HIM
fall back asleep, leaning against the wall. I check my armpits; they're suitable for another day or so. I shaved my legs and lady bits yesterday, so they should still be fine. I must be mad to think that Luke and I will have another intimate moment so soon, but its best to be safe just in case.I step out of the shower and dry myself off. I am so not in the mood to do my hair or even put makeup on. I need to do so, though, as I will be seeing Luke. Ugh, why does he have to work at the shop; I want to show up ugly today. He has never seen me without makeup.
I throw on some liner and mascara. I should get my eyeliner tattooed on; then, I would not have to worry about repeating the lines that I mess up one hundred times before they're even. I start with a subtle line then get to the other eye, and it looks like a Kindergartner did it. Then the lines end up thick once I finally get them even.
I don't bother to blow dry my hair. I throw that bitch up on the top of my head. I lay on my bed for a few minutes.
My phone buzzes and I jump up with a few ninja moves as I must have nodded off. I've not had enough sleep, but either way, I check my phone, hoping it's Ris replying to what I sent her last night or even Luke.
Good morning, beautiful! Have a good day! Miss you.
It's Troy and his stupid "Good Morning" shit he does every damn day. I need to talk to him about what's going on with us and soon. I used to love his little morning gestures, but now I wish they were coming from Luke instead. Luke hasn't texted or called me once since we exchanged numbers at Mary's when we had lunch after my dad's Will reading.
I wonder if he texts Bridget. He did say they hang out but are just friends. Does that mean "just friends" like him and I are? Does he bring her, or has he brought her to the places he brings me? I need to stop overthinking things. I've been doing a lot of that since my date with Luke last night already.
This is what getting involved with men does to me. It makes me an insecure little girl, and I lose focus. I'm not too fond of it, but at the same time, I can't help myself because Luke is so unbelievably infectious.
I skip grabbing something to eat from the kitchen and head straight to the shop instead. I sit in silence the whole way there, staring off in a blank state, not thinking about anything. I pull into the shop ten minutes after eight. I do not see Luke's truck or his Charger; I wonder where he is. I park my car and walk toward the shop.
I look around, but I do not see Luke anywhere. The guys are busy working on their tasks for the day. I continue through the shop back to the offices. Maureen's office is right when you come in, past the waiting room area. Ernie's office is shared with Maureen, and my dad's office is a little bit behind it, tucked back in its only area.
I haven't been to my dad's office yet, but I should go there sometime today. I'm scared to; I don't want to cry in front of all these people. I want to stay strong and be professional. My dad wouldn’t want it any other way.
Chapter Twenty
Maureen, Gladys, and I are working together again today. We dive right into more of Maureen's daily routine. We go over daily, weekly, and even monthly tasks. Then, we sit down with Maureen as she goes over how to use Google Calendar to schedule appointments, time off, vacations, etc. We also cover QuickBooks, where all business expenses, invoicing, and other financial information are kept.
Maureen tells me if I want to take any of this home, it is all programmed to my dad's laptop. I turn and look at the door to my dad's office. I get up and walk towards the door. Now is a better time than any to go inside it. I have a strange feeling that I will sense my dad's presence in it. I stop at the door to my dad's office then turn to Maureen and Gladys.
"I'm going to work from here today," I say.
They both look at me, smile, then turn back to what they were doing. I turn the handle and enter my dad's office. It smells like him. He always smelled like swisher sweets and pine needles. He'd smoke those little cigars to keep bugs away from him but mainly because he wanted to have something in his mouth. I close the door and look around. His office is a pigsty. There's paperwork everywhere, clothes, jackets, and boots piled up in every corner. You cannot even make out his couch under all the mess. His dusty trophies are displayed on shelves towards the ceiling from all the contests he's won with his classic car collection. Pictures on the wall from when his shop was built. The first cars he and Ernie worked on, and the first dollar the shop made in a frame from June 7th, 1989.
The shop looked so different back then. It's incredible how far it's come from these pictures. I make my way to my father's desk and see that it's cluttered as well but has pictures spread across it of me. One from when I was, I'm not sure how old I am here, but I am quite little sitting on the hood of his Cutlass. I look as if I just started sitting up in the picture. There are a few other pictures of me when I was younger too.
There is one graduation photo of me with his car and another picture