Chapter 6 #2
Fair. I’m not exactly known for being Mr. Social Media. Hell, I don’t have half the apps on my phone. Those stupid things take up too much time. Time I can spend doing other, better things. Like reading.
“A self-defense class. Owen knows the leader of the Dirty Devils, this motorcycle club, and so we thought it would be unique to put on an event in conjunction with them. We would set it up as a fundraiser for EmpowHER.”
“How does that tie in to what Bronwyn is looking to do?” Gus asks, his brow furrowed.
“We can hype it up online. Get people excited about it, bring in donations. I figured we could make it part of Rhythm and Brews, so that it brings in a big crowd, and—”
“You want to add to the list of events for Rhythm and Brews?” Willa blurts out, her face incredulous. “Do you know how much work this event is already?”
I look at her, ready to defend my position, but the fire filling her eyes tells me to hold back.
Willa has been a member of the Rhythm and Brews committee for years, as has Miss Belle.
Because of that, each one of us ends up voluntold into some role or another every year.
Plus, Southern Brothers Brewing is a major sponsor.
I know this event is a lot of work, and I’m not trying to be a dick about this.
“I’m not asking to add to the committee’s plate. I would handle the planning and execution,” I tell her.
“Still going to require town council approval,” Gus notes. “And probably committee approval.”
Well, shit. That’s going to throw a wrench in things.
“Fine. Tell me what paperwork I need to submit and I’ll do it.”
“That’s still not what Bronwyn is looking for though,” Willa points out.
I should have known that if anyone was going to bring that up, it would be her.
The two of them are now sisters-in-law, so of course she knows exactly what Bronwyn is trying to accomplish.
She’s probably heard about the whole thing in great detail and helped conspire on some of the projects already in the works.
“But it works,” I say.
“It’s a one-time thing. She is looking for something that is a series. An idea that builds off itself and can be done perpetually. That even if you repackage the same info to reach a different audience, it has a draw. That’s the point of a social media campaign.”
Like stranger danger…
“Willa’s right,” Gus comments. He rounds the table, dodging Ewan and making his way to his normal seat, immediately to our father’s right.
“I think the event is a good idea, and we should definitely pitch it to the town council, but Bronwyn is looking for more. And personal safety is a focus area—Hayes is a household name when it comes to self-defense, and we want to keep it that way.”
No shit, Sherlock…
I’ve worked hard—really fucking hard—over the last thirteen years to build this department.
It was around long before me, but the reason it’s thriving is because I’ve kicked it up a notch.
I was the one who started the campus safety program after watching Willa try and navigate a college campus.
I’ve personally worked with different groups and manufacturers on all the devices we’ve created—the newest, upgraded version of our SafeSounds widget being my personal favorite.
“What else you got?” Gus presses.
Errr…
I know I shouldn’t. Seriously, I know better. But right now, I don’t have a better answer. Everyone at the table is looking at me, waiting on me to say something. Anything. Which means I need to come up with an answer. A good one too.
One that will mean we get to move on from this topic.
The only other one I’ve got.
“Presley threw out the idea of stranger danger, but—”
Auggie claps, cutting me off, the loud sound taking me by surprise. I swallow hard, trying to find the rest of my sentence, so thrown off by his enthusiastic response.
“…I don’t know that it has any meat to it.”
“It’s perfect. Talk about an evergreen topic.” Auggie wryly chuckles. “Every parent deals with this, and things are always changing. Some of the basics are the same, but new parents these days have different worries than your mama and I did.”
“Doesn’t mean we can make a thing about it,” I mutter.
“You said it yourself,” Anton replies. “Presley was lucky it was you and not some creeper who found her kiddo this past weekend. There’s your first episode.”
Shut it, Anton. Focus on your fruit…
“I just—”
“There’s no debate here, Jace,” Auggie interrupts. “This is your topic. It checks all the boxes.”
“You heard the man,” Gus says. “So let Presley know it’s a go.”
“In fact, text her right now,” Hux teases.
I flip him the bird, not giving a single damn that we’re in a meeting and are supposed to be “professional.” That comment came straight from my brother, not my coworker, and I will treat him as such. The rest of the group snickers, enjoying the interaction.
“Don’t have her number,” I point out, feeling rather proud of myself. Perfect excuse.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Willa scoffs.
Reaching across the table, she grabs my phone before I have a chance to react. I scramble, trying to get it back from her, but Hux throws out one of his big lumberjack arms, pushing me back into my seat.
Willa’s fingers fly across the screen, doing double time between her phone and mine, importing contact info I was more than happy not to have.
“There!” Willa smiles, the knowing grin of a little sister who is up to no good. “And I already sent her a text bringing her up to speed.”
“You did what?”
I grab my phone back, Willa’s devious smile growing even more, my eyes flicking down to the screen.
Hi Presley, it’s Jace. I’ve decided that you were right, stranger danger is a fantastic idea. Let me know when we can get started!
“A smiley face? And an exclamation point?” I glare at Willa. “I’m not one of your girl gang. I don’t send smiley faces.”
“I noticed. Your lack of recent emojis is a little depressing,” she retorts.
Little sisters…
My phone buzzes and suddenly the whole room is captivated. All eyes are on me, the weight of them heavier than a ton of bricks.
Presley
I’m happy to hear that you have come to your senses and realize the error of your ways. I will mock up a plan and then we can go over that.
Come to my senses? Error of my ways? Oh, this woman’s got cheek.
“What’d she say?” Ewan asks. “She like the smiley face?”
Uggggh…
“It’s Owen,” I lie, quickly tapping back a reply.
In order to see an error in my ways, there would have to be an error.
“She send back a heart?” Milo quips. “Or better yet, a kissy face?”
I ignore him, too focused on the almost immediate response to my message. The one that is making my blood boil.
Presley
I’m not the one who sent a smiley face. If that’s not the sign of a man admitting fault, I don’t know what is.
I slam my phone face down on the table. I’m not going to dignify this with a response.
This project can’t end soon enough.