The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “Who the hell are you?” Troy demanded, jumping to his feet.

  “Now, now, watch your language,” the prison officer escorting him chastised him. Troy gave him a dark look and rolled his eyes, turning back to the visitor.

  “I’m Dante Cortez,” he said gruffly, his eyes scrutinising Troy as he had done a moment before. “We’re going to be roommates.”

  “Fuck off,” Troy said, turning on the prison officer. “Where’s Amal?”

  “Siddiqui isn’t coming back,” the man said. Troy swallowed hard and narrowed his eyes at the guard. “This is your new cell mate, deal with it,” the guard shrugged, and sauntered off down the corridor.

  Troy groaned as the stranger stepped inside. He felt Dante’s eyes on him but Troy tried to ignore him. He sat down on the bottom bunk.

  “This is mine,” Troy told him. “You can have the top one. But don’t go cutting yourself or anything like that, else I’ll see you dead.”

  Dante’s eyes met his and he was silent. Troy thought for a moment that he might be challenged, but then Dante snorted with laughter.

  “Sure, whatever,” Dante said. He climbed up to his own bunk. “But make no mistake man, you won’t ever see me dead. I ain’t scared of you, just like I ain’t scared of nobody in here.”

  Troy breathed a deep sigh, quietly so that his new cellmate wouldn’t hear him. He wondered what would happen now. How could he check his phone, and how could Wimbly make the deliveries? Dante struck him as the trouble-making type and that was the last thing he needed.

  * * *

  Tyrese knew that his brother was in a bad mood and daren’t broach the subject of Troy until he could be sure Trent wouldn’t react badly. He felt frustrated that his brother was so determined to ignore the evident benefits of keeping Troy locked up, but he had always been the thinker and Trent the fighter, it was how it had always been and it had worked for them. Yet Tyrese felt pissed off – he was the one getting them back on track, whilst Trent sat around boozing and hitting girls up online when he should be helping out.

  It was bad enough that the Healy brothers were once more encroaching upon their turf and starting to deal on the Goldsworth, but the Banks brothers had not yet done anything about it and Tyrese was anxious. He wanted to send a message to them, remind them they were still a force to be reckoned with, but could he handle it? Trent was too busy getting wasted, and Tyrese knew that the Banks brothers were fast losing respect on the estate. The last thing he needed was Troy being let out in a couple of weeks and fucking it all up by doing something stupid again.

  “Don’t start,” Trent said, shooting a suspicious look at him. “If this is about what you were saying earlier, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” Tyrese sighed.

  He would have to give his brother some time to think on his words, though he could not afford to wait too long.

  Before Trent could say anything else, the door to the living room opened and their mother walked in. Keskia Banks’ face was lined with worry and she looked tired, Tyrese thought. He wondered if she still blamed him for messing everyone’s lives up, and he didn’t doubt it. He heard her crying herself to sleep some nights and in the mornings after she would not look at her eldest son, too ashamed.

  It hurt Tyrese to know his mother thought of him like this, but he didn’t let it stop him. She had done nothing to discourage him from dealing, nor had she tried to stop Trent. When Troy had started causing a stir, she had done nothing until it was too late, and even then it was the bare ass minimum, Tyrese thought; she had to blame herself too for everything that had happened, and he wondered if that was why she looked so miserable these days.

  “You pick up some more cans for me?” Trent asked her.

  Keskia looked at him with despair, shaking her head.

  “I’m not a skivvy,” she chastised him. “I’ve been to see Jessie. In case you’d forgotten, you have a little sister who’s going through a lot right now. Not that you ever ask after her mind.”

  “How’s Jessie doing?” Trent asked, his tone implying he really didn’t care, and Tyrese knew his brother still felt the indignity of their sister setting him up for a beating at the hands of the Healy brothers.

  “How do you think she’s doing?” Keskia snapped. “She’s lost two babies and whatever she might say I can tell she’s more upset than she lets on.”

  “Chill out, ma,” Trent groaned. “She’s too young to be having kids anyway.”

  “Well, maybe,” Keskia relented. “But that doesn’t make it any easier when she miscarries. I wouldn’t expect you two to understand, you’re too selfish to consider what anyone else might be feeling.”

  “Whatever,” Trent rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk, I gave you a fucking tenner to buy me some beer and you ain’t even got it.”

  Tyrese shot his brother a look, but Trent didn’t notice. Tyrese was weary of his mother, he knew that she was often on the verge of throwing them out and he didn’t want to push her too far. He knew she only kept them here because she felt lonely, no matter how annoyed she might get with them; with Troy inside and Jessie living with the Healy brothers, they were all she had, as much as she might hate to admit it.

  Keskia fumbled in her pockets and pulled out a tenner, flinging it in Trent’s directions. Trent leapt out of his seat to catch it.

  “Keep your money and go down the shop yourself then, lazy git,” Keskia said, voice rising, and stormed out of the room back to the kitchen.

  “Don’t piss her off anymore,” Tyrese hissed, glaring at Trent, who was sitting back down, shoving the tenner into his jeans’ pocket.

  “Chill man,” Trent shook his head. “I’m off down the shop now anyway.”

  Tyrese felt his temper rising again, but he followed his brother out of the flat. The Banks brothers were fast losing respect, losing their turf to the Healy brothers, and all his brother could think of was getting himself some cans.

  He wondered, for the first time, if he would not be better off without Trent.

  * * *

  Brandy put a hand out to the wall to steady herself. The concrete was cold against her palm and she felt a shiver ripple through her body. Her head was banging but she didn’t feel sick. She had left Adrianna partying with tequila in one hand and a cigarette in the other and had headed back to the Goldsworth, knowing Aunt Bo would be pissed off enough by the state of her, never mind if she came home too late.

  She gave a groan and pushed herself upright from the wall. It was only across the courtyard and up the stairs to her mum’s flat and then she could collapse onto her bed and sleep it off. The thought was enough to get her legs moving and she took a few steps.

  Footsteps approached from the end of the alleyway and Brandy heard familiar voices. She shivered and her head cleared, heart racing, some of the alcohol seeming to wear off at once as adrenaline coursed through her.

  “I’m telling you mate,” Tyrese Banks was saying in a loud voice, “He’s earning a fucking killing in there.”

  Brandy held her breath as Tyrese and Trent came into sight at the end of the alley, illuminated by a streetlight. She froze, hardly daring to breath, praying they wouldn’t turn down, but she knew where they lived. She’d spent enough time at the Banks’ flat to know the shortcut through the alley was the way they would come. They turned into the alley and caught sight of her, pausing.

  She had managed to avoid them since Troy’s arrest, but there had been some close calls and she still had no idea what they might do to her now they had found her, especially drunk and vulnerable in an alley on the Goldsworth in the middle of the night. She shivered.

  “Look who decided to show her face after all this time?” Tyrese sneered as he and Trent approached, cautiously at first, checking she was alone, and then closing the distance in seconds when they realised nobody was hiding in the shadows. “We kept an eye out for you, but it’s like you just went and disappeared.”

  “And
believe me when I say we tried to find you,” Trent agreed.

  Brandy knew there was no use in trying to run from them, not in her heels and in her state. She righted herself, hoping she did not betray any weakness.

  “I got nicked,” she admitted. “You know, same as Troy.”

  “How come you’re already out then?” Trent asked. “Looks like you got lucky, Brandy, ‘cos our Troy’s still locked up. He ain’t even had his trial yet.”

  Brandy took a moment, hoping her voice would not waver with nerves. She was saved the need when Trent went on, his voice low and menacing.

  “Got no answer?” he asked. He let out a laugh. “Maybe he’s still inside because you stabbed him in the fucking back and made a deal.”

  “I never –” Brandy protested.

  “Never grassed him up?” Tyrese asked, sniggering. “Never handed the pigs the knife he used to stab that Curtis girl? Don’t you lie to us.”

  Brandy felt herself shaking with fear. In all the time she had dated Troy she had never been afraid of his older brothers. She had always seen them as tools to use to help Troy get to the top. She had never been on the receiving end of their anger and she now understood why they were feared.

  “I never meant to do it,” Brandy stammered. “I was scared.”

  “You mean you ain’t scared now?” Tyrese asked, amused.

  “You fucking should be,” Trent growled. “We treated you like one of our own. You were family, Brandy. You never should’ve done what you did. You’re a snitch and a fucking traitor.”

  Brandy opened her mouth to protest, to apologize – anything to appease them, but Trent’s fist hit her hard in the mouth and she staggered backwards. In her heels, she tripped and fell hard to the floor, the concrete cold beneath her, crying out from the shock and pain that shot up her back.

  “Please –” she managed, spitting out blood, realising her lip was split as warm liquid oozed down her chin and dripped down onto the top of her breasts.

  “Did you give Troy a chance?” Trent asked.

  Brandy let out a cry as he swung his leg and kicked her hard in the face. Pain shot through her as the back of her head slammed against the floor. Trent kicked her in the side and the breath was knocked out of her. She gasped for air, spitting more blood out of her mouth.

  Trent showed no mercy. He kicked her again and again, until Brandy felt her whole body must be bruised and battered.

  “She’s learnt her lesson,” Tyrese said, holding Trent back. He bent his knees, dropping down so he could get close to her face. “I hope you understand now what happens to fucking traitors. Maybe you’ll think again about testifying against Troy, yeah? Because if you’re hurting now, it’ll be a hundred times worse if you turn up at court.”

  Brandy was in too much pain to answer. Tyrese seemed affronted, because he grabbed her hair and yanked it towards him, and Brandy cried out as she found herself just an inch from his face. His breath was warm on her face.

  “Did you understand that bitch?” he demanded.

  “Yeah,” Brandy managed, wincing from his grip, her scalp burning. “I understand…I do…please.”

  Tyrese let go of her hair and her head banged against the floor again. Brandy made no effort to get up as she watched the two Banks brothers walk away down the alleyway. She sighed with relief only once they had turned the corner out of sight.

  * * *

  Zoe listened as Tamar reminded her of drunken park gatherings and gossip from school that she had long forgotten, and she laughed with him. He was on his second can and she had even opened one for herself. She didn’t really drink now and it was nice to have somebody to talk to, someone she could reminisce with without the inevitable questions about Troy’s killings or Sasha’s death.

  She wondered how different these memories might have been if she and Tamar had spoken like this back then, but they had not been close and she was only grateful that she had gone out for a cigarette when she had, or else she might not have bumped into Tamar and might never have talked with him like this.

  Talk soon turned to Sasha, and Zoe for once did not mind the topic. When other people spoke to her about Sasha it was because they wanted some lurid gossip, but Tamar had clearly had feelings for her and still missed her just like she did.

  “Remember that party she had when her parents went away?” Tamar said, swigging from his can. “That was such a great night weren’t it?”

  “That’s the night I had a big fight with Brandy,” Zoe remembered, as if she could forget it. “I left the party and that night I had Sienna.”

  “Oh yeah,” Tamar nodded, wincing at the memory. “Me and Sasha were – you know, getting down to it – and Clint ran in and told us. I could’ve killed him right then, you know, for ruining my chances.” He laughed.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Zoe grinned. “You and Sasha came out didn’t you?”

  “And Sasha kicked me,” Tamar nodded. “Damn, it hurt and all.”

  “You’re one to talk about pain,” Zoe rolled her eyes, amused. “I was in labour, remember? Ain’t that why Sasha gave you a kick in the first place, for complaining?”

  Tamar strained to remember.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he agreed, looking abashed but smiling too.

  Zoe giggled and felt more relaxed than she had done in months. She had always feared reprisals from Troy’s brothers. None had come yet, but the trial was getting close and she felt sure something was going to happen. She was afraid, being alone in the flat with Sienna, unable to forget the night Troy had burst in and threatened to kill her daughter, thinking she had grassed him up to the police. Clint had saved her, she remembered. Tamar had been with Troy that night, but he had not harmed Sienna, he had not wanted to, she remembered, and she did not feel afraid with him sat on the sofa beside her.

  As Tamar lit them each a cigarette and passed one to her, Zoe noticed a scar above his eye. She had not noticed it before, but now she saw another on his left arm.

  She reached out to touch it and Tamar jumped as if afraid, before smiling sheepishly when he realised what she had meant to do.

  “Sorry,” he grinned.

  “How did you get it?” Zoe asked.

  Tamar shrugged, and Zoe knew that he did not want to tell her. She wondered if it was the Banks brothers. Tamar had told her that he had given a statement to the police too, though not one that had really said much he had insisted.

  She put out her cigarette and reached for his face. She traced the purple scar with the tip of her finger, and Tamar did not flinch but closed his eyes.

  “Was it Troy’s brothers?” she asked quietly.

  Tamar nodded.

  “Because you gave a statement?” she asked.

  Tamar’s eyes remained closed as she stroked his face, but he shook his head.

  “They were looking for Clint,” he said, almost a whisper. “I didn’t know where he was, so I couldn’t tell them anything, but they gave me a kicking anyway.”

  “That’s horrible,” Zoe commiserated.

  Tamar shrugged.

  “It could’ve been worse,” Tamar said.

  He opened his eyes and looked at Zoe. She felt unable to look away from him and wondered if he felt the same, as surprised as she was by this sudden connection between them. He licked his lips, almost imperceptibly, his eyes falling from her eyes to her lips. Zoe had not been with a guy in ages, she thought, wondering whether Tamar really found her attractive. He had never shown any interest in her before, but then she had shown no interest in him either.

  She realised her hand was still on his face and made to move it away. Tamar caught it in his own and leaned in towards her, closing the distance between them. His lips were on hers then, her lips parting for his tongue. Her hands clasped his face and his hands touched her, fumbling at her breasts.

  They broke apart momentarily, and Zoe’s eyes questioned him. She wondered if he had drank too much, but two cans was nothing, she thought; she’d seen him drink far mor
e than that in the past.

  “You sure about this?” she asked him.

  Tamar nodded and kissed her again. He pressed himself against her and she felt him hard against her. Awkwardly they repositioned themselves on the sofa, Tamar helping her lay back against the cushions as she fumbled with her clothes. He threw her tracksuit bottoms over his shoulder and they landed across the room with a dull thud, and he hastily unzipped his jeans as he opened her legs.

  Zoe groaned, her fingers clutching his shoulders. It had been so long, and it was so unexpected, and she closed her eyes to the pleasure.

  * * *

  “Well, at least we taught her some respect,” Tyrese shrugged, sitting heavily on the sofa and opening himself a beer, passing one to Trent in the armchair. “She was always up herself, weren’t she?”

  “Yeah, right stick up her arse,” Trent agreed. “Think I did most of the teaching though mate.”

  Tyrese narrowed his eyes.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

  “I gave her a kicking, you didn’t lift a fucking finger,” Trent answered, slurping his beer. He laughed at Tyrese’s dark look. “Come on, I ain’t judging you, but it’s true, innit?”

  Tyrese sighed, allowing himself to smile.

  “Yeah, well done bro,” he relented.

  Trent’s smile widened. His phone beeped and he pulled it out his jeans’ pocket, reading it and licking his lips.

  “Right, I got a guest coming round,” he said.

  “Let me guess, this guest has blonde hair and big tits?” Tyrese sniggered. He knew who Trent intended to spend the rest of his night with. It was one of many girls his brother had on the go, but even Tyrese had to admit she was hot. He wondered how Trent still managed to pull the birds even now that he has lost his physique. He rolled his eyes and heaved himself to his feet.

  “You might want to change,” Tyrese said, looking at Trent’s blood-splattered trainers and jeans.

  “Nah man, this one gets turned on by shit like this,” Trent grinned. Tyrese frowned, bewildered. Trent laughed. “Come on, who cares if she’s a bit fucked up in the head? She wants a gangster, I’ll give her a fucking gangster.”