![]() The nagging concern I might be underdressed rose with every floor I passed. In typical Los Angeles fashion, even the damn elevator was more glamorous than me. ![]() I watched the golden numbers light up one by one. Some strands were stuck to my neck, subdued by sweat, but the rest was likely poking in all directions. I patted my unruly, shoulder-length hair-a nervous habit I’d developed over twenty-nine years of experiencing it having a mind of its own. The elevator shared none of my misgivings and shot skyward. ![]() Would a bad guy be intimidated if I threatened to release the butterflies? I did have a hard knot of nerves in my stomach though. I didn’t even have any muscles worth acknowledging. I wasn’t equipped like someone in the protection business. I crossed the lobby and entered a waiting elevator. ![]() The honor of protecting someone from harm.īut facing my fears didn’t come naturally to me, so I was thinking about my hair instead. ![]() It was a sweltering day in September, the kind that had my clothes clinging in places they weren’t designed to cling, and I should’ve been thinking about the job. I stepped inside one of Los Angeles’s high-rise buildings for the chance to turn my life around. ![]()
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