Кевин Кван - China Rich Girlfriend

“I think they do okay, but I don’t get the impression they are that rich. The father used to be an engineer, and now he’s a sports fisherman. And Mrs. Young does day-trading, I think.”

“Well, he’s been very well brought up. He has this very particular sort of relaxed charisma, and his manners are impeccable. Have you noticed that whenever we’ve been in an elevator, he always lets all the women exit first?”

“So?”

“That’s the mark of a true gentleman. And I know he didn’t get that from Stowe, since your manners are barbaric!”

“Fuck you! You just like him because you think he looks like that Korean heartthrob you like.”

“How cute — are you jealous? Don’t worry, I have no interest in stealing Nick from your sister. What is he, a university professor?”

“He teaches history.”

Colette giggled. “A history professor and an economics professor. Can you imagine what their children will be like? I don’t know why your mother would ever feel threatened by these people.”

Carlton sighed. Deep down, he knew exactly why his mother was behaving the way she was. It really had nothing to do with Rachel and everything to do with his accident. She had never spoken to him about what he had done, but he knew that the stress of that tragedy had changed his mother irretrievably. She had always been short-tempered, but ever since London, she had become more irrational than he had ever known her to be. If he could just turn back the clock on that night. That fucking night that had ruined his life. He rolled over onto his side, facing away from Colette.

Colette could see that the black cloud had descended over Carlton again. It was happening so quickly these days. One minute they would be having the most brilliant time, and then suddenly he would just disappear into a pit of despair. Trying to snap him out of his funk, she unbuttoned the last few buttons of his shirt and began to trace circles around his navel. “I love it when you get all pouty and smoldering on me,” she whispered in his ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Colette positioned her feet on both sides of Carlton’s torso and stood up over him. “Now, do you really think it’s true that President Obama was the last person to sleep in this bed?”

“This place is built like a fortress — all the presidents stay here,” Carlton said flatly.

“I bet Mr. Obama never had this view,” Colette said, sliding off her Kiki de Montparnasse panties in one slow, seductive motion.

Carlton stared up at her. “No, I don’t believe so.”

*1 Actually, everyone knows that Tommen Baratheon, age seven, is the youngest man to sit on the Iron Throne. (See George R. R. Martin’s A Storm of Swords .)

*2 Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.

7NICK AND RACHEL

SHANGHAI, CHINA

Nick awoke to the vision of Rachel luxuriating in a patch of sunlight by the window, sipping her coffee. “What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s about a quarter to one.”

Nick bolted up reflexively as if an alarm bell had gone off. “Bloody hell! Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were sleeping so sweetly, and we’re on vacation, remember?”

Nick stretched his arms and let out a groan. “Ugh. It doesn’t feel much like a vacation.”

“You just need some coffee.”

“And aspirin. Lots of it.”

Rachel laughed. Since their arrival last week, the two of them had been swept up in the tornado that was Carlton’s social life. Actually, it was more like Colette’s social life, since they had attended a mind-blowing number of fashion boutique parties, twelve-course banquets, art openings, restaurant soft openings, a recital at the French Consulate, VIP after-parties (followed by several VVIP after -after-parties), and something billed as a “site-specific transmedia performance piece”—all at Colette’s invitation. And this was before hitting the clubs every night till dawn.

“Who knew that Shanghai’s nightlife scene would put New York to shame? I’m ready for a quiet night in. Do you think your brother will be offended?” Nick asked.

“We’ll just tell Carlton we’re too old for his crowd,” Rachel said, blowing on her coffee.

“Says the girl who was hit on about a dozen times last night! I thought I was really going to have to bust out some of my ninja moves to get those French guys to leave you alone at M1NT.” *1

Rachel laughed. “You’re such a dork!”

“I’m the dork? I’m not the tech geek. Was it just me, or has every European fellow in Shanghai invented some app that’s going to revolutionize the world? And do they all need to have that much stubble? I can’t imagine what it would be like kissing them.”

“Actually, that would be kinda hot — watching you and that cute Polytechnique grad make out! What was his name? Loïc?” Rachel cracked.

“Thanks, but I’d prefer Claryssa or Chlamydia or whatever that friend of Colette’s name was.”

“Haha — Chlamydia is exactly what you’ll get if you kiss her! You’re talking about that girl with the fake eyelashes who asked you point-blank if you had an American passport?”

“Her eyelashes were fake?”

“Honey, everything on her was fake! Did you see how crushed she looked when Colette broke it to her that we were married? I don’t understand how all these people missed the wedding bands on our fingers.”

“You think a little piece of gold is going to stop them? Women here just don’t understand your social cues. You confuse them — you look Chinese, but they don’t get your body language. You don’t behave like a typical wife, so they don’t even realize we’re together.”

“Okay, from now on I’ll be sure to drape myself over you and gaze adoringly into your face at all times. You’re my one and only gaofushuai ,” *2Rachel cooed, fluttering her eyelashes facetiously.

“That’s the spirit! Now where’s my coffee?”

“It’s in the coffeemaker at the bar, and you can refresh my cup too while you’re at it!”

“What happened to my subservient little wife?” Nick padded languidly to the bar as Rachel called out from the other room, “Oh, my father called this morning.”

“What did he have to say?” Nick asked, groggily trying to figure out which button to push on the unnecessarily high-tech espresso machine.

“He apologized again for not being here.”

“Still sorting out problems in Hong Kong?”

“Well today he had to rush to Beijing. Some government emergency this time.”

“Hmmm,” Nick said as he scooped some coffee into the French press. He wondered what was really behind Bao Gaoliang’s Houdini act. He was about to bring it up when Rachel continued, “He wanted us to meet him in Beijing this weekend, but apparently the smog is going to be terrible over the next few days. So he suggested we fly to Beijing next week if things clear up.”

Nick returned to the bedroom and handed Rachel her refilled cup. She looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a strange feeling about all this.”

“You’re not the only one,” Nick said, sitting down on the floor against the window. The sunlight pouring onto his back felt more invigorating than the smell of the coffee.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that! I’m not being totally paranoid, am I? I mean, his excuses are beginning to sound pretty lame. Smog in Beijing? Isn’t it always smoggy there? I flew three thousand miles to get to know him — I’m not going to let some pollution get in the way. I kinda thought I’d be seeing a lot more of my dad, and I feel like he’s avoiding us.”