Lila Pham works at one of the busiest nail salons in the city; with business booming out of proportion and her fear of her friends and fellow classmates discovering her location of work is at bay, all seems to be going well.
Except for the fact tha...
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Today was a slow day at work.
The usual logs for a Friday were that many of our customers tend to come up to become beautify, spending hours and hundreds on their nails, toes, and everything in between. Since my uncle knew the difference that made our salon stand out—he racked up the supplies. He brought in facials, wine tasting, almost everything dealing with the exterior appearance of a woman—with the exception of hair.
And that's what made the business blew up. Since my uncle allowed since luxury, customers liked being spoiled and being pampered like a princess. They got that experience here. So, it was a bit of a surprise seeing that Friday out of all days were a slow day.
I lean back against my chair, raising my hand in the air as I examine my nails. It has been a while since I've done my nails, and the SNS looked like they needed a new set. My uncles and aunts were off gossip about the latest drama that I decided to spent some time at my table to do my own. I picked out a grey color with a tint of purple blend. I'm almost finished, only needing to wait five minutes for the top base to dry.
I don't do acrylics, that shit damages your nailbed.
"Lila!" I look to find the source of the sound; Kenji's figure approaching my desk as his eyes laid sharply on me. His strides allow him to get here quick, "you should wear an ao dai!"
I blink, "what?"
He sighs, dramatically might I add, "ao dais are like traditional Vietnamese dresses—"
"I know what they are, how do you know about it?"
"There's something called Google."
"And there's something called Vietnamese people—you pronounced it wrong."
"I'm Japanese, give me a break."
My eyes widen, I did not know that. "You are?"
"I didn't tell you?"
"No?"
"Oh well, can you give me a pedicure?"
The sudden shift in topics caught me off-guard, "what?"
He sighs once more, "a pedicure is a—"
I roll my eyes, waving my hand off at him. "Oh shut it and go take a seat at chair number eight."
He twists his heel and stroll over to the seat, plopping himself into the soft cushion immediately. I shake my head slightly, tapping my phone to read that the five minutes have already passed. I shove my phone back into the drawer of my desk and head over to Kenji, seeing him seating at the spa chair like a child waiting patiently for directions. His hands layered over each other as they laid pointedly on his lap, his eyes glancing around the nail salon in curiosity.
I pull out the pedicure linear, sighing heavily as I put on the water for him. I look up to meet his eyes as the water heated, "I didn't know you were Japanese."
