Crazy Rich Asians (27 page)

But now it was all beginning to make sense. There had always been a certain quality
to Nick, a quality Rachel was unable to articulate even to herself, but it set him
apart from anyone she had ever known. The way he interacted with people. The way he
leaned against a wall. He was always comfortable fading into the background, but in
that way, he stood out. She had chalked it up to his looks and his formidable intellect.
Someone as blessed as Nick had nothing to prove. But now she knew there was more to
it. This was a boy who had grown up in a place like Tyersall Park. Everything else
in the world paled by comparison. Rachel longed to know more about his childhood,
about his intimidating grandmother, about the people she had met last night, but she
didn’t want to start the morning peppering him with a million questions, not when
she had the whole summer to discover this new world.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Nick said, finishing his call and noticing that Rachel was
awake. He loved the way she looked when she was just waking up, with her long hair
so alluringly disheveled, and the sleepy, blissful smile she always gave when she
first opened her eyes.

“What time is it?” Rachel asked, stretching her arms against the padded headboard.

“It’s about nine thirty,” he said, striding over and slipping under the sheets, wrapping
his arms around her from behind, and pulling her body against his. “Spooning time!”
he declared playfully, kissing the nape of her neck several times. Rachel turned around
to face him and began to trace a line from his forehead to his chin.

“Did anyone ever tell you …” she began.

“… that I have the most perfect profile?” Nick said, finishing
her question with a laugh. “I only hear that every single day from my beautiful girlfriend,
who is clearly deranged. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log. Last night really took it out of me.”

“I’m so proud of you. I know it must have been exhausting having to meet so many people,
but you really charmed the socks off everyone.”

“Arggh. That’s what you say. I don’t think that aunt of yours in the Chanel suit felt
the same way. Or your uncle Harry—I should have spent a full year studying up on Singapore
history, and politics, and art—”

“Come on, no one was expecting you to be a scholar of Southeast Asian affairs. Everyone
just enjoyed meeting you.”

“Even your grandmother?”

“Definitely! In fact, she’s invited us to come stay next week.”

“Really?” Rachel said. “We’re going to stay at Tyersall Park?”

“Of course! She liked you, and she wants to get to know you better.”

Rachel shook her head. “I can’t believe I made
any
sort of impression on her.”

Nick took a stray lock of hair hanging down her forehead and gently tucked it behind
her ear. “First of all, you have to realize that my grandmother is exceedingly shy,
and sometimes that comes across as being standoffish, but she is an astute observer
of people. Second, you don’t
need
to make any sort of impression on her. Just being yourself is quite enough.”

Based on what she’d gleaned from everyone else, she wasn’t so sure about that, but
she decided not to worry about it for the moment. They lay entwined in bed, listening
to the sounds of splashing water and children shrieking as they did cannonballs into
the pool. Nick suddenly sat up. “You know what we haven’t done yet? We haven’t ordered
from room service. You know that’s one of the things I love most about staying in
a hotel! Come on, let’s see how good their breakfast is.”

“You read my mind! Hey, does Colin’s family really own this hotel?” Rachel asked,
picking up the leather-bound menu by the side of the bed.

“Yes, they do. Did Colin tell you?”

“No, Peik Lin did. I mentioned yesterday that we were going to Colin’s wedding, and
her whole family almost had a fit.”

“Why?” Nick asked, momentarily perplexed.

“They were just very excited, that’s all. You didn’t tell me that Colin’s wedding
was going to be
such
a big deal.”

“I didn’t think it was going to be.”

“It’s apparently front-page news in every newspaper and magazine in Asia.”

“You’d think the newspapers would have better things to write about, with everything
that’s happening in the world.”

“Come on, nothing sells like a big fancy wedding.”

Nick sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the wood-beamed ceiling. “Colin
is so stressed. I’m really worried about him. A big wedding is the last thing he wanted,
but I guess it was unavoidable. Araminta and her mum just took over, and from what
I hear, it’s going to be quite a production.”

“Well, thankfully I can just sit in the audience,” Rachel smirked.

“You can, but I’ll be up there in the middle of the three-ring circus. That reminds
me, Bernard Tai is organizing the bachelor party, and it seems he’s planned quite
the extravaganza. We’re all meeting at the airport and going to some secret destination.
Would you mind terribly if I abandoned you for a couple of days?” Nick asked, stroking
her arm lightly.

“Don’t worry about me—you do your duty. I’ll do some exploring on my own, and Astrid
and Peik Lin both offered to show me around this weekend.”

“Well, here’s another option—Araminta called this morning, and she really
does
want you to come to her bachelorette party this afternoon.”

Rachel pursed her lips for a moment. “Don’t you think she was only being polite? I
mean, we just met. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird if I show up to a party of her close
friends?”

“Don’t look at it like that. Colin’s my best friend, and Araminta’s a big social butterfly.
I think it’s going to be a large group of girls, so it will be fun for you. Why don’t
you call her and talk it over?”

“Okay, but let’s order some of those Belgian waffles with maple butter first.”

Eleanor

Lorena Lim was talking on her cell phone in Mandarin when Eleanor entered the breakfast
room. She sat down across from Lorena, taking in the hazy morning view from this glass
aerie. Every time she visited, the city seemed to have doubled in size.
^*
But like a gangly teenager in the middle of a growth spurt, many of the hastily erected
buildings—barely a decade old—were already being torn down to make way for shinier
towers, like this place Lorena had recently bought. It was shiny all right, but sorely
lacking in the taste department. Every surface in this breakfast room, for instance,
was covered in a particularly putrid shade of orange marble. Why did all these Mainland
developers think that more marble was a good thing? As Eleanor tried to imagine the
countertops in a neutral Silestone, a maid placed a bowl of steaming fish porridge
in front of her. “No, no porridge for me. Can I have some toast with marmalade?”

The maid did not appear to understand Eleanor’s attempt at Mandarin.

Lorena finished her call, flipped off her phone, and said, “Aiyah, Eleanor, you’re
in China. At least try some of this delicious porridge.”

“Sorry, I can’t eat fish first thing in the morning—I’m used to my morning toast,”
Eleanor insisted.

“Look at you! You complain your son is too Westernized, and yet you can’t even enjoy
a typical Chinese breakfast.”

“I’ve been married to a Young for too many years,” Eleanor said simply.

Lorena shook her head. “I just spoke to my
lobang.
^†
We are going to meet him in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton tonight at eight, and he
is going to escort us to the person with the inside information about Rachel Chu.”

Carol Tai swept into the breakfast room in a luxuriant lilac peignoir. “Who are these
people you are taking Eleanor to meet? Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Aiyah, don’t worry. It will be just fine.”

“So what should we do until then? I think Daisy and Nadine want to go to that enormous
mall by the train station,” Eleanor said.

“You’re talking about Luohu. I have an even better place to take all of you first.
But it must remain top secret, okay?” Carol whispered conspiratorially.

After the ladies had breakfasted and beautified themselves for the day, Carol took
the group to one of the many anonymous office buildings in downtown Shenzhen. A lanky
youth standing at the curb of the building, who seemed to be texting away furiously
on his cell phone, looked up when he saw the two late-model Mercedes sedans pull up
and a bevy of women emerge.

“Are you Jerry?” Carol asked in Mandarin. She squinted at the boy in the scorching
noonday sun, noticing that he was playing a computer game on his cell phone.

The young man scrutinized the group of ladies for a minute, making sure they weren’t
undercover police. Yes, these were obviously a bunch of rich wives and, judging from
the way they looked, they were from Singapore. These Singaporeans dressed in their
own distinct hodgepodge of styles and wore less jewelry since they were
always so scared of being robbed. Hong Kong women tended to dress alike and sport
huge rocks, while the Japanese ladies with their sun visors and fanny packs looked
like they were on the way to the golf course. He gave them a big toothy grin and said,
“Yes, I’m Jerry! Welcome, ladies, welcome. Follow me, please.”

He led them through the smoked-glass doors of the building, down a long corridor,
and through a back door. They were suddenly outdoors again on a side street, across
from which stood a smaller office tower that looked like it was either still under
construction or about to be condemned. The lobby inside was pitch-black, its only
source of light coming from the door that Jerry had just propped open. “Be careful,
please,” he warned, as he led them through the dark space littered with boxes of granite
tiles, plywood, and construction equipment.

“Are you sure this is safe, Carol? I wouldn’t have worn my new Roger Vivier heels
if I knew we were coming to a place like this,” Nadine complained nervously. At any
moment she felt like she was going to trip over something.

“Trust me, Nadine, nothing is going to happen. You will be thanking me in a minute,”
Carol replied calmly.

A doorway finally led to a dimly lit elevator vestibule, and Jerry jabbed repeatedly
at the decayed elevator call button. Finally the service elevator arrived. The ladies
all crammed in, cowering together to avoid accidentally brushing against the dusty
walls. On the seventeenth floor, the elevator opened to reveal a bright, fluorescent-lit
vestibule. There were two steel double doors on either end of the space, and Eleanor
couldn’t help but notice two sets of closed-circuit cameras installed on the ceiling.
A very skinny girl in her early twenties emerged from one of the doors. “Hello, hello,”
she said in English, nodding at the ladies. She inspected them briefly, and then said
in a surprisingly stern, staccato tone, “Please turn off phone, no camera allowed.”
She moved toward an intercom, which she spoke into in a rapid-fire dialect that none
of them could discern, and a set of secure locks clicked open loudly.

The ladies walked through the door and abruptly found themselves in a sumptuously
designed boutique. The floor was polished pink marble, the walls upholstered in pale
pink moiré fabric, and from where they stood, they could peer down the corridor into
some of the adjacent showrooms. Each room was devoted to a different
luxury brand, with floor-to-ceiling display cabinets crammed full of the most current
handbags and accessories. The designer treasures seemed to glow under the carefully
positioned halogen spotlights, and well-attired shoppers filled each showroom, eagerly
perusing the merchandise.

“This place is known for the very best fakes,” Carol declared.

“Holy Jesus!” Nadine shrieked excitedly, while Carol glared at her for using the Lord’s
name in vain.

“Italy this side, French the other side. What you want?” the skinny girl asked.

“Do you have any handbags by Goyard?” Lorena asked.

“Hiyah! Yes, yes, everybody want Goya right now. We have best Goya,” she said, leading
Lorena into one of the showrooms. Behind the counter were rows and rows of the latest
must-have Goyard tote bag in every color imaginable, and a Swiss couple stood in the
middle of the room testing the wheels on one of the Goyard carry-on suitcases.

Daisy whispered into Eleanor’s ear, “See, the only people shopping here are tourists
like us. These days, the Mainlanders only want the real thing.”

“Well, for once I agree with the Mainlanders. I’ve never understood why anyone would
want a fake designer handbag. What is the point of pretending to carry one if you
can’t afford it?” Eleanor sniffed.

“Aiyah, Eleanor, if you or I carried one of these, who would ever think it was fake?”
Carol said. “Everyone knows we can afford the real thing.”

“Well, these are
absolutely identical
to the real thing. Not even the people who work at Goyard would be able to tell,”
Lorena said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Just look at the stitching, the embossing,
the label.”