The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “It didn’t mean anything,” Sapphire insisted, holding on to him as Chris lunged forward towards Bolton. Bolton stepped backwards, but he knew he was trapped. “It was just a fuck, that was all, Chris. Ask him, ask Bolton.”

  “Bolton? So that’s what this little-pricked mother fucker’s called,” Chris snarled, throwing Sapphire off him and facing him. “Ready to die, Bolton?”

  “Listen, mate, I didn’t mean to disrespect you like this,” Bolton said, holding up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation. “And I’m sorry, man, I really am.”

  “Please, Chris,” Sapphire said, stepping in front of Chris and cupping his face with her hands. “I love you, babe.”

  Chris spat in her face and grabbed her hair. Sapphire shrieked as he pulled hard, throwing her across the room. She crashed into the wall and fell to the floor, leaving a streak of blood on the wallpaper. Bolton glanced at her. She was lying unconscious, her nose broken and streaming blood onto the carpet. She was naked, the sheet pinned beneath her on the floor.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Bolton said, turning his attention back to Chris. “You just got out of prison, you don’t want to get sent back inside do you?”

  “Right now, all I want to do is fuck you up,” Chris said, his lips curled back and teeth bared, balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to lunge.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Bolton said, looking for a way out.

  “Nah, mate,” Chris laughed. “You’re the one who made the fucking mistake.”

  He lunged and Bolton was too slow to move out of the way. They fell to the floor and Bolton felt Chris’ fist connect with the side of his head. His head pounded and he tried to fight back, but Chris was on top of him, pinning him to the floor and his fists coming down hard on his face and chest.

  “Please,” he said, trying to deflect some of the blows. “Please stop.”

  Chris laughed and swung another fist down, and Bolton heard the crunch of his nose being broken. The golden ring that Chris wore cut his eyebrow and a steady stream of blood trickled into his eye. Bolton tried to wipe it away, but Chris knocked his hand out of the way and punched him again.

  Then Chris was being pulled off him, and Bolton rolled into the corner of the room. He heard sounds of a struggle and wiped the blood out of his eyes as he clambered to his feet. Dante was struggling with Chris, trying to calm him down. Sapphire was coming around, her eyes unfocused and her legs flailing.

  “Get out of here,” Dante shouted at him, “Quick. My car’s down the road.”

  Bolton didn’t need telling twice. He took a last glance at Sapphire and left the room, nearly falling down the stairs in his haste to get out of the house. The front door was open and Bolton staggered out into the street, looking for Dante’s car.

  Screams came from the bedroom window and he heard footsteps thundering down the stairs, and Dante appeared.

  “Fucking run,” he shouted, and Bolton caught sight of Chris running after him.

  Bolton threw himself into the backseat of the car and Dante fumbled with the keys. Chris ran across the street, his fists bloodied and his face sweaty. Bolton groaned and Dante swore under his breath.

  Chris drew back his fist and hit the window. The glass shuddered but didn’t break. He drew back his fist again, but the engine caught and Dante threw the car into gear and sped away. Bolton saw Chris shouting in the street behind them, before they turned the corner and his breathing began to return to normal.

  “That was a fucking close one,” Dante said, taking in Bolton’s appearance. “You’re lucky I came round early and heard that head case going off on one.”

  Bolton closed his eyes and felt the pain begin to spread across his body now that the adrenaline was beginning to subside. He moaned and Dante looked at him with concern.

  “We got to get you cleaned up,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Take me back home,” Bolton said, wincing from the pain. “Charley’s gone out shopping so the place will be empty.”

  * * *

  As Bolton had thought, the flat was empty. Dante offered to stay with him, but Bolton told him to go. They were supposed to have a meeting with Uncle Jasper, and one of them had to show up. Uncle Jasper didn’t like people to cancel meetings without good reason.

  “You sure you want me to leave you like this?” Dante asked, hovering in the doorway. “Some of them injuries look serious.”

  “It’s just a couple of cuts and bruises,” Bolton said, waving him away. “I need a shower and some plasters, that’s all.”

  “What you going to tell Charley?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You better think of something,” Dante said, still uncertain. “She’s going to want to know how you got messed up so bad.”

  “I’ll make something up.”

  “You sure you’re going to be all right?”

  “Listen, we should be worried about what Uncle Jasper’s going to do when I don’t turn up for the meeting,” Bolton said, feeling his energy waning. “You’ve got to think of something.”

  “I’ll just tell him what happened,” Dante said.

  Bolton nodded, heading for the bathroom. Dante remained in the doorway, looking worried, but he left the flat and closed the door behind him.

  Alone, Bolton showered and tried not to look at the blood that pooled at his feet, diluted by the hot water but still bright enough to make his stomach churn.

  He dried himself off and stood in front of the mirror, taking in his injuries. His nose was swollen, but Dante had snapped it back into place in the car and although it stung, Bolton was grateful that it had not been worse. His eyebrow was cut, and his bottom lip was swollen and sore. His chest and shoulders were a dark purple from the bruises, but nothing felt broken.

  Two painkillers later and the pain began to ebb away, leaving Bolton to consider what had happened. He knew that Chris had been in the right. He’d come out of prison to find him in bed with his girlfriend. He had deserved the beating, Bolton reasoned.

  Still, it was an inconvenience for him. He had missed the meeting with Uncle Jasper and he hoped that Dante had been convincing in his excuses, or Uncle Jasper would be angry and Bolton knew the beating he’d get from him would be far worse than the one he’d gotten from Chris.

  Not only that, but he would have to explain his injuries to Charley when she got home, and he wasn’t sure she would settle for a simple explanation. She would want to know details and it would be that much harder to go to work, with her worried about his safety and fretting over whether he was in trouble.

  The key sounded in the lock and Bolton waited for Charley to join him in the bedroom. He heard her in the kitchen and a few minutes later, she appeared at the foot of the bed, her face a mask of shock.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” she asked, her eyes travelling from his face to his bruised chest and back again.

  “I got into a fight,” Bolton said, shaking his head. “Just some drunken guy that wanted to throw a few punches.”

  “I guess you lost the fight,” Charley said, dropping to his side and stroking his face, making him wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Have you been to a doctor?”

  “No, and I don’t need to go either,” Bolton said. “It’s not as bad as it looks, and I’ve taken some painkillers and put some cream on the cuts.”

  “I still think you should see a doctor, just to make sure.”

  “I’m fine,” Bolton said, feeling his temper rising.

  “Well you don’t look fine,” Charley said, glaring at him.

  Bolton’s temper wavered and his gaze softened. He raised his body off the pillows, and cupped her face in his hands.

  “Look, I know it looks bad, but it’s just a few bumps and bruises,” he said, keeping his voice soothing. Charley didn’t look convinced, but she was quiet. “It’s nothing serious and I’m just relieved it’s nothing worse.”

  “Did you go to the police?”

  “No, there�
�s no point,” Bolton shook his head.

  “Maybe if you had a word with Asher, he could –”

  “No,” Bolton interrupted her. The last thing he needed was the police involved. “I just want to forget about it all, Char. Please, just leave it.”

  Charley looked at him and sighed.

  “All right, I’ll leave it,” she said, getting to her feet. “But if it happens again, I’m not going to let you just forget about it, okay?”

  “It won’t happen again,” he said.

  She went into the kitchen to make him dinner, and Bolton relaxed against the pillows. He wanted to ring Dante and see how things had gone down with Uncle Jasper, but he didn’t want to push Charley too far, not when she had agreed not to talk to Asher about what had happened.

  He felt a moment’s guilt as he thought of Charley cooking his dinner and getting him some more painkillers, when the injuries had been caused because he had been shagging Sapphire. He closed his eyes and forced the feelings away.

  It was his fault, he could admit to that, but he held Charley to blame as well. If she hadn’t pushed him to his limit, he wouldn’t have felt the need to play away from home. He knew that excuse was poor, but it lifted his spirits a little and eased his guilt.

  After dinner, Charley rubbed ointment onto his chest and he felt himself stirring. Charley noticed and kissed him, her hair falling down onto his chest and tickling his skin. He pulled her closer and deepened their kiss. No matter how much she pissed him off, he had to admit that she still turned him on.

  “I guess I should go on top,” Charley said, as he unstrapped her bra and traced a line with his finger between her breasts. “We don’t want to make your injuries any worse.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Asher kicked the duvet aside and rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed and groaning as the alarm clock bleeped.

  “Turn that bloody thing off,” Asher said, nudging Carl beside him.

  Carl rolled over and hit the alarm. Silence descended over the room and Asher climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. He heard the now familiar sounds of Carl’s morning routine. He joined him in the bathroom a few minutes later, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, his hair ruffled from sleep.

  “We’ve got to be at work in an hour,” he said, running the tap and pulling the cap off the shaving foam.

  “There’s time for a bit of fun, though,” Asher said, turning on the shower, surprised by how comfortable he felt standing naked in front of Carl.

  A few weeks ago, he had only dreamed of this and now it was reality. There were still things to sort out. Important things, but they were together and that was what mattered.

  Carl looked at him through the reflection in the mirror, his eyes travelling over his body. His lips twitched and Asher beckoned him towards him.

  “Screw shaving today,” Carl said, turning off the tap and dropping the razor back onto the counter. “No one cares about a bit of stubble, anyway.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Asher said, stepping into the shower.

  The water was hot and Asher changed the temperature gage, stepping aside so that Carl could join him. He looked at him.

  “I never thought we’d end up like this,” Asher said.

  “Me neither,” Carl said, smiling now. “But I’m glad it’s happened.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Asher sat in the car as Carl drove them to work. His mood had changed after they had showered together, and Asher was worried by the mood he was in.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

  Carl kept his eyes on the road and paused before answering.

  “I got a text from Clare,” he said, and Asher knew he was fighting hard to control his emotions. “She’s coming home later today.”

  Asher felt his spirits sink. They had enjoyed a few days of bliss, alone in the flat with nobody to disturb them, and he had hoped that their relationship was finally getting into a stable rhythm. All thoughts about Clare had left his mind and he had almost forgotten that Carl had other responsibilities that he had to take care of before they could be together properly.

  “What are we going to do?” Asher asked, keeping his voice level.

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to have to think seriously about it.”

  “I don’t have anything to think about,” Asher said, “I love you and I want to be with you. It’s you that’s got to make the decisions.”

  “I’ve got to break-up with Clare,” Carl said, his voice resigned. “It’s not going to be easy, but if we’re going to be together then I’ve got to do it.”

  “How do you think she’ll take it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you going to tell her the truth?”

  Carl looked at him, looking tormented.

  “About me and you?”

  “Yeah,” Asher nodded.

  “I’m not sure,” Carl said, returning his eyes to the road. “I’ll have to talk to her after work. I’ll just tell her things aren’t working.”

  Asher looked at the road in front of them and could see the station ahead. He sensed Carl’s nerves and remained quiet, leaving him to his thoughts. He was pleased that Carl was ready to finish his marriage, but he didn’t envy him the task.

  * * *

  Bolton awoke with a banging headache, Charley curled up in the crook of his arms, her face peaceful in sleep. He carefully extracted himself from her and showered. His bruises had already begun to fade, but the cut across his eyebrow was still prominent and his nose was swollen.

  He swore under his breath and dressed quickly. He had to speak to Dante and find out what had happened in the meeting with Uncle Jasper. He needed to know whether he was in trouble, and if so, how serious the trouble would be.

  Dante answered on the first ring, his voice slurred from sleep.

  “What time do you call this?” he groaned down the phone.

  “I know it’s early,” Bolton said, pacing around the kitchen. “But I got to know how the meeting went yesterday.”

  “He just wanted to check up on things. I think he was a bit pissed off that you weren’t there, you know how he likes you better than me. Anyway, I told him what happened and he said that he’d need to have a word with you.”

  “Shit. What kind of word?”

  “He didn’t really say, but I wouldn’t worry about it mate. He weren’t too pissed off once I’d told him. I guess he just wants to make sure I weren’t lying or something.”

  “Cheers,” Bolton said. He heard footsteps in the lounge and knew that Charley had woken up. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you later.”

  “No worries.”

  Bolton closed his mobile, just as Charley walked into the kitchen, looking relieved when she found he was still home.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

  “Just something to do with work. I’ve got to go out for a bit.”

  Charley’s face fell and Bolton looked away. He was doing the work so that she could have everything that she wanted, but she still wasn’t happy.

  “How long are you going to be?” she asked, putting the kettle on.

  “I don’t know, however long it takes.”

  “Will you be back for tea?”

  Bolton shrugged, wanting to get out of the flat and away from her.

  “I said I don’t know,” he said.

  “Don’t get all moody,” she said, scowling. “I don’t think you should even be going to work, not when your face is still all mashed up.”

  “It’s fine, just superficial injuries. I’ve seen worse.”

  “All the same, maybe you should take some time off,” she pressed on. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

  Bolton’s phone rang and he answered. Charley rolled her eyes and poured herself a cup of coffee, shooting him angry looks.

  “I need a word with you,” Uncle Jasper said down the phone. Bolton stiffened and strai
ned, trying to tell from his voice whether he was angry, but he couldn’t. “If you could drop by sometime this morning, it would be much appreciated.”

  “Sure,” Bolton said, keeping his voice light. “I’ll be right around.”

  Charley was glaring at him when he hung up.

  “Did you not hear what I said?” Charley said, hand on hip. “About taking some time off? You’ve been working too hard, we hardly ever see each other anymore.”

  “I don’t hear you complaining when I bring home my wages,” Bolton said, unable to stop himself. “Anyway, this is important. I can’t hang around here, not today.”

  “And you don’t know when you’ll be back?” Charley asked.

  Bolton shook his head, grabbing his keys off the counter.

  “What am I supposed to do today?” Charley asked, following him out of the kitchen, sounding annoyed. “I’m bored, sitting here all day waiting for the baby to come.”

  “Go shopping,” Bolton said over his shoulder.

  “I’ve been shopping loads lately,” she said, still trailing after him. “I guess I could go and see my dad again.”

  Bolton paused with his hand on the latch. He turned to face her, and the confusion must have shown on his face, because Charley shrugged.

  “My dad sent me a letter awhile back,” she said. “We met up yesterday. I was going to tell you, but you’re always too busy.”

  Bolton was surprised and annoyed that she had done something so important without even telling him about it. He had been here last night, and the night before, and yet she had thought it unnecessary to tell him what was going on.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Charley shrugged.

  “Like I said, you’re always too busy to listen to anything I say these days. I told mum, and you can probably guess what she thought about it. And I told Leigh-Ann yesterday, when we went shopping.”

  “You told your mate but you didn’t think to tell me?” Bolton snapped.

  “I tried to ring you, but you were busy. I told Leigh-Ann because she knew that something was up and she actually wanted to listen. I don’t see what the issue is, I’m sure you don’t tell me everything.”