The Trainer Pt. 01

"That doesn't help me," Amy chuckled.

"You're not looking for love anyway," Lucas reminded her with a wink.

"That's true. I'm not." As much as the dancing had been fun, and Amy had to admit to having felt butterflies in her stomach, it had just been the heat of the moment. There was no need to start an island-wide search for the mysterious jazz girl.

"I think it's romantic. She's like Cinderella. Maybe she's turned into a pumpkin. Well, more likely a cactus or a palm tree here... Hey, did she leave her sensible footwear behind?"

Amy laughed. "It wasn't Cinderella who turned into a pumpkin, you douche. And she was wearing sneakers, like me."

Lucas rolled his eyes dramatically. "Sneakers... I rest my case."

March

Amy was sitting in her usual spot at her regular coffee shop at one of the small tables outside. Most people crowded in the air-con inside, but Amy preferred the subtle morning warmth, enjoyed from a shady spot under an umbrella. She was catching up on her emails over a morning coffee before going to the office, like she did at least once a week.

She looked up from her laptop at the noise of the door opening behind her. A young woman struggled to get the door with a cup holder full of takeaway coffees in each hand. Amy jumped up to give her a hand and looked right into a familiar pair of pale grey eyes. It was the last place she'd expected to see them again, but she would have recognised them anywhere.

The girl looked very different from the last time Amy had seen her. She was in army green cargo shorts and a tank top and she wasn't wearing her trilby. She couldn't look less like a jazz musician, yet she was still a striking figure. Without the hat, Amy could see that her curly hair was actually dark at the roots but gradually turned lighter towards the blonde tips. Whether this was genetic, a deliberate hairdo, or just an effect of the sun, Amy couldn't say. It was pinned down at the top and back of her head in a semblance of a plaid with a multitude of small clips. It looked like a deliberate attempt had been made at preventing any strand from escaping, which had already proven a pointless endeavour by the few rogue curls that framed her face and moved across her forehead in the wind.

"Oh hi...," Amy said, suddenly feeling shy. She had rubbed bodies with this girl. She couldn't help but feel a little awkward about that in the bright daylight.

"Hi. Thanks for the door." The girl's eyes left hers and she started walking off.

Amy was dumbstruck. Did she just get completely ignored? Or did the girl not recognise her? Replaying the moment in her head, she had to admit that when their eyes met, there had been no sign of recognition, nothing to suggest the girl had any idea who she was talking to. But how could that be? They'd spent quite a while dancing together and it wasn't like the girl had been really drunk or something. Or at least she hadn't come across that way.

Not knowing what to make of the situation, Amy watched the girl walk off towards the parking lot. She disappeared from view and there was nothing Amy could do but turn back to her emails. She couldn't help but look up when she heard a car approaching to leave the parking lot, right past her little table.

Jazz-girl, now cargo-shorts-girl, drove past in a white pick-up truck. Amy gasped as the back of the truck came into view. She'd seen this truck before. She had committed the stickers that littered the back of it to memory when it had rudely cut her off in traffic. Amy recalled the caramel-skinned arm that had waved from the driver's window. It was her. Jazz-girl, cargo-shorts-girl was also asshole-driver-girl.

And, actually, she was asshole-girl once again for not even recognising her. Perhaps it was the realisation of the girl's past offence that triggered that thought in Amy's mind, but suddenly she was less than enamoured about being completely ignored after it had seemed to her like they'd had a good time. Clearly, it had not made such an impression on the other girl. Or perhaps she did this kind of stuff all the time and couldn't keep track of all the girls she'd danced with. Whichever it is, she clearly isn't worth my energy, she decided resolutely.

* * * * *

It was getting dark when Amy drove the long deserted road from her usual beach back to town. There were beaches much closer but they were all owned by the big hotels, who charged you a fortune for the privilege of sitting in the sand and swimming in the same sea. She had left her drive back a bit too late. She'd been warned not to drive these roads in the dark on her own so she stepped on the gas. Speeding was the order of the day here anyway.

The orange blinking lights came into view when she rounded a corner. Were they working on the roads now? On a Sunday evening? That was unlikely. Amy slowed down a bit. Whatever it was, she didn't want to hit it. When she came closer, she saw that the orange hazard lights belonged to a minivan that had its nose wedged deeply in the ditch at the side of the road. It looked like it was stuck.

Amy cursed to herself. Probably a drunk driver, she thought. That was likely at this time of night. Every ounce of her intuition told her to drive on and call the police as soon as she had signal again. They could check it out or send help. This was not something she should be engaging with as a young woman on her own, on a deserted road. Even in her short time on the island, she'd gotten that savvy.

She checked the car's central door locking and slowed down to a slow but steady crawl. She couldn't see the driver of the van. The last thing she wanted was to hit someone who ran into the road at the last minute. She had already passed the van and was about to drive off when a niggling feeling told her to check her rear-view mirror.

She saw a slender figure behind the van, which had been obscured from view when she drove past. It was a woman, she realised. Suddenly she put herself in that woman's shoes. She was also on her own - or at least it looked like she was - on a deserted road, while it was getting dark. Amy couldn't leave her stranded here.

She tried to ignore the alarm bells in her head that told her the woman might not be on her own, she might not even really be stranded: it could all be a set-up. But what if she was stranded and something happened to her? Amy would never forgive herself. Sighing at her predicament, Amy put her car in reverse and backed up until she was close to the van. She opened her window halfway, keeping her finger on the button, just in case she needed to close it quickly.

"Are you alright?" She called out. Stupid question. "Do you need help?" She corrected.

The woman appeared from behind the van and slowly approached the car. She seemed to be peering into the car as if to determine if Amy was on her own. Clearly satisfied with her conclusion, she stepped closer, still with a suspicious look on her face.

Amy grunted quietly to herself when the girl came into full view and Amy recognised her. She looked slightly dirty and sweaty, but somehow she still looked gorgeous, in a way that very few girls could pull off. Asshole-girl. Of course, that was just her luck. She contemplated driving off after all, but that would make her just as much of an asshole.

"Hey, thanks," the girl said. "My van is stuck. Do you have a tow hitch?" She looked at the car as if to judge if it would be strong enough even if she did. Amy could understand her doubt. It was a pretty big van.

"I don't know," Amy confessed, feeling like a city slicker. The girl had already walked to the back of the car and was bending down. More confident that the situation was indeed all it appeared to be and not an elaborate plot to rob unsuspecting tourists, Amy got out of her car.

"Yes, you do!" The girl said with relief. "I'm so glad. I've been out here for over an hour and you're the first one that has stopped. And of course there's no phone signal..."

"I almost didn't stop either," Amy admitted. "You hear some weird stories..."

The girl looked up with a serious expression. "Yeah, you really need to be careful, especially around here. I'm grateful you stopped, but you shouldn't do that, really."

Amy shrugged. Did she want her help or not? Amy had clearly done the right thing in stopping and now she was being lectured? She didn't have much love for the girl, but she hadn't stopped just for a chat. "So should we give it a go? I don't have cables though, I don't think."

"I do," the girl said, opening the back of her van and rummaging inside.

"What happened?" Amy asked, as the girl busied herself with attaching the tow cables.

"Freaking iguana wouldn't get out of the road, as they do. But then it ran at my van at the last moment, thinking it was going to attack it or something. I tried to avoid it but this van is a bit top-heavy, so it started to keel when I hit the ditch. This was the best I could do to prevent it from falling over completely."

"That probably wouldn't have happened with your truck, hah?" Amy couldn't help but say, hoping it didn't sound too passive aggressive.

The girl gave her a surprised look. "How do you know I have a truck?"

That question was to be expected. Amy wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Now she'd have to explain herself. "I've seen you around, in your truck. I recognised you, that's all."

"Oh," the girl said, clearly not that surprised anymore. It probably happened a lot that people recognised each other from sight. It was a small island after all.

Somehow that wasn't satisfying to Amy and something drove her to say more, to get the girl to acknowledge her as more than a mere passer-by. "Actually, that's not all. We've met. Well sort of... We danced together, at the Rainbow night at The Royal Inn."

"Oh, did we?" The girl said, not any more surprised or less blasé. Clearly, this was nothing new for her either. It was as Amy had suspected then. Definitely not worth her energy.

"Are we good here? Shall I give it a go?" She said, pointing at her car, suddenly eager to be on her way.

"Yeah, hang on, I'll get in and try to reverse it."

Amy got into her car and waited for the girl to shout that she was ready. She pressed the gas pedal. Her car moved forward until the cable was taut. For a moment it seemed like nothing would happen. Her wheels spun uselessly against the tarmac as her car struggled to shift the heavy load. Amy pressed the gas pedal down as far as she could and with a sudden jump the car sprung forward slightly. She recovered from the surprise quickly and kept urging the car forwards as it now slowly but surely started pulling the van out of the ditch.

Amy was actually surprised her unassuming lease car had managed to pull out the big van. The girl seemed surprised too, when she stepped out of her van.

"I wasn't sure if that was going to work, but that little car has got more in it than I thought."

She said the same thing about my hips, Amy thought, slightly bitterly. "Looks like you're all good to terrorise the road again," she said. She reprimanded herself for her passive-aggressiveness. Reel it in, Ames.

Thankfully, the girl seemed not to have picked up on that. She laughed heartily, showing off her perfect teeth.

"Why do you have a truck and a van anyway?" Amy then asked, trying to distract herself from gazing at the girl's full lips. Why were the assholes always the pretty ones?

"Oh, this is just my dog taxi. I've just dropped everyone off at home. The truck is for everything else."

Amy looked at her non-understandingly. "Dog taxi?"

"Yeah, I run a dog-walking service." She paused for a moment before she added: "And dog training, day care, holiday stay. Feeding and rescues occasionally. Everything the dogs need, really."

"Oh," Amy said in surprise. She knew the island had a big stray dog problem and that there were organisations and volunteers that worked tirelessly to alleviate some of the misery these poor creatures endured. But somehow she had not expected that level of care from someone who seemed so careless with the people she met; with her. Was there more to this girl than reached the eye? At least it explained the huge quantities of dog food Amy had seen her transport.

"Anyway, I better be off. I've got some hungry guys waiting for me at home." One could only assume she meant dogs. "Thanks a lot for your help."

"Amy," Amy couldn't help but add. She refused to be left anonymously yet again.

The girl gave her an expression Amy couldn't quite read; amusement perhaps. "Thanks a lot, Amy."

At that, she climbed into her van and leaned out the window. "I'm Charlie," she said, before she sped off at a speed that made Amy worry she'd cause another accident before she reached her home, wherever that was.

April

She was about to get into her car when Amy heard a rustle in the dense shrubs that lined the parking lot. Probably an iguana. Or a snake. She shivered involuntarily and rushed to open the door. It was then that she heard a high-pitched but quiet whimper. Snakes didn't whimper.

Amy stepped a bit closer to the bushes and tried to see through the many spikes and nettles. At first she didn't see anything. She took off her sunglasses to better distinguish between shadows and plants and nearly dropped them in shock when all of a sudden the shadows moved. Two large brown eyes stared at her from amidst the now trembling shadows. They were full of fear.

"It's okay," Amy said quietly, crouching down to reassure what she had now established was, in fact, a dog.

Another whimper and more trembling. Clearly, this dog was not that easily convinced. Amy looked around. Was this someone's dog? At the parking lot of the tax office? That was highly unlikely. It was almost certain this was a stray. Seeing strays was a daily occurrence and usually Amy didn't approach them or engage with them. That wasn't for a lack of concern or pity for them, or because many of them were scared or aggressive; she simply did not have the skills or the means to do something for every dog she saw. There were quite a few organisations on the island that specialised in that. Yet, there was something about the pitiful whimper that stopped her from getting in her car and driving off.

Amy slowly moved a bit closer and moved some of the bushes. The dog tried to retreat a bit further but it was stuck in the bushes. It seemed to be covered in something wet and gloopy that made the spiky bushes stick to its fur. Amy cursed quietly. This little guy was in trouble. She couldn't just leave him here. She racked her brain. She didn't have any food to try to lure him out, or a lead, or anything at all that could help. She needed help.

"Did you miss me already?" Lucas's voice answered her call cheerfully.

"Hey Lucas, are you still in the office?"

"Of course I'm still in the office. You left five minutes ago. What's up? Did you forget your handbag?"

"Ha-ha," Amy said with a smile. It was a running joke between them that she didn't feel the need for a handbag when she could carry her things in her pockets if she had any, or her bra if she didn't. Lucas of course thought this was unladylike and a bag was a great opportunity to accessorise. "I need your help," she continued. "Can you come down to the parking lot? Bring some food if you can find any. Hurry!"

Before Lucas could protest, she hung up the phone. She crouched down again and kept talking to the dog, which seemed to have stopped trembling. At least, until Lucas approached. As soon as it saw him it squeaked fearfully and struggled to move backwards again.

"Alright, what's the big emergency," Lucas said, clearly not aware of the petrified creature in the bushes. Without replying, Amy grabbed the wrapped sandwich left-overs he was holding and started tearing off little bits to try to lure the dog.

"What are you... Whooo! Why is there a seal in the bushes?" Lucas actually took a few steps back.

"It's not a seal. It's a dog," Amy said, holding a piece of sandwich close to the shrubs. The dog stuck its nose in the air and sniffed curiously but kept glancing frightfully at Lucas. "I think he's scared of you."

"Well, that's mutual," Lucas said with a nervous giggle. "What are you doing with it? Just leave the sandwich then and let's go."

"Seriously, you're scared of dogs?" Amy looked at him sceptically. What did such a big beefy guy have to fear of a small scared-to-death dog? The look on his face told her he was serious, though. "I can't just leave him. Look at him. He's covered in something sticky. He may be stuck there too."

Lucas hesitated and paced behind Amy nervously. "Maybe we can call those dog rescue people and they can pick him up?"

"I'm sure they get loads of calls and spend their days trying to bring in strays in trouble. And half of the time the dogs are probably not even there anymore by the time they arrive. Why don't we lend a hand and try and take him to a vet ourselves?" Where this heroism came from all of a sudden, Amy didn't know, but she did know that she was not going to leave this dog to its fate.

"I like how you say 'we'," Lucas grumbled. "I ain't touching that thing."

"Alright, fine, just stay back then. He's not going to come out with you hovering so close."

Lucas threw his hand in the air dramatically and walked off to lean against the back of the car. Amy put a piece of sandwich just inside the shrubs and crawled back. She watched as the dog hesitantly came forward and picked it up. It was gone in an instant.

"You're hungry, aren't you, baby?" She whispered soothingly and put another piece of sandwich down, just a bit further out of the bushes. This proved to be too much temptation for the dog and it slowly approached again while glancing furtively at Amy, before snatching the piece and retreating.

Amy kept repeating this process, each time putting the food a bit further out, until the dog had to fully emerge from the bushes to grab it. Amy gasped when the full picture of what she was dealing with was revealed.

What she had assumed was a black dog, was in fact a reddish brown one but its face and back were completely covered in a black, thick, sticky substance, which has also dripped down its legs and covered those partially. What was that? Was it paint? And how did the dog get covered in it? Bits of thorn and twigs from the bush stuck to the substance that was matting down its hair. The dog was knee height and really skinny. Definitely a stray. And one that hadn't been fed regularly for a while. It was clear it needed help; if nothing else to get the sticky substance cleaned off.

"Lucas," Amy said in a quiet and calm voice, not to scare off the dog, which was now eating pieces of sandwich that Amy was putting out right in front of her bit by bit. "Do you have a blanket in your car? Or a beach towel or something?"

"A blanket? For cold nights?" He replied sarcastically, but Amy heard him move towards his car.

"Slowly," she urged.

"Oh shit. What the hell is that?" Lucas hissed.

"He's covered in something. I need something to put him onto in my car."

"Oh my god," Lucas sighed, "you're not actually going to put that in your car?"

"Of course I am," Amy said impatiently. "Now, do you have a towel or something?"

"I might do. Hang on I'll check." Thankfully, at that he actually went to his own car. Amy suppressed an eye roll at his amateur dramatics.

"Is that stuff going to come out?" He asked when he came back a moment later. "It's just that... this is Ralph Lauren and it has the soft velour finish..."

"I don't know, Lucas. Please give me that." Amy said, perhaps too harshly, when she took the royal blue beach towel from a very reluctant Lucas. "I'll buy you a new one if it doesn't," she said more kindly, as she gently approached the dog while at the same time putting down the remainder of the sandwich to distract it.