Brett Rockman -

"Bo! Get your feathery butt over here!" he shouted toward the porch. Bo, his prize rooster, strutted in with the audacity of a Leo—a trait Bretman respected deeply, given his own father was a Leo.

The humid air of the Hawaiian morning was thick with the scent of wild ginger and damp earth. Inside his modern, glass-walled home, Bretman stood before a floor-to-ceiling mirror, not to apply a 12-step contour routine, but to adjust a pair of vintage sunglasses that matched his botanical aesthetic. He was no longer just a "beauty influencer"; he was a scientist on the side, a coconut water connoisseur, and the self-appointed King of Confidence. brett rockman

As he sat on the grass, a four-leaf clover caught his eye. He didn't look for the leaves; he looked for the white "squares" in the center, just as he had learned to look for the truth in a world full of basicness. He picked it, tucked it behind his ear, and smiled. "I really am that bitch," he whispered to the wind. The humid air of the Hawaiian morning was