Chapter 38 - Chapter 38: Warmer Than The Air

As soon as I get Andi back to her room with a big glass of water and a Grandpa on the bedside table, I sneak back downstairs to meet Zondi on the beach. His overpriced shoes hang in his hand, and the bottoms of his linen trousers are turned up at the ankle to keep them out of the sand.

Thankfully Eastern Beach is deserted this time of night, which gives us rare privacy outside his flat. The only light comes from the beachfront hotels along the Esplanade, and it isn't bright enough to reach us.

Carrying my sandals in one hand, I put my other in Zondi's.

"Let's go further," he suggests, and I follow, my toes sinking into the sand.

The breeze off the sea is perfectly cool, taking the edge off the coastal humidity.

"I can't believe I spilled everything at the bar." Zondi shakes his head. "I got frustrated, and I'm just tired of people not knowing about you."

I swing my hand over, holding his forearm while my other fingers stay laced through his. "That wasn't ideal, but I get it. You've got a lot of pressure on you to be someone you don't want to be. Do you think the squad will stay quiet?"

"They're mostly scared of me, so yeah, I think they will."

He squeezes my hand in his as we carry on down the empty beach, further away from the line of hotels — the squad up the road at the Regent, us here at the Garden Court on six hundred rand a day, four hundred metres and about eight hundred thousand rand a month apart. It's the only reason a night like this is even possible.