Lauren Beukes - Zoo City

"How are your parents? Do you still, uh-" Gio falters, sensing he's blundered close to the edge.

"It's all right, Gio. I Google them occasionally. They seem to be doing fine. Still divorced. My mom's living in Zurich now. Dad's in Cape Town teaching theory of film to rich kids who are more interested in special effects than subtext."

"I didn't know they were… oh. Right."

"Couple of months before the trial."

An uncomfortable silence stretches out. Drops into freefall, hits terminal velocity and keeps on going.

"But Giovanni said you're writing again?" Piercing Girl prompts. As a professional interviewer, she's probably used to picking up conversations that have crashed to the floor and setting them spinning again. "A music piece? That's why you're here tonight?"

"I'm doing a book. A trend bible slash pop history of Jozi youth culture. Music, fashion, technology." The more I say it, the more credible it sounds. Do-able even. Possibly profitable.

"You got a publisher yet?"

"I'm starting with a feature article for Credo . We'll see what happens from there."

" Credo ? Oh, I've done some work for them. They're fantastic. Isn't Lindiwe awesome?"

"She's great," I say. I haven't got as far into my cover as actually contacting the commissioning editor. I chalk it up on my to-do list. But things go more smoothly after that. Apart from the moment when I catch Henry trying to sniff Sloth's fur.

Dave doesn't say much, other than to offer to show me the photographs when an argument starts about whether it's morally bankrupt to print such horrific images. I skim them, scrolling as quickly as possible. They're as bad as you'd expect, taken with a forensic distance, even in the pics he's framed with shocked bystanders, for mood.

"Do they know who he was?" I say, handing the camera back.

"Drifter. Been sleeping rough. They're still trying to get a name. Might have been a zoo, they're not sure. Do you mind?" he says, raising the camera. "Atmosphere stuff."

"Uh."

"Group photo!" Piercing Girl yelps, and Dave snaps a couple of awkwardly posed shots, before disappearing towards the stage as the band makes its appearance, only an hour and a half late: an all-girl Afrikaans/seSotho glam punk electro-rock number called "Nesting Mares".

Take me, take me, take me to your spider den

I'll be your conscience, your accomplice, your inner zen

Let me in, don't question why

Let me, let me be your alibi

"They're pretty good!" I shout over the thrum of guitars and the alto growl of the lead singer. In spite of the noise, Sloth has gone to sleep.

"Lightweights!" Piercing Girl shouts back. "Wait for the Tsotsis!"

"Oh yeah? They the ones who wear ski-masks?"

"Yeah, they're brilliant! Of course, it's not like their identities are really, really a secret. Like Mzekezeke. Your iJusi kids aren't bad either! Real talent. But they need to get the fuck away from Moja."

"Why do you say that?"

"Bad influence!"

"Bad influence how?"

"Too commercial!"

"Is that a bad thing? Experienced producer like Odi Huron backing them?"

"What?!"

"I said, Odi's experience-" I shout louder, but it gets lost in translation over the screaming chorus.

Kill me – Thrill me

Kill me – Thrill me

Take me away from it all

"Yeah, he owns Counter Revolutionary!" Piercing Girl yells back. This is a surprise. Counter Rev is the hottest club in Jozi. "Chi-chi with a bleeding edge," according to 011 Magazine , which rates iJusi's hit single "Spark" four stars on the Earworm Metre – "ferociously upbeat teenybop Afropop".

"King of Clubs, baby," Piercing Girl yells. Gio taps her on the shoulder and tilts his head at the bathrooms. She gets up to follow him, already hoiking the twist of paper out of the front pocket of her jeans, leaving me with Paisley Henry.

"Gio said you're friends with Songweza?!" I yell at him.

"Yeah. We used to hang out a lot!"

"Why used to?"

Henry shouts back something like "She's a honey numb."

"Do you want to go outside? I can't hear a thing."

Outside is a fire escape already crammed with smokers.

"What were you saying?"

"I said Song is a funny one. On her own plak . She was up for this TV series, right? But it was all about the navy and they asked her if she could swim and she said, of course she could swim."

"But she can't?"

"She couldn't, past tense. She basically taught herself in a weekend. We went to the gym and she just sommer dived in to the deep end. Nearly drowned."

"She get the part?"

He shakes his head. "She lied about her age. They needed someone who was eighteen for the sex scenes, you know? I dunno how they didn't know she was fifteen. She's mal , that one."

"You seem a little old to be hanging out with fifteen year-olds."

" Ag man, Song was hanging out with me . I met her on the scene, she's always at the venues. Carfax, amp;Serif. She makes friends with the bouncers."

"What's this I hear about her boyfriend?"

"Which one? They come and go. She's too much of a butterfly for anyone to hang on to her." But I can see I've hit a nerve.

"No one special?"

"Well, there was Jabu. But he turned out to be a total dick."

"Oh yeah?"

"Dumped her via SMS. Can you believe that? I mean, she should have seen it coming. They met in rehab, for Pete's sake. She was sobbing on my couch for, like, hours. But you know Song – she got it out of her system, wiped her eyes and moved right on."

"She dated anyone since?"

"Hmmm. I know she kissed some drummer last week, with, um, Papercut. That screech metal band? You know that joke, right? What does a girl do with her asshole in the morning? Takes it to drum practice. Hey, can I hold it?" he blurts, reaching for Sloth. He's clearly been dying to ask.

"He bites."

"I'll be gentle, I promise. Please? Just for five minutes."

"He comes with a disclaimer."

"Ja, it's okay."

I gingerly hand Sloth over, giving him a little squeeze to remind him to play nice. To my surprise, he clambers happily into Henry's arms and nuzzles into his neck.

"Whoa! He's lank heavy!"

"I know."

"But really, really soft. Wow."

"I know that too." I do not point out that Sloth is chewing the collar of his hideous shirt. "Think she might have done a runner with the drummer? Or maybe Jabu came back?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, when Song moves on, she moves on. No way she would ever forgive Jabu or take his skanky rehab ass back. And the drummer was too lightweight for her."

"Anyone else?"

" Ag , that bouncer at Counter Rev has been hitting on her hard recently. They were always talking. And that dude must be at least thirty." He rolls his eyes at the thought of such decrepitude. "He didn't get anywhere, though. Song might be a slut, but she's not stupid."

"He got a name?"

"Uh. Major hot guy? Biceps the size of your head. I don't know if he just gyms a lot, or shoots up 'roids, or if he's just a freak of nature. You can't miss him."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"About a week ago? She was at Informer. In Newtown?"

"I'm a little confused. If she's into metal and punk, hanging out at rock venues, why is she in an Afropop band?"

"Why are you writing a story for Credo ? 'Cos it's a step up, right? Today it's Credo ; tomorrow, like, Dazed and Confused or whatever your thing is."

"Any idea why she's not answering her phone? She flaky like that?"

"Not if she wants to talk to you. And she'd want to talk to you , believe me. She's hungry for coverage."

"Part of the step up."