Happy Monday, crime motherfuckers! Are you ready to take another trip to the dark side? To a hardboiled pulp-noir place where violence and mayhem rule? Then strap on your favorite piece, and head on over to the coolest crime joint in cyberspace, right here ... at That Killing Feeling.
I'm pleased to unveil my latest story, THE HEISTERS, and my newest character, Kelsey Hazard. Kelsey's a professional heister, a career criminal that make her living by stealing what's not hers. In this story I've decided to try something different with how the plot unfolds. Our story opens AFTER her latest heist has been completed, and then we see how things get fucked up. Then, we jump back in time to the planning of the heist, and then go back and forth in time until we catch up with the beginning of the story. It's kinda MEMENTO, kinda PULP FICTION, and all dastardly, hardboiled fun.
I hope you enjoy ...
EXT. SANTA MONICA - BAY STREET - NIGHT
A leafy side-street off the main drag.
Quiet. Bucolic. Small homes.
Some nice, some shitty.
The cheap seats. But safe.
A WOMAN (40) comes walking
toward us down the sidewalk.
Tough-looking, but very hot.
Cigarette dangling off blood-red lips.
Curves galore. Legs for days. Lips for nights.
Meet KELSEY HAZARD,
a tight, taught bundle of swagger.
Long chestnut hair tied tight in a ponytail.
Eyes flashing with that world-weary air
of someone who’s seen it all.
She gets to the corner.
Starts walking across the street.
The job had gone well.
We’d made off with
a little over two-hundred-K.
All in all, not a bad haul.
Kelsey gets to the front door of a small MARKET.
INT. MARKET - NIGHT
Kelsey walks over the beer cooler.
Grabs a couple six-packs.
Takes them up to the register.
I’d been holed up for two days
with a low-level errand boy
for a local crew, and needed supplies.
All that fucking makes a gal thirsty.
(to the clerk)
Can I get a carton of Marlboro one-hundreds?
The PIMPLY CLERK (20) nods.
Reaches up above for the smokes.
We’d all been laying low for a few days
after the score until the heat died down.
Pimply rings up the total.
Looks at the register.
That’ll be seventy-two dollars and thirty-eight cents.
(gives him some cash)
Fucking cancer sticks are gonna
break the bank one of these days --
You should smoke generics, like I do.
Nah. Too low rent.
He stares at her.
She grabs her bag.
Starts for the door.
Hey. You forgot your change --
(over her shoulder)
Keep it. Get yourself something nice.
Splurge. Live a little.
And she’s gone.
Pimply watches her go.
Shakes his head.
EXT. BAY STREET - NIGHT
We watch from the across the street
as Kelsey walks down the sidewalk with her bag.
Heels CLICK-CLICKING on the cement.
The name’s Hazard.
Kelsey Hazard. I’m a heister.
I steal for a living. Big jobs, mostly.
Armored cars. Stadium jobs. Race tracks.
Even jacked a coin convention once.
But no banks. That shit’ll get you killed.
And besides, it’s a federal offense.
I’ll stick with the local heat, thank you.
She turns onto a driveway.
Starts walking up to a Craftsman bungalow.
Once nice, now crumbling in disrepair.
I do one or two jobs a year.
Then live off the take the rest of the time.
I plan my jobs meticulously --
and I’ve never been caught.
Kelsey opens the front door, goes in.
INT. BUNGALOW - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Dimly lit. Decor, ‘early dorm room.’
She walks through into --
I’m completely off the grid.
Have never paid taxes.
INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
The kitchen, where she puts the smokes on the counter.
The beers into the fridge.
As far as Uncle Sam goes, I don’t exist --
She pulls off two cans, walks into --
INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
Dark, with light spilling out from an doorway at the end.
She walks toward the bedroom.
I’m back --
Gets to the door. Starts to walk in --
Rested up for the next round?
She looks, sees a YOUNG STUD (25)
propped up in bed.
A long SAMURAI SWORD stuck in his neck.
Pinning him to the head board.
Must have been SOME geyser.
Kelsey RACES over to the closet.
Opens it. Looks.
She WHEELS AROUND.
Head whipping back and forth.
In a RAGE.
The MONEY --
She stops. Closes her eyes.
Takes a deep breath. Opens them.
Now blazing. Full of FIRE.
(under her breath)
Somebody’s gonna DIE.