The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  Tyrese still didn’t seem impressed.

  “Don’t tell me you’d turn her down,” Trent snorted. “That hot accent? Them tits? And she’s a fucking screamer, man, I’m telling you.”

  “Well don’t let her scream too loud,” Tyrese warned him. “Mum’s already pissed off, last thing she needs is some blonde screaming the fucking place down.”

  Trent winked and Tyrese retreated to his bedroom.

  There was a knock on the front door and Trent answered it. Adrianna smiled at him, eyes a little unfocused; she was fucking wrecked, Trent thought, not that it put him off at all.

  “Good night?” he asked, leading her through to his bedroom.

  “Yeah,” Adrianna replied. She always tried to play it cool, but Trent knew she wanted him bad. “What you been up to?”

  Trent shrugged, indicating his shoes. Adrianna’s eyes widened at the sight of the blood splatters, then she looked into Trent’s face and licked her lips.

  “You been taking care of business?” she asked, putting a finger to his mouth.

  Trent nodded, already stirring, as he kicked off his trainers and began unzipping his jeans.

  “Well, sexy, now you can take care of me,” Adrianna said, kicking her heels off and pulling her dress down in one quick movement. Trent grabbed her around the waist and laid her out on the bed as he kicked his boxers onto the floor and ripped off her underwear.

  Adrianna was smiling, looking longingly at him, and Trent knew she was in love with him. He liked that about her, he realised, even if he just wanted her for the sex.

  * * *

  Dante Cortez felt no remorse for anything he had done.

  He had killed his best mate Bolton, stabbed him in a playground, and he had thought nothing of it. He hadn’t really wanted to have to kill him, but he had and what was done was done, he thought. He had not made mates in prison and as he lay on the top bunk of the cell he did not think he would be getting chummy with Troy Banks. His new cellmate had made it clear that he didn’t want him there, and Dante found it amusing more than anything.

  Troy had tried to intimidate him, but Dante had shrugged off the display. He knew a pussy when he saw one and Troy was clinging to his surname and the reputation of his brothers, and that was about all he had going for him. Dante would’ve broken his jaw if it hadn’t been for his brothers’ reputation. Not that he was scared of the Banks brothers, but he thought they might be useful. They were dealers, top of their game, or had been in their prime at any rate, and Dante wanted to make it to the top and he just might be able to get a foot on the ladder with them. It was pure chance, and good luck that he’d landed a cell with the youngest brother.

  It was their first night sharing the cell together and Dante knew from casually watching Troy during the short time he had known him that he was not like his brothers. He wasn’t even worthy of the title of a soldier, he was a skivvy for his brothers, that much was clear. Not that Dante had a problem with that, it would make it easier for him to manipulate him and get in with the Banks’s.

  Dante had observed Troy he knew that Troy must be running some kind of operation in here. Drugs, he thought, and the more he had considered it the more he had been convinced that he was right.

  He liked getting his fix, and he would make sure that Troy provided that for him when the time was right. Just because he was locked up, Dante didn’t intend to give up the drugs, and nor did he just want to be dealt a few bags here and there.

  Dante wanted in on the whole operation and he was determined he would succeed. He heard a faint sound from Troy’s bunk beneath him. He knew that he must be texting his brothers from the mobile he had smuggled in, trying to muffle the sound so as not to give his secret away to his cellmate.

  Dante smiled to himself. This was all just going to be so fucking easy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Aurora awoke to find Clint had already left for work and Kojo had gone out with his mates. It was the summer holidays and they were still yet to register him at a school for the autumn term at the local school. She did not think it likely that Kojo would want to come back with them once they got back to London, so she would hold off on contacting the schools until after they had returned to Manchester.

  The sun was shining through the bedroom window and Aurora already felt her skin prickling with sweat and once more longed for the baby to arrive so she would not have to suffer in the heat so much. She swung her legs off the bed and padded into the bathroom.

  She hoped that Clint was feeling more positive today about London. She understood his fears and she wished that things could have been different; but as much as she wished it weren’t true, Clint had been there when Troy had stabbed her sister, ended poor, beautiful Shan’s life, and if he testified in court against Troy it was a small price to pay for giving justice to her beloved sister.

  Sometimes she regretted forgiving Clint so easily. She had been sick – with grief, shock and anger – when she had realised that her boyfriend had been involved in her sister’s murder, but then Clint had put his life at risk by finally exposing Troy’s actions to the police. Her fear and her love for Clint had driven the anger from her mind and she had not questioned herself as she had fled the capital with him. As their first days in Manchester had crept past, the fear slowly lifting from them and reality setting in, she had begun to doubt her decision. No matter how hard she might try, she could not look at Clint in the same adoring way she once had, for a part of her always reminded her that his sparkling eyes, that she could once have gazed into for hours, had witnessed Troy thrust the knife into her sister.

  She loved Clint. She really did, she thought, but were some things unforgivable? Perhaps she would always love him, but would never be able to truly accept or forgive that he had been involved in Shaniqua’s death, even if he had helped bring Troy to justice and had not wanted her to die.

  Aurora ran a cold shower, hoping to shake such thoughts. She knew it was only because they were set to return to the Goldsworth tomorrow morning that she was thinking such things. She had found once they had moved into their home in Manchester that the past had slowly become less painful; she thought of Shaniqua less frequently, and she found her happiness with Clint blossoming.

  Now they were going back and she wondered if she could handle it. She was emotional and tired all the time now, the hormones saw to that, and going back was sure to make her feel worse. She wondered if her relationship could handle it too; once she heard Clint take the stand and tell the court what had happened the night Shaniqua had died, would she be able to forgive him again?

  She switched off the shower, shivering from the cold water, feeling satisfyingly cool as she reached for a towel. She tried not to think of what might happen when they were back on the Goldsworth and thought only of the packing she would have to do before tomorrow.

  * * *

  Clint tugged at the collar of his work shirt and felt the material beneath his armpits dampen with sweat. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette and flicked the ash across the tarmac of the car park. His break was only a few minutes and he wished he had gone for some food rather than a cigarette as his stomach grumbled loudly.

  He reminded himself that he had been lucky to get this job. It was part time at a phone shop and he knew enough about phones to blag his way through customer questions, and though the pay wasn’t great it was enough to keep their heads above water once added to the benefits.

  Once the baby arrived in a couple of weeks, it would be a different story. Then there would be nappies and baby food to buy, not to mention the pram, the cot and all the other necessities that would drain what little they had managed to save. Aurora was all for getting a job too, but he wouldn’t hear of it and besides, if she started working too, who would look after the baby?

  Then there was Kojo; he was a growing lad, he constantly ate and drank, and they were finding hard enough to support the three of them as it was. He thought of his parents and wondered if it might not be better for
them all if Kojo went back to live on the Goldsworth with them. If something happened though, how could he ever forgive himself? His father’s temper was irregular and he was liable to explode at the slightest thing, and if he seriously injured Kojo, Clint would know it was his fault, because Kojo would have been safe if he’d stayed in Manchester. Yet what about Aurora and the baby, could he let them go hungry so that Kojo could stay? There was too much to think about, and Clint didn’t know the answers anyway.

  He took a last drag on his cigarette and tossed it to the floor. He had told his supervisor that he was taking two weeks off; she had not been impressed with the short notice but he had assured her that the prosecution service would be writing to the boss to prove that he was required in court, and she’d had little choice but to let him take the time off.

  As he returned to the shop, he wondered if they would look for someone to replace him whilst he was away. He was hardly a star salesman and he wasn’t irreplaceable, he knew that much. That was the last thing he needed, to lose his job.

  Feeling strained, his doubts weighing heavily on his mind, he forced a smile as he popped a chewing gum into his mouth and breezed back into the shop.

  * * *

  Troy glared at his cellmate and tried to hide the surprise on his face. He had thought that he had been careful, but clearly his efforts were lacking.

  “You deaf or what?” Dante asked, looking bewildered. “I asked if I could borrow your phone for a bit later, is that ok or not?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Troy shrugged. “I ain’t got a phone. We’re locked up, why’d you think I’d have one?”

  Troy hoped his voice sounded more assured than he felt.

  “I heard you last night,” Dante laughed. “Texting for fucking hours, I thought you’d never give it a rest and shut the fuck up.”

  “I wasn’t texting,” Troy protested, trying to look affronted.

  “Right,” Dante snorted, shaking his head. “You think I’m stupid or what?”

  Troy felt cornered, and he wished that Amal was here, he would know how to handle it.

  “Come on man, give it a break,” he said, hating the pleading tone to his voice.

  Dante’s expression hardened and Troy knew he wasn’t going to let it drop. Dante moved towards Troy’s bunk and reached for the thin mattress.

  “So if I check under here –”

  Troy jumped forward as Dante lifted up the mattress.

  “Get your fucking hands off,” he snapped.

  Dante moved away from the bunk, the small mobile clasped in his hand, a smug look on his face. He held it up, eyebrow raised at Troy.

  “So, we got that straight,” Dante smiled. “Can I borrow it?”

  Troy knew the game was up and reached for the phone, but Dante stepped back, keeping the phone out of his reach.

  “What for?” Troy groaned, relenting. He didn’t have any other choice.

  “Private business,” Dante replied with a shrug.

  “What business?” Troy asked. The last thing he needed was for Dante to go scrolling through his texts to Tyrese. Now he remembered his brother’s warnings to delete all the incriminating messages once they were no longer needed. He could’ve kicked himself for forgetting. “I got some private stuff on here,” he said.

  “I ain’t going to rob your customers or nothing like that, don’t worry, it’s a personal call,” Dante said.

  Troy didn’t like that Dante knew he was using the phone for business, and briefly panicked about what his cellmate might know of his dealings.

  “You’re not ringing a sex chat line or something, are you?” Troy asked, narrowing his eyes at his cellmate. “Because that shit is expensive, you know.”

  “You know that from personal experience?” Dante sniggered, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, I –” Troy stammered, blushing.

  “I got to call a girl on the outside, right?” Dante said, ignoring Troy’s embarrassment. “I won’t be long,” he added.

  Troy took a deep breath and sighed. It was useless getting into a fight; Dante already held the phone and it wasn’t like he could go tell a prison officer that his contraband phone had been robbed.

  “Fuck’s sake,” Troy said. “Be quick, and don’t get caught.”

  “Cheers man,” Dante grinned.

  Troy gave him a last angry look and left the cell. He was quickly growing to hate his cellmate, and he didn’t trust him.

  * * *

  Zoe heard Sienna crying and gave a groan as she opened her eyes, sunlight creeping through the threadbare curtains. She had meant to buy new ones, ones that didn’t let in so much light, but she was still saving up. She sat up in bed and felt Tamar stir beside her, rubbing his eyes and moaning at the wake-up cries.

  She smiled down at him. His eyes were still closed and one hand was half-covering them, his chest bare and the duvet covering his nakedness from the waist down. She had enjoyed last night and she was pleased that he had felt comfortable enough with her to stay the entire night. She remembered the night she had conceived Sienna – a quick shag in a random bedroom at a house party, and that had been it. Five minutes, and he’d been out the door and onto the next girl.

  Sienna was still crying from the corner of the room and Zoe rolled out of bed and padded across the carpet barefoot and naked to her daughter. At the sight of her looking down into the cot, Sienna’s cries seemed to become less urgent. Zoe smiled down at her, stroked her beautiful face, and reached for some clothes. She pulled on tracksuit bottoms and a sleeveless vest, no underwear, and lifted Sienna out of the cot.

  She rocked her in her arms as she left the bedroom and a stirring Tamar, retreating down the hallway past the lounge to the kitchen. A few empty cans remained on the counter and she flushed with exhilaration at the memory of last night. They had done it on the sofa and then had a few more cans, and then he had allowed her to lead him to the bedroom, where they had done it again.

  Lifting Sienna into her high chair, Zoe wiped down the plastic table and busied herself making her breakfast. As the microwave pinged, Zoe caught sight of Tamar emerging from the bedroom. He was dressed and he still rubbed at his eyes. She knew he must not be used to waking early, but she had gotten used to it since having Sienna. She envied him his lie-ins, and wondered if it would put him off wanting to stay round at hers more often.

  She took Sienna’s breakfast out of the microwave and blew on the food, hoping to cool it. Sienna caught the smell of it and howled.

  “You want to stay for some breakfast?” Zoe asked, looking over her shoulder at Tamar. “It’s the least I can do for you, after last night and –” She trailed off as Tamar shook his head.

  “Nah, I’m okay thanks,” he said. He looked from Sienna to Zoe, and Zoe blushed. She knew she must look a state. She hadn’t even washed her face, or brushed her teeth. She knew the clothes she wore were stained, but they’d been the first things she’d picked up from the floor. “I should probably get going.”

  “Are you sure?” Zoe asked, putting the bowl of food down in front of Sienna. Sienna fell silent at once. “It’s no trouble.”

  “No, it’s fine, really,” Tamar insisted.

  Zoe went round the table towards him, and Tamar stood there, fumbling for a cigarette in his pocket.

  “Thanks for last night,” Zoe said, blushing at her own words.

  “No problem,” Tamar said. He didn’t look at her, and Zoe wondered at once if he regretted having sex with her. She forced a smile, knowing that guys hated a clingy girl. He was probably just tired, she told herself. “I got to get on,” Tamar said, gesturing behind him to the hallway and the front door.

  “If you ever want to come over again, you’re more than welcome,” Zoe said, as Tamar retreated down the hallway. She followed, running a hand over her hair and hating how messy it must look to him. “I’m pretty much always here.”

  Tamar opened the front door and hesitated on the doorstep. Zoe stopped, and looked at
him expectantly, hoping he would kiss her, show her some sign that he still wanted her, that she was not being stupid, and that he didn’t regret last night.

  “I’ll see you around,” Tamar said, with a brief smile, and then he was out the front door. He lit a cigarette, gave a slight wave to her, and walked away. Zoe watched him go and closed the front door.

  She felt her heart sink but she willed herself not to feel bad. She knew that he must regret what had happened between them and she couldn’t even blame him, she realised. It had been a one-off, she decided, and she was fine with that. It wasn’t like she loved him or anything. They were both lonely, they had both needed someone last night and they had found each other purely by chance. It wasn’t a love affair, just a bunk-up between friends. If it was even that, she thought.

  Returning to the kitchen, she found Sienna smearing her breakfast over her face and let out a sigh, hurrying over to her and grabbing a piece of kitchen roll to clean her up, pushing any thoughts of Tamar from her mind. She was under no illusions that he would be thinking of her, so she would not think of him.

  * * *

  Brandy watched from the kitchen as her mother staggered past the window and stumbled through the front door a moment later. She carried her wig under her arm and her skirt had ridden high up her thighs so her underwear was showing. Her heels were stained with vomit and her eyes were red and unfocused.

  “You want a cuppa?” Brandy called out to her. Her face ached, more than the rest of her body, which wasn’t saying much, but she’d had enough of Aunt Bo’s questions and her aunt would be too distracted dealing with her, at least, to pay Brandy much mind, she hoped.

  Her mum narrowed her eyes and pulled a face.

  “Cuppa what?” she demanded. Brandy smelt the alcohol and the weed on her. “Vodka, sure. Tequila, even better.”

  Brandy rolled her eyes. She hated her mum, she wished she would leave and not come back, but she somehow always seemed to navigate her way back home even after a week-long binge.

  “Pour me a drink girl,” her mother snapped. She tripped on her heels and fell against the doorframe with a loud thud, cussing and hissing. She refocused on Brandy, hand on hip as she righted herself, “You deaf?”