Love...Among The Stars: Book 4 in the Love...Series (Love Series) by Nick Spalding Page B
Authors: Nick Spalding
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comprehensively sour, and left me conducting a vampire based pantomime for a hundred publishing people. I turn to the mirrors behind the wash basins and let out a sharp intake of breath as I am confronted once again with just how bloody yellow my face truly is. They had better have lowered the lights out there again, otherwise I'm not coming out until everyone else has left.
The sound of one of the cubicle doors being unlocked makes me jump. From it emerges a small oriental woman, who I remember as the wife of the Japanese fellow who's just bailed out Watermill Publishing. She is wearing a smart black power suit, and looks deadly serious about the entire universe. She regards me quizzically for a second.
'Mrs Newman. I am pleased to meet you,' she says in perfect English.
'Very pleased to meet you too, Mrs... ' I'm going to have to take a punt at it. I just hope I get it right. '…Mrs Sakamura?'
I don't think I pronounce it correctly, but she doesn't take me task on it. 'How are you feeling?' she asks.
I wave a hand. 'Oh, you know...' I reply, as if every woman on the planet knows what it's like to stain your face yellow with bad fake tan and pretend you're Nosferatu just to cover up your embarrassment.
'I am sorry I missed your speech,' she apologises.
'No problem. No problem at all!'
The Japanese lady then looks up at the bright lighting above, then back down at me. 'Your condition has improved, it seems. We were concerned when Mr Newman had the lights in the main room lowered.'
Now, there are two ways I can go with this. I can either continue to bullshit, and dig myself an even deeper hole, or I can stop messing about and be honest. This little woman looks as sharp as a tack, so I choose not to drag the charade out. 'I haven't got anything wrong with me,' I admit. 'I just made a mess of using some very expensive fake tan, and it stained my face this colour.'
She folds her arms. 'Ah, I see.'
I offer her a lopsided smile. 'I've gone through the entire day with this horrible yellow face.' I sigh again. 'I look like Miss Pacman.' I look back up at Mrs Sakamura. 'I guess you'd know about that though,' I add, with a rueful chuckle.
Right, before we go any further Mum, let's get one thing really clear:
I was not making a reference to the colour of her face.
I was making reference to the fact that Miss Pacman was a video game invented in Japan .
It may sound like I am suggesting that this woman knows what it is like to go through life with a horrible yellow face, but what I am actually saying is that her being Japanese means she would of course be familiar with Miss Pacman.
I am not a hideous racist who should be locked up at the nearest opportunity!
Good . Now that we've got that sorted out between us, let's see if Mrs Sakamura realises the same thing, shall we?
'What did you say?' she utters in shocked disbelief.
'What?'
'About my face?'
'What?'
'You think I have a horrible yellow face?!'
' What ?'
I replay the last ten seconds in my head and immediately realise the extent of my faux pas. I throw both hands up and start waving them frantically back and forth, shaking my head as I do so. 'No! No! I didn't mean... I wasn't saying... '
Oh God! What the hell do I say!?
'I don't think you have a horrible yellow face!' I say, and try to smile apologetically. The terror won't let me though, and I just look like I'm having some kind of seizure. 'I think your face is a lovely shade of yellow!'
Mrs Sakamura's face darkens even more.
'No! No! I didn't mean that either!'
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
'It's just that Miss Pacman is Japanese, isn't she? And you... you are also Japanese. And, and all I meant was, was that you would know about Miss Pacman because you are Japanese.'
'I'm Korean.'
Oh fuck me. My life is over.
My eyes go wide. My mouth contorts into a tight circle of horror. My buttocks clench and my toes curl. 'I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I just thought you were Japanese because your husband
The sound of one of the cubicle doors being unlocked makes me jump. From it emerges a small oriental woman, who I remember as the wife of the Japanese fellow who's just bailed out Watermill Publishing. She is wearing a smart black power suit, and looks deadly serious about the entire universe. She regards me quizzically for a second.
'Mrs Newman. I am pleased to meet you,' she says in perfect English.
'Very pleased to meet you too, Mrs... ' I'm going to have to take a punt at it. I just hope I get it right. '…Mrs Sakamura?'
I don't think I pronounce it correctly, but she doesn't take me task on it. 'How are you feeling?' she asks.
I wave a hand. 'Oh, you know...' I reply, as if every woman on the planet knows what it's like to stain your face yellow with bad fake tan and pretend you're Nosferatu just to cover up your embarrassment.
'I am sorry I missed your speech,' she apologises.
'No problem. No problem at all!'
The Japanese lady then looks up at the bright lighting above, then back down at me. 'Your condition has improved, it seems. We were concerned when Mr Newman had the lights in the main room lowered.'
Now, there are two ways I can go with this. I can either continue to bullshit, and dig myself an even deeper hole, or I can stop messing about and be honest. This little woman looks as sharp as a tack, so I choose not to drag the charade out. 'I haven't got anything wrong with me,' I admit. 'I just made a mess of using some very expensive fake tan, and it stained my face this colour.'
She folds her arms. 'Ah, I see.'
I offer her a lopsided smile. 'I've gone through the entire day with this horrible yellow face.' I sigh again. 'I look like Miss Pacman.' I look back up at Mrs Sakamura. 'I guess you'd know about that though,' I add, with a rueful chuckle.
Right, before we go any further Mum, let's get one thing really clear:
I was not making a reference to the colour of her face.
I was making reference to the fact that Miss Pacman was a video game invented in Japan .
It may sound like I am suggesting that this woman knows what it is like to go through life with a horrible yellow face, but what I am actually saying is that her being Japanese means she would of course be familiar with Miss Pacman.
I am not a hideous racist who should be locked up at the nearest opportunity!
Good . Now that we've got that sorted out between us, let's see if Mrs Sakamura realises the same thing, shall we?
'What did you say?' she utters in shocked disbelief.
'What?'
'About my face?'
'What?'
'You think I have a horrible yellow face?!'
' What ?'
I replay the last ten seconds in my head and immediately realise the extent of my faux pas. I throw both hands up and start waving them frantically back and forth, shaking my head as I do so. 'No! No! I didn't mean... I wasn't saying... '
Oh God! What the hell do I say!?
'I don't think you have a horrible yellow face!' I say, and try to smile apologetically. The terror won't let me though, and I just look like I'm having some kind of seizure. 'I think your face is a lovely shade of yellow!'
Mrs Sakamura's face darkens even more.
'No! No! I didn't mean that either!'
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
'It's just that Miss Pacman is Japanese, isn't she? And you... you are also Japanese. And, and all I meant was, was that you would know about Miss Pacman because you are Japanese.'
'I'm Korean.'
Oh fuck me. My life is over.
My eyes go wide. My mouth contorts into a tight circle of horror. My buttocks clench and my toes curl. 'I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I just thought you were Japanese because your husband
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