Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

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librarian_7
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Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

Author’s Note: This story is a collaboration between OnceBitTwiceShy and myself for Champagne Challenge #128: Reader/Writer II. OBTS provided the idea of Josef visiting Santa Fe in the 1920’s, and running into…well, you’ll have to read the story. The settings are as accurate as I can make them, having been in Santa Fe myself many times, and also using various resources on the City Different, as they call it, and its inhabitants back in the ‘20s. While I could find no record of a hotel located in Sena Plaza, such a place does exist, and who knows? It could have housed a small hotel at one time. The artists’ colony, and their compound on Camino del Monte Sol, are documented. There will be a thread with a set of pictures and links to places, costumes, cars, posted after most chapters. My thanks to OBTS not only for the idea, but for her encouragement and input as the story progressed. I don’t own Josef, or any of the historical locations and personages mentioned in the story. Any errors or misrepresentations of fact are mine.


Camino del Monte Sol

II. La Fonda

At this hour, the lounge off the lobby of La Fonda was dim, the lights turned low, but that didn’t keep the whitewashed adobe and deep blue glazed tiles from reflecting the noise, and making the most of the available light.

Seated in an out of the way corner that should have given him a good view of the entire lounge, Stephen stared into his coffee cup, morosely. There was no coffee in it, of course, but he regretted the subterfuges Prohibition made a necessity. Even a mediocre whiskey deserved crystal, not this mundane stoneware mug. Looking around the area, he wondered if any of the ubiquitous coffee cups in view actually held coffee. Judging from the general atmosphere of gaiety, he thought not.

At the other side of the lounge, several tables pulled together held a particularly raucous group of men, and a few women, arguing over the sounds of the other patrons and a muted trio of Mexican guitars. It was a pretty fair bet they weren’t drinking coffee, either.

He signalled the waiter with a discreet gesture.

“Another round, sir?”

Nodding his head, he laid a five by his cup. “That table over there,” he said, indicating the noisy group with a well-placed lift of his eyebrows, “they regulars here?”

The waiter smiled as he made the folded money vanish with a practiced hand. “Oh, yes sir,” he said. “Painters. Call themselves Los Cinco Pintores.”

“Indeed. They any good?”

“I like their stuff,” the waiter said with a shrug. “Local landscapes, mostly.”

Stephen nodded. “Put a round for them on my tab, will you?”

“And shall I tell them who it’s from, sir?”

“Just say—a patron of the arts. And while you’re at it, make it three rounds. They look thirsty.”

“Yes sir.”

He settled back to wait, enjoying the comfort of the rustic wooden chair, its thick cushion covered in soft local wool. The starkness of the whitewashed adobe walls and the terra cotta Saltillo tile floors were relieved here and there by woven hangings that matched the upholstery of the cushions on the chairs, and the built-in adobe benches along the walls. The rounded, organic lines of the fireplace, and the crackling blaze within, gave the room an air of comfort and coziness, even if the style of the place was foreign and exotic to his eyes.

He didn’t have to wait too long.

As soon as the drinks were delivered, several pairs of sharp eyes started searching the room for a generous newcomer, and shortly afterwards, a delegation approached.

Two young men—they were all, to Stephen’s eye, in their mid-twenties or thereabouts—begged his pardon for intruding, but, “Perhaps you were the one who sent the drinks?”

Stephen smiled and lifted his cup, as though in a toast.

“Freemont Ellis,” one of them said formally, with only the slightest slurring of his consonants indicating his state of inebriation, “and my associate, Jozef Bakos.”

Bakos bowed slightly but did not speak.

“Stephen Kostan, at your service,” Kostan replied. “I understand you gentlemen are artists?”

“Depends on which critic you read,” Bakos replied, his English noticeably accented. “Perhaps you will join us at our table, and we can discuss our work, if you have an interest.”

Kostan nodded and rose. He had to admit, it gave him a pang of nostalgia to hear the name “Jozef.” Ellis had managed a fair approximation of the correct pronunciation. Ah, well, he thought, names were fleeting things, subject to change and variation.

Still, he liked the look of these artists. They showed neither the studied eccentricity of the poseurs he’d seen in San Francisco, or the hidebound conservatism of the East Coast.

“So,” Bakos said, “you sound as though you have heard of us, yes?”

Stephen nodded. “A friend in Denver recommended your work to me.”

“And who would that be?” Bakos might be young, Stephen reflected, but there was a shrewdness in his eyes that spoke of hard experience.

“I doubt you know him.”

“Depends. I spent time in Denver. I know the art circles there.” It was a challenge, and Ellis, uncomfortable, laid a hand on Bakos’ arm.

Stephen shrugged. “My friend’s name is Slade Weston. And he’s been a sponsor for John Thompson, who is the one who said I should look you fellows up if I wanted a good investment in art.”

Bakos nodded, mollified. “Thompson is a friend of mine. And this Weston—I think I have heard of him.”

By this time they’d reached the table, and Ellis took the host’s duties for himself. “Folks,” he said, “we have a new friend. This is Stephen Kostan. He’s just in from—where did you say?”

“I didn’t. But, Los Angeles is home. For now, anyway.”

Ellis was introducing around the table. “Wladislaw Mruk, althought most people call him Walter these days.”

“I understand the impulse,” Stephen said with a smile. “I spent some time as Istvan, myself.” He saw no need to point out that it had been one of a string of baptismal names, and hardly the first of them.

Mruk nodded affably, puffing on his pipe.

“And this here’s Will Shuster.”

That man raised a cup in salute. “Thanks for the drinks, old boy,” he said.

“And that fellow with the girl on his lap, Willard Nash.” He went on to introduce two or three women, and finally got to the girl on Nash’s lap. Kostan said afterward that it must have been the brittleness of the sound bouncing off the tiles in the lounge, combined with the general background noise that served to fool his normally sharp hearing into misinterpreting her name. It was a momentary lapse, and one he would shrug off as meaningless, but truth be told he wasn’t ever sure about that. Maybe things would have taken a different direction, that first night, and afterwards, if he’d heard properly.

“And this is Willard’s favorite model, Therésa . We mostly call her Reza.”

“Razor?” Stephen said.

They all laughed, except for the girl in question. She leapt up from Nash’s lap and exclaimed, “Razor. I like it.” She backed away from the table, slightly, and struck an exaggerated flamenco pose, somewhat at odds with her fashionable dropped waist cream dress, the hem of its pleated skirt falling just below her knee to show off shapely calves in silk stockings and polished leather t-strap pumps. The face below her close-fitting cloche hat was pointed and vixenish, with dark eyes enormous inside the frame of the cream wool brim. She flung one arm over her head, fingers artfully curved to simulate holding castenets, the other arm somewhat stiffly curled in front of her midsection. She arranged her scarlet-painted lips into a suitably Spanish sneer and said “My name is Therésa Inez Maria Concepcion Martinez Ibanez.” She put one foot forward as though about to launch into dance. “My parents wanted to send me to Spain. They think I can learn flamenco in Seville, and Barcelona. But I told them no! I do not wish to leave Santa Fe. Why in the world would they think that anything in Spain is better than here?”

Everyone at the table applauded, with cries of encouragement.

“And now, I will be known as the Razor.”

“What will you do here, Razor?” one of the men exclaimed. Stephen rather thought it was Shuster.

She said, “I will live, and I will drink.”

“You’re in good company for that!”

“And I will dance,” she continued, taking a few steps, enough that Stephen could tell that she had a geniune talent and grace, despite the drunken parody she was making.

“And,” she said, “I will live and I will love and I will pose, for my beloved Willard.” With that she snatched the cloche off her head, and released a cascade of mahogany hair to tumble free around her shoulders, and launched into a spinning, clapping dance, while her friends stomped their feet and roared approval.

Stephen thought it was Bakos who started the chant, “Ra-zor, ra-zor, ra-zor.” And the guitarists in the background took their cue from her and picked up the pace of their playing to match the rhythm she was beating out with her feet.

Stephen leaned back in his chair, observing, but careful to clap and stop with the others. The heat of her exertion was bringing a rosy glow to her cheeks, and the ceiling fans turning slowly overhead wafted the scent of her straight to him. He didn’t know what it was about some mortals that set them apart from the others, that made their blood tastier, but whatever that quality was, she had it. And he knew then, that sooner or later, he was going to set his fangs into the white column of her throat, and drink the sweetness that she did not know she had to give. He was on the hunt. The gentle hunt, as his sire had called it long ago, the art of seduction. He began to feel the gathering satisfaction of anticipation, and of victory.
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by francis »

Oooohhh, what a treat. Love the ambiance, and the painters, and Reza. Josef on the prowl - Love it!
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by tucutecats »

love it, a bit of Joseph history, thank you
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by jenstc2003 »

Oh this is going to be FUN! Josef on the hunt, eh? *giggles* Lovely as always Lucky!
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by jen »

Lucky

The ambiance is lovely.

You certainly have the details of the Southwest down perfectly.

Stephen is Josef, and yet...not.

I'm intrigued.

Reza or Razor, as she will be known now, is a fascinating touch and clearly Stephen has found some new friends.

Thank you!

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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by darkstarrising »

This second chapter finds Stephen getting a lay of the land, so to speak, but again is filled with rich descriptions of the lounge and its patrons. Stephen's interest in the painters seems more being sociable than anything else, with the exception of Reza, or Razor as she now calls herself.
He was on the hunt. The gentle hunt, as his sire had called it long ago, the art of seduction. He began to feel the gathering satisfaction of anticipation, and of victory.
Ah, but somehow I think this Razor is going to be a delicious challenge for Stephen and I'm anxious to see how the hunt progresses.

Thanks, Lucky :hug:
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by eris »

I really like the easy pace you've set here, Lucky. It lets the details shine through and makes the whole experience more enjoyable.
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by NightAir »

I love to see where Josef came from, how his experiences and the people he met shaped him into the vampire we know and love; before Sarah; before Mick; before Lucky.

I'm guessing this chance encounter with Reza is will change both their lives in ways neither can anticipate.

Thank you, Lucky! :flowers: And thank you, OBTS, for the idea! :flowers:
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

Thanks so much for the comments! Yes, "Stephen" is making himself at home in Santa Fe.

There will be a new chapter out very soon (it needs a final edit)--and I think everyone will find that one very enjoyable! :whistle:

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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by allegrita »

Hmm... Josef does seem to like nicknames for his freshies... :batseyes:

Love the description of Prohibition-era Santa Fe, and the artists who lived there. Stephen seems to have met some kindred souls, not to mention a delectable little morsel who he is obviously going to enjoy pursuing... :melts: :melts:
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by MoonShadow »

I loved the cadence and pacing...
truly lovely and seductive as summers lanquid heat.

I think I swooned at "the gentle hunt..." :melts:

waiting for more,
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by cassysj »

I love it. The chase is on. I feel like I'm in Sante Fe during Prohibition. I can't wait to see what happens with Razor.
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by moonlight_vixen »

I'm loving it so far :winky: And I can't wait to see what happens with Razor...
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by Lilly »

As always with your rich historicals, I find myself at a loss to quote any one particular passage because I become so completely immersed in the atmosphere you create. It's all woven together in such a wonderful tapestry that I find myself taking in the "whole." :hearts:

One of the thing I do love about this chapter is that you've introduced a wonderful cast of characters in such a natural way. We already have a feel for each of the artists, just from their brief bits of conversation and body language.

And Josef always manages to find such compelling women -- yet each of them so very different from another. He seems to value the spark in each of them perhaps more than any taste he might eventually take. I'm very eager to see where this one leads him. Of course, he would deny being "led," but this is a rather restless Josef, I think, and that always leads to interesting detours, doesn't it? :teeth:
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Re: Camino del Monte Sol, ch. 2 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

Post by RangerCM »

Love the image of Stephen quietly observing and calculating his next goal. :melts: :melts: :melts:
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