Bex strummed her bass. The Medicine Dolls set hadn’t started, but already there was a crowd gathering in front of the stage. Mostly male, and mostly on the bass player’s side. Gorgeous blondes with haunting voices, Jim Morrison tattoos and fishnet stockings had that effect on Valhalla regulars.
Noddy was looking for his own gorgeous blonde. Janine hadn’t arrived yet for her shift. Dirk wasn’t around to explain why she was late, so Noddy’s mind had spun into unhealthy speculation. Was she sick? What had the doctor said? There were times when Noddy wished he had a job and an office and a normal life, where people could reach him when something happened. These times were few and far between. But today had been one of them. In fact, today had been all of them.
He looked across at the bar. Sylvana, the other barmaid, caught his eye and shook her head.
Then Greg bounced onto the stage, launching straight into Girls and Poison, kissing on the dancefloor, lines in the bathroom. Anyone seated in the club shot to their feet, Doc Martens and pixie boots all drawn irresistibly towards the hottest band to ever come out of Cape Town.
Noddy let the riptide pull him along. Maybe watching the band would take his mind off Janine. He raised his bottle, letting the beer bubbles mix with the absinthe in his gut, shooting alcohol straight into his bloodstream.
The tall oke standing next to him chose that exact moment to lurch backwards with a whoop of laughter. His luminescent yellow Hawaiian shirt sleeve caught the bottom of Noddy’s beer and spilled it over his face and chest. Even onto his sleeveless denim jacket.
Noddy looked down in horror.
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