"Mama!" Axel interrupts, banging his sippy cup on the high chair tray with the perfect timing of a toddler determined to avoid adult conversation.
"Saved by the toddler," Alisha says with a smirk, deftly handing him a piece of banana. "But don't think you're getting off that easily. I want details. All of them. Especially the dirty ones."
The warmth of friendship and happiness wraps around me like a cocoon, safe and precious. This is what I've missed—these easy moments with my best friend, sharing secrets and dreams over coffee while her twins create cheerful chaos around us.
I'm about to launch into a carefully edited version of my happiness when Alisha's phone rings. Her expression brightens as she checks the screen.
"It's Amanda," she says before answering. "Hey, what's up?"
The change in her face is instant—like storm clouds rolling over the summer sun, casting shadows where light once danced. I watch as the color drains from her cheeks, her knuckles whitening around the phone.
"Shit. I'm on my way." She hangs up and starts gathering the twins' things, her movements sharp with urgency. "There's been a flood in the inventory room at Venus. All the new clothing is damaged. Everything."
The happiness in my chest curdles like milk left too long in summer heat as she shoves a handful of cheerios into a ziplock bag with trembling fingers. "This after all the supplier issues—it's a goddamn disaster."
I freeze, my coffee cup halfway to my lips. "Wait, what supplier issues?"
Alisha sighs, wrestling a squirming Harley into her coat while Axel protests being wiped clean. "Amanda's having problems with the supplier for the new spring collection. Something about them suddenly not being a 'good fit' or some other corporate bullshit. She's been dealing with it for over a week."
"Why didn't you guys tell me?" The words come out sharper than I intend, guilt mixing with concern.
"Because you've been busy going down and dirty with a Saint." She manages a tight smile, but I can see the worry lurking in her eyes. "And honestly, it didn't seem like a big deal until now. Just bad business luck."
I grab my bag and help her with the stroller, already moving with purpose. "I'm coming with you."
"You don't have to—"
"I'm coming," I cut her off, my tone brooking no argument. "That's what friends do. That's what family does."
Together, we navigate the twins and stroller out of the diner, the happy bubble of my morning thoroughly popped as we hurry toward Venus, dread building with each step.
The stench of mildew hits me as soon as we push through Venus's front door, a damp, earthy smell that doesn't belong in a high-end boutique. Amanda paces near the register, her usually perfect hair a mess of tangles like she's been running her hands through it repeatedly.
"This is a nightmare." Her voice cracks, raw with desperation. "A complete fucking nightmare."
"Show us," Alisha says, parking the stroller.
Water squishes under our feet as Amanda leads us to the inventory room. The scene stops me cold—racks of designer clothing droop under the weight of water, puddles reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead. The spring collection, worth thousands, reduced to soggy fabric.
"The sprinkler system went off in the middle of the night." Amanda's hands shake as she lifts a ruined silk blouse, water dripping from its once-delicate hem. "The plumber says it's 'old building infrastructure' but can't find the actual cause. How convenient is that?"
"What did the police say?" I ask, scanning the room.
Amanda lets out a bitter laugh. "That the back door was loose, but there's 'no clear evidence' of a break-in. Nothing was stolen, so..." She shrugs, the gesture sharp with frustration. "They're calling it accidental damage."
"But?" I prompt, hearing the doubt in her voice.
"But that door was fine yesterday. I always check it before closing." She runs a hand through her hair. "And with everything else happening—the suppliers suddenly changing requirements, deliveries getting mixed up, inventory disappearing... Just really shitty timing, you know?"
This wasn’t just bad luck—it was too neat. Too surgical. And somewhere in the pit of my stomach, the dread that had been smoldering since the gallery cancellation flared into full-blown fire.
"Could this be sabotage? Any rival boutiques wanting to push you out?" I ask.
Amanda shakes her head, dropping the ruined silk back onto the rack with a wet slap. "No one I can think of." She wipes her hand on her jeans. "Maybe it’s just shitty timing,” she mutters, but the way her eyes flick toward the door again says she’s not convinced.
"Mercury must be in retrograde or something." Alisha shifts Harley to her other hip. "When it rains, it pours. Literally, in this case."
"Yeah," Amanda laughs, but it's hollow, echoing in the damp room. "Or karma’s finally cashing a check I don’t remember writing."
