Mexican Kimono Read Online Free Page B

great! You’ve lost weight!’
    Can you imagine? Who says that? Instead, as the consummate together person I am, I casually strolled to the empty chair beside old loose lips and smiled in a friendly and endearing manner that I totally didn’t feel.
    ‘Gemma, great to see you again. Blue hair, wow, how did you manage to get it that colour?’ Notice I didn’t say anything about her hair looking great. I don’t lie to friends outright like that, unlike some people I know (Kylie).
    ‘Do you like it? Kylie did it for me. She’s great with hair, isn’t she?’
    ‘Yeah, I love it. Kylie, hmm, don’t use her myself.’ I didn’t have the heart to say blue hair was so 1990s. I mean she really should know these things, being a performer and all.
    So, how are you? How’s that fabulous advertising job of yours?’
    OK, so I may have bent the truth slightly about my actual role inside the office. ‘Oh, you know how it is, I could only climb the corporate ladder so far before I need to expand to somewhere bigger and better like, you know, Tokyo.’
    She nodded in rapt approval. ‘Really? So are you off overseas then?’
    ‘Well, not at this stage. I thought I’d take a few weeks off, do some yoga, eat lentils, you know, de-stress from that whole pressurised environment. I tell you, it was killing me. It was work, work, work. Deadlines, KPIs, budgets, bonuses, and boys. It’s a man’s world out there in corporate-land. It’s tough going being one of the players when you’re a young, good-looking woman. I must say, I envy you. Being able to turn up unwashed, ungroomed, with just a guitar. Lucky you. Lucky, lucky you.’
    She started laughing, although I’m not sure what at. ‘You’re so funny! Kylie was telling me your boss sent you out
clothes
shopping for him!’
    Thankfully, Hoang walked over to me at that moment. Do you see what I mean about Kylie? She can’t help but spread malicious gossip around. It’s the bloody hairdresser in her. Now I was just going to have to spill one of her secrets.
    ‘Hoang. How are you?’ I said in my best sultry voice.
    ‘Very good today. What you want today, Miss?’
    ‘The usual, Hoang, plus a full set of French tips.’
    ‘OK, French tips no problem. What’s the usual, Miss?’
    Coy, very coy. ‘Ha, ha, Hoang. You know, the usual pedicure!
    Last time you said my toes reminded you of your long-lost love, Quelo.’
    ‘Ah, yes, Quelo. My bullmastiff. Had to be put down after he ate our tax bill. All the ink poisoned him. How I miss him!’
    Hoang became emotional while I was still reeling over the fact he likened my toes to a friggin’ dog’s! Although, when I thought about it realistically, I could see he didn’t mean my feet visually, he meant metaphorically. He loved me, he loved Quelo. I could see that.
    Hoang proceeded to fill up the foot spa and turned my chair massager on to ‘mile-high-club’ mode. It vibrated the bejesus out of me. I knew what he was thinking. The quicker, the harder, the faster – the better. Men. They were as transparent as the defence in the Stapler-Gate affair.
    I relaxed into my chair and closed my eyes as Hoang worked his magic. The vibrations of the chair worked all the suddenly unemployed stress right out of my body. Kylie said that sitting in those chairs for thirty minutes or more was equivalent to running on the treadmill for five kilometres. Something about the way they work every muscle in your body. I tried to get a manicure or pedicure every week after I heard that. Incidental exercise, she called it.
    I remembered ‘old blue hair’ next to me and figured since I’d invited her here I should really put some effort into some sort of conversation.
    ‘How’s the band going?’ I asked.
    ‘Great! We start touring next month. I’m so excited. We start here in Perth and work our way around Australia. It will be great to see the whole country, although we won’t have much time for sightseeing. It’s a gig, then back on the bus