The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  And Troy, why should she fear him? If anyone should be scared, she thought, it should be him, if there was any justice in this world. He had stolen her sister from her, and then one of her closest friends. He should have been cowering, pleading for her forgiveness, not threatening her loved ones and walking around the estate like he owned it.

  She retreated to her front door and opened it, saw her mother hovering at the kitchen door, anxious that the door had not been locked.

  Aurora closed the door and threw the chain in place, reassuring her mother, though she wondered if a chain would really stop Troy if he wanted to get inside their home.

  If he came after her, Aurora would be ready for him, she decided.

  Unless she went after him first.

  * * *

  Brandy heard her phone vibrate but ignored the message alert. She was in no mood to talk to Adrianna after the stunt she had tried to pull last night. She could still hardly believe that her friend would try to trick her into attending Troy’s party. It rankled her that Adrianna had chosen to help Trent and Troy lure her to the party rather than have her back and warn her what was going on and whose party she was going to.

  There was a knock on the front door and Brandy groaned. Aunt Bo had taken Frazer to the park, granting a short reprieve of silence in the flat, and Brandy did not want that disturbed. Her mother was out somewhere, doing whatever it was she did all day, and Brandy was tempted to let the knock go unanswered.

  Another knock, louder this time.

  She moaned and heaved herself off the bed. She hoped it was not her mother at the door. It would not be the first time Deanna had lost her keys, returning home in a foul mood and demanding Brandy hand over her own set so she could go back out again.

  She opened the door and froze.

  “Brandy,” Troy greeted her, putting his foot firmly in the way so she could not close the door on him. “Guess you didn’t get the party invitation last night.”

  “Troy,” she managed, her voice sounding strangled.

  She took a step backwards, and Troy pressed the advantage, closing the distance between them, edging his way into the flat. She let go of her grip on the door and Troy stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  Prison had changed his build. He looked leaner, tougher, somehow, his features harder and his eyes angrier than she remembered. She wondered if people had thought the same about her when she had served her own time.

  “Thought I’d come and see you,” Troy said casually, glancing around the flat. He took a few steps forward down the corridor, forcing Brandy to step back. She hesitated, glancing around, aware that the flat was empty apart from the two of them. It seemed Troy had noticed the same thing, eyes flickering. “You don’t have anyone else here?”

  “My mum will be back soon,” Brandy lied, trying to make it sound like the truth.

  “Good old Deanna,” Troy laughed. “Still on the crack?”

  Brandy took a few more steps back, finding herself at her bedroom door. She considered throwing herself through it and slamming it in Troy’s face, but she did not know if she had time, if he would force his way through it.

  “And Aunt Bo’s just gone down the shops, she won’t be long,” Brandy added, her voice stronger this time.

  “What’s she doing here?” Troy asked, glancing over her shoulder at her bedroom door too. He knew the layout of the flat as well as anyone, Brandy thought. He had been here enough times when they were together. In those days she had been desperate for him to visit her. She could almost laugh at the thought of that now.

  “Just visiting,” Brandy replied, keeping her voice light.

  Troy nodded. He reached around her and opened her bedroom door, stepping into the room. Brandy followed him inside, her pulse quickening. She could not let him be here when Aunt Bo returned with Frazer, did not want him to know the truth.

  “How have you been?” Troy asked.

  He seemed at ease, which threw Brandy’s guard.

  “Fine,” she replied tersely. Troy was quiet for a long time, perhaps expecting her to return his question. Brandy sighed. “What are you doing here Troy? What do you want?”

  Troy looked at her, surprised.

  “You never asked me that before,” he said. “You were always so happy to see me. Practically begging me to come around here. Even when you knew your mum had a thing for me.” He laughed, shaking his head. “You know that’s why I hated coming here, right? Your fucked-up mum. One night whilst you were asleep, I went into the kitchen for some water and she tried it on with me, she ever tell you that? Put her hands right down the front of my boxers. I could’ve had her right there and then if I’d wanted.”

  Brandy’s face creased in disgust.

  “I never did it though,” Troy added quickly. “Anyway, seems like you don’t want me here. Are you trying to get rid of me or something? You never used to want me to leave.”

  “That was before,” Brandy said.

  “Before you grassed me up?” Troy nodded, his eyes flashing dangerously. Brandy recognized the look. Troy sniggered. “Before you gave that bitch Patterson the knife?”

  Brandy took a deep breath.

  “I’ve done my time, Troy, I got locked up too,” she said, standing up straight. “If you want to give me a beating like your brothers did then go on, do it, get it over with and leave me the fuck alone.”

  Troy looked at her dismissively.

  “You gave them the knife so you could get less time?”

  “For all the good it did me,” Brandy admitted. “That lying bitch Patterson’s promises aren’t worth shit.”

  Troy shook his head.

  “You trusted the police over your own boyfriend.”

  “Well you weren’t exactly a trustworthy guy, Troy,” Brandy pointed out. Her anger started to flare.

  “And what? You were supposed to be my girlfriend,” Troy snapped. “You were supposed to love me, and you did me over like that?”

  “Don’t act like you were the perfect boyfriend, Troy,” Brandy said, voice rising with indignation. “You treated me like shit, you hit me, you probably even cheated on me, right? Don’t stand there and act like you’re a perfect little prince who I did so wrong.”

  “No, I never cheated on you,” Troy shook his head.

  “Aurora?” Brandy reminded him. “Don’t act like you didn’t want her, because it was fucking blatant. All that pretending that Clint being with her was going to cause problems for us all, when it was all really just you jealous that he was fucking her when you wished she was yours.”

  “Nothing ever happened with her,” Troy said flippantly, though his lips thinned, betraying his anger.

  “You tried it though, didn’t you? You -”

  “Never mind about that,” Troy shouted.

  Brandy snorted with laughter, all her fear forgotten.

  “Yeah, let’s not mention the night you left me here alone and went out to try and rape her,” Brandy argued. She took a step forward, egged on by her anger, by her old fury with him. She stepped closer. Troy’s fists clenched, and she remembered how their fights had always gone down, how they infuriated each other, spurring each other into violence. She stopped a few inches from him, got in his face. “Come on, I’m waiting for you to hit me. Not like you’ve not done it before. Forget all the shit you’ve done, let’s just beat on Brandy.”

  “You trying to test my patience?” Troy hissed, his lips curling back. “I still ain’t had an apology from you.”

  “You want an apology?” Brandy laughed, knowing it would anger him further. She leant closer, her voice vicious. “I’d eat my own shit before I say sorry to you.”

  She raised a hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was loud in the silent flat. Troy’s eyes widened, shocked at her nerve. The veins in his neck throbbed with anger, and she knew he was itching to raise a fist to her.

  “Come on, Troy, you’re a hard man, aren’t you?” Brandy persisted. She raised a hand and sl
apped him again. She sneered at him, kissing her teeth. “What, prison soften you up?”

  She raised a hand to slap him again. She struck but Troy was faster, his hand closing around her wrist before her palm hit his face. His grip was strong, painful. She looked into his face, the anger pulsating across his face, eyes wide with fury, waiting for him to strike.

  * * *

  Troy loosened his grip on Brandy’s wrist and let her arm fall to her side. She looked surprised. He knew she was waiting for him to hit her, to let his anger bubble over into violence as he had always done in the past.

  He sighed, letting out a long breath, unsure why the calm had descended over him. Perhaps Brandy had hit a nerve when she had brought up his past behaviour.

  “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of,” he said quietly, surprising even himself. Brandy looked uncertain, as if this was an act, a trick. That made him feel worse. He had treated her badly, he knew. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he added.

  Brandy took a step back, looking away from him. She was not used to his softer side. He knew that he had rarely shown it to her, had rarely even acknowledged that perhaps he had one. He felt ashamed, wondering whether he really had been so bad to her. He had taken her for granted, that was for sure, but seeing her after all this time he wondered why she had stayed with him for so long. They had good memories, but the bad ones were fresher in his mind.

  He swallowed hard.

  “And I didn’t know my brothers beat you,” he said, shaking his head. He wondered whether Brandy had taken the stand only out of fear for his brothers. “I didn’t tell them to, I didn’t want them to. I wouldn’t have let them if I’d known.”

  Brandy was silent, apparently lost for words. Troy shifted on his feet, suddenly uncomfortable, unsure of the real reason he had come to see her. Had he really come here to threaten her like he had done Clint? Or did he just want to see her?

  “Well, I -” Brandy started, then stopped. She looked over at him, then quickly down at the floor, still uncertain.

  “I know I hurt you,” Troy continued. He was not sure where these words or feelings were coming from, how long he had held them inside. “You hurt me too, Brandy. We were supposed to be one, you know, me and you. King and Queen of this shithole estate. United front and all that.”

  Brandy sighed, her stance relaxing.

  “We always were, until you became obsessed with Aurora,” she said quietly. She did not move closer, perhaps still did not trust him enough to do so. “I really loved you, Troy,” she said, not looking at him.

  “I loved you too,” Troy told her. He looked at her, saw her blinking hard, as if she might cry. That had not been his intention. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you, and for how things turned out between us.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Brandy said.

  They fell silent, neither speaking or moving to comfort the other. Troy wondered why he wanted to reach for her, put his arms around her and hold her close. Did he still love her? Did he still wish she was his girlfriend? Or did he simply wish he could turn back time to the days before Shaniqua and Aurora and prison?

  He wondered if Brandy felt the same, if she still wanted him, or if she wanted him gone.

  “I shouldn’t have given her the knife,” Brandy said, surprising him. She looked at him, tears no longer in her eyes. She looked him in the eyes. “I should have had your back.”

  “No,” Troy sighed, shaking his head. “I did you wrong. You were just getting payback.” He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. The thoughts he’d had in prison of wanting revenge on Brandy were laughable now. Had his anger just been a mask so he did not have to face the fact that he still loved her? Or was he just being ridiculous? He looked at her. “I can understand wanting payback, believe me.”

  “Are you after payback on me?” Brandy asked, a trace of apprehension.

  “I was,” Troy admitted. Brandy tensed. Troy shook his head. “But now, no. I’ll leave you alone,” he said. Brandy looked questioningly at him, as if hardly believing his words. Troy shrugged. “If you want me to,” he added, almost a whisper.

  Brandy was quiet, before she nodded.

  “I do,” she said.

  Troy swallowed down his disappointment.

  “I should go,” he said.

  He walked towards her and resisted the urge to reach out and touch her as he left the bedroom. She followed behind him, perhaps making sure he was going, perhaps desperate to get him out of her flat, out of her life.

  He paused, his hand on the front door.

  “Take care, Troy,” Brandy said. He nodded, not turning to look at her as he opened the door and stepped outside. “Not everyone’s going to be pleased you’re out,” Brandy continued, her voice soft, gentle. Almost as if she still cared about him. “Hell, even I wasn’t.”

  Troy turned, forcing a smile for her. She looked pretty, now that the anger was gone, now that she appeared more relaxed.

  “I’ll make sure my brothers leave you alone,” Troy told her.

  Brandy murmured her thanks and looked at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and Troy wanted to speak, though he did not know what he would say, but then Brandy was closing the door.

  Alone, he slowly walked away, wondering what the hell had just come over him. His mind was all over the place now and he wanted a drink or a couple of lines just to clear his head.

  He went down the stairs and across the courtyard, his mind churning over his conversation with her, unable to stop thinking about whether he still wanted Brandy, questioning whether she felt the same as he did and whether he even wanted her to.

  His visit to her had proven something to him though, feelings aside. It was not Brandy he should be angry with, she had just reacted to his poor treatment of her. Perhaps even Clint could be allowed the same excuse, given that he had been head over heels for Aurora and had lashed out when he realised that Troy had tried it on with her.

  No, the person who should feel the full force of his wrath should be Aurora, Troy now realised. She had spurned his advances, had tempted him and turned Clint and then Brandy against him. If it was not for her then Brandy and Clint would never have betrayed him, would still be loyal to him even now, no matter what he had done.

  He started up the stairs of his own block, wondering why it had taken him so long to understand this new truth, why it had only been seeing Brandy that had given him such clarity.

  He turned to go up the next flight of stairs and stopped, almost freezing in place.

  Perhaps this was a sign, he thought, feeling a sudden rush of anger.

  Aurora Curtis stood a few steps above him, one hand on her hip, looking down at him as she had always done, her pretty lips curled back in dismay at the sight of him.

  Troy had waited a long time to teach this stuck-up bitch a lesson.

  Now he finally had his chance.

  * * *

  Aurora looked down at Troy, watching as the look of surprise quickly turned to anger.

  He was so predictable, she thought, as his lips turned into a sneer.

  He really thought that he could scare her, she realised, allowing herself a smile.

  One hand on her hip, she did not take her eyes off him. She had been waiting here for him since she had watched him go into Brandy’s flat. She had waited, and waited, debating with herself whether she was doing the right thing or not.

  She felt her heart beating fast now, whether through fear or nerves or exhilaration, she did not know or care. The other hand was behind her back, her palms slick with sweat as she gripped the handle of a knife.

  Troy stepped up, one step closer to her.

  Her hand tightened on the knife.

  One step closer and she would strike.

  * * *

  Sanjay pulled up outside prison officer Wimbly’s small, terrace house on a quiet street and shut off his engine, looking up at the house. It was neatly maintained, the white paintwork fresh and the door a light, welcoming green. Th
e windows were clean, net curtains hung up in them. He imagined Wimbly and his wife and daughter living happily here, eating dinner together and laughing at some sitcom together. He imagined the carnage Tyrese would unleash here if he found out that Wimbly was double-crossing him.

  He got out of the car and looked around as he locked the door. The street was quiet, most of the neighbours out at work. Wimbly would be home though, working shifts as he did.

  Sanjay knocked on the front door, waiting, hoping that Wimbly was alone.

  Wimbly opened the door, his smile faltering.

  “Can I help you?” Wimbly asked.

  “Yes, you can,” Sanjay replied. He put a hand on the door and pushed it open so he could enter the small, carpeted hallway. Wimbly stepped aside, mouth flapping wordlessly, and Sanjay wondered how a man like this had ever become a prison officer.

  “Who are you?” Wimbly asked, as Sanjay closed the front door behind himself.

  “That doesn’t matter yet,” Sanjay said. “Are you alone here?”

  Wimbly looked flustered at that question.

  “Yes,” he nodded, as Sanjay raised an eyebrow.

  “Good,” Sanjay sighed.

  He glanced around, waiting for Wimbly to lead them into the kitchen or lounge, but an invitation was not forthcoming. Sanjay walked down the corridor and into the kitchen, Wimbly trailing helplessly after him.

  “What’s this about?” he asked. “Who sent you?”

  “I work for Tyrese.”

  Wimbly’s face reddened, and he mouthed wordlessly once more. Eventually he found his voice again.

  “I took the drugs in today just like I was supposed to,” he managed.

  “Who told you to do that?” Sanjay asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

  Wimbly narrowed his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, caught off guard by the question.

  “Who did you deliver the drugs to inside?” Sanjay rephrased. “Troy Banks got out, so who do you take the drugs to now?”

  Wimbly faltered.