“You sure it wasn’t your plan all along?” Troy asked.
Dante sighed, unable to answer the question.
“You’d have done anything to take over, wouldn’t you?” Troy asked, sniggering, mocking him. He was enjoying watching Dante’s lies crash down around him, the resignation dawning on his face. The game was up. “Record my confession in case you had to blackmail me or something? You’d do anything to try and get up that ladder, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe you should calm yourself down,” Dante said, his tone firm. He was done with the games, Troy thought.
“I am fucking calm,” Troy said. It was true, he thought. He did not feel the usual rage, the uncontrollable temper. “Now that I know the truth. Now I know what you really are.”
“And what’s that Troy?” Dante sighed, sounding uninterested.
“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Troy said, with a sneer. Dante’s eyes narrowed as he looked at him, scowling.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Dante raised an eyebrow. “How many people you killed now?”
Troy ignored him.
“And you’re pathetic,” Troy continued. “The truth is, Dante, you’re not going to make a name for yourself in here, any more than you did out on the street. You’ll always just be a sad fuck who killed his best mate and jerked off over his dead mate’s girlfriend.”
That had hit a nerve, Troy saw, watching the anger cloud Dante’s features.
“Oh, really?” Dante said, straightening up, anger flexing his muscles. “You want to know the real truth?”
“It’s about fucking time you started telling the truth,” Troy snapped. “I was starting to think you weren’t capable of it.”
“You’re the one who let themselves be fucked, right here on this bathroom floor from what I heard,” Dante said.
Troy felt his anger boiling at his words. Dante was pacing his way around the bench, treading softly. Troy circled the bench too, keeping the bench between them.
Dante gave a snort of laughter.
“You know your problem, Troy? You’re so fucking easy. And not just at spreading your arse-cheeks, either.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, fucking real talk now,” Dante said, his voice low, menacing. His eyes were cold, fixed on Troy. Troy held his gaze, clenching his fists at his side.
Dante took another step around the bench. Troy took another, matching his movement. Dante kept talking.
“All that stuff you’ve just said, yeah I did it all. I recorded you, because I thought I might need to use it to get you to step aside. Turns out you fucked it all up by yourself. I wanted to take over, I was just using you, and it was so fucking easy. I’d do it all again, you know why? Because you’re fucking easy, and you’d let me. You aren’t a hard man, Troy, you’re a fucking pushover.”
Troy glared at Dante. Dante glared back. They each took a step, circling the bench.
“I’m a pushover, am I?” Troy shrugged. “Let’s see, shall we?”
* * *
The knock on the door made Brandy jump. She caught her mother’s eye and stood, studiously ignoring Aunt Bo, as she went down the corridor to open the front door.
“Brandine Mason?” the suited woman asked. Brandy nodded. The woman frowned, two other suits behind her. “I’m Nadia, from social services. We’ve received a call. Can we come in?”
Brandy swallowed hard and stepped aside. They filed inside and marched down the corridor, glancing from room to room. Brandy closed the front door and followed them into the living room.
Aunt Bo was holding Frazer, and he wriggled in her grip, startled by the strangers’ presences. Brandy avoided her aunt’s look.
“What the fuck do you lot want?” Deanna asked. She swigged her drink and glared at Nadia and the two men. Brandy knew her mother had needed no encouragement to be belligerent, it came so naturally to her whenever an authority figure was around. She knocked back the rest of her drink and pointed a finger at Nadia. “Bitch, I never forget a face. Next time I see it, I’ll put a brick through it.”
Nadia regarded her with a disdainful look, then turned to Brandy.
“We’ve received a serious complaint,” she said. She glanced at Frazer, nestled in Aunt Bo’s arms. “It’s regarding your son, Frazer Mason.”
“What kind of complaint?” Brandy asked, feigning confusion. Aunt Bo scowled behind Nadia’s back.
“Child neglect,” Nadia replied. “This is very serious. We have to investigate the claim. In the meantime, I’m afraid, Frazer will have to be placed into emergency foster care until we can determine that he’s not in any danger here.”
“Danger?” Deanna hissed. “You stuck-up cow.” She got to her feet, gripping the glass in her hand tightly. The two men squared their shoulders, but Nadia did not seem intimidated. “You trying to take my grandson?” She hurled the empty glass against the wall, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. Brandy jumped, and Aunt Bo let out a shriek, protecting Frazer from the pieces as he burst into tears and began to howl. Nadia had ducked, and now she glared with contempt at Deanna.
“This will be going in my report,” she said. She turned to Brandy. “I’m afraid I can’t allow Frazer to remain in this environment.”
Brandy nodded. Nadia looked her at closely, her lips pursing.
“Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Nadia asked her.
Brandy nodded and led her out of the room. In the kitchen, she poured two glasses of vodka. She offered one to Nadia, who declined. Brandy downed one and sipped the second.
“You made the anonymous tip-off, didn’t you?” Nadia asked. Brandy gasped, choking on her drink. She regained her breath, but Nadia fixed her with a steely glare, and Brandy nodded. Nadia sighed. “You know, there are other channels for placing a child up for adoption or into foster care. This is an abuse of -”
“I don’t want him,” Brandy interrupted. “And you’ve seen what it’s like here. My mum, that’s her whilst she’s still mostly sober. Imagine what she’s like when she’s high as fuck, thinking the walls are alive or she’s got a man round. That a good environment for Frazer, is it? Still want me to go through the proper channels?”
Nadia frowned.
“I’ve got some paperwork,” she said. “You’ll have to sign a waiver. I’ll take Frazer and place him into emergency care for now. If you sign some forms, then I can revoke your parental access rights.”
“So he won’t come back here?” Brandy asked.
“You’ll never have the right to see him again,” Nadia explained. Her tone was clipped, disapproving. “There’s no going back, once you’ve signed it.”
“I’ll sign it,” Brandy said.
Nadia sighed and nodded. She left her alone in the kitchen and Brandy knocked back the drink as she heard Nadia issuing instructions in the other room. She heard Aunt Bo’s protests, heard Frazer’s wailing start up again, Deanna shouting unintelligible nonsense. Brandy poured herself another drink.
“Do you want to say goodbye to him?” Nadia asked from the doorway. Brandy turned and saw that she cradled Frazer in her arms.
Brandy looked into Frazer’s eyes, wet with tears, his face scrunched up as he let out another cry. She shook her head.
“Just take him,” Brandy said, turning away and clutching her drink tight.
“I’ll take him downstairs, and I’ll be back with the forms,” Nadia said to her back, and then the front door opened and closed. Nadia and the men were gone. The flat was silent without Frazer’s cries.
“Fucking scum,” Deanna was cursing from the living room, as if she had forgotten this was what Brandy had wanted. “That Nadia bitch is lucky I didn’t put that glass through her eyeball.”
“Just shut up for once in your life, you useless, shameful slut,” Aunt Bo shouted. There was the sound of a loud slap, and Brandy went into the corridor to see Aunt Bo clasp her cheek in her hand. Deanna sneered at her.
“I’m useless?” Deanna laughed. “You’re the one
who just lost the only reason you’re here. That screaming brat’s gone, and if you ask me, it’s about time you slung your hook and all. You’re the only one who’ll miss him. Me and Brandy are well shot of the little beast. Go cry someplace else and not in my front room. Go to church, see if God can cheer you up.”
Brandy watched as Aunt Bo raised her hand and slapped Deanna. The slap was hard and heavy, knocking Deanna to the floor. She let out a gasp. Brandy had not seen her aunt use such force before.
“You are Godless woman,” Aunt Bo spat, glaring down at her sister. “That little boy is on his own, scared and helpless. The only beast around here is you.”
Brandy finished her drink, shuddering, wondering if her aunt was right.
* * *
Troy continued to tread slowly around the wooden bench in the middle of the bathroom. Dante did the same, matching his movement. His clothes were piled at one end. They held each other’s gaze, neither looking away, nobody making the first move, tense, waiting for the other to strike first.
“You want a fight, do you?” Dante asked. Troy scowled at the smirk on his face. “Come on, let’s go. Give me your best shot.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Troy warned him.
“Didn’t think you were much of a fighter, you know, from what people have been saying,” Dante said, eyes flashing maliciously. “What I heard, you didn’t put up much of a fight. Just lay there and took it.”
“That’s a bunch of lies,” Troy snapped, heat rushing to his cheeks. “You should know all about lies, right?”
“Oh, come on, Troy, it takes two to lie,” Dante sighed. “One to lie, and one to believe it. I mean, the drugs, the phone? Jeez, I thought you were fucking braindead it was so easy to fool you mate. I figured you’d have suspected something long before now.”
“I did,” Troy admitted.
“Really? Obviously not enough to do anything about it,” Dante sneered. “Unless you were just too shit scared to confront me? You have a spine transplant or something, because this is the first time I’ve seen you with a fucking backbone.”
“It takes a backbone to sit there scheming and lying like a little bitch?” Troy asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were too scared to take me on face to face, weren’t you? Not man enough for a real fight, eh?”
“Funny you mention lying bitches,” Dante said, smiling. “You heard from that girlfriend of yours lately?”
“What’s Brandy got to do with anything?” Troy asked, surprised.
“Well, she was the reason you were in here the first time, right? You let yourself get fucked up the arse by her long before Goldie did the same in here,” Dante sniggered. “Oh, yeah, and she fucked your brother too.”
“What?” Troy hissed.
“I heard your precious brother on the phone to her,” Dante said. Troy narrowed his eyes, reading his face, unsure if it was the truth or just another lie. “I wonder how long it’s been going on for? Maybe that’s why she told the police everything in the first place. Wanted you out of the picture, so they could get cosy.”
“You’re lying,” Troy said, though his voice shook, betraying his uncertainty. Dante smiled. “Like you always do, you piece of shit.” His hands ached, clenched tightly into fists.
“Why don’t you go ask him?” Dante suggested, his tone mocking. He snorted. “Oh wait, you can’t. Because your brother’s finally seen you for the pathetic, useless fuckwit that everyone else has known for a long time.”
Troy saw red. He leapt over the bench, the sudden movement catching Dante off guard. He crashed into him, hitting him hard in the chest, taking them both down to the floor. Troy groaned, but he heard the air whoosh out of Dante’s lungs as he hit the tiled floor beneath him. He rolled over to the side as Troy aimed a punch, catching him in the side of the head.
Dante recovered from the fall faster than Troy, landing a blow to his stomach. Troy gasped as the blow forced the air out of him, winding him. Dante clutched at the sinks, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet, still gasping for air. Troy forced himself to his knees as Dante landed another blow, his fist connecting hard to his face. Troy winced, his head crashing from the punch.
He ducked under the next blow, and rugby tackled Dante, his midriff exposed as he swung. Troy pushed him hard against the sinks, and Dante groaned as he connected, half-sagging on top of him. Troy hit him hard in the stomach and stepped back, regaining his balance and his breath.
Dante staggered against the sinks, clamouring for breath. They were both breathing hard, not taking their eyes off each other. Dante’s towel slid from his body, but he made no effort to cover his nakedness, not risking taking his eyes off Troy.
Troy took a few steps back, wanting to put the bench between them again, but Dante lunged. He was fast, and he tackled Troy, throwing him off balance, pushing him hard into the shower. Troy hit the wall hard, groaning, pain firing through his body. Ignoring the pain, Troy did not let Dante get the advantage and hit him hard, making him crumple, and Troy brought his knee up hard, feeling Dante’s nose splinter against his knee cap.
Dante fell backwards, his hands slipping on the tiles of the shower, unable to grab hold of anything, crashing to the floor. Troy stepped over him and grabbed his washbag from the bench. He pulled the razor blade out and went back to Dante.
He knelt down hard on Dante’s chest, pinning him there. Dante’s face was covered with blood from his broken nose, and his eyes widened at the sight of the razor. Troy put a hand in Dante’s hair, forcing his head back.
“You still want to make jokes?” Troy sneered, pressing the razor to his throat. “You still think you’re the big man, lying and telling stories?”
He pressed harder, watched the blade sink into the flesh of Dante’s throat, a few droplets of blood oozing out under the pressure.
* * *
Aunt Bo had packed her bags. It had not taken long, and Brandy eyed her small suitcase resting against the front door.
“I’ve called a taxi, it’ll be here any second now,” she said, glaring angrily at her sister. Deanna did not seem bothered. “You are a disgrace, and I’m ashamed to call you my sister. I pity you, Deanna, I really do. One day I hope you see the error of your ways, but I won’t hold my breath.”
Deanna snorted.
“You fat cow, you can’t even catch your breath walking up a flight of stairs,” she sneered. “Why don’t you pray for me? Makes you feel good, knowing you’re the righteous one, don’t it? You go on back to your lonely flat and sit and cry by yourself. Cry for that little boy. Pray for him too, Bo, if it helps you sleep at night.”
“I sleep fine at night,” Aunt Bo snapped.
Deanna laughed, holding up her glass of vodka.
“Me too love,” she grinned. She took a long drink, smacking her lips with relish. “I’d say have a safe journey, but I just don’t give a shit if I’m honest.”
Aunt Bo rolled her eyes, as Deanna traipsed down the corridor to the living room, sipping her drink. Brandy looked at her aunt, waited for her turn to be lectured.
“Stay safe, Brandy,” Aunt Bo said. She did not quite meet her eyes. “I know you did what you thought was right. I just wish things were different is all.”
“Thanks for everything,” Brandy said. She found herself almost choking with emotion. Aunt Bo put a warm hand on her arm, squeezed gently.
“You’re my niece, closest thing to a daughter I ever had,” Aunt Bo said. “I’m always just a phone call away, girl, if you ever need me.”
Brandy nodded. Aunt Bo opened the front door and dragged her suitcase out.
“Take care,” she called over her shoulder, and then Aunt Bo was gone.
Brandy closed the front door and went into the kitchen, reaching for the vodka bottle. Music started up from the lounge, and she realised that it was just the two of them now. Her and her mum. The thought made Brandy wince.
She took a long swig of vodka straight from the bottle and left the flat, bottle in hand. She could not bear to be ar
ound her mother, especially when Aunt Bo was no longer here to diffuse the situation.
Walking down the stairs, Brandy decided where she would go. She walked the familiar route and a few minutes later she hammered on the front door.
No answer.
Brandy tried the door handle, and it swung open.
“I know you’re in here, bitch,” Brandy shouted, slamming the door behind her, vodka bottle swinging from one hand. She walked down the corridor, flung open the bedroom door.
Adrianna was sat on her bed, drink in hand, her eyes still puffy and red. Brandy sneered at her, taking a swig from the bottle.
“You pathetic slut,” Brandy said, shaking her head. Adrianna winced at her words. “You’ve been sat in this stinking room crying over Trent fucking Banks for too long, Adrianna. Put some make-up on, neck some vodka, and get on with your life. He’s dead, girl, he ain’t coming back. And you have mates, real mates, who could actually do with someone to talk to right now.”
* * *
“You must have expected me to come pay you a visit,” Tyrese said, stepping further into the cell, before leaning against the bunk bed.
Goldie remained sat down, a bottle of lotion clutched in his hand.
“Ah, still recovering from that little accident,” Tyrese said, nodding at the lotion. “I heard about that. Tragic, isn’t it? You still able to use your cock, or is it just a shrivelled, burnt mess now?”
Goldie grimaced, reaching instinctively between his legs.
“It works just fine,” he snapped. “No thanks to your brother. Little bitch.”
Tyrese laughed.
“You deserved it,” Tyrese said. Goldie put the lotion down, crossing his arms.
“What do you want?” he asked. “I have to rub this shit on the blisters on my fucking balls, if you hadn’t realised, so if you can make this quick, it’d be appreciated.”
“Now, now,” Tyrese said, wagging a finger at him. “You killed my brother. I’ll take all the time I need, is that understood?”
Goldie swallowed hard.
The Goldsworth Series Box Set Page 153