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By the time I barrel through the door to my bedroom, I can already see my phone is back to life and the screen is lighting up like fireworks.

Messages and alerts are pouring in steadily as I rip the phone from the cord.

Upon initial glance,Shereé’s announcement has been reposted somewhere in the hundreds of times and I’m pretty sure BuzzFeed is actively chronically the saga as we speak.

I quickly scroll through my DMs, which are exploding with hate messages from her loyal followers chastising me for not predicting this, not warning her, and worst of all, using her.

Using her?! I think to myself. I was the pawn here!

But my story on social media will never amount to anything more than a whisper when up against someone like Shereé Jackson’s mega-voice.

On top of that, almost everyone who ordered a bottle of Love Potion has written me—half to request a cancellation and half to ask if they are going to be hexed, too. I have four missed calls from Angeline accompanied by the same number of frantic texts from her.

Have you seen Shereé’s post?

What the hell is going on?

How can I help?

Call me back, I’m worried about you.

When I read through them, I quickly deduce that there’s no way Angeline spilled the Exexveei beans to Shereé.

So it was Ollie.

My fingers freeze as I come to that realization, but I eventually find the muscle memory to punch back a reply and assure her that I’ve got everything under control, even though I most certainly do not.

I know my sister told me Shereé probably doesn’t want to speak to me right now, and frankly, I don’t want to speak to her either. But I do have one question that only she can answer: How could you do this to me?

Sent.

Mere seconds later, she fires back her reply, as if she has been waiting for me to go to battle with her since her post.

How could you do this to ME?

The DM is accompanied by an image of my mom’s S&S journal sitting on the seat of my chair at the Holiday Market. It’s open to a page with my findings and observations about Exexveei.

S houldn’t have left it out, she writes . I thought it was the new DIORnotebook.

Wow. Just, wow.

Who cares, Moonie. All that matters is that you kept your most powerful tool from me during a time I needed it most, if it even exists at all. What kind of spiritual HEALER does that? You gave me no choice but to warn my followers. I have to keep people away from you…myself included.

Suddenly, when I click on Shereé’s profile, I see nothing.

No pictures. Follower/Following counts are at zero.

And a big icon in the middle of the screen that says that this user has no posts yet.

Since I know none of that is true, it can only mean one thing.

Shereé Jackson has blocked me. Not sure about Bryson’s, but at least my torridaffair is officially over.

Just then, a text notification drops down from the top of my screen.

It’s from Ollie, he’s asking to talk in person later.

He is to blame for what is happening to Moon Batch Apothecary, which is crumbling like a sand castle caught up by a wave, so unless he’s a crisis PR guru, I don’t care what he has to say and I don’t want to talk to him.

That’s when it hits me. Crisis PR guru. Yasmin.

If there’s one person who can steer me in the right direction right now, it’s Yas. I trust her. I respect her. She was my visions before I had visions. And now—she’s my Hail Mary.

She answers myFaceTimeon the second ring and her beautiful face takes over the screen of my phone.

The ocean is in the background. Her ginormous sunglasses fill the frame.

There is a guy riding a skateboard being pulled by his dog in the background.

I miss it all. Instantly, I recognize that place as home and I calm down.

I hear the phrase no worries whisper in my brain.

It is somehow louder than the swirling mess around me.

“How’s everybody’s favorite woo-woo woman?”

“Dethroned,” I say.

“Whaaa? Last time I checked, you were killing it.”

“Well, you must not have checked this morning.”

“What’s going on?”

Yas looks away from the camera, which tells me she is toggling to catch up online while I talk.

“Shereé flipped on me. Andunfortunately, it turns out, my entire business was hinged on her: a big, gigantic,fair-weatherinfluencer. One minute, I was her best friend. The next, kicked to the curb because her NBA husband decided to have an affair with one of the team’s cheerleaders. How is that my fault?”

“Everybody knows pro athletes cannot be trusted.”

“It doesn’t matter now, because all the people she once told to like me, she just told to unlike me. And they’re doing just that in a very big way.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m getting raked through the coals on Insta because I didn’t warn her . Because I didn’t predict this.”

“Who does she think you are, Miss Cleo?”

“She found out something you don’t know about me, Yas. Remember when I went to see Esther and she cut the session short? Well, it wasn’t because she lost her touch. It’s that when she touched my palm, she saw nothing. Come to find out, that means I have something called—”

“Exexveei,” Yas completes the thought with a stunned look on her face.

“You know about it?”

“Abuelita Sarita had it and told me all about. I even have her secrets-and-spells book in my nightstand. But since she was just my step-grandmother, and not my biological grandmother, none of that good, strong woo-wooju-ju got passed down to me, no matter how much I tried to recreate her rituals.”

“I’m sorry I never told you,” I say.

“You know, I had a feeling you had Exexveei. But I get it. It’s a lot to have to explain to someone.”

“So you’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“No, not at all. A little perturbed you told this Shereé girl before me, though. I thought we were besties.”

“We are. And that’s just the thing…I didn’t tell her.

She hacked into my spell book when I wasn’t looking.

I don’t know what exactly she read, but enough to interpret that I’m some omnipotent wonder of the world who did her dirty.

I feel so stupid, Yas. So, so stupid. Here I was thinking I built this incredible business.

But it turns out it was just a shell of a dream being held up by someone who makes a living tagging where she bought her belt on Instagram every day.

How could I have ever thought this would be sustainable?

That I could keep up with a queen like that?

And now that I successfully pissed her off, I’m a sinking ship. ”

“How are your financials looking?”

“Not good. I mean, I was making a decent profit week over week, but I was just reinvesting that into doubling my production. I was going to start putting away more in savings soon, but at this point, I’ll be lucky to break even by the end of the month with all this fallout. What do I do?”

I can hear Yas take a deep breath.

“This is going to be hard to hear, but my advice is to close up shop today. It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right, you can’t win against Shereé Jackson—not right now, at least. You’ve got nothing in reserves and your online presence is decaying by the minute, Moonie.

Take it away. Leave no scraps for the internet vultures.

After things breathe a bit, you can decide when and how you want to rebuild Moon Batch Apothecary. ”

“So you’re saying there’s a future?”

“There’s always a future.”

I find the strength to smile, but just barely.

“Should I say anything on my social before I shut it down? Defend myself a bit?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t post a manifesto. But if there’s something on your heart, go ahead and get it out. After that, no more. You’ll have to hunker down and let the storm pass.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Sometimes the right thing to do is the scary thing to do. But you’ve done this before. Remember moving back to Chicago after losing your house, your job, and your semi-boyfriend all in a day? You will find something to smile about again. Starting with…”

Yasmin flips the screen of her phone so I can see where she’s walking. It’s Ocean Beach, Newport Avenue to be exact.

“Is that the old Joe n’ Flow digs?” I ask.

“Sure is. Rebuilt, split back into two business spaces, and up for lease.”

“Do you think Gavin is going to bring it back? A Joe n’ Flow reprise?”

“Oh, honey. You haven’t seen his Instagram?

Homeboy is knee-deep in the rainforest of Brazil on a perpetual ayahuasca high.

I think Joe n’ Flow is far in the rearview for him, sadly.

Don’t worry. I’m sure something equally as amazing will find its way to town.

I’ve got to let you go for now, though. I’m headed to lunch with the hubs in Seaport Village.

Let’s catch up again soon, okay? Love you, mama.

It’ll be okay,” Yas says before she ends the FaceTime.

I feel better after talking to her. There’s something authentic and trustworthy about her candor that makes me feel okay about what I know I have to do next. I grab my laptop from under my bed and pull up the edit button for my online shop.

Are you sure you want to deactivate the ecommerce functionality of your online shop: Moon Batch Apothecary? The public will not be able to shop your store if you do this, the warning reads. I click yes.

Storefront deactivated. You can reactivate by clicking Settings under My Account.

That’s comforting, but at this point, not necessary.

After I get rid of all of the pages except for the home screen, I pull up a new text field and begin typing.

A MESSAGE FROM THE SHOP OWNER

Mere months ago, I was a no one.