Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel by Donna Joy Usher Page A

melancholy. And then the music struck up, the song went from sad to cheerful and the rest of the women began to dance.
    The show took my mind totally off work, but as soon as there was an interval, my thoughts returned to the scene in Ramy’s office. What on earth had I been thinking when I’d suggested the yellow ribbons? I mean I wasn’t serious obviously, but any idiot could see that the man had no sense of humour. I should have just shut up and taken it and then maybe I wouldn’t be doomed to spend the rest of my life working the front desk.
    A woman took a seat on the stool next to mine. ‘The usual,’ she said to Bruce. She had huge hair and lots of make-up; her lips were a deep shade of red. I recognised her as one of the women up on stage.
    ‘I’m really enjoying the show,’ I said to her.
    She pivoted a little to look at me and held out her hand. ‘Martine.’
    I winced as I shook it – she was really strong. ‘Chanel.’
    ‘What’s a cute little button of a thing like you doing in a bar by yourself?’
    ‘I’m here with all my friends,’ I said.
    ‘Have they gone to the toilet?’
    ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘meaning I have no friends. I just moved here.’
    ‘What am I?’ Bruce said from the other side of the bar. ‘Pork chops?’
    ‘You’re the tastiest pork chop I’ve ever seen,’ Martine said in her deep voice.
    ‘I have no friends except for Bruce,’ I amended.
    ‘Well that’s a sad state of affairs. We’ll have to see what we can do about that.’ Her smile was so sincere I thought, for a terrifying second, I was going to get all teary.
    ‘Hey Ronnie,’ she yelled, ‘get over here.’
    Another one of the showgirls wandered over to the bar and Bruce handed her a glass of wine. I recognised her as the singer. Up close she was even taller than she had appeared on stage. She wore a short leather skirt that emphasised her muscly legs and rock hard butt. I sighed. There wasn’t the slightest hope my arse would ever be that good.
    ‘This is Chanel,’ Martine said.
    ‘That’s my favourite perfume.’ Ronnie leant over and sniffed my neck. ‘Yep, you smell good.’
    ‘Ronnie,’ Martine said, laughing as she slapped her friend on the arm. ‘Don’t freak her out. She’s just a baby.’
    ‘I gotta go anyway,’ Ronnie said, winking at me. ‘I’m up next.’ She skolled the glass Bruce had handed her and strode off towards the stage.
    ‘So what brings you to this neck of the woods?’ Martine asked.
    ‘Work,’ I said with a sigh.
    ‘What do you do for a crumb?’
    ‘Don’t hate me,’ I said, looking at her, ‘I’m a cop.’
    ‘Wow. You don’t look like a cop.’
    ‘What do cops look like?’
    ‘Well … bigger and burlier. And they have more facial hair.’
    ‘I wax.’
    ‘I wouldn’t mind meeting a big burly hairy cop,’ she said. ‘Are there any where you work?’
    I ran through the guys at work, trying to dissect out the burly hairy ones. Bob was pretty big, but he had a baby soft face, so I was guessing that didn’t count. Plus he was more flab than fab, and I was thinking Martine was after fab.
    ‘There’s one,’ I said, thinking of Roger, ‘but he’s not that hairy and I’ve got dibs on him.’
    Martine let out a little squeal and clapped her hands together. ‘Tell me all about him,’ she said.
    ‘He’s blonde and really fit and well, he’s English.’
    ‘Say no more sister; nothing sexier than a man with an accent.’
    ‘And he’s a detective.’
    ‘So he’s successful as well. He sounds like the bomb.’
    ‘He is pretty dreamy,’ I said.
    Bruce winked as he deposited another Dazzle house special in front of me. ‘Ahh Martine,’ he said, ‘shouldn’t you be getting ready?’
    ‘Shit. Raincheck,’ she said springing to her feet. ‘I’m in the next act.’
    The next act was a more upbeat number. They spun around on stage with umbrellas while Ronnie sang, ‘It’s Raining Men’. I found myself tapping my feet and