Crazy Rich Asians

“Well—we still need to color coordinate as a family, Cecilia. There’s going to be a lot of press there, and I want to make sure we don’t clash. Just be sure you don’t wear anything gray to the main event. Fiona is wearing a gray Jil Sander ball gown. And she’s wearing a deep lavender Lanvin dress to the rehearsal dinner, and a champagne-colored Carolina Herrera to the church ceremony. Can you call Mummy and tell her?”

“Sure, Eddie.”

“Do you need me to SMS you the color scheme again?”

“Sure. Whatever. I have to go now, Eddie. Jake is having another nosebleed.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. What is Jake going to wear? My boys will all be wearing Ralph Lauren tuxedos with dark purple cummerbunds—”

“Eddie, I really have to go. Don’t worry, Jake is not going to wear a tuxedo. I’ll be lucky if I can get him to tuck in his shirt.”

“Wait, wait, before you go, have you talked to Alistair yet? He’s not still thinking of bringing that Kitty Pong, is he?”

“Too late. Alistair left yesterday.”

“What? No one told me he was planning to go early.”

“He was always planning to leave on Friday, Eddie. If you kept up with us more, you’d know that.”

“But why did he go to Singapore so soon?”

“He didn’t go to Singapore. He went to Macau for Colin’s bachelor party.”

“WHAAAT? Colin’s bachelor party is this weekend? Who the hell invited Alistair to his bachelor party?”

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

“But Colin is better friends with ME!” Eddie screamed, the pressure building in his head. And then he felt a strange draft from behind. His pants had split open at the ass.

* Cantonese for “Did you make a mistake?.”

† Cantonese for “how beautiful.”

‡ Cantonese for “no need to be so polite.”

§ Cantonese for “What are you saying?” or, better yet, “What the hell are you talking about?”

11

Rachel

SAMSARA ISLAND

The bachelorettes were enjoying a sunset dinner at a long table set under a pavilion of billowing orange silk on the pristine white sand, surrounded by glowing silver lanterns. With dusk transforming the gentle waves into an emerald froth, it could have been a photo shoot straight out of Condé Nast Traveler, except that the dinner conversation put a damper on that illusion. As the first course of baby Bibb lettuce with hearts of palm in a coconut-milk dressing was served, the cluster of girls to Rachel’s left were busy skewering into the heart of another girl’s boyfriend.

“So you say he just made senior vice president? But he’s on the retail side, not the investment banking side, right? I spoke to my boyfriend Roderick, and he thinks that Simon probably makes between six to eight hundred thou base salary, if he’s lucky. And he doesn’t get millions in bonuses like the I-bankers,” sniffed Lauren Lee.

“The other problem is his family. Simon’s not even the eldest brother. He’s the second youngest of five,” Parker Yeo pontificated. “My parents know the Tings very well, and let me tell you, as respected as they are, they are not what you or I would consider rich—my mum says they have maybe two hundred million, max. You split that five ways and you’ll be lucky if Simon gets forty mil at the end of the day. And that won’t be for a loooong time—his parents are still quite young. Isn’t his father going to run for parliament again?”

“We just want what’s best for you, Isabel,” Lauren said, patting her hand sympathetically.

“But … but I really think I love him—” Isabel stammered.