steviecalhoun

[steviecalhoun]

WHERE: bayfront marina park ( last friday event ) WHO: open to all  ( @monleonstarters​ )

Tradition, Stevie thinks, is a get-out-of-jail-free card for people scared shitless to change. Repetition doesn’t make a thing sacred—fuck, it doesn’t even guarantee you’ll be good at it. Monleon’s Last Friday is tradition. It has been for as long as she can remember, and sure, she enjoys the festivities more than baby showers or God forbid, Thanksgiving. It’s as much culture as you’ll get in Florida’s Gulf Coast and therefore, it’s a necessary evil. As it transpires, Monleon’s population aren’t big on vinyl. And as the acting owner of the city’s sole record shop, that’s now Stevie’s problem. 

So far, she’s spent the past hour and a half like this: Fender Jazzmaster in hand, a box of records at her feet, strumming a little part of her soul away. It’s not that busking’s beneath her, although she refuses to be a gimmick and so far, her choices have consisted of mostly deep cuts. Rather, it’s easy to get lost in the music, unavoidable to bleed along. It always has been. 

Her fingers fall away from the frets and it’s only then that Stevie notices that someone’s stopped to listen. Think customer-service related thoughts. She summons a smile. “They’re all fifteen dollars. You can have a look through, if you want.” 

[steviecalhoun]

WHERE: the alzado hotel lounge WHEN: monday february 8th, 9pm  WHO: @nvnordegraf​​​

As kids, Stevie never noticed Nat. She’d not noticed much, her days spangled with insobriety, and that had been the point. History is a book that she does not open, but there are remnants from the past that keep her driving forward, and one of them is this.

It’s routine now; Monday nights are for the music. Technically, every waking moment is, but on Mondays, they’ll head to a bar after work and just talk. Last week, the conversation meandered from the top ten best eighties synths ( Donna Summers’ I Feel Love made the cut, despite being released in 1977) to the Bulgarian Women’s Choir sampled in Disney’s Brother Bear.

So; new week, new topic, new bar. There are cheaper watering holes, but Stevie likes how strong they make their Long Island Ice Teas. She’s sipping on one when she spots Nat and waves them over. “What’s the weather like outside? I thought Florida would freeze over when I got here earlier than you.” There’s no heat in her voice. She slots an arm around them in an easy hug. “Hey, wait til I tell you what The Kid fucked up on this week.” 

[steviecalhoun]

AMELIA ALVAREZ​:

WHERE: the steps of the riverside hotel WHEN: sometime after midnight  { @monleonstarters​ }

“You’re probably wondering,” the brunette in a sparkling mermaid costume with glitter in her hair spoke up, puffing out a cloud of smoke– her only vice, if you asked her. “How I ended up in this situation. Supposedly I wasn’t smiling enough, so the event planner sent me home, what the hell? I don’t get it, aren’t sirens supposed to be these… lethal, dark, soul-devouring creatures?” However, before she went on with her rant, she lifted her gaze and flashed a charming smile at the person nearby. “Come, join me,“ and she patted the empty spot on the staircase beside her. “Hope your day’s been better. If not, I have a whole pack of cigarettes and an inside man at a 24/7 diner, instructed to save me some pie.”

.

Stevie knows Amelia Alvarez. It’d be damn hard not to—Monleon’s only so big, and there’s not many people around who look like that. They were in school together, and between fucking around and getting fucked up, their social circles overlapped. Mostly, her memories belong to insobriety, but she remembers that even back then she’d been beautiful. The sort of beautiful that takes you places. 

But nobody knows better than Stevie that Monleon’s a sinkhole. She’s not surprised to see her still here. A part of her wishes she could be. 

“Last time I checked, I’m not Joan Rivers,” there’s a flash of teeth when she smiles and skin when she sits down beside her. “I won’t judge your threads. Especially when you’re pulling them off.” She winks and gladly accepts the offered cigarette. “Huh,” smoke slips through her teeth as she exhales with a slow, sagging shoulders. “Siren, no doubt. But dark, lethal and soul-devouring? You?” Lounged on the steps, Stevie drags her gaze over Amelia’s body and face like a caress. She grins. “I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to try to eat me up. My soul, that is.”

[steviecalhoun]

Carole King

It’s Too Late

1971

[steviecalhoun]

VALERIE DURMAZ​:

@monleonstarters​

With an empty store and a few hours left on the clock, Val took what little free time she got to check her phone. She’d felt it buzzing in her back pocket during an interaction with a customer, but she’d fought the natural instinct to immediately check the notification in return for a conversation about the classics. Just within the hour she’d missed out on checking, she’d gained twenty-three more subscribers, which put her within single digits of her next hundred. Of course, new followers always meant new requests, and new requests always meant doing something she hadn’t done before. As she scrolled through the new messages, Val heard the bell at the front door. As much as she wanted to focus on the real money maker between the two jobs, the record store would always come first.

“We’ve got a deal on everything used today. Buy two, get one free. You won’t find better prices and you definitely won’t find a better selection.” Vinyl Destination didn’t need her pushing for sales, but truth was, she meant it. She’d already added quite a few vinyls to her own collection, all of which had been in almost mint condition, inside and out. “Was there something I could help you find? If we don’t have it, I’m sure we can find it.” And she would, one way or another.

.

Six days a week, Vinyl Destination is a ghost town. Jazz scene or not, small town Florida’s not a epicentre for musical appreciation. Stevie’s spent the past year slowly dragging the store back into the twenty-first century, but decay lingers like an unwanted guest. No matter how many hanging air fresheners she and Val have strung up, must hits you every time you step in. 

“At ease, soldier.” She throws a two-fingered salute in Val’s direction. “It’s only me.” She lopes over to her favourite employee ( and sure, between Val and The Kid, there’s hardly competition ) and leans against the counter. The only thing that gives Stevie’s hangover away is the dark sunglasses, which she lowers in the blissfully dim room. “You’ve got the sales pitch down pat though. Anyone come in to hear it?”

It’s only once she’s sanitised her hands that she thumbs through the records marked in their ‘get free’ promotion. “It’s a fuckin’ crime that Black Sabbath’s in here...” she leaves the record there anyway, but halts in pure horror a few moments later. “No. Oh Carole,” Stevie tugs the record free and, with reverence, hugs Tapestry to her chest. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” She shares an exasperated look with Val. “I want you to think about this moment when you tell me, yet again, to not fire The Kid.” 

[steviecalhoun]

ALEX RUSSO​:

he almost expects to see associates. people he has forced himself to communicate with on occasion but he’d prefer to avoid. seeing the familiar head of brown hair, he’s almost amused at her presence…almost. the male walks her direction, dragging his tongue along his lips as he takes her in. accessing what kind of mood she’s in based on how her shoulders sit. “i’m silent.” he retorts, lips twitching. he’s unable to roll his eyes and scoff in offense. despite the affronted demeanor, stevie’s right, he’s the traditional definition of whore. “i can assure you with certainty i’ve not snuck into a room or the back of my car yet…doesn’t mean i don’t intend to. what’re you having tonight? you seem…joyful.”

. 

There’s a quote—not the kind that Live, Laugh, Love-ers splash across mugs or t-shirts or their children’s foreheads, if given the chance. You attract what you are. On days like today, when the worst Stevie feels is like an overworked monkey, it’s sex that’s the ties that binds. “Your eyes aren’t,” she warns, but by now they’re headed for the drinks stand. “No, but I can see you lining ‘em all up. You’re old enough to pull the write your number on the back of their hands routine. It’s creepy, Russo.” They’re a tall pair, a striking one at that. They turn heads and part crowds and when they stop, Stevie slouches against a low wall, legs stretched out a mile-long. “Surprise me. You can pretend it’s practice.” It’s cold and she’s not exactly dressed for winter; her shoulders curl in against the wind. “Maybe I got lucky. Or maybe I’m about to. Is a good mood a crime now?”

[steviecalhoun]

NICOLE JOHNSON​:

She held up the candle for the other woman to view, dipping her head to take a small whiff. “Didn’t realize Gwyneth Paltrow lived in Monleon.” / @steviecalhoun​

If she’s honest, she hadn’t really been listening. June and the dark corners of Etsy are the only places Stevie purchases her candles from, but the drinks stand just so happens to be located next door. Margarita in hand, she smirks over at Nicole. “You’ve been holding out on me, Johnson. I didn’t know you knew what pussy smells like.”

[steviecalhoun]

WHERE: bayfront marina park ( last friday event ) WHEN: 10pm, friday 29 jan WHO: @russohq​

Saddling your part-time, under-eighteen employee with last minute work isn’t the mark of a great manager but hey, Stevie’s never claimed to be one. The Kid isn’t about to start saying no to her and her instructions are simple: protect the stock, sell a few records, I’ll be back in an hour.  Her trust only extends so far, which only leaves her with one option. She’s not phased by public opinion, but it’s a new low to walk down Main Street with her Fender strapped to her back like John fucking Mayer. She knows what’s coming when she and Alex spot each other a mile off.  “Don’t fucking say anything,” her words are sharp but she presses a kiss to her friend’s cheek and claps him on the shoulder. “Buy me a drink and tell me how many people you’ve whored yourself out to tonight?” 

[steviecalhoun]

                   ABOUT.    BIOGRAPHY.    CONNECTIONS. 

name: stevie calhoun

occupation: sound engineer, MX7 production studios and interim manager of vinyl destination, monleon’s record store (owned by her mother, lydia calhoun)

date of birth/age: february 26th 1994 | 26 years old

sexuality/gender/pronouns: bisexual | cis female | she/her

neighborhood: bougainvillea park

how long they’ve been in monleon: 18 years (ex-native), returned: 1 year ago

birthplace: monleon, FL

faceclaim: zendaya coleman

[steviecalhoun]

Mindful Muse Questions

On anon or not, send MINDFUL + a number for the muse to answer!

What’s the best thing that’s happened to you recently?

What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you recently?

What are you grateful for?

What are you proud of?

Who was the last person that you helped? How did you help them?

What’s your best childhood memory?

If you had the chance for a ‘do-over’ in life, what would you do differently?

If you could travel anywhere, where would you go and why?

If you could only keep five of your possessions, which would they be?

What was the last thing to make you smile?

What was the last show of kindness that you’ve seen?

What have you done recently that was creative?

What’s something that you know this year, that you didn’t know last year?

What kind of person are you?

Whom have you connected with recently?

How do you take care of your mind and body?

What have you done well at recently?

What are you looking forward to?

What are your current strengths and opportunities?

What would you do if you knew that you couldn’t fail?

When was the last time that you did something for the first time?

What or whom lights you up?

If you could be an animal, which would you choose and why?

Who are you when you’re at your best?

Do you like who you are right now?

When was the last time that you laughed?

What is a lesson that you’ve learned the hard way?

What do you really want from life?

How meaningful is your life?

Do you have a personal mission?

How would you describe the perfect day?

Whom do you look up to?

Do you believe in giving second chances?

What legacy do you want people to remember about you when you’re gone?

Whom do you currently feel closest to?

[steviecalhoun]

Rick James | Mary Jane

[steviecalhoun]

#ZendayaEditsBoohoo

[steviecalhoun]

She sounded like she was about to cry. But then I heard her take a breath. Then she changed the subject. Everyone did that. When something hurt, well, we just changed the subject.

He forgot to say goodbye by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (via quotemybooks)