Two Bar Mitzvahs by Kat Bastion with Stone Bastion Page B

overruling the technicality.” Kristen held my gaze, unwavering. “The kids become adults during the event. Think of the publicity this unique dual event would bring. We can’t pass this up.”
    I stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the will to stomach the idea. “Fine. But only because you pulled the clubhouse-code shit. I want it noted that I’m participating under duress. And I’m not in charge.”
    The corners of Kristen’s mouth twitched. “Noted. And yes , you are in charge.”
    I sighed for a hundredth time. “Why? I know nothing about bar mitzvahs or b’nai mitzvah.”
    “Neither do we, which is why you should lead this one. You want to be a business consultant? What better practice? Study the client’s needs, then tell us how we can plan a successful event for them. We have five weeks. Plenty of time for you to learn and educate us.” Kristen glanced around the room as the rest of the Michaelson Musketeers nodded, all crossing their arms in solidarity. Even Hannah joined in when prompted by Kiki’s nudge.
    Hard to argue logic. Or fight the musketeer code.
    Dammit.
    “Fine. But I am not listening to Justin Bieber to make the ‘sensitive one’ a soundtrack. He can give me a list of favorite songs. I lay the track unheard.”
    “Done.” Kristen nodded.
    “Anyone needs me that night? I’ll be with the AC/DC kid…uh…adult.”
    And really, for as much shit as I was giving Kristen and the girls, anything that took my mind off annoying exes and the company sabotage bullshit was worth tolerating.

7
Tea Party
    Later that week, after I had worked nonstop on both Loading Zone and Invitation Only planning and Hannah had been slammed with the growing orders at her bakery, Kristen dragged us all out for “field research” for our upcoming dual event. Even though this was a sedate lunch at a nearby country club, my guard was up. No suspicious activity had happened since the flower mix-up, but I didn’t think for a second our saboteur had given up. Silent often meant scheming in the business world.
    A waiter walked by with mint juleps on his tray. Mint fucking juleps. Stately columns lined the patio where we sat. Little sandwiches—food no grown man would touch unless nothing else existed—were arranged on a tower of connected silver platters.
    And I thought our country club screamed pretentious old-money.
    When we strolled through the front doors of Lakemont Country Club, we’d been transported straight to the South. On the surface of Mars. In an alternate universe. I blinked at a teenage girl who walked by on the grass beyond the patio, tennis racket resting on her far shoulder, bright-pink streaks in her hair. And not one uptight head on the patio turned.
    Toto, we aren’t on planet Earth anymore.
    “Explain to me why we’re here again?” On a hard sigh, I glanced around the table. My sisters and Hannah seemed just fine with tiny cucumber sandwiches. Cucumber.
    Kristen stirred her mint julep. The drink was a club special or some ridiculous shit. “The client demanded we hold the bar mitzvahs in their club. They’re new members. We’re doing reconnaissance, plus a tour.”
    At least Kiki sipped a hot green tea. Daring Kendall had ordered something stronger: iced tea, of the Long Island variety. And thank fuck for Hannah, who’d shown solidarity by ordering the same as me: beer, of the all-is-right-in-the-world variety.
    I leaned over to my comrade in normalcy. “Wanna see if they have a supply closet?”
    Hannah’s shoulders shook in silent laughter at our private joke. (We’d rounded second base for first time in a church supply closet, our mild claustrophobic issues had been trumped by our pent-up sexual frustration.)
    She dropped her gaze down to the folded napkin in her lap and blushed spectacularly. I loved putting naughty thoughts into her head, flushing that pink onto her beautiful face.
    I nudged her with my shoulder, lightening the mood as I took a pull from my bottle. “You