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Dirk cut through the alley behind Mike’s Tavern to bypass two shiny black BMWs racing one another along the main drag leading from the hospital. His mind wasn’t on the road. He knew better. But he couldn’t get Mick out of his head.
He’d known him his whole life. They’d grown up together, in school, in clubs, on the gritty backstreets of the City of Gold. He loved him like a brother. He knew how he thought, how he reacted, better than he knew himself.
At least, he used to. This new Mick, the twenty-one-year-old who had been locked in a cage with older, more violent inhabitants of those same streets – this Mick wasn’t the same man who had gone into prison.
Sure, a concussion like that, severe enough to knock him into a coma, was bound to cause damage. Physical trauma that could be expected to heal slowly, given enough time and rest. But there was something behind that, beyond it. On a non-physical level. Dirk hesitated to use the word “emotional.” Mick would never admit to that.
But this obsession with revenge? With seeing Janine? And that’s what they were. Relentless obsessions, driving Mick’s every waking moment. Haunting his dreams too, Dirk suspected.
Maybe Mick was right. Maybe he did need to get out, back on the streets. Back into the business of running the club. If only he could be persuaded to take it slow.
Dirk swore and swerved to avoid a delivery truck as he exited the alley. These streets were dangerous. You had to keep your wits about you. If you let your guard down, even for a moment, you could soon be very dead.
*
NODDY LOOKED INTO BLOODSHOT eyes sparking with recognition. The band had moved on, Sex and Religion’s pounding drum intro ensuring that nobody noticed the drama unfolding on the dancefloor.
Noddy smiled. For no real reason. The man in the Hawaiian shirt smiled too. Then there was a gun in his hand, and Noddy’s smile froze.
Being well-versed in the multitudinous varieties and technicalities of arms and ammunition, Noddy recognized it instantly as a Big Gun. The kind that makes things explode, as opposed to the kind that just drills a neat hole through them. Chrome-plated. Red grip on the handle. And this identification wasn’t at all easy to make, as the thing was shaking up and down, back and forth, and quite obviously wasn’t at all happy to be there.
The band played on, the crowd caught up in the surge of Bex’s bass, Greg’s contrasting guitar chords. Lighters came out, held high in hands swaying to the haunting refrain of lost love.
The gun still shook inches away from Noddy’s face. Noddy still smiled, but only in the absence of another expression to replace the one frozen there.
The Hawaiian’s face was a kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions. Noddy watched them come and go with a detached amusement that had little to do with his current situation. Determination fought with doubt. Was replaced by anger. Then resignation. Noddy felt his own eyes grow tired from shifting back and forth between the Hawaiian’s face and the barrel of the gun that moved in and out of focus between them.
Then the gunman made a decision. A switch flipped in his head. His finger eased away from the trigger.
And he dropped like a sack of exploding pineapples.
*
DIRK WALKED INTO VALHALLA to see a pool cue swung high above the crowd in the middle of the dancefloor. He heard the sickening thwack of impact above a momentary lull in the music. Then the band played on.
“Fuck!”
He launched himself into the crowd, pushing his way through the dancing horde until he reached the spot where he had seen the pool cue. Where were the bouncers? Why had nobody stepped in?
The answer came in a circle of screaming denim and leather, straight from a B-grade horror movie. Except Morag was no vulnerable scream queen, knocking the monster down and running away. She swung the pool cue repeatedly, laying into the body that wasn’t even curled in a defensive foetal position. People nearby screamed encouragement or discouragement, according to their individual stress levels.
Dirk grabbed her from behind, tattooed arms wrapping around her chest, dragging her backwards. “That’s enough. Stop it. Stop!”
She fought with berserker fury, feet kicking as he lifted her off the ground and turned her to face the other way. Then she screamed, her entire body stiffened, shuddered, and all the fight went out of her.
*
DIRK WAS CAREFUL TO take the pool cue from Morag’s trembling hands before turning his back on her. Even then, he first took a few steps around the circle of music-lovers who were gradually losing interest in anything except the band.
Dirk had known Morag a long time.
Noddy knelt beside the unconscious body in the bright yellow shirt, now shifting through orange to scarlet.
“Jesus. Is he still alive?”
Noddy looked up. “He’s still breathing.”
“And bleeding all over my dancefloor. Come on, give me a hand.”
Noddy screwed up his face.
“Yes, you. I need to get him to a hospital, for fuck’s sake. I never liked the dude, but I can’t let him die in the club, can I?”
“You know him?”
Morag’s voice behind him made Dirk jump. But just a little.
“Of course I know him. It’s Mario. He’s been running drugs for Mick while he was away.”
Noddy and Morag shared a look.
“What, here in the club?”
Dirk looked up at Morag, one eyebrow raised. “No, not here in the club. Mick has people for that. He’s been operating out of Mick’s flat, staying there too so he could look after the place. Now would you stop talking and help me get him to the car?”
*
NODDY WENT STRAIGHT to the bar when he came back inside. Morag had a row of shooters lined up in front of her. He took one. Then he took another one.
“We need.” Morag tossed one back herself. “To get.” She chased that one with another. “Away.”
Noddy signaled for Sylvana to bring him a beer. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Morag froze. The vodka half-way to her crimson lips shimmered in the recessed light from behind the bar. Noddy could see tiny unrelated crimson dots running up her forearm. He looked away.
Morag’s head turned slowly, eyes sliding sideways to complete the movement. “I just saved your life.”
Noddy shook his head. “It was over. He wasn’t going to shoot. Not in here. Not in front of witnesses.”
Morag’s vodka completed its interrupted journey. “Oh, I’m sorry. But from where I stood, you had a fucking cannon pointed at your face and a pissed-off drug dealer about to blow your head all over the drum kit. A little gratitude would go a long way right about now.”
Noddy rubbed his eyes. It didn’t help with the pain that was starting to build behind them. “When’s Mick coming back? How much time do we have?”
“Supposed to be Thursday, last I heard. But who knows, with him?”
“You go. Get out of town. Even if it’s just for a few days, till this blows over.”
Morag turned to look straight at him. “Come with me. You can’t stay here. You know what he’s like.”
“I can’t go without Janine. And she won’t leave yet. She’s waiting for her bonus.”
“We’ll get money. Somewhere. Like we used to.”
“Bitch!”
The slap took Morag by surprise. It was delivered from the side, an awkward angle, and was more principle than effect. But a slap in the face is a slap in the face.
Noddy turned to look deep into Janine’s icy blue eyes. “Girlfriend...”
The second slap was more effective, nearly knocking him off his barstool.
“How could you? What were you thinking?”
They were both too stunned to answer.
“You’re lucky Dirk didn’t call the police. You’re lucky you weren’t shot. How could you?”
Noddy slid off the barstool, partly to move closer to Janine but mainly to brace himself in case she wasn’t finished yet. “We’re okay, Girlfriend. It’s alright. But how are you doing? Are you sick?”
Janine gave him the look she reserved for TV evangelists caught in flagrante delicto.
“Don’t change the subject. What happens when Mick hears about this? I’ll have to go visit him now, see if I can smooth this over somehow.”
“What? No. Stay away from him. I’ll work something out.”
Janine’s look hadn’t changed. “How? What can you possibly work out? There’s no reasoning with him, not now, after what just happened. I might be the only person who can get through to him.”
Noddy stepped closer, but she put her hands up to push him away. “Come on, Girlfriend. Let’s get away. The three of us. We’ll hitchhike down to Durban, find somewhere to stay. Or we’ll sleep on the beach, like we did last time.”
Janine flashed a look at Morag. “That’s not going to happen. Not now. You need to grow up, Noddy. It’s time. You need to start taking responsibility for your life.” She took a deep breath. “And others.”
Noddy and Morag looked at one another.
“That’s right. You’re going to be a father.”