Page 29 of Top Shelf

Chapter five

Heidi

“How bad is it?” Nia asks.

My phone, with Nia on a video call, is propped up against a bowl on the coffee table. I drop onto Carina’s couch, toe off a sneaker, and let my head fall back against the cushion. “Hello to you too.”

“Hi. You look tired. How bad?”

Carina nudges my sneaker with her foot as she passes, then bends to pick up a plush giraffe from the rug. Her house looks like a toddler has staged a cheerful demolition. Somewhere upstairs, Reid is handling bath time, which means there’s a lot of splashing, high-pitched shrieks of joy, and Reid talking in low, calm tones.

I sigh. “I need a wealthy benefactor with a desire to fund reformer-based performance.”

Lulu hands me a glass. “So, wine.”

“Wine is a start,” I say, accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“When do you need it by?” Nia’s question comes through tinny on the phone speaker.

She used to be an Olympic diver, until an injury and an unexpected pregnancy changed her circumstances three years ago. We never lost touch, even after she moved interstate before her son was born. I still drag her into video calls when I need her because she's my “grown up” friend, which loosely translates to meaning Nia always seems to have her shit together, even when she's doing several things at once.

As if to confirm my thoughts, she looks somewhere off-screen to her son who is negotiating with her about a blue cup.

“Landlord wants confirmation by next Friday,” I say.

Zoe sits up straighter. “Next Friday as in seven days?”

“As in seven days.”

I pull the printed landlord email out of my folder and place it on the table. “Financing pathway, legal entity details, and enough confidence around the deposit and lease structure to not hand the space to the Botox people.”

Lulu wrinkles her nose. “I still hate them.”

“Same. But they have funding,” I mutter.

Zoe sits cross-legged on the rug beside her laptop, already reading through the email printout with her serious face on.

“How much?” Nia asks

I look down at my hands. “Twenty-two thousand to secure it.”

Lulu stops chewing, and Zoe’s eyes lift from the paper.

“That’s just the deposit?” Lulu asks.

“Yup.” I laugh once. “But the full launch is around one-fifty.”

Lulu swallows her mouthful and looks at Zoe, whose eyes flit to Nia on the screen and then over to Carina, who is now refilling a glass of wine with an incredibly generous pour.

“Please react less like I just announced I’m joining a cult,” I say with a groan.

“Sorry,” Lulu says. “That was just my soul leaving my body.”

“And I thought you were here for practical support.”

“I am! My practical support is that I hate that number.”

Zoe leans forward and takes her laptop, turning it slightly more toward herself. I sent her my spreadsheets earlier to look over. “This is the full ideal setup?”