Tuesday, February 14, 2012

"BOARDROOM MASSACRE" ~ By Darren Sant ... *The Shadows of Our Noir*

"Hey noir lovely lady,
Thought your audiences may dig this . . ."
~ Daz

"Hey nifty Brit guy,
Howzabout a Boardroom Massacre
instead of a Valentine's Day one?"
~ Absolutely*Kate . . . 
"And . . . So it goes . . . "
 ~ vital Vonnegut,
 (not playin' AT THE BIJOU, but he woulda dug our vibes)

   Dig Daz's ~
( It's time! )  
B O A R D R O O M   M A S S A C R E

By ~ Darren Sant

Vinny sang along cheerfully to Hotel California as he rammed the clip home. He secured the stock to the barrel with an air of almost gleeful indifference. His little radio belting out one rock classic after another as he casually constructed the powerful killing machine with a practised ease borne of experience.

* *
Neil tried with an almost Zen like concentration not to drum his fingers on the desk. Two hours of this drivel he'd had to listen to so far. Two whole soul destroying FUCKING hours. Thank god it's only once every six weeks he thought grimly. Three more speakers then it would be his turn to give his sales presentation. He looked despairingly at his watch and tried to stifle a yawn. 

* * 

Vinny admired his handy work. Fairly quick assembly but he'd managed it quicker in the army. The L96 smelled pleasantly of gun oil and to Vinny it was a work of art, a thing of beauty. They could keep their bloody Rembrant’s this weapon was a sleek, well honed masterpiece. 

* * 

Time slowed, as it always does when one is bored. 
The hands of the clock above the projector moved at glacier like pace. Neil’s mind wandered aimlessly and he could not help but stifle a grin as he thought of last night. 

 Sofia had been at the sink washing the dishes. Her blond hair bobbing up and down as she nodded along to her favourite CD, some ghastly album by George Michael. 

Neil had crept up on tiptoes behind her and cupped her firm breasts. She'd complained at first as his lips caressed and then his teeth had bitten the soft skin of her neck. His hand roamed and deftly undid her skirt, sliding down the zip at the back with one fluid motion. He nipped her neck as he ripped off her blouse roughly. She'd raised her voice sharply at this point, angry. She realised that he was naked and standing intimately closely behind her. The complaints trailed off as he unclasped her bra and threw it casually across the room. His soft hands now kneading her breasts, deft fingers sliding around her pink areolas and pinching the nipples gently. She gasped a little, all sense of complaint gone now. He knelt down behind her and slid down her panties, already smelling the heady musk of her arousal. His heart beat hard in his excited chest. 

* * 
Vinny sang along now to the Beach Boys as he attached and set up the telescopic sight with all the care of a master jeweller examining a precious ring. He squinted as he sighted down the room, oh yes he was feeling those good vibrations. He adjusted the elevation minutely. He fiddled briefly with the focus and magnification until he was satisfied. He strolled to the window and opened it up just a crack, just enough for a rifle muzzle. He drew the curtains closed and kneeled on his kneepad. He flicked off the safety and began the long wait. Black Sabbath’s Paranoid pounded from the radio and Vinny’s smile left his face for the first time that afternoon as he thought grimly of the task ahead.

* * 

Neil hardened now as he thought of her. Such a beautifully sexy and curvaceous woman. Her sparkling green eyes and flawless alabaster skin drove him wild. Damn they better not call me next or I'll have to hop to the whiteboard he thought ruefully. They couldn’t continue on like this though. She had to go through with it like they’d planned. You couldn’t sneak around forever it was good for no one. 

He heard his name called. He fixed his best fake smile, and walked over to the whiteboard. Knock 'em dead massacre them his ego told him. A sudden movement caught his eye as he passed the window . . . 

* * 

Vinny’s target finally loomed large in his scope. He took aim and slowly, carefully and with endless patience squeezed the trigger. The light pressure took an aeon to move the trigger and time stopped then exploded back into life as the rifle kicked hard at his shoulder.

* * 
With a crash like the end of days to the startled Neil a pigeon slammed hard into the window and he leapt back startled colliding with the seated form of Randall the managing director who in turn spilled his coffee all over his notes. Neil’s false swagger evaporated like water in the desert. 

* * 

In the street below an attractive blond woman in red high heels and an expensive raincoat crumpled suddenly to the ground. A crimson pool slowly spreading out around her.

Vinny whispered tenderly "Why Sofia?"

© 2012 ~  Author Darren Sant
Images:  L96 site / Aqua Terra wrist shot ~ the Omega Forum
and Christian Louboutin Decollete red pumps

More Sant?    
Right here:

Poet ... Renegade rockin' writer ... to gritty urban industrial-strength Radgepacket series contributor, Darren Sant, the DAZ-man, rocks words online and where ebooks are sold. Rockin' on, his career's now on a roll. All along the way, readership, regards for fellow authors and a heart of gold (to which I attribute his niche-name of a nickname) garner greater lustre.

I dove into a delve, or delved in as I dove, to learn more of this lustre. Daz's ready shine illuminated my investigation. There was no bluster ~

*** The guy simply, thus strongly, has a doggone deep appreciation for the PEOPLE in his LIFE:

DAZ: Not long after I met my wife she paid for a collection of my poems to be bound in a booklet. That was the most personal amazing present I have ever received. 

*** He gives from depth, Daz does,
to the heart of what REALLY matters:

DAZ: My brother died in September. I don't wish to be maudlin but I feel the best present I can give is for me to scatter his ashes on the football ground we used to go to. I will be doing this early 2012. I feel this is the best present I will ever be able to give.

*** My heart hugged his. Empathy emanated intuition. Darren shared how he would like to be remembered as an evolving author:

 DAZ: "He was sincere and he made us laugh. A bit."

*** The fellow's sincere alright. And he has that ubitquious attitude of gratitude. You can see it. (And we have an ocean between us and his Hull, UK):

DAZ:  I'd like to take this opportunity to say that I will be eternally grateful for the people who have given me a chance and published me. Including you Dearheart Kate.

*** I love it when Daz calls me "Dearheart" ... more so on Valentine's Day. So I pursued the spurt of Higher Energy I sensed around the guy. I asked him about the premise of the promise we both hold dear ~ authors taking authors the higher ... and his recent development taking up a slice of facebook real estate: The WRITING' SUPPORT NETWORK? The whys of his wise . . .

DAZ:  I have answers. Sadly not the answers to Life's great mystery or even to where all the pens disappear to. However, I have answers that I'm hoping you will find fine and dandy! It’s quite simple Dearheart. I felt so much love and support out there from my fellow writers that I wanted to focus it. Social media gives all of us the chance to have our voice. The group is my way of trying to focus and amplify that voice in a pleasant and supportive environment. 

*** Ahhh, been there, done that, dig that. With teeming talents and all the skies in no-limit mode, I gleaned the  best sainted Sant approach for hitting the worlds he desired destiny to reach:

DAZ: Like so very many writers I am an avid reader. I’m a peculiar guy with a wide range of eclectic tastes. However, when writing I keep one thing in mind and only one - that I want to entertain. Some of my stories come out quite dark. Other stories have quite a bit of observational humour in them. Sometimes it’s morality that comes to the fore. To be honest Dearheart I can no more control what comes out of my balding head than I could lasso the sun. I care not a jot, so long as I entertain. To cause a smile or a tear leaves me tickled pinker than a lobster after a warm bath. 

***Opportunity knocked. I pulled out my Valentine. But I left the radio on when we left each other to enjoy  respective words across our mere ponds. The background when Daz writes? Silence? Music? Which tunes, if tunes? Does he keyboard or scrawl? Backs of napkins or a trusty notebook when story ideas assail his noggin? I surmised inquiring minds would wish to know nuggets of notarized notoriety:

DAZ:  You're right. I Love your Cowboy Valentine. You make guys like me BELIEVE they can lasso the sun. Now when I write, it's rarely in silence but sometimes, when I’m particularly focused. I gotta have the vibe of lively tunes in the background. Sometimes blues or indie or rock. Sometimes haunting tunes. As for how I write it’s generally with a basic idea, a few notes or lines and then I let rip and let it come out organically. Once the first draft is done I leave it alone for a few days before the real work of editing begins.

Thank you Kate, absolutely.

You and AT THE BIJOU make me smile.
You have such a sparkling way about. 
Thanks for being you my dear.

 ~ Dazzlin' Daz

in believers ... off the starboard

Ah Daz. The world's sure a far better place, even under all its shadows, with you writing round it, stirring up your welcome cheer. Grace o'my thanks and you keep writing over the blues and lassoing the sun.  
                                                           ~ Absolutely*Kate 

Where Writers' Raves are Readers' Faves


   LINK serves delicious INFLUENCES of ~


                          Every-other-day or so, cold crimes . . . THE SHADOWS OF OUR NOIR

Paul Brazill ... Leon Jackson Davenport

BR Stateham ... Fiona Johnson ... Jack Bates 

Luca Veste, on the record OFF THE RECORD

 Julian Bramwell Slater ... 

Charlie Wade ... David Barber

Lily Childs ... Walter Conley

Carrie Clevenger ... Daniel Stine  ...  

Thomas Pluck and the Lost Children benefit show

New Year's new NOIR-Publisher BLASTED HEATH

editor John Kenyonpublisher of GRIFT magazine

tempting telling tales of GRIMM TALES' fairytale crime-spree

Rex Pickett picks a surprise ... 

plus . . . return of our pally, the great Randisi ... 

AT THE BIJOU'S Harry B Sanderford ... Matthew Magda ...  

intermittent intermissions by masters of the ceremonious ~ 
Kevin MadDog Michaels and Absolutely*Kate ... 

Why ~ Who knows who's getting into the act? . . 
RAYMOND CHANDLER may be channeled! 




Graham Smith said...

Brilliant scene setting Darren and I loved the twist in the tail. The title even helped with the misdirection.

You held me right there in your hand tickled my senses with your exacting prose.

Nigel Bird said...

my heart was racing too - cor what a scorcher. The interview Darren, is a peach, showing off that soft-heart in contrast to the hard-centred stone at the core of your fiction. And I hope that you continue to ride with life's punches as well as you seem to just now - there aren't many who can adjust to loss in such a warmly philosophical and healthy fashion. The best in everything,


Kristin Fouquet said...

Great one, Darren. I particularly enjoyed the juxtaposition of Vinny's nimble hands on his weapon with Neil's on Sofia.

Thank you, Dear Kate, for the invitation to this feature, the plush velvet seat, and the popcorn! xx

Groovydaz40 said...

Thanks for the kind words folks.

AJ Hayes said...

Thass Daz, alright. Twists and turns like a corpse swinging on the end of a rope but solid as a hangman's knot at the end of the journey. Liked the misdirection and the WTF factor way up there and the final curtain left open a moment for the reader to consider then say, of course. Cool beans, buddy. Thanks Your Katie-ness for putin' his name up in the lights.

Chris Rhatigan said...

Solid and tricky piece of writing. I was very curious to see how you would link those two storylines together. Well done.

K. A. Laity said...

Good stuff. Wow, I hope you didn't have to pay for all those fonts ;-) I think my eyes are crossed permanently now. Love the noir photos and pull quotes, too.

Madam Z said...

Interesting story! I especially enjoyed the depiction of the love affair between Vinny and his gun. Vinny used the gun, but he also took care of it. Neil used Sofia, but didn't take care of her.

Author said...

Nice work, Daz - smashing interview, too. Great stuff!

Charlie Wade said...

Good one, Daz. Fantastic twist.

Helen A. Howell said...

I really thought he was going to shoot Neil. Why Sofia? ^__^

"Happiness Is a Warm Gun" by The Beatles, kept playing through my head as Vinny got his gun ready.