Two Bar Mitzvahs by Kat Bastion with Stone Bastion Page A

Kids.”
    “They aren’t kids, Cade. They’re becoming teenagers—in the Jewish religion, full-fledged adults.”
    Yep. I knew Kristen would play that angle. “A technicality,” I grumbled. “There should be a height requirement.”
    Kiki snickered, nodding in agreement from the floor.
    Goaded on by the encouraging sign of a defiant comrade, I continued. “Like the really crazy roller coaster rides. If you aren’t at least forty-eight inches tall, you don’t get to climb inside.”
    “I think it’s forty inches on rides,” Kristen countered.
    Kendall held her phone, typing with one hand while she grabbed another tortilla chip with the other. “Forty-two. Just Googled it.”
    Kristen rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter, Cade. Go check the height chart Mom kept. You were well past forty-two inches by the time you were thirteen.”
    Kiki snorted. “Cade’s confusing it with his height requirement. Isn’t that kinda low for sex bombs on stilettos?”
    I glared at Kiki while she tried not to smile. “I thought you were on my side. Traitor. Also Hannah is sitting right next to you. Show some respect.”
    Kiki nudged Hannah. “Sorry. No offense meant. I’m too used to giving him shit.”
    Hannah nudged her back. “No biggie.”
    “Could we please change the topic?” Before anyone said another word, I stared hard at Hannah to make sure she was cool.
    She smiled, then pursed her lips in an imperceptible kiss. That one action calmed me from twelve feet away. I grinned and winked at her.
    Kiki nodded a chin toward Kristen. “Okay, so back to the bar mitzvah.”
    “Bar mitzvahs,” Kristen corrected.
    Kendall held her phone up again, flashing the screen toward Kristen, as if she could see it from that distance, let alone read the damn thing. “Technically, it’s b’nai mitzvah. That’s the plural.”
    I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Tell me again why it’s plural? I missed that detail.”
    Kristen pulled her bottle from her lips. “Twins.”
    I slumped my shoulders, dropping my chin onto my chest. “ Fuck .”
    “Hey, look at the bright side, Cade. The reason we’re doing two is because they’ve got differences of opinion on the parties they want to throw afterward.”
    Grabbing one of the chips Kendall had been hoarding, I dipped it into the salsa. “Why is that a bright side for me?”
    She smiled. “Because you’ve got carte blanche on the music.”
    Narrowing my eyes, I leaned toward her, resting my forearms on my knees. “What’s the catch?”
    She shrugged but failed to look at me.
    “Bullshit. There’s a catch. I can smell it. What, is one into AC/DC and the other—”
    “Justin Bieber.” Kristen tried to hide a smile.
    “ Fuck. ”
    The sadistic group burst out laughing.
    I collapsed back onto the couch. “No. Fuck no.”
    Kendall tossed a chip at me. “You going for a record of most ‘fucks’ uttered in one sitting?”
    “Fuck yes. And fuck no.” I groaned. “Not gonna do it.”
    “Yes, you are.” Kristen gave me the classic Michaelson strip-paint-off-a-car glare.
    Defiant, I shook my head. “No, I’m not.”
    “All for one and one for all. That was the deal when we formed the company, Cade.” Kristen settled back, her tone low and unyielding. “It’s blasphemy to disregard clubhouse code.”
    I sighed. Of course she had to bring up our sibling pact from childhood, when everything cool was controlled by my three older sisters, and they had the keys to the clubhouse. I was their whipping boy in exchange for an all-access pass—the exception to their “No Boys Allowed” policy.
    Still, I couldn’t swallow the idea down. Two events at once with teen siblings would be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
    “We said ‘no kids.’ We have an out.” I fell back on my initial argument, grasping at straws.
    Kristen glanced at Kendall, then Kiki and Hannah. “You girls with me? You on board with the boys-to-men parties?”
    The three all nodded, grinning.
    “We’re