by Kwan, Kevin
“Indian? Really?” Lucie said curiously.
“Well, unfortunately I’m going into the city to do a live interview with Nima Elbagir on CNN International tomorrow, or I would have loved to come,” Auden said.
“Oh, what’s the interview about?” Charlotte inquired.
“I’m going to speak about the role of mindfulness in resolving global conflict.”
“Well, Rosemary, Charlotte, and I are going to have a Korean-themed spa night, but why don’t you kids all go?” Marian said.
“Sounds like a bit of a snorefest. George and I were thinking of seeing the new Tarantino,” Freddie said.
“Let’s go see this. We can see the Tarantino any night,” George said.
*
CBC Originals
and
ITV Studios
in association with
Channel Four Films
and
Canal+
presents
a Ravenswood Pictures
and
Smart Tomato
production of
Glimpses of Moonlight
a film by Olivia Lavistock
“Oh my god! Olivia Lavistock! I know her!” Lucie whispered excitedly to Cecil as the film titles flashed across the screen at the East Hampton Cinema on Main Street.
“How do you know her?” Cecil asked.
“She was at the Capri wedding! She made a doc about Dolfi’s polo team.”
“Milk Duds?” Freddie offered, passing his box to George, who passed it along to Lucie, sitting to his right. His arm casually grazed against hers, and Lucie quickly jerked her arm away.
“No thanks,” Lucie said, pausing for a moment before saying to George in a quiet voice, “I guess Viv really was just a surf buddy?”
“As I told you,” George replied.
As the movie unfolded, it soon became clear to the audience that the film was a Bollywood musical meets Italian neorealist cinema mash-up set in Tuscany in which Merle, a ravishingly pretty half-British, half-Indian girl (played by Naomi Scott) meets Devendra, a dashing young Indian prince and son of a Maharajah (played by Avan Jogia) at the wedding of their mutual friends, the fabulously wealthy Kundaris. Because Merle is not a full Indian and of a different caste, a romance between her and Devendra is strictly forbidden by his disapproving older cousin, Princess Gayatri (played by Mindy Kaling), and the two of them spend the first half of the film making eyes at each other over a decadent, weeklong wedding set in one jaw-droppingly luscious Tuscan villa after another. As the star-crossed couple struggle to resist their feelings for each other, a dance number featuring hundreds of Indian and Italian dancers in full regalia takes place in Siena’s glorious Piazza del Campo during the famous Palio horse race.
Cecil giggled into Lucie’s ear. “A dance-off between the Indians and the Italians! This is so fabulously silly, I’m loving it!”
Lucie stared at the screen, mesmerized by the spectacular dance sequence and a bit unnerved at the same time. The film was the sort of fun and frothy romantic comedy she usually loved, but something about it was making her feel uneasy. In the next scene, she realized what it was. Merle and Devendra escape from the wedding banquet while everyone is dancing and climb to the top of one of San Gimignano’s fabled towers. The week of flirting and unbearable tension has led to this explosive moment, as fireworks literally explode in the distance and the young lovers kiss for the first time. Things get more and more heated, as Devendra reaches under Merle’s ball gown, rips off her panties, and pokes his head under her skirt. Suddenly, a drone appears in the night sky and begins to film their furtive lovemaking. Suddenly, there is a loud banging on the door as the prince’s aunt screams from the other side, “Stop it, you two! You’re being filmed!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Mindy to the rescue!” Cecil roared with laughter.
Lucie froze in her seat, not daring to breathe, not daring to look at George. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him in profile, staring expressionless at the screen. She felt her belly tighten into knots as a strange sensation came over her body—some combination of shock, panic, and desire. She took deep breaths, trying to quell the panic. The rest of the movie was a blur to her, and when the lights came up and the audience rose to give the producers a standing ovation, Lucie whispered to Cecil, “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”
As she stood up and made her way out of the row, her eyes caught George’s for a split second. Instead of going to the toilet, Lucie headed down a back hallway to the fire exit that led outside. She needed fresh air. She needed to think. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. How can I face George? I can’t see him, I can’t see him, I can’t see him. Should I just leave? Should I get an Uber right now and go straight home? Should I say something to Cecil? Should I pretend that nothing’s wrong?
The heavy metal door opened behind her, and George stepped out.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
Lucie glanced at him for a moment and turned away, not saying anything. They were standing in an alley behind the theater, facing an empty back lane and some clipped hedges. George leaned against the wall, silent as usual.
Finally, Lucie summoned up the courage and blurted out, “I had nothing to do with that. I told Olivia nothing!”
“I know,” George said.
“Then how did Olivia know every single detail about that night? Did you tell her? Did you tell your mother?” Lucie demanded
George gave her a look like she was crazy.
“Who else knew?” Lucie asked accusingly.
“I told no one.”
“It must’ve been Charlotte then, that hypocrite! She swore me to secrecy, and look what she ends up doing,” Lucie said angrily.
“We’d better go back inside,” George said as he turned to open the door, but Lucie suddenly grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“Wait.”
“What?” George asked.
Lucie paused for a moment, unsure of what she wanted to say. She could feel the tension between them and the deafening throb in her eardrums as she held his gaze. Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t. Almost in slow motion, George pushed her against the wall and kissed her.
“Stop!” Lucie cried, pushing him away.
George stepped back, startled. “Sorry, I thought …”
“You thought wrong!” Lucie huffed, as she stepped through the door and slammed it firmly closed.
George stood in the alley, a little dazed. Suddenly the door swung open again and Lucie was pulling him toward her, kissing him deeply, frantically, as his soft lips melded into hers and his tongue sent shock waves through her entire body. Why did his kisses feel like nothing else in the world? Her desire was so insatiable, she felt like she was about to burst into flames, and in a flash it was as if she were back in the candlelit ruins of Villa Jovis, and the stars above were spinning, spinning as she arched her back and surrendered to his touch. She pressed herself against him, feeling his hardness. She shoved her hand down the front of his jeans as a desperate longing overtook her. All she wanted to do right now was pull him into the dark corner behind the hedges, tear off his clothing, and climb up his impossibly godlike body, feeling all of him in her. “Oh God, just fuck me right here!” she heard herself moan. Stop it, a voice in her head suddenly said. Stop it, Charlotte’s voice said. Shame on you, the voice said, as she broke away from his arms and ran down the side alley that led to the front of the cinema.
Cecil and Freddie were standing under the little marquee outside the building, looking around.
“There you are!” Freddie said. “Let’s get ice cream.”
“It got too crowded inside so I went out the other door,” Lucie said, flushed and breathless.
A couple minutes later, George emerged from the front doors of the cinema, drying his hands on a paper towel.
Cecil stared at Lucie and George curiously. “So? Were you both swept up in the romance?”
Lucie could feel her heart pounding o
ut of her chest. Oh my God, he knows. He can see it all over my face.
Cecil rolled his eyes impatiently. “What did you think of your friend’s movie?”
“Oh.” Lucie’s shoulders dropped in relief. “It was okay, I guess. It had its moments.”
“I give it a B minus,” Cecil declared. “Tuscany looked amazing, and the actors were pretty enough, but the costumes were god-awful—whoever the costume designer was should be fired. It’s a wedding with nothing but crazy rich Indians and all the jewelry looked so fake!”
Lucie nodded, giggling nervously, and Cecil continued his rant. “Indians are known for having the most fabulous jewels in the world! What a missed opportunity! But with the dance numbers and the terrible acting, it’s bound to be a camp classic. The plot was too ridiculous for words.”
Freddie nodded in agreement. “The whole drone subplot with the wedding videographers trying to blackmail the couple? That was so ridiculous. But what was even more ridiculous was that sex scene—they’re like two virgins, and when they finally get it on in the tower, the first thing he does is drop to his knees and eat her out? Sorry, that would never happen in real life—dudes always need to get off first. So unbelievable! What did you think, George?”
“Yeah, it was pretty unbelievable,” George said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Outlook Avenue
East Hampton
I feel the earth move under my feet,
I feel the sky tumbling down, a’tumbling down …
Lucie, Freddie, and Cecil returned to the house to find three ladies with an array of Korean facial masks plastered on their faces, singing and dancing around the living room as Carole King’s Tapestry blasted out on the old McIntosh turntable. Cecil took one look at Charlotte and Marian shimmying on the sofa in bathrobes and wordlessly turned around, heading straight up to Lucie’s bedroom.
“Well, I see you kids are having quite the party without our permission! Mama, isn’t it past your bedtime? And what’s this here?” Freddie said in a mock angry tone, holding up an empty bottle of the 2016 Mazis-Chambertin Grand Cru.
“It’s very good wine. I googled it and it’s $859 a bottle. And we’ve finished three bottles so far!” Rosemary giggled like a schoolgirl from the wing chair, where she sat with her restorative donkey milk facial maskfn1 on, soaking her feet in a wooden tub filled with a hot dark-brown liquid that smelled like Robitussin. A Korean masseuse in a pale pink smock stood behind Rosemary, kneading her shoulders forcefully with her sharp, bony elbows.
“Oww, oww, yes, right there!” Rosemary moaned.
Marian stopped dancing and grinned through her cracked twenty-four-karat gold foil hydrating mask. “Oh my God, we’re having the best slumber party spa night! Are you still hungry, Freddie? What did you have for dinner? There’s so much leftover Korean barbecue, you should have some.”
“Is there any kimchi?” Freddie asked.
“Of course.”
“Is it spicy? You know I can’t eat Korean barbecue unless there’s good kimchi to go with it.
“The kimchi is so spicy it will burn a hole in your pants, Freddie. There’s some leftover mandoo as well. I think Mary’s gone to bed already, but you can just stick some of the barbecue in the microwave for forty-five seconds and it will taste like it’s fresh off the broiler.”
“Forget about it.” Freddie plopped down on the sofa.
“Lazy boy! Here, come with me, I’ll do it for you,” Marian said, shuffling toward the kitchen with Freddie in tow.
Lucie felt a huge sense of relief as she saw them go. Now the only one left to get rid of was Rosemary. She needed to steel herself to confront Charlotte privately. She felt like her mind was spinning out of control with … what exactly? Shame? Desire? Contempt? She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she knew one thing—it was all Charlotte’s fault. She never would have inhaled George’s face outside the theater tonight if Charlotte hadn’t blabbed to Olivia about what happened at Villa Jovis, if Olivia hadn’t betrayed them all by showcasing the whole affair in her movie.
“How was the film?” Charlotte asked, as she took a careful nibble of chocolate truffle, not wanting to open her mouth too wide for fear of cracking her snail slime and bee venom mask.
“Funny you should ask, Charlotte. It turns out the movie was directed by your dear friend Olivia Lavistock,” Lucie said archly.
“OH-livia! That English girl who only wore black all week long in Capri?” Rosemary asked in surprise.
“The very one,” Lucie said mock cheerily.
“Really, they showed Olivia’s film? I wish I’d known, I would have come. Last thing I heard she was still editing it,” Charlotte mumbled through her mask, placing her feet into one of the wooden buckets as another attendant poured more of the mysterious hot brown liquid in.
Lucie was incensed. “You knew Olivia was making a film?”
“Of course. She’s been slaving away at it for the past two years,” Charlotte said.
“The film was shot two years ago?”
“Possibly more. Apparently the cinematographer was this Indian fellow who was an absolute nightmare to work with. He stole some of the footage and kept it hostage for a while.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know it by looking at the movie. The cinematography was spectacular, especially this one rather curious scene where the two main characters—a half-Indian girl and an Indian prince—make love in a castle tower in Italy while a sinister drone hovers above them and captures every moment of their lovemaking,” Lucie said as she glared into Charlotte’s eyes.
“A drone? Like the ones that were all over Issie’s wedding? He he he … how fun!” Rosemary laughed.
Charlotte’s jaw dropped and the snail slime began to crack around her mouth.
“Well, I think I’m going to have me some of that treacherously spicy kimchi,” Lucie said archly as she stormed out of the room, knowing Charlotte was bound to follow.
Sure enough, Charlotte, her face freshly washed, came into the kitchen a few minutes later and nonchalantly sidled up to the wooden counter where Freddie sat with Marian and Lucie, gobbling down his beef galbi as he recounted the movie to his mother.
“And then these Italian dudes are trying to blackmail the young maharajah with the drone footage! Meanwhile, there’s a dance sequence on the rooftop of a villa, where these pretty girls start twirling and whipping the shirtless buff Italian dudes with their long saris.”
Marian slapped her knee, howling with laughter.
“Lucie, if you aren’t going to eat, you should come with me. You’ve got to try this foot-soaking tub. It’s so relaxing,” Charlotte said gingerly.
Lucie got up from her barstool and marched Charlotte into the library, closing the door behind them tightly. “So thoughtful of you to suggest a relaxing soak, Charlotte. After all, I don’t think I’ll ever get to relax again once this film premieres next month at the Toronto International Film Festival.”
Charlotte sank down on the buttoned leather sofa. “I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it!”
“Believe it. It’s all there in high definition!” Lucie seethed, as she sat in the club chair directly across from Charlotte, as though she were staging an interrogation. “How could you, Charlotte? How could you tell Olivia everything, after you made me swear never to breathe a word to anyone?”
“But I didn’t tell her!”
“What then, Olivia Lavistock is psychic?”
“I mean, I only told Olivia about the drone thing right after I’d discovered you and George at the villa. After you had both run off into the woods, I went back to the party in utter panic! I didn’t know what to do, I needed her help,” Charlotte sputtered.
“You told me you had told no one!”
“I haven’t told a soul since that night, I swear. The only person I confided in was Olivia, who I thought was my friend. How in the world was I supposed to know she would use it in her goddamn movie!”
“Well, clearly Olivia doesn�
��t have an ounce of imagination. She stole every bit of our story and put it in her film.”
“Oh my poor girl, I’m so sorry!”
Lucie snorted. “You always say that, but are you ever really sorry?”
Charlotte began to tear up. “I truly am! I’ll never speak to Olivia again!”
“Well, you shouldn’t have spoken to her in the first place.”
“What was she thinking?!” Charlotte moaned, shaking her head. “At least she made her characters Indian.”
Lucie rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s a fine example of cultural appropriation.”
“What I mean is, I don’t think anyone would ever link you and George to this film.”
“Anyone except the four hundred people who attended Issie’s wedding. Just think what Mordecai von Ephrussí’s going to say when he sees the film! You know he’ll see it!”
“Ugh, that insufferable toady!”
“And that’s not the worst of it, Charlotte! George was right there!”
“Christ Almighty, I forgot he was at the screening!”
“I had to sit through that god-awful movie with George on one side of me and Cecil on the other!”
Charlotte stared at Lucie fearfully. “What did George do?”
“What he did, Charlotte, was he followed me outside when the movie was over, pushed me against a wall, and shoved his tongue down my throat!” Lucie said melodramatically.
Charlotte put her hands to her face. “Oh my God, Lucie! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I got away from him fast.”
“What is it with that boy? It’s the second time he’s tried to seduce you. He’s never gotten over you, has he?”
“He humiliated me! He clearly hasn’t gotten the message that I’m about to become Mrs. Cecil Pike,” Lucie huffed, trying to sound indignant.
“Did you tell Cecil?”
“Are you mad? Of course I didn’t.”
“Thank God! Knowing Cecil, he’d probably try to challenge George to a duel!”
Lucie didn’t respond, but she suddenly had a vision of Cecil dressed up in a crisp white fencing uniform and helmet, saber in hand. It’s not a saber, Lucie, it’s called an épée, she could hear him already correcting her, as he assumed the proper fencing stance opposite George, who stood before him in his standard black tank top and surfer shorts. Cecil waved his épée threateningly in the air with great flourish, while George, in one swift Jean-Claude Van Damme move, raised his leg and kicked Cecil in the head, knocking him out cold.
