Crazy Rich Asians

The first hint that Araminta’s bachelorette party was going to be no ordinary affair occurred when Rachel’s taxi dropped her off at the Jet Quay CIP Terminal, which served the private-jet crowd. The second hint came when Rachel walked into the sleek lounge and came face-to-face with twenty girls who looked as if they had spent the last four hours in hair and makeup. Rachel thought that her outfit—a seafoam blue tunic top paired with a white denim skirt—was rather cute, but now it seemed a little shabby compared to the girls in their fresh-off-the-catwalk ensembles. Araminta was nowhere to be seen, so Rachel just stood around smiling at everyone as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“I searched the world for that handbag, and even L’Eclaireur in Paris couldn’t get it for me …”

“It’s a three-bedroom in that old complex on Thompson Road. I have a gut feeling it’s going to go en bloc and I’ll triple my money …”

“OMG, I found the best new place for chili crab, you won’t believe where …”

“I like the Lanesborough’s suites more than Claridge’s, but really, the Calthorpe is where you want to be …”

“Nonsense, lah! No Signboard Seafood still has the best chili crab …”

“This isn’t cashmere, you know. It’s baby vicuña …”

“Did you hear Swee Lin sold her Four Seasons flat for seven-point-five mil? A young Mainland Chinese couple, paid in cash …”

Yep, this was definitely not her crowd. Suddenly an overly tan girl with fake blond hair extensions came into the lounge, shouting, “Araminta just pulled up!” The room got quiet as everyone craned their necks toward the sliding glass door. Rachel hardly recognized the girl who entered. In place of the schoolgirl in pajama pants of a few nights ago was a woman in a matte-gold jumpsuit with gold stiletto boots, her wavy dark brown hair piled into a loose beehive. With a light dusting of expertly applied makeup, her girlish features were transformed into that of a supermodel. “Rachel, I’m so glad you made it!” Araminta said excitedly, giving her a big hug. “Come with me,” she said, taking Rachel by the hand and leading her to the center of the room.

“Hello, everyone! First things first—I want to introduce all of you to my fabulous new friend Rachel Chu. She’s visiting from New York, as the guest of Colin’s best man, Nicholas Young. Please give her a very warm welcome.” All eyes were on Rachel, who flushed a little and could do nothing but smile politely at the assembled crowd that was now dissecting every inch of her. Araminta continued. “You are all my dearest friends, so I wanted to give you a special treat.” She paused for effect. “Today we’re heading to my mum’s private island resort in eastern Indonesia!” There were gasps of astonishment from the crowd. “We’re going to dance on the beach tonight, feast on delish low-calorie cuisine, and pamper ourselves silly with spa treatments all weekend! Come on, girls, let’s get this party started!”

Before Rachel could fully process what Araminta had said, they were ushered on board a customized Boeing 737-700, where she found herself in a dramatically chic space with streamlined white saddle-stitched leather sofas and glistening shagreen console tables.

“Araminta, this is just too much! Is this your dad’s new plane?” one of the girls asked incredulously.

“Actually it’s my mum’s. Bought from some oligarch in Moscow who needed to lower his profile and go into hiding, from what I hear.”

“Well, let’s hope no one blows this plane up by mistake, then,” the girl joked.

“No, no, we had it repainted. It used to be cobalt blue, and of course my mom had to do her Zen makeover thing. She had it repainted three times before she was satisfied with the right shade of glacier white.”

Rachel wandered into the next cabin and encountered two girls chattering animatedly.

“Told you it was her!”

“She’s not at all what I was expecting. I mean, her family is supposed to be one of the richest in Taiwan, and she shows up looking like some—”