Kwan Kevin - Sex and Vanity

“Just you watch—he’s going to move us on the very last day.” Charlotte took a bite of focaccia from the basket on the table and immediately spat it out discreetly into her napkin. “Ew! This focaccia is soggy. It’s clearly been sitting out all morning.”

Lucie sighed. It was only the first day of their trip, and Charlotte was already kicking up a fuss about everything. She wondered if Charlotte was partly upset because, when she imperiously announced to the manager that she was “the produce editor at Amuse Bouche —one of America’s leading food and lifestyle magazines,” he gave her a blank stare, and it had zero effect on their room situation.

“Ma’am! Signora! Over here! Can we have some fresh focaccia please? I want it warm and toasty, do you hear? Warm and toasty! And bring me some olio d’oliva and balsamico, ”fn1 Charlotte ordered. Turning back to Lucie, she said, “I can’t believe you’re not more upset. I mean, this is your holiday more than mine.”

“I am disappointed, but there’s not much more we can do, is there?” Lucie was always conscious of being born into privilege, and it had been drummed into her from an early age by her mother to “always be grateful and never complain.” She was well aware that her room in this five-star hotel, even with the less-than-perfect view, was far nicer than what most people on the planet would ever be able to enjoy, so she was loath to grumble.

Charlotte, however, had a different take on the situation. “It’s an absolute sin to be paying such an outrageous rate for a room that looks nothing like the ones shown on their website. I mean, we haven’t even talked about the decor!”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s absolutely hideous. It looks like a Versace dress exploded all over my room.”

Lucie laughed. “Well, I kind of like the giant gold octopus headboard.”

Charlotte continued to rant. “It’s your first time on Capri, one of the most beautiful places in the world. I’ll be fine, really, but it’s totally unfair that you should be deprived of a room with a decent view.”

Suddenly, they heard a voice behind them. “Miss, excuse me, miss.”

Lucie and Charlotte turned around to see an Asian lady in her fifties smiling at them. She was wearing a fuchsia sarong wrap dress and an enormous black-and-white-striped hat.

“Yes?” Charlotte asked.

“My son and I have rooms that look out at the sea and the Faraglioni rocks. We should swap rooms!” The lady gestured at the youth—a boy of twenty—sitting across from her.

Charlotte paused, momentarily caught off guard by the offer. Who was this curious woman with the flying saucer hat, too much eye shadow, and quasi-English accent? And why would she give up her own rooms? “Um … that’s very kind of you to offer, but we’ll manage, thank you.”

“Don’t just manage. If you’re so unhappy with your rooms, you should take ours.”

Charlotte smiled stiffly. “We’re not unhappy.”

“Oh? You’ve been complaining nonstop for the past ten minutes.”

Charlotte felt put out by the woman’s statement. “Well, I’m sorry if we’ve disturbed you …”

“You haven’t disturbed me, not really. But if it matters to you and your friend so much to see the sea, I want you to have our rooms. Actually, they are suites—deluxe suites—and they each have a nice living room, a bathroom with a huge Jacuzzi, and adjoining balconies. The view is amazing, I can assure you.”

“Then it really wouldn’t be fair,” Lucie spoke up. She noticed the boy gazing at her with an intensity that she found a little disconcerting. Unlike his dramatically outfitted mother, he was dressed in khaki denim shorts, a black tank top, and Birkenstocks. But the simple nature of his outfit did nothing to camouflage the fact that he was strikingly, almost unbearably handsome. Their eyes caught for a moment, and Lucie felt a strange, almost electrical charge. She quickly averted her eyes back to his mother, who seemed relentless in her campaign.

“Fair or not doesn’t matter to me. We have been to Capri before, and we come from Hong Kong, where our flat overlooks the harbor. And we have a house in Sydney, in Watsons Bay, where we can see whales do backflips, and another beachfront house in Hawaii, in Lanikai. We get to see the ocean till we’re sick of it, so this is nothing to us.”

Charlotte let out a little gasp. The woman turned her attention to Lucie, and she could feel her giving her the once-over. “Are you here for Isabel Chiu’s wedding?”

“We are,” Lucie answered.

“So are we! How do you know Isabel?”

“She’s a friend from childhood.”

“Oh, you are from Taipei?” The woman looked surprised.

“No, I’m from New York. I knew Isabel when she lived in New York.”

“Ah, New York, I see. I love New York! Isabel’s mother and I are cousins. I’m Rosemary Zao [Maryknoll Convent School / University of Sydney / Central Saint Martins], and this is my son George [Diocesan Boys’ School / Geelong Grammar / UC Berkeley, Class of ’15]. We should all be friends, and you really should take our rooms!”

“May I ask what the rate is for your deluxe suite?” Charlotte asked, not wanting to be stuck with an exorbitant bill at the end of their stay.

Rosemary waved her hand dismissively. “ Hiyah, don’t worry about the money. It’s my treat!”

“No, no, that would be much too generous of you,” Charlotte said.

While the two older ladies continued their pantomime of protestations, Lucie noticed George beginning to fold and twist the paper napkin on his table with a Zen-like calmness. Within a few moments, he had fashioned the napkin into a long-stemmed rose. He held the origami rose up and tilted it toward Lucie, as if offering it to her, before placing the flower on the brim of his mother’s hat while she was turned around talking to Charlotte.

Weirdo, Lucie thought. Confused by his gesture, she pretended like she hadn’t seen him.

Meanwhile, Rosemary’s voice had gone up several decibels. “No, no, it’s your first time in Capri, you should have a view of the sea. You must see the sunrise, and the sunset, and oh—the seagulls! They are so cute; they come flying right up to my balcony and try to steal my toast! Come on, I know you’ll love it. You must take our rooms!” Lucie saw that everyone was staring openly at them now.

“We simply cannot impose,” Charlotte said firmly.

Rosemary gave them an exasperated look before turning to her son. “Why won’t they take our rooms? George, nei tung keoi dei gong la. Keoi dei wui teng nei ge. ”fn2

Up till this point, George had sat as silently as the Sphinx, but now he looked straight at Charlotte and Lucie and spoke up in a soft drawl that was vaguely reminiscent of an Australian surfer. “There’s nothing to say. Of course you must take our rooms. We insist.”

“Well, let me insist that we won’t!” Charlotte scoffed.

George turned to his mother as if he hadn’t even heard Charlotte. “Let’s just speak to the manager and he’ll handle it.”

“Yes, yes! Ettore can get housekeeping to pack up all our bags and move everything!” Rosemary said excitedly.

This was too much for Charlotte. She stood up from the table and said, “You’re very kind, but we really cannot trouble you like this. Have a nice day. Lucie, come.”

CHAPTER THREE

Poolside at the Bertolucci

Capri, Italy

Charlotte and Lucie left the dining room and found a table under the loggia by the pool. As they sat down, Lucie looked at her cousin and started to giggle. She couldn’t help it—she always seemed to giggle whenever she felt uncomfortable.