Crazy Rich Asians (35 page)

“Where the hell were you on Friday night?” Harry barked at his son-in-law. “If you
were doing your proper duty escorting her, this wouldn’t have happened—”

“Daddy, stop it!” Astrid cut in.

“I was working late, sir,” Michael said as calmly as possible.

“Working late, working late. You’re always working late these days, aren’t you?” Harry
muttered contemptuously.

“Enough, Daddy, we’re leaving now. Come on, Michael, I want to go home,” Astrid insisted,
getting out of the bed.

The minute they arrived home, Astrid put into motion the plan she had spent the past
two days devising. She went into the kitchen and gave the cook and the maid the day
off. Then she instructed Evangeline to take Cassian to play at the beach house in
Tanah Merah. Michael was surprised by the sudden flurry of activity, but he assumed
that Astrid just wanted some peace and quiet for the rest of the day. As soon as everyone
was out of the flat and Astrid heard the elevator doors shut, she fixed her gaze on
Michael. They were
completely alone now, and she could suddenly hear her heartbeat fill her eardrums.
She knew that if she didn’t say the words she had carefully rehearsed in her head
RIGHT NOW, she would lose her nerve.

“Michael, I want you to know what happened on Friday night,” she began.

“You already told me, Astrid. It doesn’t matter—I’m just glad that you and Cassian
are okay,” Michael said.

“No, no,” Astrid said. “I want you to know the
real
reason I got into the car wreck.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked, confused.

“I’m talking about how I became so distracted that I almost got our son killed,” Astrid
said, a note of anger hanging in her voice. “It
was
my fault. It was far too late, and too dark, especially those narrow lanes around
the Botanic Gardens. I shouldn’t have been driving, but I was. And all I could think
about was where
you
were and what
you
were doing.”

“What do you mean? I was home,” Michael said matter-of-factly. “What were you so worried
about?”

Astrid took a deep breath, and before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling
out. “I know you think I’m some sort of delicate creature, but I’m a lot tougher than
you think. I need you to be honest with me, completely honest. I saw a text message
on your phone last month, Michael.
The dirty one
. I know you’ve been in Hong Kong when you were supposed to be in northern China—I
found your dinner receipt from Petrus. And I know all about the charm bracelet you
bought from Stephen Chia.”

Michael sat down, the color draining from his face. Astrid watched him slump into
the sofa, his body language speaking volumes.
He was guilty as hell
. She felt a surge of confidence that compelled her to ask the question she never
imagined she would ever ask: “Have you been … are you having an affair?”

Michael sighed and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry
to have hurt you and Cassian. You’re right—the car accident was my fault.”

“Just tell me everything, Michael, and I … and I will try to understand,” Astrid said
softly, sitting down on the ottoman across from him, a calmness coming over her. “No
more lies, Michael. Tell me, who is this woman you’ve been seeing?”

Michael could not bring himself to look up at his wife. He knew
the time had finally come to say what he had been struggling to say for so long. “I’m
so sorry, Astrid. I don’t want to cause you any more pain. I’ll go.”

Astrid looked at him in surprise. “Michael, I’m asking you to tell me what happened.
I want to know everything, so we can put this all behind us.”

Michael got up from the sofa abruptly. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“Why not?”

Michael turned away from Astrid and stared past the sliding glass doors of the balcony.
He stared out at the trees lining Cavenagh Road, looking like giant bushy stalks of
broccoli from up here. The trees marked the perimeter of the grounds that surrounded
Istana, and beyond that, Fort Canning Park, River Valley Road, and then the Singapore
River. He wished he had the power to fly off the balcony, to fly toward the river
and away from this pain. “I … I’ve hurt you too much, and now I don’t know if I can
stop myself from hurting you even more,” he finally said.

Astrid was silent for a moment, trying to decipher what he meant. “Is it because you’re
in love with this woman?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “Or is it because
you had another child with her?”

Michael smiled mysteriously. “What, does your father have me under surveillance or
something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A friend just happened to see you in Hong Kong, that’s all.
Who is the boy? And who is this woman you’ve been seeing?”

“Astrid, the boy and the woman are beside the point. You and I … it isn’t working
for us anymore. It hasn’t really
ever
worked. We’ve just been pretending it has,” Michael said emphatically, feeling that
these were his first truly honest words to her in a very long time.

Astrid stared at him, stunned. “How can you say that?”

“Well, you want me to be honest, so I’m being honest. Your father was right—I haven’t
been doing my duty as a husband. I have been too consumed with my job, working my
ass off trying to get this company off the ground. And you—you are consumed by your
family obligations and traveling around the world fifty times a year. What kind of
marriage do we have? We’re not happy,” Michael declared.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I’ve been happy. I was very
happy until the day I discovered that damn text message,” Astrid insisted, getting
up and pacing around the room.

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure you’ve
truly
been happy? I think you’re deceiving yourself, Astrid.”

“I see what you’re doing, Michael. You’re just trying to find an easy way out of this.
You’re trying to blame me, to make this all about me, when
you’re
the one who’s guilty. Look, I’m not the one who broke our wedding vows. I’m not the
one who cheated,” Astrid seethed, her shock transforming into rage.

“Okay, I’m guilty. I admit it. I admit that I am a cheater. Happy now?”

“I’m not happy, and it will take me some time, but I’ll learn to deal with it,” Astrid
said matter-of-factly.

“Well, I can’t deal with it anymore!” Michael moaned. “So I’m going to pack.”

“What’s all this packing business? Who’s asking you to leave? Do you think I want
to kick you out of the house just because you cheated on me? Do you think I’m that
simpleminded, that I think I’m the first woman whose husband ever had an affair? I’m
not going
anywhere
, Michael. I’m standing right here, trying to work through this with you, for the
sake of our marriage. For the sake of our son.”

“Astrid, when have you ever really done anything for the sake of your son? I think
Cassian will be much better off growing up with two parents who are happy, rather
than with parents who are trapped in a bad marriage,” Michael argued.

Astrid was perplexed. Who was this man standing in front of her? Where had he suddenly
procured all this psychobabble? “It’s because of that woman, isn’t it? I see … you
don’t want to be part of this family anymore. You want to live with this … this whore,
don’t you?” she cried.

Michael took a deep breath before answering. “Yes. I don’t want to live with you anymore.
And I think that for both our sakes I should move out today.” He knew that if he was
ever going to leave, this was his chance. He began to walk toward the bedroom. Where
was his large suitcase?

Astrid stood helplessly by the doorway to the bedroom, wondering what had just happened.
This was not how it was supposed to go. She watched numbly as Michael began to grab
his clothes and throw them haphazardly into his black Tumi suitcase. She had wanted
to
buy him a suite of Loewe luggage when they were in Barcelona last year, but he insisted
on something cheaper and more practical. Now she had the distinct feeling of being
trapped in a dream. None of this could really be happening. The fight they just had.
The car accident. Michael’s philandering. None of it. Her husband wasn’t really leaving.
There was no way he was leaving. This was just a nightmare. She hugged herself, pinching
the flesh around her elbow repeatedly, willing herself to wake up.

Nick

Nick ran his fingers along the leather-bound spines perfectly arranged on the neoclassical
mahogany bookcase.
Lieutenant Hornblower. Islands in the Stream. Billy Budd
. All nautical-themed titles. He picked out a volume by Knut Hamsun that he had never
heard of,
August
, and settled into one of the overstuffed club chairs, hoping he would be undisturbed
for a while. Cracking open the stiff embossed cover, he could tell at once that its
pages, like most of the others here, had probably never seen the light of day. Hardly
surprising, considering that this sumptuous library was tucked away on the lower deck
of a 388-foot yacht that boasted such distractions as a ballroom, a karaoke lounge
for Bernard’s dad, a chapel for his mother, a casino, a sushi bar complete with a
full-time sushi chef from Hokkaido, two swimming pools, and an outdoor bowling alley
on the uppermost deck that also converted into a runway for fashion shows.

Nick glanced at the door in dismay as footsteps could be heard coming down the spiral
staircase just outside the library. If he’d been smarter, he would have locked the
door behind him. Much to Nick’s relief, it was Mehmet who peered in. “Nicholas Young—why
am I not surprised to find you in the only intellectually inclined room on this entire
vessel?” Mehmet remarked. “Mind if I join you? This looks to be the quietest place
on the boat, and if I have to hear another Hôtel
Costes remix, I think I’m going to jump overboard and swim for the nearest buoy.”

“You’re most welcome here. How are the natives doing?”

“Incredibly restless, I would say. I left the pool deck just as the ice-cream-sundae
contest began.”

“They’re making sundaes?” Nick cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes. On a dozen nude Macanese girls.”

Nick shook his head wearily.

“I tried to rescue Colin, but he got trapped. Bernard anointed Colin the Whipped Cream
King.”

Mehmet slouched into a club chair and closed his eyes. “Colin should have listened
to me and come to Istanbul for a relaxing getaway before the wedding. I told him to
invite you too.”

“Now
that
would have been nice.” Nick smiled. “I would much rather be at your family’s summer
palace on the banks of the Bosphorus than on this boat.”

“You know, I’m surprised Colin had a bachelor party in the first place. It didn’t
strike me as his sort of thing.”

“It’s not, but I think Colin felt like he couldn’t refuse Bernard, what with Bernard’s
father being the largest minority shareholder in the Khoo Organization,” Nick explained.

“Bernard’s doing a fine job, isn’t he? He truly thinks Colin enjoys being part of
the biggest drug and drinking binge I’ve witnessed since spring break in Cabo,” Mehmet
murmured.

Nick stared at him in surprise, never expecting to hear those words come out of Mehmet’s
mouth. Mehmet opened one eye and grinned. “Just kidding. I’ve never been to Cabo—I
just always wanted to say that.”

“You scared me for a second!” Nick laughed.

Just then, Colin stumbled into the library and plopped down on the nearest chair.
“God help me! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat another maraschino cherry again!”
He moaned, massaging his temples.

“Colin, did you actually eat off one of the girls?” Mehmet asked incredulously.

“Nooo! Araminta would kill me if she found out I ate a hot fudge sundae off some girl’s
pu … er, crotch. I only took one cherry, and then I told Bernard I really needed to
go to the bathroom.”

“Where did all these girls come from in the first place?” Mehmet asked.

“Bernard hired them from that brothel he forced all of us to go to last night,” Colin
mumbled through his pounding headache.

“You know, I think he was genuinely shocked when we turned down the girls he had procured
for the night,” Mehmet remarked.

“Poor bastard. We’ve completely ruined his bachelor weekend, haven’t we? We didn’t
want to go to the dogfights, we didn’t want to make sex videos with prostitutes, and
we turned up our noses at his fancy Peruvian cocaine.” Nick laughed.

Screams could be heard from the upper deck, followed by much panicked yelling. “I
wonder what’s happening now,” Nick said. But none of them could muster up the effort
to get out of the plush club chairs. The yacht began to slow, and several crewmen
could be heard running along the lower decks.

Alistair strolled into the room, carefully balancing a white cup and saucer with what
appeared to be a very frothy cappuccino.