Tough Girl

Chapter three

I was enjoying my French pressed coffee when Amy came tumbling down the staircase. Dragging her feet to the kitchen and collapses on a chair at the island counter. “That smells good,” Her words slurred and if I didn’t know any better. I would say she was hammered.

“I made a fresh pot,” I gestured with my head towards the French press.

“Are you still upset with me?” She asked making no effort to get up and pour herself a cup.

“You are worried about a disagreement when it’s clear you’ve got a throbbing headache,” I placed my mug down and poured her a fresh cup. Watching her mouth make love to the cup.

“Gosh, that’s good,” She moaned with a sigh.

“The benefits of living with me,” I wasn’t an alcoholic or an expert protein maker. I love good coffee. I would go out of my way to pay for a good roasted coffee.

“You are a coffee addict,”

I didn’t mind being accused of drinking too much coffee.

“And you are promiscuous,” She rolled her eyes at me. Amy didn’t fight me because deep down she was exactly aware of what she was doing.

“I am too hungover to argue with you,” Amy picked up her mug again, downing the coffee in one gulp and holding it out to me.

“Do you mind refilling my mug and another for Juan?” She sheepishly asked pointing her finger at the ceiling. Emphasizing she brought him home after staying out late, getting drunk and coming back here to have s*x.

“Am I now your personal waiter?” I asked arching an eyebrow.

“That would require you to serve me in bed,” She countered.

I smiled at her. Pushing two mugs over to her. “You know that I love you but that is never going to happen,” I grabbed my bike keys from the basket and made my way.

“Are you really going to show up with that thing at a dress rehearsal your mother arranged?”

“It will do her some good to get off her high horse, from time to time,” Showing up with my bike is going to cause her to freak out on me and I am betting on it.

“She’s not coming only come down from her high horse. She’s going to blow off rooftops with that temper of hers,” Amy noted.

“If you haven’t learned by now but it’s always have been my intention to annoy her, seemingly that I am the black sheep of the family,” My mother is old-fashioned. She believes girls should act ladylike. I didn’t fall into that category. Making my mother disapprove of my cage-fighting ambition, and daredevil intentions and have no interest in wearing skirts, heels or dresses.

“Only because you live according to our own principles,” Amy said with a snippy remark.

“No, it’s because I am not married and planning on having three or more kids,” I corrected her.

I left her to deal with her hangover and boytoy. I got to my bike. Slipped my helmet over my head and mounted my Ducati. The soft and steady rumbling of the bike was music to my ears. I shut the visor of my helmet and back out the driveway.

Sunday traffic was unpleasantly free-flowing and it messed with my plan of wanting to take longer to get to the boutique.

A few men were huddled together, smoking on the sidewalk and watching me pull up. Appreciating my wheels. Their expressions progressed from appreciation to bewilderment when I removed my helmet and pushed my fingers through my blond hair.

“Nice bike,” One of the men complimented.

“I know right,” I responded beaming and made my way towards the boutique. Unsure of what was waiting for me. I wish I could convince my mom to have me wear a jumpsuit but like I know her. It was impossible.

I felt like I should have stopped at the gym to get in a few rounds with the punching bag before going inside and dealing with my gruelling mother. I inhaled a fresh breath of air and stepped inside greeting the receptionist who pointed me in the right direction.

My mother, my sisters, Lee-Anne and Maggie including my brothers’ wives and Lee-Anne’s friends were here. Lee-Anne was getting married and mom wanted everything to be perfect exactly like what she did with Maggie’s and my brothers’ weddings. She loves planning weddings, birthday parties and any other form of celebrations. She gets very bossy and everything in your personal time doesn’t matter until it’s over.

“Alex!!!” Maggie’s daughter, Iris, called out my name and ran over to me when she was the first to notice me.

“Hey you,” I dropped to my knees accepting her hug.

She brought up a beaded armband. “Look at what I made,” She was clearly very impressed with her work and according to Maggie, Iris has lately found a new hobby.

“Oh, sweet pea, I love it,” I praised her. Smiling at her flushed cheeks and finding her adorable.

She took my hand in hers and flipped my hand around, placing the armband in my palm. “I made it for you,”

“Me?”

She nodded.

“Well, will you do me the honours?” I rolled up my sleeve and gave her the option to slip it on.

“I am never going to take it off,” I poked her nose softly and got a giggle out of her. Another blush and then she was running back to her mother.

I stood up and noticed my mother looking at me with an impatient stare. “You’re late, Alexandra,”

Thanks, captain obvious. “Morning mom. How are you doing? I am doing fine. Thanks for asking,” My sarcasm is going to get me a good spanking from my mother.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated,” Of course, it wasn’t. My mother hates sarcasm. She believes it’s rude and immature language.

“It never was,” I muttered following her to meet the rest of the girls she invited out for dress rehearsals. Lee-Anne embraced me with a tight, suffocating hug. She was two years older than me and we got along pretty well, aside from my brothers who I spent more time with since I was into football instead of project runaway.

“I am glad you came,” Lee-Anne exclaimed.

“If it was up to me. I would have had you drop the dress off at my place,”

“We both know very well that mom would not have let that happen,”

“Yeah, that’s sad,” I looked at her friends wearing their bridesmaids’ dresses. “What am I doing here exactly? Shouldn’t you be the one modelling your wedding dress for us and not the other way around?”

“It’s not up to me,” She seemed displeased with all of these arrangements as I was.

“Maybe the wedding will be memorable,” I encouraged her not to get any wedding jitters and run off. Justin was a good man and they were like two peas in a pod.

“Well, let me go try on this magnificent dress while you try yours on,” Lee-Anne said pushing a dress into my arms and pointing at a dressing room.

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Just try it on,” She coaxed before leaving me and my dress by myself.

While everyone was stuck in a conversation with my mother. I went to go put on this silly dress to get this day over so we can go for brunch as I was starving.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror in the dressing room and found myself quite appealing. The dress was designed to pull tight around my chest, down to my waist and spread at my hips. I didn’t feel like a powderpuff girl or had to worry about showcasing more than I would love and as hard as it was to admit. I felt sexy. I might even reconsider dancing with somebody at the wedding that wasn’t my brother or father.

“How does it look?” I heard my mother ask from outside the dressing room.

I stepped out to show her. I could instantly tell that she didn’t like it. “It’s a bit too tight,” My mother noted referring to my chest. “Have you started working out again?” She pointed with her hand at my wide shoulders.

I wasn’t a bodybuilder or big as my mother emphasized. I was in good shape and yeah, muscular but it wasn’t a big deal. “I never stopped,” I retorted.

She didn’t look very pleased with my remark. “A woman shouldn’t be lifting weights,”

Here we go again with her finding fault with my physique. “Look at how elegant and ladylike they are,” My mother said gesturing to Lee-Anne’s skinny friends.

I controlled the urge to roll my eyes at her. “I get it, mom. A women’s body shouldn’t be well-fortified,” I grasp with sarcasm.

I turned away from her and stepped back into the dressing room to take off the dress. I found nothing wrong with my reflection. I kind of appreciated the dress for how it enhanced my curves.

I thought she followed me into the dressing room after I basically stormed away from her when I heard the curtain. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I felt a tall and broad shadow casting over me.

Before I could react, they placed their hand over my mouth and pulled me against them. Thinking that it was a robber or s****l predator, I jammed my foot into their knee, and when they released me. I turned and threw a punch to their ribs. The person tumbled over, I grabbed him by the back and brought my knee up with a force that knocked him back making him stumble on his feet.

When he advanced towards me, I threw a punch to his face but he blocked my move and turned us around, and pressed me against the wall where he caged me in with his body. I tried to bring my leg up to kick him between his legs but he caught my leg between his. I'm not going down without a fight. I threw a punch to his jaw and brought up my elbow knocking him square on the nose.

His ballcap and sunglasses fell to the floor with the impact and my heart stopped for a brief moment when he lifted his head. Blue-green eyes were staring back at me with such intensity that I almost forgot how to breathe.