Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel

by Donna Joy Usher

  I kissed Cocoa goodbye and put him in the back pack. ‘Oh,’ I said as Rick was leaving, ‘he might need to go to the toilet.’

  ‘You think?’ Rick said, wrinkling up his nose.

  A sense of humour as well? The guy was one in a million.

  ***

  Rick was waiting for me outside our last class for that day – NSW Policy and Law.

  ‘All good,’ he informed me, holding up his hand for a high five.

  I gladly claimed the high five, wishing I could also do a chest bump.

  ‘Seven thirty tonight?’ he asked as Susie joined us. I saw some of the other girls in our class look in our direction.

  ‘Sounds good,’ I said. I know I should have asked them if they wanted to join us, but I was loath to share him.

  Susie and I checked on Cocoa at the dog kennels before we went to dinner. We walked down the aisle between the cages, clutching each other and squealing as Alsatians lunged from both sides.

  A man approached us from the other end of the cages. He was holding a long shovel and I had a sudden feeling we had wandered into a horror movie. I tried to be brave, but with the barking and shaking of the fencing wire combined with a slight claustrophobia, by the time the man reached us I was ready to bolt in the opposite direction. Susie was making small squeaky noises in time with her rapid breathing so I was guessing she was feeling the same way.

  He stopped a couple of metres from us and held up his hands. ‘I come in peace,’ he said, a huge grin on his face.

  Susie and I relaxed our grip on each other and straightened up.

  ‘Chanel?’ he said.

  ‘Hi, umm…’ I realised Rick hadn’t mentioned his name.

  ‘Andy.’ He held his hand out for us to shake. ‘Sly dog Rick didn’t tell me you were a total babe,’ he said, looking me up and down.

  I could feel myself blushing.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘being gay and everything he probably didn’t notice.’

  ‘He’s gay?’ I said.

  ‘Gay as a large group of really happy people.’

  ‘Oh.’ I tried to hide my bitter disappointment by introducing Susie.

  Andy winked at her, soliciting a bout of nervous giggles, and then he led us further down the aisle to the cage closest to the Dog Squad Headquarters. Cocoa was very happy to see us, jumping up and down against the wire of the cage.

  ‘Sit,’ Andy said in a deep booming voice.

  Susie and I dropped to squatting positions behind him before we realised he was talking to Cocoa not us. Cocoa also stopped his jumping and sat.

  ‘Good boy,’ Andy said. He thankfully hadn’t seen us sit. He opened the cage and handed Cocoa a treat, and then said, ‘Down,’ while he lowered his hand.

  Cocoa obediently lay down and stayed there.

  ‘Shit,’ I said, as I helped Susie stand. She was giggling too hard to get up by herself. ‘I tried to train him to sit, but I never succeeded.’

  ‘You have to mean it,’ Andy said, handing Cocoa another reward. ‘Up,’ he said, at which point Cocoa jumped up.

  ‘Can I pat him?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s your dog.’

  ‘Not that you’d know it,’ I mumbled as I pulled Cocoa into my arms. He responded enthusiastically enough to make me feel better about myself.

  ‘I can help you train him while he’s here,’ Andy said. ‘It would be my pleasure.’ I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to my boobs.

  ‘What else is there for him to learn?’

  Andy’s laugh was earthy and honest. I decided I liked him, even if he was still staring at my chest. ‘Stay, come, roll over, attack.’

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about the attack part, but then I thought about Mum and realised maybe a dog that attacked on command wasn’t such a bad thing.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘How much is it going to cost me to board him here?’ I was crossing my fingers and hoping it wasn’t going to be too expensive. Hairdressing hadn’t paid well, and most of my wage had gone on clothes. Now I was without an income and pretty much all of my savings had gone to fund my police training.

  ‘Well seeing as how we don’t officially board animals, perhaps a carton of beer would do it,’ he said.

  A carton of beer? That I could afford.

  After we had made a time for me to learn how to train Cocoa, Susie and I headed back to the mess. I was helping myself to a slab of potato bake oozing with white sauce and cheese when Rick appeared by my side with two plates, each containing a portion of steamed fish and some vegetables.

  ‘What’s this?’ I said in dismay as he handed them to Susie and me.

  ‘If you want me to train you, you have to eat what I tell you to eat.’

  ‘But there won’t be enough energy in this to get me through another work out,’ Susie whimpered. Her plate had been piled high with roast chicken, potato bake and roast pumpkin. ‘I need some carbohydrates.’

  ‘This is carbohydrates,’ Rick said, gesturing at the broccoli. ‘Besides,’ he continued, looking at me with a grin on his face, ‘Sergeant Moores has advised the cooks of your dairy and gluten intolerances.’

  I pulled a face at him as I contemplated the ramifications. No more ice-cream? No more custard? No more cake? Oh well, there was always the jelly.

  We ate our nutritious dinner and then headed over to the gym. I was feeling a little nervous at the thought of the training session. It hadn’t been so bad when Susie and I had been training ourselves. We had warmed up on the running machine – at a pace that allowed us to talk, and then randomly moved around the weight equipment.

  It was better and worse than I thought it would be. Better because he tailored a weight program for each of us to follow, worse because he mentioned a guy named Sam a few times and it became obvious that Andy was right. He was gay. Perving at him just didn’t give me the same satisfaction any more.

  The weeks flitted by with our new routine. Between lessons, study, dog training and physical training I didn’t even have time to go clothes shopping, which was good as I couldn’t afford it. Plus, we had started weapons training, which took up a serious chunk of my concentration as I tried to shoot the target, and not one of the other students.

  I wasn’t sure why, but Sergeant Moores had backed right off since the farting incident. I waited in fear for Nastacia to get me back for my accidental spying but as the weeks went by and she didn’t I started to relax. I caught her watching me a few times, a strange expression on her face but she never confronted me. In the end I surmised they had gotten bored with tormenting me. I didn’t care why; I was just relieved things had taken a turn for the better.

  Susie’s clothes started to hang off her, and even mine were a little loose. We were measured up for our new uniforms, and even though the shoes were a disaster, I was proud to wear mine around campus. It meant we were almost there, almost policewomen. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my Mum’s face at our graduation ceremony.

  She had been released from hospital but Andy said it was fine for Cocoa to stay there – I think he had a soft spot for him, and I was enjoying having him near me. Although I almost had heart failure when I went to visit him and found him joining in on the police dog training.

  They were teaching the dogs to attack, and the trainers had padding on their forearms which they fed into the dogs’ mouths on the command. The padding was black and furry and I had an awful feeling one of the other dogs would mistake Cocoa for it and tear him apart.

  ‘Attack,’ Andy yelled. Cocoa charged towards him and leapt, fastening onto Andy’s padded arm. He growled ferociously as Andy shook his arm from side to side. The fact that his tail was waving madly the whole time only made him slightly less scary.

  As soon as Andy called release Cocoa let go and trotted back to the start line. He touched noses with one of the Alsatians, a feat which had my heart in my throat, and then sat; his entire focus on Andy. I couldn’t help but notice how his walk had changed. He used to bounce like a puppy now
he strutted, his head held high. And just like that I realised my little boy had grown up. It was a bitter sweet moment.

  ***

  ‘Relax, breathe,’ I said to Susie. We were in the mess hall waiting for our physical exam to start and Susie was slipping ever closer to hysterics. ‘Rick said you’re fit enough to pass.’

  It was true. With Rick’s forced diet (you are what you eat) and his strict exercise regime, Susie had transformed over the last five months. She still had the helium balloon voice, but she no longer resembled one. I wouldn’t have recognised her if I hadn’t seen it happen.

  We had sat the weapons exam the day before. I had aced the theory but only narrowly scraped through the practical. (It turns out that aiming at the target is far easier than actually hitting it.) While confident with the theory exams from that morning even I was a little nervous about the physical exam. No-one – not even Rick – would tell us everything it entailed.

  ‘You have to eat something.’

  ‘I think I’m going to vomit,’ she said weakly.

  ‘If you don’t eat something you probably will vomit,’ I said.

  The beginning of the exam was the part we had been expecting: sit-ups, push-ups, and a strength test. Then there was the beep test – where beep is not a replacement for a swear word but is instead the timed beep a machine makes as you sprint back and forth between two lines. The beeps get closer together making you sprint faster and faster until you’re well and truly beeped.

  It had always been Susie’s weakness so I breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the minimum requirement time for passing.

  ‘I wonder what the last part is,’ I said to her. The only thing Rick would tell us was that there was a surprise at the end of the exam.

  We watched as Rick approached a white line painted on the grass. He had a box in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. ‘Right,’ he said, gesturing for us all to gather around. For the last part you’ll be doing the five kilometre obstacle course. But,’ he added, ‘it will be timed.’

  They always were so that was no surprise.

  ‘And,’ he added with an evil grin, ‘you’ll be doing it handcuffed to a partner.’

  That put a bit of a spin on things, but it still wasn’t too bad. I was sure Susie and I could handle it.

  ‘And,’ he continued, ‘I will be choosing the pairs.’

  We waited while he pulled our names out of the box and paired us up. Susie was cuffed to Liam, the tallest boy on our course. She looked ridiculous with her hand hanging suspended at chest height.

  My name was the second last one to be pulled out of the box. Rick tipped the last piece of paper out, took a look at the name and then shot me a cute grin. Geez I still couldn’t believe he was gay. When he didn’t read the other name out immediately I glanced around, looking for the only other free person in our course, and immediately all thoughts of how spunky Rick was were driven from my mind. Oh dear Lord no.

  ‘Nastaaaciaaa.’ It must have been the buzzing in my ears that made it sound like he called her name out in slow motion. Surely he wouldn’t be that cruel. The only consolation, and it was a small one, was that the look on her face was what I imagined was on mine – total horror.

  We stood as far from each other as was possible as he handcuffed us. Even then it was too close. We hadn’t had any contact since the day I saw her girlfriend and I had really liked it that way.

  Rick sent us off with two minutes between each set of couples. Liam and Susie were before us and the two minutes between felt like a lifetime, partly because I was nervous and partly because it was awkward as hell being handcuffed to Nastacia. My nerves made me want to crack lame jokes, but somehow I didn’t think she would find my pink fluffy handcuff quips amusing.

  We had done this course numerous times during our training, but from the first obstacle it became apparent that it had all changed. It used to start with a log climb, now there was a long tunnel of netting. Commando crawling is hard enough when you’re not handcuffed to someone, when you are it requires a huge amount of coordination. Unfortunately Nastacia and I were employing zero teamwork in our bid to pretend this wasn’t happening.

  We got half way through the tunnel, yanking and tugging at each other’s arm, before she got far enough ahead of me to whip my hand up towards my face. My fist was clenched and it made a sickening crunchy sound as it connected with my nose.

  ‘Yeeoww,’ I screeched. Even though it was my fist, I didn’t see it coming. I stared cross eyed at my nose trying to determine if there was any damage.

  Nastacia stared back over her shoulder at me, an exasperated look on her face.

  ‘Am I bleeding?’ I said.

  ‘No, you’re still perfect.’ Her voice was snippy.

  ‘This obviously isn’t working,’ I said.

  She looked like she wanted to disagree purely for the sake of it but there was nothing to disagree about. ‘We need to crawl opposite each other.’

  ‘No we need to go in the same direction,’ I said.

  She huffed. ‘Of course we need to go in the same direction.’ She shook her arm attached to me as she said it. ‘You need to crawl with your left leg up while I have my right up.’

  ‘Oh. Like walking and holding hands.’

  ‘Trust you to think of that.’

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

  Rather than answer me, she started crawling. It was a toss-up between making a stand and punching myself in the nose again or continuing. I’d like to think it was the diplomat in me that decided to go on, but I suspect it was the cowardly lion.

  I managed to stay in opposite time with her and the rest of the tunnel progressed smoothly. We emerged and navigated the next few obstacles while stoically ignoring each other, which, given our circumstances, was quite a feat. That all changed when we got to the mud pit.

  ‘I do not want to fall in that,’ I said, as I grasped one side of the flying fox t-bar which would carry us over the pit.

  ‘Wouldn’t want to ruin your hair.’ Nastacia pivoted to face me and grabbed the other side of the bar. Her body pushed up against mine feeling awkwardly intimate.

  ‘You know there’s more to me than how I look,’ I said.

  She raised an eyebrow and said, ‘Most people don’t classify mindless bimboism as a talent.’

  ‘You … total … bitch,’ I said from between clenched teeth. A red haze started to obscure my vision of her smug expression.

  ‘Oh look, it has teeth.’

  I felt her body tense but in the heat of the moment forgot we were hanging from a flying fox. She pushed us off the edge as I was saying, ‘I don’t know what I ever did to make you hate meeeaaahhhhhhh.’ We whistled through the air and landed in a tumble of limbs on the other side of the mud.

  ‘You were born,’ she hissed, climbing off me.

  I’ve always been a bit of a pacifist, make love not war and all that, but she had pushed my buttons for months and now I didn’t know why I had let her. All of a sudden I wanted to teach her a lesson for bullying me. I wanted revenge and I wanted it badly.

  I kicked a leg out, sweeping her feet from under her, and as she landed on her back I jumped on top of her. I’d never been in a fight before and I realise now the ones I’d seen in movies were all perfectly choreographed. So it came as a bit of a surprise to me how awkward and ineffective a fight can be. Especially when you’re handcuffed to the person you’re fighting.

  I used my free arm to pull her hair as she slapped at me. Then she shifted her weight and rolled over, forcing us onto our knees where we shoved and pulled while shrieking and squealing. The force of our movements opposing each other caused our handcuffed arms to swing around like a crazy pendulum.

  ‘Take it back,’ I yelled as we clambered to our feet.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Take it back or else.’

  ‘Or what, you’ll tell Mummy on me?’

  I let out a bellow of rage and threw myself at her in my best im
pression of a football tackle. I felt my shoulder connect with her stomach, heard the woof of air express from her lungs and had a second to feel pleased with my efforts before we were flying backwards, airborne again as we flew out over and then down into the pool of mud.

  I landed on top of her with a mushy splat, pressing her into the gooey mess. It was perfect. Putting a hand on her face I shoved till the mud seeped over the top of her cheeks. She roared and locked out her free arm, wrapping her hand around my throat. It hurt, but with only one arm it was a pretty ineffective choke hold. I slapped my forearm into the inner part of her elbow, breaking her hold on my neck, and pushed her arm down under my knee where I pinned it with my weight. Then I grabbed a handful of mud.

  ‘Guess you don’t do girlie stuff like mud packs,’ I said as I dribbled the muck onto her face. I took great delight in smearing it all over her head as she shook it from side to side. ‘Oh no,’ I said, tssking at her. ‘Look what you made me do. You made me goop.’

  She screeched and shoved her handcuffed arm out to the side. The manoeuvre took me by surprise and threw me off her before I could compensate by shifting my weight. I managed to land on my knees but she jumped on my back and started forcing my head down towards the mud. I braced my body and resisted but she had her whole bodyweight on me and painstakingly slowly the mud got closer and closer.

  ‘This is how we do a mud pack where I come from,’ she snarled.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes just before my face entered the mud. The cool sludge flowed over my skin and in a different circumstance it probably would have felt quite nice. But it wasn’t a different circumstance, it was a fight. As things stood I was losing, and if I didn’t do something in the next thirty seconds I was going to lose more than just the fight. Panic bubbled to the surface with my overwhelming fear of drowning and in pure desperation I let an elbow drop, throwing my weight to the side and her off my back.

  I took a deep breath of air, wiped the mud away from my eyes and said, ‘Oh and exactly where do you come from? Hell?’