The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  Kojo remembered her then. He’d hardly learnt anything, looking at her, thinking of how great it would be to kiss those perfect pink lips. She smiled sweetly at him as recognition must have dawned on his face, and her dark hair flickered in the breeze, caressing her face as he longed to do the same.

  “I remember you,” he said, hating how slurred his words sounded, but feeling confident like he never had before. He had been too shy to speak to her much at school, but with the alcohol came a sense of bravado. “I used to fancy you so much,” he said, and Scarlett blushed further.

  “I missed you when you left,” Scarlett said. “You left the city, right? I heard someone say that in class, and I thought it was really sad you weren’t around anymore.”

  Kojo smiled, pleased that she remembered him, excited that she missed him.

  “Well, I’m back now,” Kojo said. “Back for good.”

  “Really?” Scarlett asked, hopeful. “That’s good, it’ll be good to see you more.”

  “Yeah, it will,” Kojo agreed, nodding. He wondered what she would say if he asked her out on a date or maybe tried to kiss her, but he felt nervous at the prospect. Maybe alcohol didn’t make you brave in everything, he thought. He took a deep breath, willing himself to take the plunge.

  “Would you like to –” he began, then stopped as bile rose up his throat. His stomach gave another churn and he bent over, vomiting onto the grass at their feet. Scarlett took a step back, and Kojo groaned as more vomit forced its way up.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” a familiar voice cried out, and Clint descended on him, Aurora a few steps behind him. “Have you been drinking?” Clint asked, snatching the can out of Kojo’s hand and shoving it back at Kent, who shifted uncomfortably.

  “He’s been fine all night,” Kent insisted, “He just –” He fell quiet at the angry look Clint shot him, and Kojo knew that his good time was over now his brother had turned up.

  “Home, now,” Clint said, his teeth gritted with anger.

  Kojo knew there was no use arguing, not when he felt so ill. He glanced at Kent, who shrugged sourly. He turned to Scarlett, who looked concerned and a little disappointed that their conversation had been cut short.

  “Bye,” Kojo said to them both, his voice quiet and his throat burning.

  Clint grabbed him by the arm and marched him back into the house, Aurora close on their heels, and out the front door, calling out goodbye to his mates. Kojo staggered, but Clint’s grip was firm. Though he knew he would be in trouble in the morning, he did not regret tonight, not when he had enjoyed himself so much.

  * * *

  Zoe had changed into her pyjamas when there was a knock at the door, and she went to answer it feeling a flutter of hope within her. She was proved right as she opened the door and Tamar leaned against the frame, smiling uncertainly at her.

  “I’m sorry about before,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “I was stupid. I don’t know why –” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly. Zoe thought of what Aurora had told her, not to let him get to her, but it was easier said than done, and she couldn’t bring herself to send him away.

  She opened the door wider and let him into the flat. He held up two cans with a tentative smile, and Zoe took one from him as she closed the front door and followed him into the lounge. She cracked open her can and drank some, aware of Tamar’s eyes on her as they sat down on the sofa.

  “I feel bad, that you left the party early ‘cos of me,” Tamar said.

  “It’s okay,” Zoe said, shaking her head. “Those heels were killing my feet anyway, and that dress –” She laughed, feeling more comfortable in her stretchy pyjama bottoms.

  “The top was…nice,” Tamar volunteered, a twinkle in his eyes, and Zoe remembered how he had been unable to stop looking at her cleavage. He smiled as she looked at him, amused and flattered.

  She put her can down on the small table crowded with ashtray and magazines, and then took the can from Tamar’s hands. He looked at her expectantly and she took his face in her hands and kissed him. All of Aurora’s advice was forgotten as his tongue pushed into her mouth and she straddled him, the feel of his hands on her body making her feel wanted and desirable.

  Tamar was getting hard and she unzipped his jeans, enjoying the purr of contentment that came from him as she began to stroke him, his hands going to her breasts and her lips still on his.

  * * *

  Scarlett Thorne felt frustrated that Kojo had left the party already, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had been about to ask her before he had been sick. Even seeing him in that state did nothing to quell her feelings for him; she had seen the way he looked at her in class and she felt the same about him, though it seemed neither of them had been brave enough to speak to the other back then.

  It had taken all her courage, and a few vodkas, to pluck up the nerve to speak to him tonight and she was glad she had, pleased that he had said he was sticking around on the Goldsworth. Maybe he would end up back at school, she thought, hopeful.

  “Come on, time to go,” her older sister Shontelle said, joining her in the back garden and lighting up a cigarette. “Dad’s going to kill me if you get home too late.”

  Scarlett watched her sister inhale deeply, and they were quickly joined by Amal and Naz. “This is my sister,” Shontelle said to Amal, gesturing to Scarlett.

  Scarlett nodded to them both.

  “I’ll walk you home,” Naz said, his arm firm around Shontelle’s waist. Scarlett saw her sister force a smile and accept the offer.

  They bid farewell to Amal and Naz led the way out of the house. Shontelle glanced wistfully back at the house party, as if she wished she was still there. Probably without Naz, Scarlett mused. She wondered if she fancied Naz’s cousin Amal.

  She quickly turned her thoughts back to Kojo and hoped that she would get a chance to see him again, so that she could finally get his number and ask him out.

  * * *

  With Troy asleep in the bottom bunk, Dante quietly pulled the mobile from beneath his pillow and felt relieved that Troy had agreed to let him use the phone tonight. It made it so much easier, not having to steal it, though he would have done if Troy had refused his offer.

  He remembered the number off by heart and typed it in.

  Putting the phone to his ear, he heard the dial as the phone began to ring.

  * * *

  Charley Brunns rubbed her eyes as the sound of her phone woke her. She swung her legs out of bed and hurried out of her bedroom to the corridor, where the phone was plugged into the charger. She moved quickly, anxious that the noise might wake up baby Junior, after she had spent hours getting him to sleep.

  “Hello?” she asked, snatching up the receiver.

  “Charley Brunns?” the man’s voice whispered.

  “Yeah, who’s this?” Charley asked.

  She felt hesitant. There had been a few strange phone calls recently and it was the middle of the night. She held her breath as she waited for the response.

  “You’re a fucking slag,” the man whispered into her ear. “You’re going to suffer, just like your precious Bolton did.”

  “Who the hell is this?” Charley demanded, voice rising with fear and anger.

  Bolton, her boyfriend, had died just months ago and it was still raw. They had lived together, had a child together, and now he was gone, and she was doing her best to raise their son alone. She wept at night, missing Bolton and wishing that things could have been different, that their son might get a chance to know his father though she knew that he couldn’t except through photos and stories.

  “How’s the baby doing?” the man asked, sounding excited at the fear in her voice. “He sucking on your titties right now? Come on, you can tell me, Charley. Maybe I’ll have a go too when I see you.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Charley snapped, feeling violated by his words, crossing her free arm across her chest as if he might appear at any moment to assault her. She shivered and pani
cked, fearing she might have left a window open.

  “You don’t know who I am,” the man whispered, and she could hear the amusement in his tone. “I could be miles away, or I could be right outside your front door. You frightened yet? You going to wet yourself?”

  Charley trembled, glancing down the corridor to the front door of her flat. She didn’t think anyone was outside, but fear stung at her all the same.

  “You scared?” he continued. “You wish Bolton was there? Or are you getting turned on? Bet you miss a man’s touch, eh?” He gave a soft laugh. “I could come over, give you a seeing to. Would you like that Char?”

  Charley swallowed hard. She was exhausted, and these calls left her feeling drained and alone, unsure of who to trust, though she had a faint idea who was behind the calls.

  “Is this you Dante?” she demanded, trying to sound as certain as she could, hoping her voice didn’t tremble. “You’re a pathetic little boy,” she pressed on. “You should be regretting what you –”

  She stopped, hearing the dial tone sound.

  The man was gone. She put the phone back into its cradle and stood, shivering, for a long moment.

  She suspected the caller was Dante, or someone doing it on his behalf, and she hated him more than anyone else in the world. He had killed her boyfriend, and now he was harassing her. She knew what he was like; he’d feel no remorse for causing her such distress. He was probably aroused by the thought of her fear.

  Trying to push the things he had said from her mind, she padded back into the bedroom and checked on baby Junior, still fast asleep in his cot. She closed the bedroom door and dragged the cot as close to the side of her bed as she could.

  She tried not to let the call bother her, but as she pulled the duvet back over her, she couldn’t help but listen, alert and afraid, for any sound at the front door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Charley looked at herself in the mirror and knew that something had to change. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her hair was a tangled mess. She had not slept last night and now that it was daylight outside and she felt safe enough to close her eyes, Bolton Junior was awake and hungry for her attention. She felt exhausted and once more wished that Bolton had never gone to meet Dante at the park. Then he would still be alive, and she wouldn’t be here alone with her son, and Dante would not be terrorising her.

  She hated Dante for everything that he had done, and he seemed to have no remorse for killing his best friend, depriving her son of his father and her of her love. She suspected that he was behind the phone calls that left her so frightened, and yet she felt embarrassed that she should feel so afraid. He was in prison, and there was nothing he could do to harm her, not whilst he was still locked-up.

  Turning from the mirror she picked Junior up out of his cot and carried him into the kitchen. She put him in his high-chair and he groaned until she gave him his bottle of milk, and then he fell quiet, happy and contented.

  She had only been living in the flat for a month, and she already missed the company of others; even her family, with their loud shouting and queues for the bathroom. Her mother had called earlier, but Charley had not mentioned that she had not been to sleep, knowing her mother would insist they move back in with her.

  There was a knock on the front door and she jumped, almost dropping the kettle she was filling up at the sink. She put the kettle down and put a hand to her chest, willing her heart to calm itself down, and went down the corridor, feeling anxious as to who might be waiting on the other side of the door.

  She looked through the peep-hole and sighed with relief. She opened the door and her older brother walked in, his shirt tucked into his jeans, smiling brightly at her as he hugged her and closed the door behind him. She was pleased that Asher had come over, but she was worried too. He was a policeman and he knew how to read people. When his eyes narrowed slightly she knew he must have noticed how tired she was.

  “I can look after Junior for a bit,” he offered, glancing at her uncertainly. “In case you wanted to get your head down for a bit.”

  Charley shook her head and retreated down the hall to the kitchen, where Junior was smiling at the sound of his uncle’s voice.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, putting the kettle on. “You want a coffee?”

  Asher shook his head and pulled up a seat next to Junior’s high chair, smiling and playing with his nephew, who had lost all interest in his bottle of milk.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Asher asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

  Charley nodded, hoping he would let the subject drop, unsure why she was so desperate to stop anyone finding out about the calls.

  The phone began to ring and she hesitated. Asher caught her uncertainty, and Charley knew it would look too suspicious if she didn’t answer. She went into the hall with heavy footsteps, dreading hearing the voice she suspected was Dante’s.

  She picked up the phone and held it to her ear, not speaking.

  “That you Charley?” the voice asked, and Charley held her breath. She still couldn’t be totally sure that it was Dante she was hearing. “I can hear you breathing,” the man whispered into her ear. “You like my voice, do you? You touching yourself? I can touch myself too, if that’s what you want Charley.”

  Charley shuddered and dropped the phone back into the cradle.

  “Who was it?” Asher asked when she returned to the kitchen. He looked worried by her expression and she sat down at the kitchen table, shaking her head, unable to speak for fear that he would hear the tremble in her voice. She felt tears in her eyes and wished them away, but then Asher was beside her, a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” Asher insisted, his voice soothing. “I can help.”

  Charley took a deep breath and told him about the calls. She didn’t mention the things he said, but she knew her brother got the idea, because his face lined with anger.

  “Don’t worry,” Asher said, when she had finished recounting the calls to him, even mentioning her suspicions that Dante was behind them. “I’ll contact some mates of mine down at the station, and we’ll make sure we find out who’s behind it. You don’t need to feel scared, I’ll protect you.”

  Charley looked into her brother’s eyes and knew he meant what he said, and she felt a little more reassured. She smiled tremulously and he returned the gesture, rubbing her shoulder.

  “I’ll sort it, don’t worry,” Asher said. “Now, I’ll look after Junior for a bit, I’m not in work today. You go to bed and get some sleep, you look shattered.”

  Charley smiled at him and did as he said. She went down the corridor and turned at her bedroom door, glancing back to the kitchen. Asher was already on his mobile to some of his colleagues at the station and his presence in the flat was reassuring. She felt her exhaustion then, and knew she needed some sleep.

  * * *

  Troy walked back to his cell, thinking on his meeting later today with his lawyer. He had received the news that he was going to have a visitor as he sat down for breakfast and his first hopeful thought had been that his brothers were finally paying him a visit and showing him their respect, but that hope had been quickly dashed. The prison officer had told him it was his lawyer who was visiting, and that had quickly filled Troy with apprehension.

  His lawyer was a public one, and it still grated on him that his brothers had not forked out money for a private one, a good one who might actually know his arse from his elbow. He had only met the lawyer a couple of times and he seemed to know his stuff, even if he was old and greying.

  He wondered what news the lawyer might bring and quickly tried to dismiss the thought, worried that he would get nervous and spend the rest of the day fretting over what could be nothing.

  He approached the door to his cell and heard Dante’s voice. He hesitated just out of sight, wondering if somebody else was in the cell or if his cellmate was using the mobile to make a call.

  “I can hear you breathing,” D
ante said, his voice low and menacing, and Troy was surprised at the words, wondering if he was on the phone to some sex-chat line. “You like my voice, do you?” he went on. “You touching yourself? I can touch myself too, if that’s what you want Charley.”

  Then he cursed and fell silent. Troy entered the cell, pretending he hadn’t heard anything, and Dante passed him the mobile, looking pissed off. Troy didn’t ask what was bothering him, but his mind was racing as he wondered what his cellmate was up to and, not for the first time, what Dante had done to get himself locked-up in here in the first place.

  * * *

  Amal looked at the carnage left over from the night before and smiled. It had been an awesome party, he remembered, and it had been even better for meeting Shontelle. The thought of her tight body, her honey-coloured hair, her pink lips that had looked so warm and soft, made him stir and he sat down on the sofa, ignoring the glare that Naz shot him.

  “What’s got you looking so sour?” he asked his cousin, not looking at him as he reached for the remote.

  “What do you think?” Naz shot back. “You tried it on with my girlfriend.”

  “Tried it on? I spoke to her, that’s all.”

  “You wouldn’t stop looking at her all night,” Naz snapped. He wasn’t impressed and folded his arms against his chest, scowling.

  “Now, now, boys,” Sanjay said, amused. “Don’t get into a fight about her.”

  “Ain’t nobody fighting,” Naz insisted. “I just think it’s disrespectful.”

  “Fuck off,” Amal laughed. “Not like I did anything wrong.”

  Naz’s frown deepened and Amal wondered whether his thoughts about Shontelle bordered on inappropriate.

  “I ordered takeaway,” Sanjay said, evidently hoping to clear the air. “Thought we could all do with some grease to soak up all that tequila.”

  “Good thinking,” Amal smiled.

  “Whatever,” Naz grumbled, still looking put out.

  Amal wondered if he should reassure his cousin about his intentions, but he could not bring himself to do it. If Shontelle wanted him, then she would get no rejection from him. He was infatuated with her, and he would only keep his distance if she wanted him to, regardless of Naz.