Love and Truth by Kathryn Vance-Perez Page B

bracelets.
    After my shower I blow dried my hair and applied moisturizer and body lotion. My pedicure still looked good, so I would wear my black Badgley Mischka peep-toe booties. I looked at everything that I have laid out. I’m going to be smoking hot in this outfit.
    I did my makeup a little more dramatic than usual, since we were going out to a club. After applying my foundation and powder, I used some dark gray eye shadow to create smoky eyes. I highlighted the area under my brows with a pale grey shimmery color and added a hint of black liner. I applied mascara and finished it off with a dark red lipstick. It wasn’t fire-engine red or tawdry red, but a deep burgundy. After pulling my hair up and lightly misting it with hair spray, I got dressed and brushed a little bronze shimmer on my collar bones and neck. I brushed a tad over my legs and spritzed on some perfume. I stood in front of the mirror and his words invaded my head.
    I see no girl standing here. You are a beautiful, sexy woman Nicole, don’t let anyone tell you different.
    I shook my head, as if to shake the thought away, but it remained. He was always lingering in my thoughts, breaking his way into my heart. I pushed him down and locked the key to my merry-go-round of thoughts and images. For now I’m going to go out and, in the words of my best friend, have a fun fuckingtastic time .
    I headed downstairs and found the Nakamuras sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper. I held my shoes in one hand and my silver clutch in the other. Mrs. Nakamura looked up and gasped.
    “Oh my dear. Nicole san. You’re absolutely stunning. You’re going to steal the karaoke stage tonight.”
    I blushed. “Thank you very much, Ms. Nakamura. You’re too sweet.”
    She smiled and looked me up and down. “Oh no, sweetheart. Trust me. You look great. It won’t matter if you can sing or not.” Little did she know that I could actually sing pretty well, I mean I’m no Alicia Keys or Adele but I could carry a tune ok enough to get by in a karaoke bar. Emiko walked in, looking like a different person. I had never seen her in makeup or nice clothes before. The girl standing before me right now looked straight from the heart of Tokyo’s fashion elite. Her outfit was like Gwen Stefani meets Rihanna. She wore black sheer tights with black Doc Martins, a red mini-skirt with a white tailored button-up, and she paired it with a skinny black silk tie. Her shiny, ebony hair was down and bone straight. She had blunt cut bangs and they rested along her eyebrows. She wore pale pink lip gloss and smoky eye shadow similar to mine, but with a hint of pink. Her porcelain skin looked even more gorgeous with a hint of foundation and powder. She looked like a model for a hip fashion designer.
    “Emiko, you look hot. I think you need to give me some fashion tips. That outfit is crazy.” I grabbed her and spun her around. “God, I’m jealous. You look great. We’re going to turn heads tonight.” We quickly said goodbye and were on our way.
    We stopped at a little Soba Shop to eat dinner before going to the club. Emiko said that you can’t visit Okinawa without eating Okinawa Soba. She ordered for us and we sat down. I immediately felt overdressed because the place was really casual. She explained what we were about to eat.
    “Okinawa soba is a soul food that is representative of Okinawa. The thick noodles are served in a bowl of clear, hot broth made by simmering dried bonito flakes and pork. The soba I ordered for us is topped with pork ribs and vegetables. It’s my favorite.”
    I didn’t want to say it, but the soba did not sound appetizing at all. “Sounds interesting,” I said. “I look forward to adding it to my list of new foods.”
    The waiter placed two large steaming bowls in front of us. He set huge, shovel–sized spoons beside each bowl.
    “ Tanoshimu !” he said cheerily. I smiled and nodded, having no idea what he just said. “Enjoy,” Emiko said, laughing.