to see my boyfriend up at NYU? Well, I go up to New York City, but it’s not because I have a boyfriend,” she said. “I’m a stripper at a joint up there called the Donkey Club. It’s not one of the high-end places, but there’s a niche for “school girl cream,” as they like to call it.”
What? I stared at my friend, my eyes wide with shock. What was ‘school girl cream’? It sounded wrong for sure. But Lauren merely shrugged and continued.
“In fact, I often bring a lot of Trinity gear up with me, and that’s my routine,” she said. “My spiel is that I’m a Trinity co-ed, wearing a Trinity bikini and skirt, and it all comes off over the course of a few minutes.”
My mouth hung open. It was true that Lauren owned a ton of Trinity gear but I’d never suspected that it was a costume and props. I’d just figured she had a lot of school spirit and liked to show it.
But the more my friend explained the gig, the more I could kind of see it. Lauren is blonde and gorgeous with a worldly, experienced air. Guys would love seeing her on-stage, parading that perfect bod. Plus, she could pull it off. I’d never even suspected that the boyfriend in New York story was just that – a story. It fit in perfectly with her mature demeanor, and the sophisticated way she smoked cigarettes when we hung out outside our dorm. She seemed to know everything already, despite the fact we were both freshmen.
I took a deep breath and decided not to beat around the bush.
“Do you think the Donkey Club would have room for someone like me?” I’d asked, trying to be brave.
Lauren looked me up and down, taking in my riotous brown hair, curvy shape and alabaster skin.
“I know they do,” she replied confidently. “Come with me next weekend, and you’ll pull in the big bucks, I promise.” I gasped. Could I really do it? I’d nodded silently, too stunned for words before quickly gathering my book bag. Lauren stopped me before I headed off to class.
“You okay with this, Melly?” she asked with concern. “No girl ever sees herself as a stripper. We’re co-eds,” she said wryly. “We’re supposed to be preparing ourselves to be doctors, lawyers, or some other professional shit. A stripper? That’s for girls who don’t have degrees.”
I nodded, unable to speak for a moment.
“I know,” I said in a quiet voice. “That’s why I’m not so sure about dancing for money,” I mumbled, looking down. “I wanted to make something of myself. You know, to have a real career and not something where you take your clothes off.”
But Lauren merely nodded with understanding.
“I hear you,” she said, “but look at this as a stepping stone. We want real careers. We want to be professional women who wear a suit and type on computers all day. But sometimes, it’s not so easy to get there. Sometimes, you’ve got to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and take dramatic steps to get there. If we don’t do this, then what do we have? Nothing. We’d be no better off than some girl who never leaves the hood,” she said wryly. “Trust me, I know. My mom had me at eighteen, and has never left the Bronx. She’s still living in the same shitty walk-up and working the same shitty job she’s had for ten years as a cashier at the Supermart down the street. It’s sad, right? So when I told her I was going to dance in order to put myself through school, she was totally on board. My mom wants me to succeed just as much as I want it, and that’s what makes me get up on stage every week,” Lauren said fiercely. “The knowledge that this is just a means to an end. Maybe it’s not a pretty means, but it makes sense for girls in our position.”