It was hot, blistering even. Why did summer have to be so unbearable in Beverly Heights? You weren’t rich like everyone else, but you also weren’t struggling. A comfortable middle ground.

You owned an art studio and store. Pottery, painting, a wide variety of different types and styles of media. You posted your work on social media and it exploded pretty well. You got commissions from famous celebrities.

There was this particular commission that was ordered as a gift. You were given a bunch of photos of the famous Billy Joe Cobra. As long as it was something that looked like him it didn’t matter. You were pretty much done, literally just had to wait for the portrait painting to dry. You texted the commissioner to pick it up around a few hours to a week later and they agreed to it.

A few hours later a fourteen year old kid came over. He had short brunette hair, a red and white t-shirt, jeans, and orange shoes. “I’m here for the portrait, it’s for my bro… slash cousin. I’m Spencer Wright.” You introduced yourself and gave the painting. “Woah… this is amazing. He’s gonna love it.” He paid and before he could leave the very person he had you paint came in. Billy Joe Cobra and the way he paused to stare at you betrayed the twisted side of him that ignited.