by Kevin Kwan
“Why did you move around so much?”
“My mom worked in Chinese restaurants.”
“What did she do?”
“She usually started out as a hostess or a waitress, but she always managed to get promoted quickly.”
“So she took you everywhere with her?” Sophie asked, genuinely fascinated.
“Yes—we lived the Gypsy life until my teenage years, when we settled down in California.”
“Was it lonely for you?”
“Well, it was all I knew, so it seemed normal to me. I got to know the back rooms of suburban strip-mall restaurants very well, and I was pretty much a bookworm.”
“And what about your father?”
“He died soon after I was born.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sophie said quickly, regretting that she had asked.
“That’s fine—I never knew him.” Rachel smiled, trying to put her at ease. “And anyway, it wasn’t all bad. My mom put herself through night school, got a college degree, and has been a successful real estate agent for many years now.”
“That’s amazing,” Sophie said.
“Not really. We’re actually one of the many clichéd ‘Asian immigrant success stories’ that politicians love to trot out every four years during their conventions.”
Sophie chuckled. “I can see why Nick likes you—you both have the same dry wit.”
Rachel smiled, looking away toward the disco marquee on the jetty.
“Am I keeping you from the dance party? I hear Araminta flew in some famous DJ from Ibiza,” Sophie said.
“I’m enjoying this, actually. It’s the first real conversation I’ve had all day.”
Sophie glanced at the girls—most of whom were now writhing wildly with several of the Italian waiters to the pounding eurotrance-disco music—and shrugged. “Well, with this crowd, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Aren’t these your friends?”
“A few, but most of these girls I don’t know. I recognize them, of course.”
“Who are they? Are some of them famous?”
“In their own minds, perhaps. These are the more social girls, the type that are always appearing in the magazines, attending all the charity galas. Far too glamorous a crowd for me. I’m sorry, but I work twelve-hour shifts and don’t have the time to go to benefit parties in hotels. I have to benefit my patients first.”
Rachel laughed.
“Speaking of which,” Sophie added, “I’ve been up since five, so I’m going to turn in now.”
“I think I will too,” Rachel said.
They walked down the jetty toward their bungalows.
“I’m in the villa at the end of this walkway if you need anything,” Sophie said.
“Good night,” Rachel said. “It’s been lovely talking with you.”
“Likewise,” Sophie said, flashing that deep-dimpled smile again.
Rachel entered her villa, gladly returning to some peace and quiet after a draining day. None of the lights were on in the suite, but the bright silvery moonlight glimmered through the open screen doors, casting serpentine ripples along the walls. The sea was so still that the sound of the water lapping slowly against the wood stilts had a hypnotic effect. It was the perfect setting for a night swim in the ocean, something she’d never done. Rachel padded toward the bedroom for her bikini. As she passed the vanity table, she noticed that the leather satchel she’d left hanging on the chair seemed to be leaking some sort of liquid. She walked toward the bag and saw that it was completely drenched, with brownish water dripping out of the corner into a large puddle on the bedroom floor. What the hell happened? She turned on the lamp by the table and opened the front flap of her bag. She screamed, jerking backward in horror and knocking over the table lamp.
Her bag was filled with a large fish that had been badly mutilated, blood seeping out from its gills. Violently scrawled on the vanity mirror above the chair in fish blood were the words “CATCH THIS, YOU GOLD-DIGGING CUNT!”
* * *
* Central Provident Fund, a mandatory savings scheme that Singaporeans contribute to each month to fund their retirement, health care, and housing. It’s a bit like the U.S. Social Security program, except that the CPF won’t be going broke anytime soon. CPF account holders earn an average of five percent interest per year, and the government also periodically gifts its citizens with bonuses and special shares, making Singapore the only country in the world that gives dividends to all its citizens when the economy does well. (Now you know why that Facebook fellow became a Singaporean.)
12
Eleanor
SHENZHEN
“Thirty thousand yuan? That’s ridiculous!” Eleanor seethed at the man in the poly-blend gray jacket seated across from her in the lounge off the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton. The man looked around to make sure that Eleanor’s outburst wasn’t attracting too much attention.
“Trust me, it will be worth your money,” the man said quietly in Mandarin.
“Mr. Wong, how can we be sure your information has any value when we don’t even know what it is exactly?” Lorena asked.
“Listen, your brother explained to Mr. Tin what the situation was, and Mr. Tin and I go way back—I have worked for him for more than twenty years. We are the best at this sort of thing. Now, I’m not sure what exactly you’re planning, and I don’t want to know, but I can assure you that this information will be extremely beneficial to whoever possesses it,” Mr. Wong said confidently. Lorena translated his response for Eleanor.
“Who does he think we are? There isn’t any sort of information that’s worth thirty thousand yuan to me. Does he think I’m made of money?” Eleanor was indignant.
“How about fifteen thousand?” Lorena asked.
“Okay, for you, twenty thousand,” Mr. Wong countered.
“Fifteen thousand, and that’s our last offer,” Lorena insisted again.
“Okay, seventeen thousand five hundred, but that’s my last offer,” the man said, getting frustrated by all the bargaining. Mr. Tin had told him that these ladies were millionaires.
“No—ten thousand, or I leave,” Eleanor suddenly declared in Mandarin. The man glared at her as if she had insulted all of his ancestors. He shook his head in dismay.
“Lorena, I’m done with this extortion,” Eleanor huffed, getting up from her red velvet club chair. Lorena stood up as well, and both women began to walk out of the lounge into the soaring three-story atrium lobby, where there was a sudden traffic jam of men in tuxedos and women in black, white, and red ball gowns. “Must be some sort of big function going on,” Eleanor noted, scrutinizing a woman ablaze with diamonds around her neck.
“Shenzhen is not Shanghai, that’s for sure—all these women are dressed in fashions from three years ago,” Lorena observed wryly as she tried to navigate her way through the crowd. “Eleanor, I think you’ve gone too far with your bargaining tactics this time. I think we’ve lost this guy.”
“Lorena, trust me—keep walking and don’t turn around!” Eleanor instructed.
Just as the ladies reached the front entrance of the hotel, Mr. Wong suddenly came running out of the lounge. “Okay, okay, ten thousand,” he said breathlessly. Eleanor beamed in triumph as she followed the man back to the table.
Mr. Wong made a quick phone call on his cell, and then said to the ladies, “Okay, my informer will be here very soon. Until then, what would you ladies like to drink?”
Lorena was a little surprised to hear this—she had assumed that they would be taken to some other place to meet the informer. “Is it safe to meet right here?”
“Why not? This is one of the best hotels in Shenzhen!”
“I mean, it’s so public.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll see that it will be just fine,” Mr. Wong said, grabbing a handful of macadamia nuts from the silver bowl on the table.
A few minutes later, a man entered the bar, walking with trepidation toward their table. Eleanor could tell just by looking a
t him that he was from some rural area and that it was the first time he had set foot in a hotel as fancy as this. He wore a striped polo shirt and ill-fitting dress pants, and carried a metallic-silver briefcase. It looked to Lorena like he had just picked up the suitcase an hour ago from one of those cheap luggage stalls at the train station, to make himself seem more professional. He looked nervously at the women as he approached the table. Mr. Wong had a short exchange with him in a dialect that neither woman could understand, and the man set his briefcase onto the granite-top table. He fiddled with the combination and clicked the locks on each side in unison before opening the briefcase lid ceremoniously.
The man took out three items from the suitcase and placed them on the table in front of the ladies. There was a small rectangular paper box, a manila envelope, and one photocopy of a newspaper clipping. Lorena opened the manila envelope and fished out a yellowed piece of paper, while Eleanor opened the box. She peered into it, and then looked at the piece of paper Lorena was holding. She only read very basic Mandarin, so she was mystified by it. “What does all this mean?”
“Just give me a minute to finish, Elle,” Lorena said, scanning the last document up and down. “Oh my God, Elle,” she exclaimed, suddenly staring at Mr. Wong and the informer. “Are you sure this is completely accurate? There will be big trouble for all of you if it isn’t.”
“I swear on the life of my firstborn son,” the man replied haltingly.
“What is it? What is it?” Eleanor asked urgently, hardly able to contain herself. Lorena whispered into Eleanor’s right ear. Her eyes grew large, and she looked up at Mr. Wong.
“Mr. Wong, I’ll give you thirty thousand yuan in cash if you can take me right now,” Eleanor commanded.
13
Rachel
SAMSARA ISLAND
Sophie was splashing some water on her face when she heard an urgent rapping. She went to the door and found Rachel standing there, her lips white and her whole body shaking.
“What’s wrong? Are you cold?” Sophie asked.
“I … think … I think I’m in shock,” Rachel stuttered.
“WHAT? What happened?”
“My room … I can’t describe it. Go see for yourself,” Rachel said numbly.
“Are you okay? Should I call for help?”
“No, no, I’ll be fine. I’m just shaking involuntarily.”
Sophie immediately slipped into doctor mode, grabbing hold of Rachel’s wrist. “Your pulse is a bit elevated,” she noted. She grabbed the cashmere throw on her chaise lounge and handed it to Rachel. “Sit down. Take long, slow breaths. Wrap this around yourself and wait right here,” she instructed.
A few minutes later, Sophie returned to the villa, ablaze in anger. “I can’t believe it! This is outrageous!”
Rachel nodded slowly, having calmed down a little by this point. “Can you call hotel security for me?”
“Of course!” Sophie headed for the phone and scanned the list on it, looking for the right button to press. She turned back to Rachel and gave her a thoughtful look. “Actually, I’m wondering whether it’s the best idea to call security. What exactly could they do?”
“We can find out who did this! There are security cameras everywhere, and surely they must have footage of who went into my room,” Rachel said.
“Well … what would that really achieve?” Sophie ventured. “Hear me out for a second … No one’s committed any real crime. I mean, I feel bad for the fish, and it was certainly traumatizing for you, but if you think about it, this was just a nasty prank. We’re on an island. We know it had to be one of these girls, or maybe even a group of them. Do you really care who did it? Are you going to confront someone and make a scene? They’re just trying to mess with you—why give them more fuel? I’m sure they’re on the beach right now just waiting for you to go hysterical and ruin Araminta’s bachelorette party. They wanted to provoke you.”
Rachel considered what Sophie had said for a moment. “You know, you’re right. I’m sure these girls are just dying for some drama so they can talk about it back in Singapore.” She got up from the sofa and paced around the room, not quite sure what to do next. “But there must be something we can do.”
“Doing nothing can sometimes be the most effective form of action,” Sophie remarked. “If you do nothing, you’ll be sending a clear message: that you’re stronger than they think you are. Not to mention a lot classier. Think about it.”
Rachel mulled it over for a few minutes and decided that Sophie was right. “Did anyone ever tell you how brilliant you are, Sophie?” she said with a sigh.
Sophie smiled. “Here, I saw some verveine tea in the bathroom. Let me make some. It’ll calm both our nerves.”
With warm cups of tea nestled on their laps, Rachel and Sophie sat on a pair of lounge chairs on the deck. The moon hung like a giant gong in the sky, lighting the ocean so brightly that Rachel could see the tiny schools of fish shimmering as they darted around the wooden piers of the bungalow.
Sophie looked intently at Rachel. “You weren’t prepared for any of this, were you? Astrid was so perceptive when she asked me to look out for you. She was a little worried about you tagging along with this particular crowd.”
“Astrid is so sweet. I guess I just never expected to encounter this kind of viciousness, that’s all. The way these girls are acting, it’s as if Nick is the last man in all of Asia! Look, I get it now—his family’s rich, he’s considered a good catch. But isn’t Singapore supposed to be filled with other rich families like his?”
Sophie sighed sympathetically. “First of all, Nick is so inordinately good-looking, most of these girls have had mad crushes on him since childhood. Then you have to understand something about his family. There’s a certain mystique that surrounds them because they are so intensely private. Most people don’t even realize they exist, but for the small circle of old families that do, they inspire a level of fascination that’s hard to describe. Nick is the scion of this noble clan, and for some of these girls, that’s all that matters. They may not know the first thing about him, but they are all vying to become Mrs. Nicholas Young.”
Rachel took it all in quietly. It felt like Sophie was talking about some character of fiction, someone who bore no resemblance to the man she knew and had fallen in love with. It was as if she were Sleeping Beauty—only, she never asked to be awakened by a prince.
“You know, Nick has told me very little about his family. I still don’t know much about them,” Rachel mused.
“That’s the way Nick was raised. I’m sure he was taught from a very young age never to talk about his family, where he lived, that sort of thing. He was brought up in such a cloistered environment. Can you imagine growing up in that house with no other kids around—no one but your parents, grandparents, and all those servants? I remember going over there as a child, and Nick always seemed so grateful whenever there were other kids to play with.”
Rachel gazed at the moon. Suddenly the rabbit-like figure on the moon reminded her of Nick, a little boy stuck up there in that glittering palace all by himself. “Do you want to know the craziest part of all this?”
“Tell me.”
“I just came for a summer vacation. Everyone here assumes that Nick and I are a done deal, that we’re going to run off and tie the knot tomorrow or something. Nobody knows that marriage is something we’ve never even discussed.”
“Really, you haven’t?” Sophie asked in surprise. “But don’t you ever think about it? Don’t you want to marry Nick?”
“To be completely honest, Nick is the first guy I’ve dated who I could imagine being married to. But I was never raised to believe that marriage was supposed to be my life’s goal. My mother wanted me to get the best education first. She never wanted me to end up having to wash dishes in a restaurant.”
“That’s not the case over here. No matter how advanced we’ve become, there’s still tremendous pressure for girls to get married. Here, it doesn’t matter how s
uccessful a woman is professionally. She isn’t considered complete until she is married and has children. Why do you think Araminta is so eager to get married?”
“Do you think Araminta shouldn’t be getting married, then?”
“Well, that’s a difficult question for me to answer. I mean, she is about to become my sister-in-law.”
Rachel looked at Sophie in surprise. “Wait a minute … Colin is your brother?”
“Yes.” Sophie giggled. “I thought you knew that all along.”
Rachel stared at her with renewed wonder. “I had no idea. I thought you were Astrid’s cousin. So … the Khoos are related to the Leongs?”
“Yes, of course. My mother was born a Leong. She was Harry Leong’s sister.”
Rachel noticed that Sophie used the past tense in talking about her mother. “Is your mother no longer around?”
“She passed away when we were kids. She had a heart attack.”
“Oh,” Rachel said, realizing why she felt a connection with the girl she had met only hours earlier. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I understand now why you’re so different from the other girls.”
Sophie smiled. “Growing up with only one parent—especially in a place where everyone goes to such great lengths to present a picture-perfect family—really sets you apart. I was always the girl whose mother died too young. But you know, it had its advantages. It allowed me to get away from the frying pan. After my mum died, I was sent to school in Australia, and I stayed there all through uni. I suppose that’s what makes me a little different.”
“A lot different,” Rachel corrected. She thought of another thing that made her like Sophie. Her candor and complete lack of pretension reminded her so much of Nick. Rachel peered up at the moon, and this time, the rabbit boy didn’t look so alone anymore.
14
Astrid and Michael
