Kwan Kevin - Sex and Vanity

Contents

I: CAPRI

CHAPTER ONE: ANACAPRI

CHAPTER TWO: HOTEL BERTOLUCCI

CHAPTER THREE: POOLSIDE AT THE BERTOLUCCI

CHAPTER FOUR: THE GARDENS OF AUGUSTUS

CHAPTER FIVE: DA LUIGI BEACH CLUB

CHAPTER SIX: DA COSTANZO SANDAL SHOP

CHAPTER SEVEN: ARCO NATURALE

CHAPTER EIGHT: MARINA GRANDE

CHAPTER NINE: VILLA LACHOWSKI

CHAPTER TEN: THE HIGH GARDEN AT VILLA LACHOWSKI

CHAPTER ELEVEN: HOTEL BERTOLUCCI

CHAPTER TWELVE: CERTOSA DI SAN GIACOMO

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VILLA LYSIS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: VILLA JOVIS

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: HOTEL BERTOLUCCI

II: NEW YORK

CHAPTER ONE: THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART

CHAPTER TWO: 821 FIFTH AVENUE

CHAPTER THREE: THE SEVENTEENTH FLOOR

CHAPTER FOUR: OUTLOOK AVENUE

CHAPTER FIVE: THE PREPPIE GURU LOUNGE

CHAPTER SIX: OUTLOOK AVENUE

CHAPTER SEVEN: DITCH PLAINS

CHAPTER EIGHT: SAINT LUKE’S PLACE

CHAPTER NINE: DORSET YACHT CLUB

CHAPTER TEN: CISSINGHURST

CHAPTER ELEVEN: OUTLOOK AVENUE

CHAPTER TWELVE: THREE LIVES & COMPANY

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: DOUBLES

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ROCKEFELLER CENTER

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: TEA & SYMPATHY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: JACQUELINE KENNEDY ONASSIS RESERVOIR

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE ANIMAL RESCUE FUND SUMMER GALA

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MONTAUK HIGHWAY

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE PREPPIE GURU LOUNGE

III: CAPRI

LA GROTTA AZZURRA

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A Note About the Author

Kevin Kwan (Far Eastern Kindergarten / ACS / Clear Lake High / UHCL / Parsons School of Design) is the author of the international bestsellers Crazy Rich Asians , China Rich Girlfriend , and Rich People Problems. Crazy Rich Asians was a no. 1 New York Times bestseller and a major motion picture, and has been translated into more than thirty languages. He lives in Los Angeles and is trying to eat less pasta.

ALSO BY KEVIN KWAN

Crazy Rich Asians

China Rich Girlfriend

Rich People Problems

For Capri, the island that feeds my soul, and for New York, the city that took me in, nurtured me, and changed me forever.

From: Isabel Chiu

To: lucietangchurchill@gmail.com

Subject: la dolce vita

Lucie!!!

I’m sooooo happy you’re coming to my wedding in Capri! Do you know, apart from my family, you’re the person I’ve known the longest that will be there? I can hardly believe we’ve been friends since I was 13 and you were 7—you were the only kid I ever babysat, although I would hardly consider it babysitting since you had to endure repeated viewings of Roswell and hearing me moan nonstop about my obsessions. (Remember Nikolai? Ran into him at Erewhon the other day. He’s in LA working as a location scout for Lawrence Bender, and he’s totally unrecognizable now!)

Anyway, after getting approval from my mom’s fortune teller, we’ve chosen an auspicious day in July to celebrate our nuptials, and Capri, where Dolfi spent every summer of his youth and where his family has deep roots, will be absolutely magical at that time. It’s so special to me that you’re joining us, and of course I remember your cousin Charlotte and look forward to seeing her too. I can’t wait for all of us to be on the island together and for you to meet my friends!

My calligrapher is behind schedule because she was a bit unprepared for the sheer number of guests, but the formal invitations should be done by the end of the month. Be on the lookout for yours!

xoxo,

Issie

To: Lucie Tang Churchill & Guest

999 Fifth Avenue, Apt. 12B

New York, NY 10021

Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Chiu

request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their daughter

Isabel

to

Mr. Adolfo Michelangelo De Vecchi

the son of Conte Andrea De Vecchi and Contessa Laudomia De

Vecchi

at the Villa Lysis, Capri, Italy

on Saturday, July 20, 2013

at five o’clock

and afterward at

Villa Jovis

RSVP

Isabel Chiu

875 Nimes Road

Los Angeles, CA 90077

Capri, Italy, 2013

The trail was lit by tall flickering torches, but Charlotte Barclay still felt like she could have fallen a thousand times on the pathway. She knew she had broken the cardinal rule that every seasoned magazine editor like herself always adhered to: dress sensibly, not frivolously, when traveling. Staring down at the tattered hemline of her party dress and cursing her decision to wear stilettos borrowed from Olivia Lavistock at the last minute, she felt like she had been stumbling through the woods for hours, although it had only been about fifteen minutes, and when the villa finally came into view, its Ionic columns illuminated in high relief against the dark liquid night, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Patting down her fastidious blond bob—a style that had not altered since her days at Miss Porter’s—Charlotte climbed up the uneven marble steps and entered the terrace overlooking the Bay of Naples, feeling disoriented yet again. The graceful veranda that was empty an hour ago had been transformed in the blink of an eye into yet another banquet space where a lavish midnight buffet was set up, and wedding guests lured from the ballroom were grazing like chic gazelles at the long tables laden with delectable treats.

Charlotte glanced around nervously, feeling as if every single one of those damned Italian principessas and contessas was scrutinizing her every move. How could the most exquisite wedding she’d ever witnessed have morphed so quickly into a living nightmare? She saw Auden Beebe pile a heap of lobster ravioli onto his plate, and for a moment she wanted to rush over to him for help. No, he’s the wrong person. He won’t quite understand. The Ortiz sisters were just coming up the stairs. Absolutely not them.

When she spotted Olivia perched at one of the high-top bistro tables along the wall, she could finally feel the tension in her shoulders ease. Olivia would know what to do. Olivia would be cool; she was an avant-garde filmmaker. Olivia was English, but she wasn’t like the other English here. She lived in LA and had gone to school in Paris, so she’d probably seen some shit in her time. Olivia would help her out of this unthinkable mess.

Charlotte marched up alongside her, covertly grabbing her elbow. Olivia immediately caught Charlotte’s look and misread it. “Sure, call me a hypocrite. But after watching you inhaling pasta, focaccia, biscotti, and every possible variation of gluten for the past week, what did you think would happen? This white truffle and caviar pizza is better than wild muddy sex in a Scottish dale with Sam Heughan. You ought to write about it in your magazine.”

Charlotte tried to speak but found that her throat was too parched.

“I’m talking about the pizza, not the muddy Scottish sex,” Olivia clarified, although Charlotte clearly hadn’t been listening to a word she had said. She simply leaned against Olivia, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asked, registering the shell-shocked expression on Charlotte’s face for the first time.

“I’m okay … but Lucie … God help the girl!” Charlotte gasped, reaching for a flute of prosecco. Charlotte gulped down the drink, and then, slumping against the stone balustrade, she started to hyperventilate.

“What happened to Lucie? Should I get help?” Olivia asked.

“She doesn’t need any help, she’s fine. Actually, she’s not fine. Oh, my poor Lucie. Everything’s ruined! Abso- fucking -lutely ruined!”