I recognize Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing loudly in the backyard as we approach the large ranch in an upper-middle class neighborhood.

We ring the bell twice and pound a fist upon the heavy wooden door. I’m sure we can’t be heard over the music.

Eventually, the door swings open, and a stunning woman in denim overalls splattered with paint in every color of the rainbow stands before us, a gun-metal gray paint smudge upon her face where a finger must have touched her cheek. ...