Noddy felt like the fat girl in a strip club. Nobody wanted to catch his eye.
Unless he counted the long-haired teenager on the other side of the bar. With a Motorhead shirt and sleeveless denim jacket exposing upper arms covered in tattoos. Three days’ stubble added a touch of maturity to a face that might otherwise have been seen as childlike.
Except for his sad eyes, older than they had any right to be.
That wasn’t unusual, though, not in the 1980s, and especially not in Johannesburg. It didn’t make him special. Noddy knew dozens of kids who looked the same, dressed the same. Felt the same. No job. No money. No prospects.
He shook his head. He couldn’t look at that face any longer.
A bristle of punks shouted about whose round it was next, with the inevitable shoving and spitting. As they bumped against him, Noddy tore his gaze from the mirror on the other side of the bar.
Then the barmaid in Mike’s Tavern spotted him amid the commotion and rolled her eyes as she slid him another round. Noddy raised the glasses in salute and took a sip from each one. Easier to carry that way.
Morag greeted the fresh drink with a wink and a smile. Noddy turned away as she bent over the pool table, aiming for the pocket in the far corner. Too much leather and fishnets. If such a thing was possible.
She had arrived an hour earlier, claiming to be grabbing a quick drink on her way to the club. Noddy should have known better.
Morag’s opponent grinned. His raised glass missed his mouth. He frowned at it. Tried again. Long black curls formed an oiled halo around his face. Tighter curls filled the gap between two sides of an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. A large gold crucifix bounced off these curls every time he moved. Gold chains encircled his wrists. And a Mad Hatter top hat clung precariously to his head.
Noddy shook his head again.
Morag took a long sip of her beer. She watched her opponent line up his shot. Every time he was ready to hit the ball, he lost his balance and had to start again from scratch, one finger waving above his head to show that he was still conscious.
Morag punched Noddy lightly on the arm. “You alright for cash?”
Noddy felt in his pockets. He had a few notes tucked away, a handful of coins. His life savings. He found that money was useful, but it came at a price. People didn’t buy things with money. They bought things with chunks of their lives that they had sold to employers who could never possibly have paid them enough by the time their lives were all used up.
“I’ve got a few bob,” he replied. “Could always use more.”
Morag smiled.
Hard to believe I launched Dancing in Valhalla on Amazon a year ago. To mark the occasion – and to keep people entertained while we all struggle to find our feet in a world suddenly flipped upside down – I’ll be releasing the title story in weekly installments.
Read them each week on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon.
No charge. No obligation. Read for free. Share with your friends.
Cheers.
Morag wants to fly to the States and shag her favourite singer.
Noddy wants to leave Johannesburg, move to the coast and get a fresh start.
Janine wants Noddy to find a job and settle down.
Dirk just wants to run his nightclub and live a peaceful life.
But Mick… ah, Mick… There will be no peace once Mick comes out of his coma.
For anyone.
Ever again.
Experience life on the streets in 1980s Hillbrow as five volatile personalities struggle to survive a violent rollercoaster ride through Johannesburg’s underground club scene.
Full published version includes 13 twisted tales of music, magick, mayhem & murder.
Some torn from headlines in sunny South Africa where, for many, these are part of everyday life.
Shop for shrunken heads in a village that time forgot.
Witness an ancient ritual passed down from the Aztecs through Jack the Ripper to modern day London.
Savour the sweet taste of revenge in a French restaurant.
And sit in on the Grim Reaper’s disciplinary hearing.
Relax and enjoy an assortment of characters nearly as twisted as the endings of these 13 tales of psychological suspense.
Physical paperback copies are once again available from BookDealers of Rivonia – 40 Wessel Road, Rivonia, Sandton – 011 234 1250. Open from 9 to 2 on Saturday and Sunday & from 9 to 5 from Monday to Friday.
Strict protocols will be observed.
Wear a mask as you will not be admitted without one.
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