The missile was a glass bottle, and it was about to hit Rachel on the head.
Nick’s body reacted while his brain was still processing the information. He grabbed Rachel and yanked her out of its path. He pulled her against his chest, twisted his head away and flung up his arm to shield them.
The bottle exploded on the metal table with a bang. Splinters flew in all directions and Nick squeezed his eyes shut, holding his hand over Rachel’s face to protect her.
Glass scattered around them.
Liquid sprayed onto his shirt. Not blood – too cold. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the table and saw froth studded with shards of brown glass.
Beer. Someone had thrown a full bottle of beer down from the balcony.
‘What the hell?’ Rachel screamed, staring at the broken glass and dripping liquid.
‘You OK?’
She took a tentative step back. The front of her grey, scoop-necked top was soaked.
‘I think so.’ She tugged the wet fabric away from her body.
Nick looked up at the catwalk.
It was still crowded with people leaning on the rail, jigging to the music and surveying the dancers.
Not one was looking directly at them.
He had no idea who had thrown the bottle, but whoever it was would have had time to turn away from the edge and melt back into the darkness.
And then came the shouts and cries, the delayed reaction of the people surrounding them. They backed off, forming an ever-widening circle, pointing at the table, and to Nick and Rachel. A young blonde woman wiped beer off her face, mouthing angry words. The guy to her right was brushing glass off his shirt. He winced as a small sliver cut his finger.
Then they stared up at the catwalk.
‘Come on.’ Nick grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s go before things get rough.’
He gripped her tightly and shouldered his way through the crowd, shoving people aside with all the finesse of a battering ram. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the blonde upend her drink into her mouth. It was some kind of alcopop in a clear bottle, and when she’d finished it, she hurled it upwards in an overarm throw. The bottle smashed against the catwalk rail and jagged chunks of glass scattered down onto the heads of the partygoers.
Screams pierced the air, a shrill accompaniment to the pounding bass rhythm. Nick saw two burly bouncers pushing through the crowds, heading towards the scene. Then he and Rachel reached the exit and spilled out onto the street.
They hurried down the road, towards the restaurant, breathing in deep lungfuls of the cool air, keenly aware of the yells and whistles, the blare of hooters and the revving of engines that signalled party-time in Newtown’s streets. He checked behind them, then looked ahead. Nothing suspicious that he could see, nobody had followed them out of the club. Nobody was lurking in the shadows. Sophiatown was closing for the night and their nervous waiter was clearing the outside tables.
‘What happened with that bottle?’ Rachel sounded breathless. Her hand was hot in his.
‘Someone on the balcony threw it down.’
‘Threw it?’ She turned to Nick, wide-eyed. ‘I thought it had been dropped by accident, a full bottle like that.’
He shook his head, remembering its whirling flight. ‘We weren’t sitting directly below the catwalk. A dropped bottle would have fallen straight down. The trajectory was all wrong, and it spun in the air. It wasn’t dropped. It was definitely thrown.’
They climbed into the Jeep. Nick pulled away from the roadside, feeling the vehicle’s tyres grip the tarmac. The streetlights gleamed on the bonnet and streaked over the windscreen. He turned right, then left, and headed for the highway. When the city centre was behind them, he thought, he could start to relax.
‘That’s given me a really horrible feeling,’ Rachel said, hugging her arms around herself, rubbing her wet shirt. ‘A creepy feeling. Why would anyone do that? They must have known people would get hurt.’
‘I don’t know if it was meant for us or not. I thought that guy with the shades might have done it, the one who wanted our table. But I saw him on the dance floor as we left. And if he’d got a friend to do it, I’m sure he would’ve stayed to watch.’
Nick turned off the highway and, following Rachel’s directions, drove through the quiet suburban streets of Norwood. The dashboard clock blinked from 11.58 to 11.59.
The guesthouse where she was staying had a high, white-painted wall topped with electric fencing and a guard in a cubicle at the gate. Recognising Rachel, he greeted her but shone his torch into the car and checked Nick out carefully before buzzing the gate open.
The security was good, Nick thought. She was safe here. But still, for some reason, the fact didn’t reassure him. He felt tense and awkward, like a gangly sixteen-year-old all over again. His stomach twisted with nerves as she directed him into a parking bay in the courtyard near her room.
The parking bay was beside a paved path lined with greenery that led to a white-painted door, obviously to the room where she was staying. Too obvious, perhaps, and too close by for him to climb out of the car and walk the short distance with her to the door?
Suddenly, Nick realised that Rachel wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t saying goodbye, she wasn’t climbing out of the car and walking down the path, which was well-lit even without his headlights shining on it. She was still sitting beside him, as if wondering what to do next.
Say something, dammit, he berated himself. Take control. Say good night. Ask her out tomorrow. He started to speak. So did she.
‘Would you like …’
‘I want you …’
He stared at her. She stared straight back. Silence filled the car.
‘Sorry. Carry on,’ he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.
Eyes wide, she shook her head, soft dark curls cascading everywhere. ‘No, no. You first.’
Nick reached across and gently stroked her hair, smoothing the long strands back from her face with a hand that trembled almost imperceptibly. It felt like silk under his fingers. His gaze locked with hers.
‘Yours sounds better,’ he whispered.
She didn’t answer immediately. Just slid her hand around the nape of his neck and drew him closer. He breathed in the cinnamon scent of perfume on her skin, and saw tiny flecks of gold in her dark brown irises. Then his eyes closed as their lips touched and he melted into her embrace with a groan he couldn’t stifle.