how to make a mixtape :: mgc (fin.)

19. netflix & chill

hey guys what do u think of the chapter name

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It's strange, seeing Sherbrook Road so empty. There's usually children from the other houses running amuck and riding their bikes, but now they're all cooped away inside their houses. A few of them peer out of their windows and regard me while I step near the shop. Alejandro is standing in front of one of the taped edges with a heavy set police officer, both of them talking. We were the only three people outside.

"You must be Ms. Rendon," the officer says, approaching me. I don't notice he's talking to me until I look up.

Wait. Did he just say Ms... Rendon? I give Ale a questioning look over the policeman's broad shoulders and he motions for me to continue. So, I have a fake name.

"I-I guess I am." I shrug. That sounded so stupid.

Ale jogs over and grabs my forearm, not harshly. I stare at the officer. He's swarthy and has curly hair, black and kinked around his small ears.

"Valeria isn't too good at English," Ale says from beside me. I hold back a snort. Valeria? I swear there's porn star named Valeria.

"Could you translate while I ask a few questions about yesterday?" The officer taps his pen on the notebook.

"She's a minor."

"But you're her legal guardian -- and you're present."

"I-I don't know..." Ale looks down at me solemnly. I don't return the gesture. I only arrived to pick up a few things -- perhaps visit Ashton -- but that's beside the point.

"¿Qué hacemos?" I ask him. "What are we doing?"

"Just listen." Ale sifts back into English quicker than anticipated. "Can you question her at a later date? She's going through some emotional trauma after everything. I mean, she was held at gun point."

I shudder. The cold disc feels like it's still forcing between my shoulder blades. I swat at my back, but the lingering touch of a cold barrel remains.

"You postponed this last night, Mr. Rendon," the officer says. "The latest we can stretch this out to is tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it will be, then." He nods, pulling up a tight smile.

I gesture for him to bend down next to me, and whisper, "can I go get my record player?" Michael's collection of vinyls always tease me to pick them up. It'd be lovely to be able to actually hear one.

Alejandro makes a face, licking his bottom lip and furrowing his brows. "Isn't it a bit heavy to carry to Michael's?"

"I can handle it."

He shrugs, telling the officer before holding up the police tape for me to get through and into the shop. I run upstairs to my bedroom, opening the door and glancing around. It's much cleaner than when I was last here -- all the broken and shattered tapes have been cleared up and the bed is stripped of its sheets. Most things are off the shelves, except for my antique record player. I lift it off the shelf, sighing shortly at the weight, and stumble down the spiral staircase. I walk down the corridor, looking at the shop as I leave.

Goodbye, I think, shutting the door behind me and lugging the old player back to Michael's house.

+++

I finish drying my hair, switching off the hair dryer and setting it on Michael's desk. He's lying down on his -- well our bed, since I'm his temporary housemate -- flicking through Black Beauty. He puts the book down, opens his drawer, picks up a disc and pushes it into the stereo, picking the book back up again. Sex by The 1975 begins to play softly. Cobain jumps on the bed happily, nudging Michael's hand.