Jonny had no idea where this was heading. Rather pathetically, he seemed to have decided that goading Nick was the best plan of action.
‘Come on then, ya nancy.’ His accent seemed to have magically reverted to its Mancunian origins.
‘You can’t call him a nancy after implying he’s sleeping with a woman,’ muttered Gavin, who was taking things a bit too literally.
Nick had his right first curled, but his arm was hanging by his side. Jonny’s taunt hadn’t pushed him over the edge – yet.
‘Apologise to Zoë.’ Nick’s voice was calm.
‘Or?’
‘I won’t ask again, Jonny.’
‘Go fuck yourself.’
Nick shrugged, like he’d just been told the barista was out of his favourite hazelnut syrup.
The single punch that knocked Jonny to the floor seemed to come in slow motion. Nick’s elbow swung backwards then his fist smashed into Jonny’s face. Jonny collapsed to the floor as if someone had removed all the bones in his legs.
Carl would have been proud.
I stared open-mouthed, dimly aware of how ridiculous this all was. A man had just hit another man, defendingme. I was like Maid Marian or Guinevere.
Nick stood looming over Jonny, almost daring him to get up and attempt a counter-blow. ‘Ileaked it.’
‘What?’ The word was on my lips too, but Jonny had beaten me to it.
‘I leaked it,’ said Nick, again. He wasn’t even out of breath, but mine was coming out in raggedy gasps. Nick had leaked Jonny’s defection from Hands Down?
‘You fucking shit!’ Jonny screamed. ‘You’re so fucking fired!’
Jonny was probably trying to intimidate Nick, but from his prone position he looked ridiculous, especially since his nose was looking mighty red and both his cheeks were swelling. He looked like an angry hamster.
From somewhere to my left, two enormous blokes rumbled towards us. Jonny’s expression changed from fury to satisfaction as the two men, in low-slung jeans, pristine white trainers and a lot of gold jewellery, approached. They were Jonny’s minders; I recognised them from the London Eye. Without saying a word, they flanked Nick, grabbing him by the armpits and without breaking stride, started dragging him towards the exit.
The whole place stopped and stared. This was so not fun anymore. What were they going to do once they got him outside? This wasn’t right. And it was my fault.
I followed them, but they moved at a fair old clip, and I only caught up when they were through the huge revolving door and outside. These bloody shoes – not to mention my dress – were not designed for sprinting.
My concerns were justified. As I pushed through the door, I saw Tweedle Dum hold Nick upright while Tweedle Dee socked him in the gut. Nick doubled over, but made no sound – unlike the whimper Jonny had emitted.
‘Hey, leave him alone!’ I shouted.
The one who’d punched him whispered something to Nick, then they loosened their grip on him and he dropped to his knees, winded. With blank stares in my direction, they sloped past me.
I rushed to Nick’s side and knelt beside him.
‘Are you okay?’
He nodded.
‘Are you sure? That guy hit you pretty hard.’
‘I deserved it.’
‘Jonny should have hit you himself, not rely on his goon squad.’
‘They apologised afterwards.’
