I circled the strip mall once and rolled my eyes at the overdone Christmas decorations on every window and door. No spots available, so I drove to the far end and swung my Nissan into the vacant section along the sidewalk. Just as well. I didn’t want to waste time worrying some drunk butch lesbian would stumble out, yank open her car door and give my new SUV a door-dink dent. It was a nippy early-December night in Louisville, Kentucky, so I kept the motor running, flipped down the visor and did my last-minute chick-check—not that it mattered, given the place probably had no men customers, but one never knew. So I took the cautious route and made sure everything appeared in order. I’d put my auburn hair in a haphazard updo. The loose tendrils and long, sideswept bangs framed my face and made my dark-brown eyes pop. I studied the pastel shadow and coal outline I’d drawn around my eyes, the fake lashes I’d glued onto my upper eyelids, the pink-tinged cheekbones and crimson lips.
