HIM

by J. M. Elliott

  HIM

  J.M. Elliott

  This book is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, occurrences, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by J. M. Elliott

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or portions thereof in any form whatsoever without the copyright owner's written permission to use quotations in a book review.

  First paperback edition: 2020

  Cover design by Coven Design

  Cover image by Michael Coven

  Interior Design by Classic Interior Design

  ISBN 987-0-578-79219-4 (paperback)

  Published by Short Mag Books

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  HER

  Chapter One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For my late Grandmother

  She was my biggest supporter and my number one fan. My grams would be incredibly proud of me for fulfilling a dream of mine.

  I love and miss you so much. I will always be your little Boo Bear!

  Chapter One

  A deer runs out in front of my car, bringing me back to reality. I forgot how much wildlife the scenic route has. The forest has grown a lot, and I find it hard to recognize the scenery around me. I have been in the city for so long that I have forgotten how beautiful the countryside is.

  I've been away for six years, college, then settling into my first job. I haven't made time to come home much. I've been so consumed in my own life to care about anyone else's. I wish the circumstances that finally pushed me to go home were different. If I had perhaps come home more often, my father might still be alive. I may have been there at the time he took his last breath.

  I wipe away a few tears that have tumbled down my cheek. I had so much fun with my father as a child. He taught me so much. Even though he was a single parent and it was us against the world, he was the best father anyone could ever ask for.

  I am still driving the same 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500 we rebuilt together back when I was in High School, Junior High, and part of Elementary. I remember rushing home from school to work on it with my dad every day. I did not think we were ever going to finish it. The mustang was gifted to me, freshly painted and in all its glory, as my graduation present.

  I TRAVEL DOWN MY FATHER’S DRIVEWAY; cars lined up on each side of the road. I pull up closer to his house; it hits me. My father is gone. He will not be greeting me when I get out of my vehicle, nor will he have that ridiculous smirk on his face that he used to have when I would pull up in the mustang. He loved this car, and he loved that I still drove it.

  I flip down the visor and check my makeup before opening my door. I dab under my eyes to fix my runny eyeliner, throw on some lip gloss, then toss my hair back in a low ponytail. I take a deep breath before I get out of my car. I pull down my black dress to try and release some of the wrinkles from sitting—what seemed like forever. I notice that there are a lot of people here. My father was very well-liked, so I can only smile, knowing they are all here to pay their respects. My heart sinks as I walk closer to his house.

  I notice a row of classic cars parked on the lawn. My father loved classic cars. He would search the countryside for one and restore it. It was his passion. He even opened a tiny shop just outside of town to devote his time to those rust buckets. He always said, why should they sit and rust? He looked at life so differently than most. He took the bad and saw the good, he took the old and saw the new, he took the lost and made them found.

  As I walk up the driveway, I can hear my father's friends and my family's chatter while conversing with one another about their lives and memories with my father. I see a group of men wearing the same shirts; gray collared shirts with short sleeves. There is red, white, and black writing on the back. Rob's Classic Restoration it reads. My dad's shop. Are they all his workers? I do not remember that there were this many when I left for college. All I remember is him, Ernie, my uncle Dave, and a couple of others that would come by and help from time to time. Now, there is at least twenty or so. I've missed a lot since I have been away.

  "Allison!" I hear my aunt squeal, as she rushes over to hug me.

  I smile and say, "Hey."

  "How was the drive?" she asks sympathetically.

  "It was good. Long but good," I reply. "Thank you so much for putting all of this together."

  "No problem, sweetie. That is what I am here for," she says with delight.

  My aunt is quite the social butterfly. She is always the first to put on a social gathering or a funeral in this case. I sit down, and I can feel everyone staring at me like I am a celebrity. As the pastor starts to talk about my father's wonderful characteristics, I cannot help but drift off into memories of my favorite times with him. We did everything together. We were the best of friends. We fished, hunted, and went camping. He taught me how to ride a bike, drive a car, change the oil on vehicles, and even beat up boys. My father was all I needed, and he never made me miss not having a mom. He played both roles quite well.

  Since I am not paying any attention to the eulogy, while off in la-la land reminiscing over years of memories with my father, I smile.

  "Allison!"

  My aunt snaps me back to reality.

  "We need to go over your father's will sometime this week. That is whenever you're ready."

  This week? I was not planning to stay here for too long. I need to get back to the city.

  I give her a polite nod as I walk behind my father's house to my old swing set. I grab hold of one of the rusty swings and think about how it is something he never restored
, considering he made restoring classic cars his life's work, but never restored a swing for me. I giggle and sit down on one of the old, worn out swings.

  The thought that you do not know what you've got until it's gone is all too real. I am unprepared to live in a world without my father. I am not ready to deal with what comes next. I miss my father and never thought this day would come. Now that it's here, I am clueless about how to embark on the next chapter of my life—a world without a dad.

  IN MY FATHER’S HOUSE, there is a festive atmosphere. People are consuming little sandwiches and other finger foods. A basket of cards is spilling out over a table near the fireplace and flowers litter the living room. There are so many people here that I do not know or remember. They give condolences and it is tough to strike up a conversation, so I say thank you and smile.

  I sit on the bay window watching people leave. I can hear my aunt being the hostess with the mostest as always. The same questions haunt me. What am I going to do now? I no longer have a father. Who will I discuss my problems with? Who will give me the worst advice ever on men and dating? Who will I call to discuss issues with my car?

  "Alicat!" I hear a gruff rumble.

  I turn to see one of the best people ever to be associated with my father. My dad's best friend, Ernie. I jump excitedly and wrap my arms around this husky fellow. He hasn't changed a wink.

  "Hey, ya, old fart. How the hell are ya?" I ask.

  "Oh, you know I'm doing as well as can be expected considering," he says softly.

  It's a time to celebrate my father's life, but I cannot help but feel excited about seeing Ernie after so long. He is wonderful man and the next best thing to a father.

  "Yeah, it's a sorrowful day. Thank you so much for being here. It means a lot to me. My father would be grateful," I say.

  He hugs me again then asks about my job and life in the big city. He tells me he still cannot believe I am grown. I am no longer that little tomboy hanging around, learning about cars. I smile as he brings back cherished childhood memories.

  A lot has changed since then. I am a woman now, and I haven't gotten my hands dirty under the hood of a car in a long time.

  "Maybe, I will come by the shop tomorrow and see what you guys have got going on. Get my hands dirty," I say to ease the mood.

  "We would love that. It's great to see you, Ali," he says before kissing me on the top of my head.

  I begin to gather the plates and cups as guests continue to leave. The mess is smaller than one would except. My aunt and uncle walk up to me as the last guest and family member leaves.

  "Are you okay here tonight?" my uncle asks.

  "You know you are welcome to come to stay with us," my aunt chimes in.

  "I am fine staying here. Thank you for the invite," I reply with a smile.

  It couldn’t be further from the truth. Am I fine? Am I okay staying in my childhood home where my father won't be walking through the front door after a day full of restoring old yeller?

  I hug my aunt and uncle then watch as they get into their vehicle. I walk back into the living room, perusing my dad's knickknacks and collectibles. I never paid much attention to them before, but now they hold meaning. They are tiny pieces of my dad.

  Maybe, I should take a shower, get this makeup off, get out of this dress. I head to the bathroom and pass a large photo in the hallway. It's new, and I don't remember seeing it before. The large frame holds small pictures, the center picture bigger than the rest. Each photo is of my father and me through the restoration process of my mustang. The images span from the day we found it out in bum fuck Egypt to the day he gave it to me, fully restored, for my High School graduation. The smiles on our faces are still contagious. Tears threaten and the moment is broken.

  As I step into the shower and the hot water hits my body, I lose it. Crumpling under the sobs, I rock back and forth. My dad is gone. He’s gone forever, and I am all alone.

  Chapter Two

  I open my eyes and look around, forgetting that I am back in my old room. The house feels still and quiet. I wish this were a dream, and my father would be downstairs at the kitchen table, with his coffee in his hand, looking through the classifieds for cars.

  I roll out of my bed and wander over to my closest. I know that there should still be some clothes here. I skim over my shirts, grabbing my worn and faded black Guns n' Roses t-shirt. They used to be my favorite band. I walk over to my dresser and grab a pair of faded jeans with some rips on the knees. I laugh, reminiscing how I used to dress this way on purpose.

  I gaze at myself in the mirror, feeling quite comfortable. What am I going to do with this mop on top of my head? Since I'm just going to the shop, it doesn't need to be perfect. I grab a trucker hat off my dresser, throw my long black hair up through the hat's back into a messy bun. I then grab a flannel and tie it around my waist before heading downstairs.

  I'm overly excited to head over to my father's shop. I cannot wait to see what my dad and the guys have been up to. I get my boots from the closet in the entryway that I lived in throughout High School, then I head out the door.

  I make my way down the driveway in my car. What better way to pass the time then to jam out to a little Sweet Child of Mine and Welcome to the Jungle. The drive is lovely and peaceful, despite bringing back a flood of memories from when I would drive to my dad's shop every day.

  I PULL UP TO THE SHOP, and I notice that nothing much has changed since the last time I saw it back in High School. I've been home a few times since I left but I never came out here. I lost my interest in the whole car scene.

  I walk around the back to one of the large garage doors. It's open, and I can see a gorgeous Chevelle parked right in front of it with the hood up. It looks incredible, with the candy apple red paint glistening in the morning sun. The chrome is sparkling from a new wax.

  As I walk closer, a shirtless man steps back from the hood. I don't remember any shirtless guys working for my dad the last time I was here. All the guys my dad had working with him were middle-aged like him and never worked shirtless, that much I recall.

  His skin is nicely tanned. His muscular arms are beaming with beads of sweat with a couple of tattoos covering his body but not overwhelming. If I knew my dad had guys that looked like this working for him, I might have come home more often.

  The shirtless guy catches me off guard when he notices me and asks, "Can I help you?"

  He's rather tall; his dark hair is under a backward black cap. He has a nicely chiseled body that I cannot stop staring at.

  "Ugh... no, I'm good, thanks," I reply rudely.

  However, I am more embarrassed as I walk past, knowing he caught me staring.

  "Ahh, hey. You can't just walk in there. It's employees only," he yells.

  I keep walking, ignoring his pleas. I can hear his footsteps as he comes up behind me.

  "Alicat!" Ernie screams in excitement as he sees me from across the shop.

  The shirtless guy comes to a halt. I turn around and look at him.

  "What?" I say harshly.

  He looks at me with a glare then turns to Ernie.

  "Sorry, man, she just walked in here," the shirtless guy says.

  I roll my eyes at him. He probably has no clue who I am.

  "It's perfectly fine, Luke. She's family," Ernie boasts.

  So, finally, shirtless wonder has a name.

  "Ali, this is our head mechanic Luke. Luke, this is Rob's daughter Ali."

  His demeanor seems to shift a little while grabbing the back of his neck and wiping it with a rag. He extends his hand. I extend my hand to meet his and give him a firm shake.

  "Nice to meet you," he says.

  I nod and give half a smile. I take my hand away quickly, wiping it on my pants. He smiles at Ernie then turns to walk away while glaring at me. I ignore his side-eye, not wanting to make it look like I am interested in watching his sexy ass walk away. I focus on Ernie to engage in a conversation.

  "Did you bring the Mustang wit
h you?" Ernie questions.

  Surprised by his question, I say, "Yeah, it's out in front."

  His eyes light up, and he smiles.

  "Luke, you have to see this thing."

  Luke stops at the doorway of the garage as Ernie walks over to him. They both walk out of the shop.

  Well, that was awkward. When did my dad hire a hot guy? How long has he been here? When did he become head mechanic? He must have been here a while to attain that title. Why did my dad never mention him to me? And where is his damn shirt?

  I make my way over to my car. Both Ernie and the shirtless guy are walking around it. They look like two giddy High School girls. Luke runs his hand down my vehicle from the front to the back, which makes me cringe. I want to open my mouth to yell some rude comment about not touching my car.

  Before I can get a word out, Ernie says, "Ali, pop the hood, will ya? I want to show Luke the engine work."