Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel

Cocoa and Chanel Copyright © 2013 by Donna Joy Usher.

Felicity – thank you for your care, knowledge and many hours correcting my silly mistakes. Thank you also for taking the time to teach me. I enjoyed our coffee sessions immensely.

Mum – thank you for once again reading my manuscript until you could quote it back at me. Most would have given up well before then.

Shannell – thank you for letting me use a character inspired by your sunny, fun-loving nature. I miss you.

Brave men and women of the New South Wales Police Force – thank you for doing your best to keep us safe, and daily laying your lives on the line. I apologise for taking artistic license with some information I gained during my research. I assure you I have tried to remain as close as possible to fact wherever possible.

None of the characters created in this story in any way shape or form resemble real life people. Except for Chanel, who was inspired by a friend, but that is where the similarity ends. The rest of the novel is pure fiction, flights of fancy and plain old good fun.

O
f all the dead bodies I’ve seen in my life, this one disturbed me the most. It wasn’t the vacant eyes, or the ragged cut at her throat. It wasn’t the blood pooled in her long blonde hair, or the random senselessness of her death. It was the fact that I knew, somewhere in the dark shadows of the deserted alley, the killer lay in wait.

It wasn’t my boss that I hated. It was my boss’s husband, Lenny – a fat lazy specimen of a man, with overtly frisky hands. Everybody knew Lenny was a perve, everybody that is except Cindy, my boss.

Lenny and Cindy owned Glamor, the prestigious hairdressing salon I worked at. And when I say prestigious, I mean prestigious for Hickery, the small country town I grew up in. We served coffee and our magazines were current. That was as good as it gets in Hickery.

I was in the storeroom sorting out stock when the bell on Glamor’s front door jangled. That was the last noise I wanted to hear fifteen minutes before knock-off time on a Friday. With Cindy, the client always came first – which was a nice work ethic, but it sucked when it meant I stayed late. And that Friday night I had plans to meet Becky, my best friend, at Hickery’s one and only bar, The Brimstone. I didn’t want to be stuck at work trying to guess the exact shade of lilac hair old Mrs Peterson wanted when I could be sharing a bottle of sparkling wine with Becky.

‘Cindy?’ I called out, crossing my fingers. She had taken the day off to visit her Mum.

The door to the storeroom opened and I groaned inwardly as Lenny leant against the door frame.

‘Oh hi,’ I said dismissively, hoping Cindy was with him.

‘Chanel,’ he said, nodding his head at me and attempting to look down my blouse.

I stood up, assessing whether I could make it out the door without having to rub up against his rotund gut. It didn’t look good. Between my boobs and his belly there just wasn’t enough room for both of us.

‘Excuse me,’ I said, smiling brightly as I gestured towards the doorway.

He didn’t move away, as I’d really hoped he would, but instead lurched further into the cramped storeroom.
Leering down at me, he said, ‘Nice girl like you should have a man to look after her.’

‘I don’t need a man to look after me,’ I said as I backed away from him. The truth was that I didn’t have a man, not because I didn’t want one, but because the hot men were a little light on the ground in Hickery. ‘And anyway,’ I added, ‘I’ve got Cocoa.’ Cocoa was the love of my life. A miniature black schnauzer my now ex-boyfriend, Tommy, had given me for my birthday last year.

‘That’s a dog, not a man. A girl like you needs a real man.’ He grabbed his crutch as he uttered the last words and moved even closer.

Oh shit.
I was in serious trouble.

‘And how lucky Cindy is to have you.’ I could smell the stench of his fetid breath tainted with a hint of alcohol. ‘By the way where is Cindy?’

‘At her Mum’s.’

‘Great,’ I said, squishing myself into the far corner of the room. My mind raced, trying to come up with a suitable plan to get out of my situation which was, in every way, shape and form, bad. To start with, Lenny was my boss’s husband. But more importantly, he was an odious specimen of a man. I found him physically repugnant and if I rejected his advances the creep would probably tell Cindy I’d hit on him. If he did that I’d be out job hunting on Monday. As the only other hairdressing shop in town was owned by my ex-boyfriend’s mother, and as I had broken his heart and stomped on his soul (her words) I felt that the chances of my gaining employment there were pretty poor. On the other hand if I did sleep with Lenny I would have to go home and slit my wrists, because there was no
way
I was going to be able to live with that memory.

Knee him in the balls and run,
my brain advised my body.

I’ve always been a bit of a chicken and by the time my body had computed the message, reacted with horror at the thought of using violence before finally agreeing with my brain, he was far too close to achieve enough force for an effective impact.

He looked down my blouse and licked his lips, making me regret my bra choice that morning (you never know when Mr Right is going to walk through the front door), and then said, ‘So how about it?’

A vision of Lenny taking me against the storeroom shelves flashed through my mind and I froze in horror. Taking my silence as assent, he put one hand on my left breast and squeezed. ‘Bet that feels good,’ he said.

My knee took on a life of its own jabbing upwards. It missed his groin and bounced off the bottom of his stomach which was hard like a rock, and not in a good way.

I shoved him backwards with both hands and yelled, ‘Get off me.’ My breast could still feel the imprint of his fingers. I was going to have to get it counselling.

He looked confused, red creeping up his cheeks to his hairline, highlighting the hair plugs that lived there. ‘I thought you wanted it,’ he said.

‘Wanted what?’

‘Well, you always wear those short little dresses and …..’ he finished the sentence by mimicking big boobs with his hands.

‘I have big breasts Lenny,’ I said.

He stared at them, eyes glazing over, and then reached out a hand saying, ‘Yes you do.’

‘That wasn’t permission,’ I said, slapping his hand away. ‘So that’s it? I wear a short dress and push-up bra and you think I want to shag you in the storeroom?’

‘Would you prefer a hotel?’

I could see I was getting nowhere and changed my tactic without fully thinking it through. ‘Anyway it wouldn’t be fair on you,’ I said, ‘what with me leaving and everything.’

‘Leaving?’

‘Uhuh.’ I kept a neutral expression on my face while my brain flitted from excuse to excuse, looking for a plausible one. ‘I’m joining the Police Force,’ I blurted out. ‘So, as you can see this would be totally unacceptable. After all, it is illegal.’ I was pretty proud of myself. I’d come up with the perfect alibi to prevent an affair, and I’d done it under extreme pressure. It seemed to have the desired effect because he backed away from me with his hands held high.

‘Police Force?’ he said doubtfully.

‘Just waiting for my enrolment date.’

‘Police Force?’ he said again.

‘Yes, the Police Force.’

‘You don’t seem like the type to join the Police Force.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘you don’t look like a dyke.’

I felt like smacking myself in the head. Good one brain – you could have played the lesbian card, but noooo, you had to choose the Police Force.

I pulled myself up straight
and said, ‘I’m not a dyke, I’m a law abiding citizen just trying to do my part.’ I looked at my watch. ‘Knock off time.’

I tried to keep skin contact to a minimum as I pushed past him and out of the storeroom.

***

It took a few hours for the extent of my stupidity to become apparent. I was at the Brimstone with Becky – sporting my new Glomesh handbag and Jimmy Choo knockoff shoes I’d bought on eBay – and onto my second glass of wine; checking continuously over my shoulder as I filled her in on the afternoon’s near miss.

‘So you’re joining the Police Force?’ she asked in alarm. I love Becky like my own sister, but she’s not the sharpest pencil in the pack.

‘Of course not,’ I said, sipping my bubbly.

‘So what’s going to happen when you don’t leave?’

The words were just out of her mouth and the implication of what she was saying hitting home (all right – so maybe I’m not the sharpest pencil in the pack either) when my phone rang.

‘Shit,’ I said to Becky looking at the caller I.D., ‘it’s Cindy.’

‘Do you think she knows?’

‘That Lenny tried to hit on me? I doubt it.’ I put my finger to my lips and then hit the answer button. ‘Hello,’ I said.

‘You should have told me first.’ Her voice was angry and hurt.

‘Hello,’ I said again, stalling for time. I couldn’t believe that the bastard had told her.

‘Chanel, Chanel, are you there?’ Cindy’s voice could shred lettuce at a hundred paces.

‘Sorry, bad line,’ I said, banging my phone a few times for effect. ‘Is that better? Now, what should I have told you?’ God I really hoped it wasn’t that her husband wanted to bang me.

‘That you joined the Police Force.’

Oh Shit.
‘Well it’s not definite,’ I said.

‘But Lenny told me you were leaving.’

‘Ummmm, I haven’t got a date yet. I didn’t want to tell you till I had one.’

‘Chanel, you should know better than that. In this business the more time I have to find someone to replace you the better. I mean do you know how hard it is to find a hairdresser in Hickery?’

I moved the phone as far from my ear as the length of my arm would allow, wincing as her voice whipped into a frenzy. She finally hung up allowing me to get back to Becky.

‘So, when are you leaving?’ she asked, her blue eyes swimming with tears.

‘I’m not,’ I said.

‘But you have to join the Police Force.’

‘No I don’t. I’ll leave it a few days and say they didn’t want any more female police officers and withdrew my offer.’

‘Oh.’ She looked relieved.

‘Yeah, and no one will be any the wiser.’ I mean I know it left a lot of questions unanswered – like what I was going to say the next time Lenny hit on me. But I figured I could say I was gay and I’d be safe.

***

I don’t believe in fate or any of that hocus-pocus new-age stuff, but when Cocoa and I finally staggered into the kitchen the next morning (I was doing all the staggering) and saw the newspaper sitting there with the headline of the front page blazing
-
Not Enough Female Police Officers – Premier Releases Plans to Recruit More
-
I did have to wonder if God had taken a personal interest in my future.

‘Crap,’ I said, picking it up for a better look.

‘You could have told me.’ My mother was sitting in the lounge-room still in her granny nightie. Cocoa ran over and started wrestling with the end of her fluffy slippers, growling as he tugged and pulled.

‘Told you what?’ I said. Of course it could have been my hangover, but I was having a real deja vu moment.

‘That you were joining the Police Force.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Marjory rang.’

Marjory was Cindy’s aunt, so perhaps the damage wasn’t too bad.

‘She heard it from Tommy, who heard it from Nelson, who heard it from Lucy, who was at church this morning when they announced it during morning-prayer. They prayed for your safety and thanked God for sending you into the battle against evil.’

‘Jesus,’ I said, slumping onto the sofa beside Mum. Cocoa gave up his grip on Mum’s right slipper and jumped onto my lap, settling down to groom his front paws.

‘Yes, they asked him to protect you as well.’

I put my head in my hands as my headache increased.

‘I don’t know what you’re planning to do with
him
,’ she said, pointing at Cocoa.

Considering this was never a real plan, I hadn’t put any consideration into what I was going to do with Cocoa. I was just about to confess to Mum when she said, ‘Well, I must say I’m proud of you.’

I peered sideways through my fingers to see if she was taking the piss. The pleased, maternal smile, which was rarely on her face when she was talking about me, told me she wasn’t. There was no
way
I could confess now.

‘You haven’t always given me cause to be proud,’ she continued, totally ruining the moment. ‘I’ve had my doubts about how you would turn out in the end – what with the police bringing you home from school that day.’

‘It was just a couple of eggs, and they didn’t press charges.’

‘And your addiction to bad boys.’

‘My what?’

‘Your love of bad boys.’

‘What bad boys?’ I asked, wishing there were some bad boys in Hickery for me to be addicted to. The baddest arse we had was Johnny the postman, who was regularly pulled over for busting the speed limit; which was pretty impressive considering his bike was a mutant cross between a lawnmower and an electric bicycle. But he had a limp and a stutter and liked to read comic books, so he wasn’t really rocking my world.

‘I blame the fact that your father left when you were so young,’ Mum said.

That sobered me up. ‘You said he died,’ I said, staring at her.

She had the good grace to look uncomfortable. ‘Yes, well, I couldn’t very well tell you he ran off with that slut Hilda now could I?’

I had no idea who Hilda was and I was more than a little shocked to find out that my Dad was still alive: scenes of a beautiful reunion playing through my mind like a slow motion movie.

‘Still,’ she continued, ‘I was sad to hear they died in that freak circus accident. I mean no-one deserves to die like that.’

‘Freak circus accident?’

‘One of the lions got loose.’

It could have been the hangover, it might have been the stress over everyone being so happy that I had joined the Police Force when I hadn’t, it may have been the shock of finding out that my father had run off with a slut called Hilda only to be killed by a lion, but it was probably the combination of all three that caused me to burst into tears. Cocoa looked up from his grooming and attempted to lick my face.

‘There, there,’ said Mum, wrapping her arms around both of us. ‘It wasn’t the lion that got him. They were trampled to death by the crowd.’