Vacant place for death[JENSOO]

3

After clarifying whose guest I was, the guard looked at my car with envy and let me into the parking lot. My mother instilled good manners in me from birth, and therefore I perfectly understood: No matter how much I would like to continue the friendly communication with Jennie, the rules of etiquette require me to take my leave.

Without turning off the engine, I got out of the car and casually leaned on the hood.

My car is worthy of attention, and I have long been accustomed to how people react to it, but when Jennie appeared in the doorway whistled admiringly, I smiled contentedly.

-I didn't know that journalists earn so much.- Focusing all her attention on the car, the girl commented in surprise.

-It was left to me by my dad.

It was his dream.

He found it somewhere in the cemetery of cars, dragged her home and intended to return her to her former splendor... but did not have time. Dad passed away unexpectedly and very early. But I still remember how his eyes lit up, how he, not having a special love for computers, drew pictures of what the restored car should look like by hand on pieces of paper.

And that was my way of saying goodbye to him.

I was delirious with the idea of restoring the car.

And Rose and Lisa, seeing how important it was to me, helped in any way they could. We killed a huge amount of time, money and effort to do what he dreamed of. Rose manually went through the whole machine, down to the very last screw. We spent hours studying technical diagrams, digging on the Internet in search of detailed photos of the salons of classic car models. I traveled half the country chasing after the original wheels, gearbox, steering three-spoke wheel made of polished mahogany and other parts hidden under the hood.

Lisa, who doesn't understand a damn thing about technology, haggled victoriously on e-bay for every original foot mat that suits us to the color of the interior.

And if mom, after dad's death, was still hiding in her work, earning the title of "iron lady", I, after mourning my father, received the most amazing car in the world: a 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT 500 Eleonora, in lapis lazuli metallic with two black stripes in the middle of the body. And the opportunity to enjoy adrenaline at a speed of one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour.

Blinking, I banished the sudden rush of memories.

As if spellbound, Jennie approached the car and, without taking her eyes off it, in a loving caress, gently moved her finger along the body: along the hood, up the edge of the roof and further down to the trunk. She looked charmed, and it seemed to me that she was doing some kind of magic with my car.

This is my car!

But, God, how she looks at her, how she caresses...

Feeling my throat go dry, I swallowed nervously.

I was jealous of my car... Even worse, I was jealous of it...

-You have an amazing car, Jisoo.- Looking up from the car, Jennie looked up at me and smiled a little.

-Yes.- I said hoarsely.- It is my great love.

-It was lucky.- The girl stated quietly. I blinked, dumbfounded. Embarrassment flickered across Jennie's face like a barely noticeable shadow, and I didn't even have time to realize it.- Your dictaphone.- She said indifferently, the cold settled in her eyes again.

Well, damn, that's how to understand it all?

-Well. - Taking the thing, I threw it through the open window on the passenger seat.- So where should I send the text of your interview?