metro card//MGG

6

hi everyone!

after classes got out in middle school, I began to spend my evenings sitting in the back of a poorly lit auditorium, watching my mother's rehearsals. I'm pretty sure doing homework in the dark permanently damaged my eyesight. but there was nothing else to do; my dad was usually away on business and my mom doesn't trust nannies. I don't know why.

even after the velvet fell across the stage, I could hear her voice barking orders to techs, stagehands. when she's not singing, my mother has a voice like shale: thin, layered, breakable. it's the voice of someone who desperately needs something just out of reach. some things are hereditary.

maybe that's why I find myself descending the steps to the shop, hauling open the poster-covered door and immediately seeking out the woman from last time. it smells the same, with a few more people milling about inside. nobody looks up at me. I see her.

she's got old-school headphones on that are plugged into a turntable near the back of the store. her head nods gently as dark hair frames the elegant bone structure of her face. without much thought, I make my way toward her.

"hi." I smile. after a moment, she lifts a tattooed index finger and takes off the headphones.

"you're back." she's got a little smirk on her face, but no name tag. and so she remains nameless in my head, identifiable only by the slight shimmer across her cheeks and a head of waterfall hair.

"I have a record player." only a white lie. Matthew said I could use his, and I wanted to get another look at this place.

I've been thinking about what he said a while ago-- how he wanted to be in my film, regardless of what it is. which is nerve-wracking and might ultimately be the death of me. but also, the idea that I want to be a big-time director and yet can't work with bigger names because of my own nervousness, is counter-productive. it's really his professional nature that makes me so anxious and I need to get over that.

besides, I think he would like this place. I can't pay the woman to use the shop for a few hours, so I'll have to lay on the charm and friendliness. hopefully she's open to some free customer exposure.

"yeah? what brand?" she asks me. I frown as I remember there are different kinds of these things.

"vintage, I don't know." I make a face at the admission. she breaks into a small grin before walking out from behind the turntable and brushing past me. when I follow, my jaw almost drops.

she pulls the Sarah Vaughn record from behind the register counter, which is covered in stickers and taped-down postcards. I'm more concerned with the fact that she set aside the vinyl for me.

"I figured you'd come back for it." she informs me casually, sliding the sleeve over. I peer down at it.

"thanks."

"definitely. it's a really nice copy, smooth play. all of our stuff is used, so this good condition is rare."

"how much, then?" I pull out my wallet. there's some anxiety knotting in my stomach as I realize that mint condition means more expensive.

"just $10." she shrugs.

"what? no." I shake my head. I don't know anything about old records and even I know that's not the equivalent to its worth.

"it's really fine. once you hear it, you'll come back for more. that's how we get you." she winks playfully. there's a slight gap between her two front teeth, just enough to shoot a fountain of water through if she tried.

"okay, then." I laugh, handing over a crisp ten dollar bill. "so, how long have you worked here?"

"legally, since I was 20. my dad started this place in the eighties, so I kinda grew up here." she slides the bill into the register before focusing all her attention on me. there's a tattoo of a spider weaving a web around her ring finger.