"It's $300 an hour. There's the ATM, I'll go with you." I had to know her. I had to get her story. But I didn't have the money to do so. The free way to do it was to dress up like her, I thought. Little did I know, it entailed more than standing on the street corner in a long brown wig, a tight red dress, chewing gum, and marching in fishnet stockings and high-heeled boots. Note: This is a graphic novella, it includes beautiful...