Waves of heat reflected off of Cary Street as I got into my ancient Jeep. I’d bought it used when I was nineteen, and now that I was thirty, I knew it would probably kick the bucket soon. Problem was, I had no idea how I would afford a new car. I’d spent my life savings buying Percolate from Josh and Sneaky, and while it brought in steady money, I was still living paycheck to paycheck.
As I put the key in the ignition, my phone buzzed. The owner of the Jackson Ward Gallery messaged me to let me know Melissa Sturgeon, the artist who they were showing next was already there waiting for me to remove my unsold paintings. I was supposed to have done it yesterday, but one of Sneaky’s bartenders hadn’t shown, so I filled in. Also, I didn’t want to face the disappointing truth.
None of my painti
