“Would you look at this little show,” Richard said, checking his gold cufflinks before leaning back with his arms folded.

My mother smoothed her designer silk scarf with two manicured fingers and covered her mouth with a short, quiet gasp.

Bradley Collins stepped right into the middle of the aisle before I made it to the second row of oak pews.

He laid his right palm flat on the Kevlar chest plate of my tactical vest and leaned in until his face was six inches from mine.

“Take that costume off, little girl, you’re in the real world now,” Bradley said.