Making the Cut (Son's of Templar MC)

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Making the Cut (Son's of Templar MC) Page 2

by Anne Malcom


  I started pushing at him. “No Trent.” I protested but he wouldn’t listen, my thoughts were slow from the alcohol. Suddenly the lights flickered on and I heard Ian’s bellow.

  “What the FUCK?”

  Trent was ripped off me and Ian held him by his collar driving his fist through his face. Trent slumped to the ground holding a bloody nose.

  “Ian, shit did you break his nose? Oh man, I don’t want to clean that blood up.” I moaned stupidly.

  Ian turned to me anger radiating off him. “You okay Ace?” He asked, using the nickname he’s had for me since before I can remember.

  “Ummm yeah?” I looked at him expectantly, I hadn’t seen my brother in two years, this was not the situation I would have liked for his homecoming. He turned back to Trent yanking him up.

  “If you lay a hand on my sister again, so much as look at her, I’ll kill you. Got it asshole?”

  “What’s your fucking problem man, she’s my girlfriend.” Trent shot back, the idiot.

  “I’d say by the way you were forcing herself on her she’s not you girlfriend anymore dickbrain, now get out of my sight before I fucking loose it.” Ian yelled. Trent took a quick glance at me, blood still pouring out his nose.

  I shrugged, “It’s not me it’s you.”

  He gave my brother a weary look then bolted.

  “Great date!” I proclaimed sarcastically, and drunkenly. I turned back to Ian and threw myself into his arms. “It’s soooo good to see you,” I said sweetly. “ I missed you heaps!”

  Ian squeezed me, then pulled back anger returning to his gaze. “Seriously Gwen, what would you have done if I wasn’t here? You’re wasted, that dress is too fucking short and Mum and Dad are gone, if I hadn’t stepped in…”

  “Don’t worry so much Ian, its all worked out now, and your home!” I sang at him, my happy drunk buzz still firmly in place.

  “Yeah I am, but I have no idea who I’m looking at right now Gwen. Drinking, partying, wearing clothes like that.” He spat, gesturing at my dress. “Mum and Dad have been telling me your grades are suffering, and you’re skipping school? I don’t know what’s going on with you Gwen but you need to sort your shit before you ruin your fucking life with actions you can’t take back.”

  That was the only time I’d seen him really angry, and after seeing myself through his eyes I got my act together. Well not completely I still caused a bit of trouble, but I got my grades back on track and stopped my mother from going prematurely grey. The next time Ian saw me, I was doing pretty damn well for myself. I ended up getting a degree in Fashion Merchandising at university, my love of all things fashion being a part of me since I was old enough to dress myself. At 21 I graduated, moved to New York, got a job as a buyer for a department store and made myself a life. Ian stayed in the army, travelling around the world, coming to New York a couple of times to see me, then going back home to see Mum and Dad. That got me to thinking, I had only seen Ian a couple of months ago, he was meant to be on tour for another 12 months.

  “Ian, how did you get here? Aren’t you meant to be in some undisclosed location, water boarding terrorists and beating infidels into submission?”

  Ian turned from the wall, breathing heavily, my question taking awhile to penetrate. He ran his hand through his lack of hair and sighed.

  “Yeah, but I got and emergency call from Amy, she somehow got a hold of my number, that girl could run a country.” He joked tightly.

  “Amy?” I asked.

  Amy was my best friend and roommate. I met her on one of my first days in New York. I was out having a drink in some trendy bar alone, which was scary but I didn’t know anyone and was hoping to meet some awesome Sex And The City types and bond over Cosmos. I cringe thinking about my reasoning now that I was a savvy New Yorker, but back then I was a naïve country girl from New Zealand. I had only just taken my first sip when some greasy looking guy had sidled up to me and seriously couldn’t take no for an answer. After I had tried to politely decline his advances for the third time I began to feel little scared, not knowing a soul in the bar. Enter Amy.

  “Oh my god babe, sorry I’m so late.” She breezed in, squeezing between the sleaze ball and me. I gazed at the gorgeous stranger with wide eyes as she took a sip of my drink.

  “Andrew wanted me to tell you he got held up at the prison. They were just about to let him out when some guy made a comment about the photo of you he had in his bunk.” She put the drink down and raised an eyebrow at me. “Beat the shit out of some guy. Don’t worry they’re still letting him out just a little later.” She delivered this without a glance to the man beside her who was very pale and looked at me with wide eyes before darting away.

  I regarded at the woman standing beside me, impressed. Her thick red hair was piled into a messy knot on top of her head. She had emerald green eyes an angular face and amazing skin. She was petite, but curvy in the right places. I was jealous, I wondered if she would divulge her diet and exercise secret to me if I brought her a cosmo.

  Her outfit was straight off a runway, a white silk shirt tucked into a Balmain leather pencil skirt, and black Manolo Blahnik heels.

  “Um thanks for that.” I blinked, trying to figure out what just happened.

  She smiled at me. “No problemo girlfriend, this city is full of sleaze bags they would kick me out of the sisterhood if I didn’t do something about that. And I just got stood up, needed a drinking buddy. You’ve got good taste in cocktails, impeccable style and a cute wee foreign accent. You could just be my new best friend.”

  And we had been, ever since.

  “Yeah she was here almost as much as me but she’s ‘out getting supplies.’” Ian explained with finger quotes, bringing me back to the present.

  As if on cue Amy thundered through the door arms full of flowers and shopping bags, followed by my other two friends, Ryan and his boyfriend Alex.

  “Holy fuck! You’re finally awake! ” Amy screamed, dumping all the bags at her Jimmy Choo clad feet. She was dressed impeccably, in black leather pants, a slouchy tan tee with oversized black blazer on top and multiple gold necklaces strung around her neck. Even in a hospital bed I couldn’t help but appreciate her outfit.

  She stared at me for a moment standing in the middle of the room.

  “Girlfriend don’t ever scare me like than again, I lost my mind for almost two weeks.” She whispered her voice breaking and tears beginning to stream down her cheeks, mascara coming with them.

  “I’m okay now Amy,” I whispered back, trying to sound strong.

  “Okay?” She repeated in a shrill tone, anger replacing sadness. “Okay? She thinks she’s ‘okay,’’” She directed a look at my brother, using finger quotes.

  “What those bastards did to you,” she shuddered. “You almost died G, the doctors said you might not wake up, and even if you did you had the possibility of brain damage. You are bruised and battered everywhere, so I would say that’s the opposite of okay. I am going to kill those animals!!” She cried, starting to sound hysterical.

  I flinched, thinking about another person I loved going through hell. Ryan, another one of my best friends, approached my beside with a tender look on his beautiful face. Ryan had mocha colored skin, a bald head and bone structure to die for. He was a male model and never has a shortage of jobs, plus he always looked like he had just strutted off the runway. Today was no different, he wore a deep red cashmere turtle neck sweater, and black pants tucked into some biker boots. His boyfriend Alex, was the day to his night, tall with pale skin and seriously built with muscles everywhere. His dark black hair flopped over his face, like he spent hours styling it, but Alex wouldn’t be caught dead with any “girlie shit” in his hair. He was a macho man, and Ryan is so high maintenance he gave me a run for my money, but they love each other so it worked.

  “Amy, take it down a decibel, only dogs communicate at that level.” Ryan hissed. “Gwen knows exactly what happened to her and doesn’t need reminding. She sure as shit doesn�
��t need to try and calm down your crazy ass either.” He glared at her and approached my beside.

  Ryan stroked some hair off my face and failed to hide his wince at my battered appearance. “Baby girl.” His voice was soft and his eyes glistened, for just a moment.

  “Alright girl, lets get you into some of these wonderful satin PJs we picked up from Barneys and get you out of that hideous gown.” Amy chirped in, sounding a lot more like herself. Alex, who hadn’t said anything since he walked in, joined my posse and gave me a kiss on the head.

  “Babe I love you, over the fucking moon you’re finally awake. How about I take your brother for a beer while you get pampered by the cashmere mafia?” He decided. I smiled at him knowing he had clocked my brother’s anger as soon as he walked in the room. I knew he was trying hard to restrain his own fury, which was hiding behind his forced smile.

  “Thanks Alex.” I glanced at my brother, who was studying me with a frown on his face.

  “I’ll be fine Ian, get away from this place for a bit.” I told him firmly.

  He looked conflicted, but sighed. “We’ll see you soon.” Ian promised, kissing me on the head leaving with Alex.

  Ryan and Amy were fussing with my pillows, arguing over which PJ set would be less scratchy on my skin. At that moment, I knew, even though something terrible has happened to me, and I was a long way to being healed, I was going to be fine because of the people I love, the people who would do anything for me and would always be there, every step of the way.

  One Year Later

  I took one last glance at my city in my rear vision mirror. The place I had dreamed about while sitting in a small town at the edge of the world. The city where my life had changed so much, where I had changed so much. I was a stronger person now. It took me six months to fully heal after my attack, I had gone to some really dark places and even now I was still plagued with nightmares but I was determined not to let my life be consumed by this, not to live with label of ‘victim’. I had to leave New York, I had to leave my memories behind and have a fresh start. And boy was I starting over. Amy had tried talking me out of opening a boutique clothing store in Amber, California, but as soon as I saw it, while passing through on a buying trip, I fell in love. It was the classic small American town, a main street with everything in one place, from the grocery store to the barber. A town where everybody knows everybody, and that gave me a strange sort of comfort, reminding me of home. It also had a beach, but it was relatively undiscovered on the tourist trail, people preferring Malibu and Santa Monica a few hours away.

  I thought back to when Ian had persuaded me to tell me parents about my attack.

  “I love you so much kid, and I’ll always be here for you and respect your decisions, but you need to tell Mum and Dad about what happened, you know you do, I know it will be hard but you gotta do it.”

  Like always, I listened to my brother’s advice, and rang my parents.

  After a long, and tearful, (on both sides) conversation, my parents took the first flight over, helping me recover, both physically and mentally. And after finding my little town, I immediately rang them and told them about my desire to move there and open my own store. Hearing the passion and happiness in my voice, things which had been absent for a while, my parents gave me the money to buy the store and move to Amber. My family was wealthy, but my brother and I were always brought up to work hard for what we wanted and I was grateful for that. We got a portion of our trust fund when we turned eighteen, and I used mine to move to the States and get myself an apartment on the Upper East Side, my ultimate dream after watching ‘Gossip Girl’, shallow I know but I was young and had my dreams. After working my way up to Senior Buyer position, I earned decent money, not to mention I still had a hefty portion of my trust fund. But my parents were adamant to help me out. I guess since they had no control over my nightmares, my recovery or my scars, they wanted to help me get something that might get me back to my old self. Of course, after Amy found out about my plans, even though she was a Manhattanite through and through, and her family was a lot wealthier than mine, she decided that she wasn’t letting me go alone.

  “You’re not going to the other side of the country to fuck knows where and opening up a shop without your best girl helping you out.” She had said once I told her about the space I brought. So that brought me back to now, taking the long drive across country to my new home, and my new life.

  Chapter 2

  I arrived in Amber, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing I had made the right decision. I had taken a week to do the 44 hour drive. I had done all the necessities when on a road trip, listened to power ballads, singing along at the top of my lungs, stopping at random sights along the way, and enjoyed the solitude. I drove past where my store would be and a smile lit up my face, nestled between a cute little coffee shop and a bookstore, it was perfect. The three loves of my life within a stones throw of each other, coffee, fashion and books. It sent a thrill through me to see my little sign with the word ‘Phoenix’ scrawled across it.

  I continued to mine and Amy’s new home, she had decided that she would fly the next day. She had told me she wasn’t spending days driving the country when she could “drink champagne and read Vogue on her fathers jet”. Yeah they were loaded. Amy had picked our house, and after a huge argument, I brought it, but only if she was in charge of decorating and the expenses that went with it. So after spending the last few weeks on the phone with decorators and closing her computer screen every time I walked past, I was itching to see it.

  I pulled up the driveway and took a moment to take in our beautiful new house. On the end of a sleepy little street, slightly separated from the rest of the houses, was a beautiful little restored Victorian. It was three stories high, with dove grey weatherboard. A stone path led up some steps to the second story, which had a huge porch wrapping around it. Another path led to French doors with housed bottom story basement. The third story had a huge balcony jutting over the porch, more French doors opening to that. That was my room, Amy’s was at the back, her balcony jutting onto the back yard and pool. I had to toss up between this and a smaller house by the sea, this one appealed to me more. I jumped out of my car and gave an excited little squeal. I glanced around, glad I was alone, the last thing I wanted was my neighbors thinking I was a crazy person. I decided to forgo unpacking for now, itching to see the house.

  My heels clicked on the stones of our walkway. Even the porch was amazing. A beautiful porch swing that looked like it could double as a bed was on my left, a wicker table and chairs to my right. When I got inside I looked around and my breath left me. The walls were white the floors a beautiful polished wood. A white table with a huge vase full of pink orchids sat in front of me. Slightly to the right was the staircase, ahead of me, the doors to the dining room and the kitchen. I continued into the house on unsteady feet, into the beautiful living room with cozy white couches and chairs are centered around a coffee table. Patterned throws and pillows added a touch of class and vibrancy. The coffee table was stunning, it looked like a giant silver serving platter with dark wooden legs. A fresh vase of flowers and some candles sat atop it. A white glass cabinet sat in the corner, a mish mash of photo frames, books and bowls inside. Framed artwork surrounded the walls, in simple white frames, I knew by looking at them they were by some seriously famous artists.

  I wandered around the rest of the house in a sort of dream, barely taking in the beautiful black marble kitchen, or the magnificent dining room. I climbed the stairs and opened the door to my room. It was my dream room. A huge, four-poster vintage bed sat in the middle of the room with a white frame and delicate designs spinning around the legs. I ran my hand along the carved wood. Two white side tables sat on either side with glass lamps sitting on top. I spied a beautiful old dressing table in the corner with an array of perfume bottles and vintage hairbrushes artfully displayed on it. I walked over and sat on the stool, running my fingers of the brushes and smiled at the family photo sitting
in a silver frame beside the brushes. It was one of my favorites. Taken just before I left for New York and when Ian had been home.

  We were in the garden of our childhood home, Mum and Dad had their arms around each other, Mum pressing a kiss to Dads forehead. My mother and father were night and day. Mum had golden blonde hair, styled soft around her face, she has always been beautiful, even in her fifties she was stunning. She is trim, and very petite, my father looked like a mountain man compared to her. His dark scruffy hair was peppered with silver, smile lines at the corner of his face only made him more handsome, in a rugged type of way. He is tall and even approaching sixty in good shape. A twenty year old me was tucked into my father’s side, laughing at something, my head thrown back my long brown hair flying behind me. Ian was beside my mother, his arm around her waist grinning over at me. Him, with his military buzz cut and strong jaw was an imprint of my father, the same hazel eyes, dark hair and cheeky smile. Our family had always been close, I knew how lucky I was to come from such a great home.

  I moved my gaze to observe my reflection in the lovingly restored mirror. My chocolate brown hair was piled on top of my head, wisps hanging down here and there. My hand touched the spot on my cheek where a small scar hid underneath my makeup. I decided I looked like the old me, with slightly tanned skin and a heart shaped face. My eyes are what I think are my best feature, jade green and maybe a smidge too big for my face, making me look too innocent for my liking, although it did help when I was younger. I’m only 5’5 and naturally petite, which is why I’m always wearing 6-inch heels. My body is lean, but with a larger ass than I would like and smaller breasts than I want. I work freaking hard to keep my figure trim, and if I even look at a cupcake I swear my ass grows. I snapped myself out of my self-perusal when I realized I hadn’t even explored the most important part. The closet.

  I clapped my hands with glee as I opened double doors into an amazing walk in wardrobe, with white carpet and an amazing purple rug running to the end of the room. A chaise lounger sat in the middle of the room, and there was even glass cases for my handbags! My bathroom was just as impressive, white tiles ran along the floor and halfway up the walls, met with soft blue paint. A Chandelier (yes chandelier) dangled atop the claw foot tub, which was in the middle of the room, a white footstool beside it. I had two huge sinks and mirrors, with cabinets underneath them more than able to house all of my beauty products. To the left of the sinks was a shower big enough to sleep in. I retrieved my phone out of my bag and dialed.

 

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