Recession of the Golden Boys.

Golden youth and it's decline.

Nick Denver stood in his semi-circular clique, drawing in the toxins of his cigarette with maturity gained from years of social smoking. His eyes that were placated from those same years of cynical chats rolled aimlessly around the group, their words leaking into his ears as though by some colossal accident. Around him, standing flawlessly, were Francis Mortimer, Tom Gardner, Jordan Moffat, Liza Moffat, Jeremy Fortuna and Miguel Rodriquez. Finely laid with silks and fabrics imported from the many corners of the world, in their faces shone a flammable wealth, precariously poised, resistant of some chance flame.

Francis Mortimer, was an author of supposed stature: Denver had never read one of his books and nor would he ever feel inclined to. Tom Gardner, a famous West End actor who had made it into the films at just seventeen but had progressively fallen backwards, regressing, until he had reached the Casino at which he now stood. Jordan Moffat and his wife Liza, the most undistinguished characters in the clique, Jordan a failed lawyer and his wife a secretary, often appeared at the Casino but rarely put money down. They had for months refused their pasts, hidden behind their glamorous clothing and friends they had managed to cement themselves in the group. Jeremy Fortuna a wealthy Frenchman whose money was not his own but rather his family’s. And Miguel Rodriquez, a wealthy banker, who originated from Portugal, had profited from the banking crisis.

Denver stamped his cigarette tiredly, his eyes sore from the bright lights inside the Casino, followed his arms to their pockets. Feeling sleepily around he discovered that his limbs were no longer his own as his mind began to romp in third person, following in disgust his friend’s conversation. Above his own mortal body he looked down contently on himself; the arrogance of drink granting him numerous complimentary thoughts. The company he kept were also all intoxicated with their own conceited attentions.

Mortimer and Gardner decidedly engaged in the riotous argument that had arisen on numberless occasions: which art was superior, acting or writing? Their personalities clashed plainly and their professions disagreed. Nick turned to Jeremy, whom he felt closest to and withdrew his eyebrows skywards; Jeremy courteously returned the expression. In the shadow of the casino Mortimer’s face was a fading red, his eyes glowing, his nose shining and his hand circling to the rhythmical beat of the chatter around him.

Nick felt inclined towards Jeremy in a way that the others failed to elicit. Awkwardly aware of Jeremy’s glances Nick slid his eyes from Jeremy’s fresh exotic face onto Mortimer’s worn down facade and further on to Gardner’s proud, rounded and circular exterior. Gardner spoke contemptuously to Mortimer, his speech practised from years of theatre, spitting each word powerfully.

“You see though, the acting game requires so much more, all the senses are exercised through acting.” Mortimer’s face was horrified at the complacency of Gardner’s comments.

“Exercises it all but the mind,” He then added mockingly, “which of course is inconsequential isn’t it Tom?” Nick tired of the same conversation, repeatedly flowing in an infinite loop, that would never end until one of them fell into some misfortune, halted the conversation as though it had never existed.

“Did you see that Florence Hemingway earlier?” He mused quietly before continuing, “I used to very much enjoy her voice, now it just sounds strangled. I think even she knows it’s over, a shame I must admit but can’t be helped.” Miguel laughed and murmured to the left of Nick.

“Would be nice to win some money off her though wouldn’t it?” Nick admired his eye for exploitation and his immediate ability to recognise the weak. It was something Nick himself struggled to do, fighting against his conscious at every attempt to emulate Miguel. Mortimer and Gardner surprised by Nick’s swiftness, looked startled at each other. Despite becoming rudimentary for Nick to silence them, the duo still struggled with the concept that their arguments were dated. They maintained wholly the belief that this particular argument was the height of sophistication. Against the enflamed backdrop Mortimer’s ageing hair faded quietly but emphasised Nick’s slicked, blonde, immortal crop. Nick noticed Mortimer’s disapproving eyes from within his own shallow face. Suddenly Jeremy offered some sweet words.

“Do you not think it possible that the woman will make a comeback? I feel wholeheartedly that she has the capacity to make such a full return within the year.” He puffed his chest proudly and titled his head skywards. Nick was inclined to reply.

“Yes, I will admit she has the capacity to make a return but it is a similar capacity my own ability to make a full return to education.” The group’s chuckle rippled round a few times before resting on Nick’s ego. His youthful features meant he could hold a position dissimilar to any other within the group’s hierarchy. For it is often the youthful that are adored by the ageing and hated by the aged and it is often those youthful that then struggle with the realisation that they have become the ageing. They stretch back painfully into the past to reclaim their youthful selves from the grasps of the ignorance that had matured them once. The ageing adore them in attempts to hide their envy and nostalgia and the aged look back with contempt at how the times have changed but mistakes are repeated. Nick bought into this cycle with every ounce of his ignorance and often declared that his sole ambition was to break the ageless recycling of life, with this he hid his prettifying fear of ageing behind his golden face and crisp voice.

“Well we all feel responsible for giving you a full and rounded education in the art of gambling.” Gardner had spoken with humour for the first time that night, indicating that his decline into depression was beginning. Nick judged quickly in his mind how long it would be before the cheerful Gardner dissolved into the unbearable and pitiful creature he had seen too often and then he would make his escape.

Nick had left an undisclosed university just four months after joining, he had struck luck and won the lottery, quickly leaving his family and friends, he joined the inheritors and wash ups at Casinos across Europe before settling three years later in Nice. His friends all of an age where they felt it necessary to surround themselves with the young and ambitious, felt comforted by Nick’s presence as he gathered them up into their past. In attempts to slow the inevitable dimming of their lives they had sought Nick out and refused stoutly to relinquish their hold over him. In turn Nick enjoyed the attention that emphasised his youthful superiority.

Jeremy and Jordan the closest to Nick’s twenty-one years, at twenty-eight and thirty-one respectively, felt a paternal friendship with Nick, while Gardner and Mortimer at thirty-nine and forty-five attempted no such bond, instead tried tirelessly to befriend him in an ageless manner. None of them knew quite how old Miguel was and Liza bore no consequence within the group’s male majority.

“And for that I am eternally grateful but I feel it is I who should be educating you on that particular art, Gardner.” The humour in his sentence was diminished by the slurred ending; this mattered not as his looks preserved the reaction.

Behind Gardner’s head a row of drooping flowers slipped away crumbling into rows of tilting hills polluted by flats and apartments of extortionate pricing. Nick bored with Gardner became infatuated by a light fountain sprinkling golden water generously. Jeremy feeling similarly offered his apologies but his body was having withdrawal symptoms from the glowing, ignited, radiance inside and the yellow lighted lists of celebrated people mingling purposelessly. Miguel willing for Jeremy’s company also bid farewell. Nick sickened by the stale natural air around him yearned for the freshly claustrophobic atmosphere within the doors behind him. He titled his head towards his company and followed Jeremey and Miguel dutifully.

The doors engulfed the trio hungrily, choking greedily on their corruption and fortune. Inside the steady roar of wealth and luck inundated them, plunging them deep within themselves, repressing them but expanding their booming desperation. Chandeliers immortalised, statues crystallised and plants synthesised swarmed around the intertwined classes of the fortuitous and wealthy. Gargantuan faces swarmed the halls clouding the inconsequential with their sheer mass. The Casino’s sky glittered with golden droplets, washing over the gamblers inducing them softly. Wooden walls glimmered with spotless vanity accompanying the gloriously washed guests with glittering companionship. Suited knights offered drinks politely, smiling with dutiful pressure and receiving no acknowledgement but continuing their cordial façade. Blonde waves rolled over and around the brunette rocks but became burnt out amongst the bittersweet orange flares. The air tasting of exhaustible hope and expectation, coupled with insensitivity freshened the faces of the desperate and misfortunate. A dark and precariously balanced concoction of life formed from within the furiously bright and shapeless framework, twisting and shaping itself moment by moment, recycling steadily. The gamblers nodded agreeably to the steady beat of change filling themselves longingly with it. At the bar a regular stream of alcohol supplied itself tidily with the purpose of creating the untidy, while barmen moved in perfect synchronised harmony to the blossoming change of the music. Everything within the casino was accelerated and considerable, there was no structure but like a gigantic party it was born from spontaneous actions.

Nick Denver strolled through the colourless faces and vibrant clothing, swatting admiring glances nonchalantly. His eyes spotted an attractive group flaunting their wealth proudly quickly he squeezed through the sea of people in order to reach the group. A woman clutched at Denver who moved, without looking, out of her way and into the crowd. Denver continued to be admired as he strolled towards the far corner of the room. Miguel and Jeremy were long in the past, now tiredly sitting at the bar wishing to be outside again.

Denver arrived at the group with casual energy, introduced himself and offered his hand willingly to gain access to the group. A strong firm looking man extended his arm and engulfed Denver’s slight hand, he introduced himself.

“Dan Livingstone, pleasure to meet you mate.” His head tilted and his eyes seemed to roll along the inside of his skull but despite this strange greeting Nick resolved to like him. Dan opening up his body introduced the rest of his group while Nick cordially shook each member’s hand.

“This is Sarah Osborne and this is Juan Verde and this is Walter Martins and this is Cody Smith and this is Zoe Woods and finally this fella here is James Spencer.” Sarah Osborne had given Nick a full inspection when he had first arrived but after Livingstone’s acceptance of Denver she smiled and gazed at his specific and fine grained face. She was an older woman Nick thought, in her forties at least. His attentions were mainly drawn to Juan Verde and Zoe Woods two exquisitely crafted people with appealing eyes. Zoe Woods was around the age of Nick and stood directly across the group from him with a confident smile aimed at him. She had finely carved cheeks and rich brown hair full of youth. Juan Verde was dressed in a blue suit and wore a thin beard around his chin, his eyes enhanced by thickly rimmed glasses, stared deeply at Nick but his mouth remained still. Walter Martins and Cody Smith possessed nothing that drew Nick to them so he ignored them callously.

“It’s a pleasure,” He looked pointedly at Zoe and said “I like that dress incredibly,” Before even letting her reply he spoke to the group as an entity “So what’s your story?” A little taken aback by his abruptness and his clear wealth the group took a little while to react and immediately fell under his spell, he had control within a few sentences. They told him one by one where they were from and their background. Livingstone and Osborne were from London, Juan Verde was from Madrid although resided in Valencia, Cody Smith and Walter Martins came from New York and Zoe Woods and James Spencer from Oxford. 

Author's Note

First section of my current project. First draft.

Reviews

[Emma Olsen]

I appreciate your large vocabulary. =P You definitely have style, and all your descriptions were fresh and never really strayed into cliche. I felt that this was unique and definitely got an early 20th century vibe from it. Unfortunately, I think quite a few of your sentences weren't crafted well, even though I liked the underlying ideas and images. Sometimes your sentence construction seemed a little more like an academic paper than a novel, though, so I'd suggest trying to simplify or consider your word choice in further drafts so that the work flows a bit more. For instance: "His eyes that were placated from those same years of cynical chats rolled aimlessly around the group, their words leaking into his ears as though by some colossal accident" could be more directly worded. "His eyes that were placated" just sounds awkward, mainly - the tense is a bit strange and it's very wordy for something that seems like it should be a simple concept. I think the idea of eyes being placated is a bit confusing, as well, because you haven't told me what 'placated' them and how. How were his eyes calmed? How do you even calm eyes? Were they twitchy or something? I'm reading it as he was, essentially, tired of looking at the same place and people, but if that's what you're going for I think it could be made much clearer. You might want to check out the book 'The Elements of Style' for some help with making sentences more direct while maintaining their complexity. I think it might help you, in general, with some of this feeling of 'wordiness.' You have a number of fragments and strange clauses and areas which felt awkward or like they needed commas or just a full re-working. I'd suggest reading it out loud, and if you confuse yourself with what you're trying to say you probably should change it - even if you can work it out after a re-read. It's generally a bad thing to give your reader any excuse to stop reading and there were a number of places where I found myself having to go back and try to understand and sort out what the narrator was saying.

I also think that you're simply going through things too fast. Some of the comments below touch on characters and structure, and I think their points are valid. I'd suggest describing the casino, setting the place, and then naming and describing the characters as they speak instead of all at once. You describe the scene later, but I'm afraid it's something that's needed a bit more immediately, as describing it just as he leaves kind of defeats the point. Bring the relevant descriptions to the front instead of just starting in on the characters - they can wait a moment for the reader to get at least a basic idea of what they should be picturing. When you do introduce the characters, listing them all at once is probably something you should avoid, if possible. It generally makes me scan over them and then have to go back later to figure out who they are. If you introduce them a bit more individually it may help to parse the characters, especially if you point out features or characteristics which make them distinct. For all the complex language in here, you have surprisingly little imagery, and I think the lack of it is really hindering your reader. Introducing Mortimer and Gardner through the fight is good, but you give me professions rather than character descriptions to really sink my teeth into. Some eventually come, but they're fairly nondescript. Maybe you could link facial features, body type, or clothes to a larger description that serves as a commentary on their character. Maybe Gardner, for instance, could be wearing large glasses as a way to suggest his passion for reading the works of others? Just giving an example - do what you will. You do this effectively later, but in the beginning it all feels a bit jarring. Since you have a large cast, though, you're going to have to slow down and present them to the reader a bit more fully, at first. The characters which aren't currently talking but still there can be related to Nick through flashbacks which demonstrate their characters and allow the reader to separate them out and recognize them when they return. I think working on pace and really fleshing out the characters, at least to their base motivations, can help you so that I really feel I'm being immersed in a world with complexities. Since it's difficult to tell who's speaking at times, I'd use those moments to expand on characters and interactions - or at least to use those moments to demonstrate how Nick feels about the characters, since you've prioritized his opinion.

On another note, the monologue you start at ""The group’s chuckle rippled . . ." seems a bit out of place and sudden for me. Since you haven't shown me how Nick has come to these conclusions, they seem to come out of nowhere and come off as overly didactic. I'd rather draw my own conclusions from the story or the characters reactions than have it told to me what I should take out of the work. The conclusions seem important and I want you to help me draw them, but I think your presentation of them just isn't working toward that. Later on you describe his relationships with the individuals of the group and I think that those examples should come first, along with more detail (there's a lot of telling versus showing - I don't get to see the interactions for myself, so I'm relying on a conclusion without knowing if it's been come to falsely. Fine if you want an unreliable narrator, but maybe an issue to consider in order to buff this up and improve character development.) The group's reactions to his actions are important, not just as a larger body, but as individuals. Some reference to each specific interaction may help to further establish the characters. You have some, but I feel like some of your characters are just shoved into the background and never fully explored. Granted, this is a short work, so perhaps a full examination of all of them is too much, but I at least want to know their relationship to Nick and how it's significant. You give me small glimpses (for instance, Nick valuing Miguel's opinion), but there's just not enough yet for me to feel these are real interactions between real people. I understand this is part of a work you mean to continue, but I think some prioritization of characters may be important, because so many are swirling around right now. Who's important? Who isn't? Miguel and Jeremy seem important, but there's barely anything on them. You make these opening characters seem important, but then suddenly they're gone, you know? Are they coming back? Are they relevant? If not, I'd like to see what the important characters are doing while the minor ones quibble. How is Miguel reacting? What is he doing? The same with Jeremy. I want to know the characters a little better so that they feel more real, but I also don't want my time to be wasted getting invested in Mortimer and Gardiner and their arguments if this opening is the extent of their presence. Once Nick goes inside, I just get this impression that the people inside may be more important? It's good for Nick to have an extensive understanding of these people if he has to roam in their social circles, but the reader has to have a reason to care, so everything should be as relevant to plot or a larger point or even some symbolic idea as possible, you know? It's like when I went on a tour in Ireland and the damn bus driver gave us a forty minute lecture on how hay bales are made or some s**t. Okay, that would be cool if I was taking the tour to learn more about making hay bales, but I was there to see Connemara. It's not that there isn't interesting stuff lurking in the background (and really, there should be if your characters are acting as more than two-dimensional pawns), but sometimes it's just stuff that the author should know. It's your job to not only flesh out a complex world, but to also discern what about it is important and what isn't.

All that being said, I do think that, with a bit of polishing, this will be an excellent read. You do know how to use words and present ideas in a new manner, which, unfortunately, I have not noticed as a common talent. If you do some work to focus on the way you structure your sentences it'll really make your ideas shine. I also appreciate the depth you seem to want to imbue in this, but, as said, some of it may be more for your knowledge than the reader. Keep at it! I'd be happy to look at any future rewrites. I think this has a lot of potential and that you definitely have a very solid, eloquent style.

[lissalovesyou]

Very descriptive and a promising plot. I have to agree with little bad puppy, though. It is lacking a structure and it's hard to understand who is talking. Also, if this is the first section, it's a bit confusing with all the new characters. There are a lot of characters, and I had to reread several parts to understand who was who. Overall, a good work,
lissalovesyou:)

[little bad puppy]

not bad, i see promise. break out the redbull and vodka and polish this bad boy up some. the only thing that really throws me off is the lack of structure. it's kinda hard to discern who's talking.

[ReneeJ]

What I like about this is that your use of language and imagery enable the reader to feel as though they are at the setting. It was a great read, looking forward to more.