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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Fuck!
I was late.
Extremely late.
The simple thought of my uncle sends shivers down my spine, with his blazing eyes settled on me and scowl me on my values of upholding my part-time job. It didn't help that four others of my uncles and aunts happened to work at the same nail salon, and that's not even mentioning their married significant other.
Oh, they're totally going to snitch to my mom.
I shove the metal door open, busting my way into the break room and praying from the lucks of the God that it wasn't as busy as it was yesterday. If there's a slight chance that the salon isn't as packed as the other day, my uncle may be more open to letting me off the hook and not—Oh, fuck, it's busy.
"Lila?" I turn around to find my aunt Holly. She was the one married to my uncle, Kevin, who owns the store. (But in truth be told, she practically runs the place.) "Con ở đâu nãy chừ vậy? [Where have you been?!]"
"Đang bận à? [Is it busy?]" I asks sheepishly, to which she widen her eyes at me like I had lost my sense of vision and nod her head frantically.
"Khách đang đợi [The customers are waiting!]" She place her hands on my back, ushering me out of the door when I grabbed onto the doorway. I haven't even changed out of my jacket or gotten to my uniform yet.
"đợi! [Wait!]" I screamed, slipping out of my aunt's grip. I reached to the side, next to the lockers, "cho con lấy đồ con đã [let me get my stuff first!]" I grabbed my tray, containing all of my needed necessaries to do a pedicure. I turn back to my aunt, who crossed her arms, tapping her feet impatiently. "Okay, khách nào [okay, which customer?]"
"Thằng bằng áo den, [the boy wearing a black shirt.]" She pulls me out of the break room, and pointed towards the guy with an older woman, sitting side-by-side with one another in the twin pedicure chairs. I sigh, moving pass my aunt as I shrugged off my North Face jacket and grabbed a pair of gloves before finding a large towel.
I set down the tray besides me, placing the towel on the footrest pad. Something felt missing and as I slipped on my gloves, the faint air presented on my lips reminded me that I forgot my mask.
And not only my mask—my apron.
"Fuck," I mumble under my breath as I shake my head. My co-worker, Jean besides me was laughing at my foul language, doing the pedicure for the older woman. I look up, about to greet the fellow gentleman when I'm greeted with dark, practically black eyes.
Oh shit, I know him somewhere.
It took a moment for me to grab a hold of his name, but I scanned over everything else. He was Asian, that much was obvious. With dark brown eyes—which could be mistakenly taken for black at this rate—and dark brows that framed his features, he wasn't bad looking. His height seems tall, but there was no way to confirm with his presence sitting down against the leather chairs. Broad shoulders pressed against the massage chair, and with the tight tee shirt, it reveals his muscular arms.
