I’d donned what I think of as my Dolly Parton wig. Big shaggy blonde hair that curled and fell a little past my shoulders. Slipping into Jimmy Choo heels with a delicate bow near the end of the pointed toes, I felt like a million bucks. I winked at Pops and tossed my keys three times before heading outside. My steps were light and the hair was bouncin’ and behavin’ as I strode the four blocks to the waiting Mercedes. Dim lighting in the parking garage allowed me the freedom to exchange ...