I peered through a crack in the window to see what I was up against.

There were three men. The smallest one was my size. Being the shortest of the lot made him jumpy. He had a bat in his hand. Their backs were to the wall, metaphorically and literally. They were angry, but smart enough to wait for me to come to them.

A good strategy pits your strengths against your opponent’s weaknesses. If they had a weak spot, I could not see it.

I crouched down and considered my options. Three to one odds, and I still hurt from butting heads with just one of them. I needed an equalizer. Something to put the odds back in my favor.

I took a quick inventory of my assets. The guy watching my back was adjusting his skirt and touching up his lipstick. In addition to New York Nancy, I had a handful of loose change, a bag of oranges, and a headache.

I knew walking away would save bruises and a few broken bones. I also knew I could not back down—not now.

Strategy be damned. Some things you have to make right.