“Yeah.”
She grinned. “Righteous.”
“Did I miss a vote on the OSRA seal?” I asked.
She turned and looked at the podium. “I think they made an executive decision.”
“I’m not mad about it. It’s boss,” I decreed.
“I concur,” she said.
Zach interrupted this by stepping behind the podium we were gazing at and saying into the microphone (mm-hmm, they didn’t really need it, but they had a microphone), “We’re bringing the Oasis Square Wedding Committee meeting to order. Sit down. We have a lot to get through.”
After we rounded the table to pick up the fabric swatches Tod tossed, Raye and I found seats by Shanti and Willow.
Knox delivered my cocktail then went to go stand with Cap, Eric, Javi, Gabe, Roam, Liam, Brady, Shaw, Lan and Jacob because, we’d learned, badasses didn’t sit during Oasis Square meetings.
Though, it was super sweet all those dudes turned up.
“Right,”—Zach pounded a gavel on the podium (see? totally took this shit seriously)—“Oasis Square Wedding Committee officially in order. Our first item of business is that Tod wants detailed notes on the current version of wedding scrapbooks from Raye, Jessie, Harlow and Willow before he and Stevie head back to Denver on Sunday.”
Only Raye and Jessie were engaged, but as I’d just learned, this was the way they rolled.
As if to verify that, Zach looked to me. “You have extra time, Luna, but you need to turn your scrapbook into me and Bill by February fifteenth.”
With no choice, and since this weird sitch clearly didn’t freak Knox, I gave Zach a salute.
He looked down to another scrapbook opened on the podium, undoubtedly Alexis and Jacob’s, and muttered into the microphone, “Moving on.”
I sipped my cocktail (one of Jessie’s, a passionfruit martini—on point, on theme and last, delish) and listened as Zach, Bill and Tod tag-teamed in going through Saturday’s schedule in minute detail, then telling us what we already knew about our assignments, addressing at length the emergency protocols, and going back through the schedule in minute detail. This ended with them handing thick folders to everyone, which had written notes clipped into them about all of what they just spent an hour going over. Along with this were phone numbers and emails we already had.
This concluded with Bill asking, “Any questions?”
No one had any because we already knew all of this before we even hit the courtyard (outside the emergency protocols, but we could have figured that out).
“Can I say something?” Alexis, sitting up front with Harlow, Jessie, Linda, Sally and Patsy, asked.
“Of course, girlie, get up here,” Bill said.
Alexis got up, went to the podium, Zach leaned in to adjust the microphone for her, and she said, “You guys…”
She stopped talking.
We all sat there.
She opened her mouth and closed it.
We all sat there.
Her face started to get really red.
Jacob prowled to his woman, tucked her to his side, leaned into the microphone and grunted, “Thanks,” then he took her to the table where the cocktails were.
Bill took the podium again.
“Thus, our meeting is adjourned at,”—he looked at his watch—“eight fifty-two.”
“Lord save me,” Martha muttered not quite under her breath from her seat behind us.
