The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “Listen, Tyrese, this has all been one big misunderstanding.”

  “Really? Because I was at my brother’s funeral,” Tyrese said. “Seemed like he was pretty fucking dead to me. No misunderstanding.”

  “I know he’s dead,” Goldie said, his voice low, anxious. His hands fidgeted in his lap. “I saw him get shot in the head. Trust me, I won’t forget that in a hurry.”

  “You shot him in the head,” Tyrese said. “Let’s not go forgetting that part mate. You’ve been bragging about it, haven’t you? You got paid by Corey Healy.”

  “See, there’s a funny story,” Goldie stammered, squirming. “I didn’t actually kill him, Tyrese. I was going to, sure, but then boom, he’s already shot in the fucking head. I took the credit, sure. I wasn’t going to turn down that pay out, was I? What was I supposed to? I had to keep up my image, you know?”

  “You didn’t kill him?” Tyrese asked. He snorted with laughter.

  “I’m serious,” Goldie protested, practically squirming with nerves. “I went into that club with a gun. I was all set to do it, but I never did. I swear down.”

  “You swear?” Tyrese said. “Ah well, that changes everything.”

  “Really?” Goldie asked, hopeful.

  “No, of course not,” Tyrese growled. “You expect me to believe that you went into that club with a gun and didn’t kill him? That you’ve been telling all your mates about it, but it was all a bunch of lies so you’d look like a big man?”

  “I’m telling the truth,” Goldie insisted.

  Tyrese sighed, shaking his head.

  “I don’t believe you,” Tyrese said slowly. He took a step closer, and Goldie frowned, shifting an inch away. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your slimy little mouth. You killed my brother. Corey paid you, and now I’m going to pay you. You might not like my payment quite as much as his.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, the door still firmly closed.

  “Please, Tyrese, I swear I never killed him.”

  Tyrese snatched the lotion of the cabinet and popped it open. He bent down and grabbed Goldie by the head, forcing his mouth open. He squeezed the lotion into his mouth, smiling as Goldie gagged and choked on the liquid.

  When all the liquid was gone, Tyrese forced his mouth shut. Goldie choked, some of the ointment trickling from the corners of his mouth, before he was forced to swallow it. He gagged as it went down, then gasped for breath as Tyrese let him open his mouth. He dropped to the floor, spitting into the toilet, his eyes watering at the taste.

  “Please, Tyrese,” he managed, the liquid still stuck to his lips, drool dripping down into the toilet bowl.

  “I’m just getting started,” Tyrese smiled. “I’m going to rip out those gold teeth of yours now. I’ll have to use my hands, and I don’t have any anaesthetic, so it might a hurt a bit mate.”

  Goldie shook his head, backing into the corner as much as he could, as Tyrese bore down on him, flexing his fingers.

  * * *

  Brandy took another gulp from the vodka bottle and waved it at Adrianna.

  “Seriously, this grieving girlfriend shit is getting old,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “You were together how long? You’ve been mourning over him longer than you were a fucking couple.”

  “You think this is about Trent, do you?” Adrianna snapped, glaring at her. “Maybe it is, I guess.”

  “There are plenty of other guys out there,” Brandy said.

  “I know,” Adrianna said quietly. “I know.”

  “Then what are you sitting in your room crying about?” Brandy asked. She looked around at the room, saw the empty bottles, the dirty clothes.

  Adrianna started to cry again.

  “You don’t know what he did to me.”

  “He broke your heart,” Brandy sighed. “Blah blah blah.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Adrianna shook her head, wiping at her eyes.

  “Try me,” Brandy said. Adrianna drew her knees up to her, wrapping her arms around her legs, blinking away tears. Brandy’s voice rose. “Come on, talk to me then.”

  “I can’t say it,” Adrianna whined.

  “You’re pathetic,” Brandy said, shaking her head. “You wanted a gangster, you wanted some hard man who caused trouble and ruffled feathers, and you got one. Guess what Adrianna? Guys like that don’t last long. They get locked up or they die, that’s the fact of it.”

  “It’s not that,” Adrianna insisted.

  “You know why he died?” Brandy hissed, standing over Adrianna, swinging the vodka bottle, taking another long drink. “He probably pissed off the wrong guys, acted like he owned the whole estate. He was a worthless, talentless fuck, Adrianna.”

  “I know,” Adrianna cried. “I’m not crying because he’s dead.”

  Brandy was getting tired of this.

  “Oh really?” Brandy asked, “Why are you crying then?”

  She looked at Adrianna, watching her try to compose herself. She wiped her eyes, straightening herself, wiping a stray hair from her face. She took a deep breath.

  “Because I killed him,” she said.

  * * *

  Tyrese stood back and admired his handiwork.

  Goldie lay sobbing on the bottom bunk, his body shaking, blood smeared across his face. Blood oozed between his lips, his gums still bleeding. Tyrese opened his hand, looking down at several gold teeth.

  He threw them at Goldie, who shuddered with fear.

  “You’re lucky this is all I’m doing,” Tyrese warned him. Goldie nodded, mumbling something indecipherable, more blood escaping from his lips. Tyrese leant closer, eyes glistening. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Goldie mumbled.

  Tyrese smiled.

  “Finally, you admit that you killed him?” Tyrese nodded, approving. “See, it wasn’t so difficult, was it? A little dental re-structuring was all it took to get to the truth.”

  Goldie shook his head, tears in his eyes.

  “I didn’t kill him,” he said. He let out a sob. “I swear.”

  “Then what are you apologizing for?” Tyrese asked, standing over him.

  “Troy,” Goldie said. He wiped at his eyes, smearing blood across his face as he did. Tyrese’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I just wanted to teach him a lesson. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not even gay, I swear. I didn’t enjoy it, not like that.”

  Tyrese felt hot anger descend over him as the words sunk in.

  “Are you saying what I think you are?” he said, his voice shaking with the anger. Goldie’s eyes widened.

  “I thought you knew,” Goldie mumbled. He cowered, shaking, as Tyrese leant down over him. “I thought he would’ve told you.”

  “You killed one of my brothers,” Tyrese said, through gritted teeth, ignoring Goldie as he shook his head. “And then you raped the other one. You’re a special piece of work, you know that, Goldie?”

  Goldie was crying now, tears sliding down his cheeks and turning red as they mingled with the blood still thick and wet on his face. He whimpered.

  Tyrese was done with him. He sighed as the anger surged through him. He snatched up the bloodstained pillow from Goldie’s bed. Goldie’s eyes widened with terror, he let out a gargled moan. His cries were muffled as Tyrese put the pillow over his face and pressed hard.

  Goldie struggled, his arms and legs bucking against it, but Tyrese held tight. He ignored the hands, desperately slapping at him, reaching for anything to defend himself. His body twisted and bucked beneath him. Tyrese pressed harder, the pillow soft in his hands.

  “I guess you really didn’t have to worry about your burnt cock,” he murmured, laughing to himself. Goldie’s arms and legs stopped struggling, fell limp against the bed. Tyrese kept the pillow over his face for another long minute.

  He stood up and removed the pillow. Goldie was dead, his skin turning sallow and blueish, the blood smears now dry on his face, his mouth hanging open uselessly, his eyes blank
and unseeing. The gold teeth were scattered on the bed and across the floor.

  Tyrese threw the pillow at him and left the cell.

  * * *

  “It would be so fucking easy to slit your throat,” Troy hissed, his face inches from Dante’s. Blood ran down Dante’s face, into his mouth, from his broken nose. Dark smudges were beginning to form under his eyes. Under the razor blade, the droplets of blood turned into a trickle down his throat to the tiled floor, as Troy pressed harder. “But you’re not worth another sentence, you pathetic twat.”

  Troy lifted the razor blade from his throat and stood up. Dante gasped, breathing hard now his knee was not pressed against his chest. He rolled over onto his side, spitting blood out of his mouth onto the floor. Troy chucked the razor blade to the far corner of the bathroom. He was not going to kill Dante. He did not want another murder charge, especially for this worthless piece of shit.

  He grabbed his washbag and snatched his towel off the hook. He was done here. He had shown Dante who was boss, put him in his place. He knew that his former cellmate would not go up against him again.

  Troy turned, shaking his head. He heard noise behind him but before he could turn, Dante crashed hard into him, sending them both to the floor again. He punched Troy hard, no aim, just pummelling whichever parts of him he could reach.

  He wriggled out of Dante’s grasp and landed a blow, but Dante was on top of him. Blood dripped from his nose onto Troy. Troy tried to protect his face as Dante punched him again. With all his force, Troy pushed him off him, sending Dante into the bench, knocking it over. Troy sat up, wincing, clamouring across the floor away from him. He crawled over the tiles towards the razor blade, glinting in the light on the far side of the room.

  This was what Dante wanted, Troy thought. He could have stayed down, accepted the defeat. Now he knew that one of them was not leaving the bathroom alive, and Troy intended to walk out of here.

  He heard footsteps behind him and felt Dante’s knee on his back as he pressed him to the floor. His towel went around his neck and Troy gasped as the material tightened against his throat. Dante pressed harder into his back, as he squeezed the towel tighter. Troy struggled for air, realising what was happening.

  Dante was going to strangle him.

  He struggled, but the tiles were hard and unyielding beneath his chest, and Dante was putting his all weight on his back, twisting the towel harder and harder. Troy was struggling for air, and he knew he would either suffocate or his neck would snap under the pressure. His throat burned, his lungs screaming for air. His fingers and toes began to tingle, his body weakening.

  He looked at the razor blade, far out of reach. His hand scrabbled on the tile anyway, desperate for a way out. Dante squeezed tighter.

  “Bringing back memories lying here?” Dante hissed in his ear, flecks of blood flying from his mouth. “Don’t worry, I won’t fuck you. Maybe I’ll get excited about it later, though, how it felt to squeeze the life out you.”

  * * *

  “What are you talking about?” Brandy demanded. She looked at Adrianna’s face, the tears, her shaking shoulders. “You didn’t kill Trent. That disgusting rapist did.”

  “I killed him,” Adrianna repeated.

  “Stop saying that,” Brandy snapped.

  “I found my brother’s gun,” Adrianna cried, as if Brandy had not spoken. Perhaps she wanted to finally talk to someone about it. Brandy turned away, hardly able to look at her. “I was going to kill myself, but I stopped. I didn’t want to be like Trent’s sister. I didn’t want to be weak, Brandy.”

  “Adrianna, if this is some joke -” Brandy warned.

  “I waited for my brother to go out, and then I went back and took the gun,” Adrianna continued. “I saw Trent’s posts, knew which club he was at. I was going to confront him, make him suffer like he made me.”

  “Stop talking,” Brandy groaned. “Adrianna, just stop -”

  “But when I got there, I didn’t want to hear him explain himself. I didn’t want him to make excuses, I didn’t even want him to suffer,” Adrianna said, shaking her head, the tears drying on her cheeks. “I just wanted to blast his head off. And next thing I knew, I’d pulled the trigger and I ran out of there.”

  “The police would’ve known it was you.”

  “That’s what I thought, I was certain they would kick down the door and drag me off to prison,” Adrianna said. “But they didn’t, they arrested that guy. He’d been there, with a gun, and I didn’t even notice.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Brandy hissed. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you didn’t kill Trent.”

  “I didn’t? Really?” Adrianna argued, almost shouting. She climbed out of bed and stormed out of the room.

  Brandy took a long gulp from the bottle, realising her hands were shaking. Vodka dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it off with the back of her hand. Adrianna came back, throwing a gun down onto the folds of the duvet. Brandy stared at the gun, her heart pulsing, as she took a step back.

  “What the fuck is that then?” Adrianna demanded.

  “Fuck, Adrianna. Fuck,” Brandy stammered. “You really did kill him.”

  “I was so angry, so hurt,” Adrianna said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders sagging with defeat.

  “Why?” Brandy asked. “Did he dump you? Is that it?”

  “He found out about me and Sanjay,” Adrianna replied. “He didn’t dump me, Brandy. He told me he had a surprise planned for me. I went to this flat, all dressed up, excited. He was there with a load of gangbangers he wanted to induct into his pathetic little club.”

  “Oh God,” Brandy murmured. She did not want to know, though she could imagine.

  “He knocked me around a bit, then he had his little buddies rape me,” Adrianna spat, the bitterness in her voice thick. “Over and over again, Brandy. I tried to fight at first, but I couldn’t, there were too many.”

  Brandy looked at her friend for a long moment. Silence filled the room. Adrianna had stopped crying now. Perhaps confessing had helped numb her pain. Brandy took another long drink.

  “Get up,” she said, making Adrianna jump. “Get out of bed.”

  “Why?” Adrianna asked, panicking. “Where are we going?”

  “Just get dressed,” Brandy said.

  Adrianna made no effort to move, just stared at Brandy. Brandy lunged forward, grabbing a handful of her blonde hair, half-dragging her off the bed.

  “Ouch, you’re hurting me,” she wailed, and Brandy let go.

  She snatched the gun off the bed.

  “Get ready,” she repeated. She waved the gun. It felt heavy in her hand, made her hands shake at the power she wielded in her hand now. “I’m the one holding the gun, so get dressed and do as I fucking say.”

  Adrianna looked on the verge of tears again, as she reluctantly obeyed. Brandy watched her, the gun still heavy in her hand, as she took a swig of vodka and waited for her friend to get dressed.

  * * *

  Troy strained against the towel, but it was no use. His vision was narrowing, the edges of his eyesight turning dark.

  He was going to die, he knew. His body twitched, fought for air, but he could not fight Dante, the strength had left him.

  His eyelids felt heavy, it was so hard to keep them open now. He closed them.

  “What the -” a voice sounded in the distance.

  Then Dante was being dragged off him, the weight lifting from his back, the towel no longer taut against him. Troy gasped, spluttered, his lungs dragging in air. His body flailed, his head banging.

  It took all his effort to roll over onto his side, drool trickling out of his mouth, down his chin. His vision began to return, his body aching as it came back from near-death. He spluttered, coughing hard, his lungs burning as they gasped for more air.

  He sat up and saw Tyrese. He was punching Dante hard, throwing him to the floor. Dante had been taken by surprise and he was no match for him. Tyrese threw him again
st the wall, and Dante slid down it and groaned on the floor.

  Tyrese strode over to him and kicked him hard. He grabbed Dante by the hair and threw him face first into the floor. There was a sickening crunch as Dante’s head connected with the tiles. Blood splattered across the floor. Tyrese grabbed Dante’s head and slammed it into the floor again. Again. Again.

  When he picked up Dante’s head, there was no sign of life. His face was unrecognisable, a bloody mess. He let it drop to the floor. Dark, thick blood pooled from Dante’s head, his body gave a twitch and fell lifeless.

  Troy, catching his breath, looked at his brother. Tyrese swallowed hard. His hands were thick with blood. It was splattered up his trousers, had sprayed the bathroom floor.

  They both looked at Dante’s body. He was dead, Troy was certain of that. He looked at the congealing blood, the gore that was leaking from his head where the skull had shattered.

  Troy felt vomit in his throat and swallowed it down, turning away, unable to look at the bloody mess that was now Dante Cortez.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Adrianna shivered in the cool night air as she remained in step with Brandy. The breeze felt damp and she felt her fear flicker again. She had been forced out of the flat and had followed Brandy onto a bus, then a five-minute walk to wherever they were now.

  She knew they were in the centre of London, the tall buildings still gleaming with lights and cars whirring past, but the street was empty of pedestrians. Brandy nudged her down an alleyway and Adrianna tried to keep herself calm as they left the bright street, walking side by side into darkness.

  “I used to come here sometimes when my mum pissed me off and I wanted her to think I’d run off,” Brandy said, as the alleyway gave way to a patch of cracked concrete. Adrianna walked to the edge, clasping at a rusty metal railing, as the floor dropped down a few metres into the dark, murky waters of the Thames. At night, the water looked black and bottomless.

  “What are we doing here Brandy?” Adrianna asked, turning to her friend.

  “You said I wouldn’t understand,” Brandy said quietly. “About what you went through. You’re right, my situation was different, but I still understand what it’s like. To be raped.”