Crazy Rich Asians (31 page)

“I’m going to tell your mum that you hit me!” Bernard shouted at the boy.

“And I’m going to tell your mum that you’re a bully. Plus, I didn’t hit you—I just
pushed you away,” the boy replied.

“It was none of your bloody business! I’m trying to teach this little dick here a
lesson!” Bernard seethed.

“I saw the way you shoved him into the ditch. You could have really hurt him. Why
don’t you pick on someone your own size?” the boy replied calmly, not the least intimidated
by Bernard.

At that point, a metallic-gold Mercedes limousine pulled up to the driveway outside
the school. Bernard glanced at the car briefly, and then turned back to Nick. “This
isn’t over. Get ready for part two tomorrow—I’m really going to
hun tum
^b
you!” He got into the backseat of the car, slammed the door, and was driven away.

The boy who had come to Nick’s rescue looked at him and said, “You okay? Your elbow’s
bleeding.”

Nick looked down and noticed the bloody scrape on his right elbow. He wasn’t sure
what to do about it. At any moment, one of his parents could arrive to pick him up,
and if it happened to be his mother, he knew she would get all
gan cheong
^c
if she saw him bleeding like this. The boy took a white, perfectly folded handkerchief
out of his pocket and handed it to Nick. “Here, use this,” he said.

Nick took the handkerchief from his rescuer and held it to his elbow. He had seen
this boy around. Colin Khoo. He had transferred in this semester, and he was hard
to miss, with his deep-caramel skin and wavy hair with the strange light brown streak
in the front. They weren’t in the same class, but Nick had noticed during PE that
the boy had swim practice alone with Coach Lee.

“What did you do to piss off Bernard so much?” Colin asked.

Nick had never heard someone use the term “piss off” before, but he knew what it meant.
“I caught him trying to cheat off my
maths test, so I told Miss Ng. He got in trouble and was sent to Vice Principal Chia’s
office, so now he wants to pick a fight.”

“Bernard tries to pick a fight with everyone,” Colin said.

“Are you good friends with him?” Nick asked carefully.

“Not really. His father does business with my family, so I’m told I have to be nice
to him,” Colin said. “But to tell you the truth, I can’t really stand him.”

Nick smiled. “Whew! For a second I thought Bernard actually had one friend!”

Colin laughed.

“Is it true you’re from America?” Nick asked.

“I was born here, but I moved to Los Angeles when I was two.”

“What’s LA like? Did you live in Hollywood?” Nick asked. He had never met anyone his
age who had lived in America.

“Not Hollywood. But we weren’t very far—we lived in Bel Air.”

“I’d like to visit Universal Studios. Did you ever see famous movie stars?”

“All the time. It’s no big deal when you live there.” Colin looked at Nick, as if
assessing him for a moment, before continuing. “I’m going to tell you something, but
first you have to swear not to tell anyone.”

“Okay. Sure,” Nick replied earnestly.

“Say, ‘I swear.’ ”

“I swear.”

“Have you heard of Sylvester Stallone?”

“Of course!”

“He was my neighbor,” Colin said, almost in a whisper.

“Come on, that’s bullshit,” Nick said.

“I’m not bullshitting you. It’s the truth. I have a signed photo from Stallone in
my bedroom,” Colin said.

Nick jumped up onto the metal guardrail in front of the ditch, balancing himself nimbly
on the thin railing as he moved back and forth like a tightrope walker.

“Why are you here so late?” Colin inquired.

“I’m always here late. My parents are so busy, sometimes they forget to pick me up.
Why are you here?”

“I had to take a special test in Mandarin. They don’t think I’m good enough, even
though I took classes every day in LA.”

“I suck at Mandarin too. It’s my least favorite subject.”

“Join the club,” Colin said, jumping up onto the railing with him. Just then, a large
black vintage car pulled up. Ensconced in the backseat was the most curious woman
Nick had ever seen. She was rotund with the most immense double chin, probably in
her sixties, dressed entirely in black with a black hat and a black veil over her
face, which was powdered an extreme shade of white. She looked like an apparition
straight out of a silent film.

“Here’s my ride,” Colin said excitedly. “See you later.” The uniformed chauffeur got
out and opened the door for Colin. Nick noticed that the car door opened opposite
from the way other cars normally did—outward from the end nearest to the driver’s
door. Colin climbed in beside the woman, who bent down to kiss him on the cheek. He
looked out of the window at Nick, clearly embarrassed that Nick had witnessed this
scene. The woman pointed at Nick, talking to Colin while the car idled. A moment later,
Colin jumped out of the car again.

“My grandma wants to know if you need a ride home,” Colin asked.

“No, no, my parents are on their way,” Nick replied. Colin’s grandmother rolled down
the window and beckoned Nick to come closer. Nick approached hesitantly. The old lady
looked pretty scary.

“It’s almost seven o’clock. Who’s coming to fetch you?” she asked in concern, noticing
that it was already getting dark.

“Probably my dad,” Nick said.

“Well, it’s far too late for you to be waiting here all by yourself. What is your
daddy’s name?”

“Philip Young.”

“Good gracious, Philip Young—James’s boy! Is Sir James Young your grandfather?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I know your family very well. I know all your aunties—Victoria, Felicity, Alix—and
Harry Leong’s your uncle. Why, we’re practically family! I’m Winifred Khoo. Don’t
you live at Tyersall Park?”

“My parents and I moved to Tudor Close last year,” Nick replied.

“That’s very close to us. We live on Berrima Road. Come, let me call your parents
just to make sure they are on their way,” she said, reaching for the car phone on
the console in front of her. “Do you know your telephone number, dearie?”

Colin’s grandmother made fast work of it, and soon discovered from the maid that Mrs.
Young had unexpectedly jetted off to Switzerland that afternoon, while Mr. Young was
held up by a work emergency. “Please call Mr. Young at work and tell him that Winifred
Khoo is going to be sending Master Nicholas home,” she said. Before Nick knew what
was happening, he found himself inside the Bentley Mark VI, sandwiched between Colin
and the well-cushioned lady in the black veiled hat.

“Did you know your mother was going away today?” Winifred asked.

“No, but she does that a lot,” Nick replied softly.

That Eleanor Young! So irresponsible! How on earth Shang Su Yi ever allowed her son
to marry one of those Sung girls, I will never understand
, Winifred thought. She turned to the boy and smiled at him. “
What
a coincidence! I’m so glad that you and Colin are friends.”

“We just met,” Colin interjected.

“Colin, don’t be rude! Nicholas is a classmate of yours, and we’ve known his family
for a long time.
Of course
you are friends.” She looked at Nick, smiled her gum-baring smile, and continued.
“Colin has made so few friends since moving back to Singapore, and he’s rather lonely,
so we must arrange for you to play together.”

Colin and Nick sat there completely mortified, but in their own ways rather relieved.
Colin was astonished by how friendly his normally disapproving grandmother was being
toward Nick, especially since she had previously forbidden any guests at their house.
He had recently tried to invite a boy from St. Andrew’s over after a swim meet and
had been disappointed when his grandmama told him, “Colin, we can’t have just anyone
over, you know. We must know who the family is first. This isn’t like California—you
have to be so very careful about what sort of people you associate with here.”

As for Nick, he was just glad to be getting a ride home and excited that he might
soon discover whether Colin really had an autographed photo of Rambo.

Eddie, Fiona, and the Children

Eddie sat on the fleur-de-lis-patterned carpet of his dressing room, carefully unwrapping
the tuxedo that had just arrived from Italy, which he had ordered especially for Colin’s
wedding. He took extra care to peel off the embossed sticker from the tissue-like
wrapping paper that covered the large garment box, as he liked to save all the stickers
and labels from his designer clothes in his Smythson leather scrapbook, and slowly
eased the garment bag out of its box.

The first thing he did was try on the midnight-blue trousers. Fucky fuck, they were
too tight! He tried fastening the button at the waist, but no matter how much he sucked
his gut in, the damn thing wouldn’t button. He took the trousers off in a huff and
scrutinized the size label sewn into the lining. It read “90,” which seemed correct,
since his waistline was thirty-six inches. Could he have put on so much weight in
just three months? No way. Those fucking Italians must have screwed up the measurements.
So bloody typical. They made beautiful things, but there was always some problem or
other, like the Lamborghini he once had. Thank God he got rid of that pile of cow
dung and bought the Aston Martin. He would call Felix at Caraceni first thing tomorrow
and tear him a new asshole. They needed to fix this before he left for Singapore next
week.

He stood by the mirrored wall in nothing but his white dress shirt, black socks, and
white briefs, and gingerly put on the double-breasted
tuxedo jacket. Thank God, at least the jacket fit nicely. He buttoned the top button
of the jacket and found to his dismay that the fabric pulled a little against his
belly.

He walked over to the intercom system, pushed a button, and bellowed, “Fi! Fi! Come
to my dressing room now!” A few moments later, Fiona entered the room, wearing just
a black slip and her padded bedroom slippers. “Fi, is this jacket too tight?” he asked,
buttoning the jacket again and moving his elbows around like a goose flapping its
wings to test the sleeves.

“Stop moving your arms and I’ll tell you,” she said.

He put his arms down but kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, impatiently
awaiting her verdict.

“It’s definitely too tight,” she said. “Just look at the back. It’s pulling at the
center seam. You’ve put on weight, Eddie.”

“Rubbish! I’ve hardly gained a pound in the last few months, and definitely not since
they took my measurements for this suit back in March.”

Fiona just stood there, not wanting to argue with him over the obvious.

“Are the children ready for inspection?” Eddie asked.

“I’m trying to get them dressed right now.”

“Tell them they have five more minutes. Russell Wing is coming over at three to take
some family pictures of us in the wedding clothes.
Orange Daily
might do a feature on our family attending the wedding.”

“You didn’t tell me Russell is coming over today!”

“I just remembered. I called him only yesterday. You can’t expect me to remember everything
when I have much more important matters on my mind, can you?”

“But you need to give me more time to prepare for a photo shoot. Don’t you remember
what happened the last time when they shot us for
Hong Kong Tattle
?”

“Well, I’m telling you now. So stop wasting time and go get ready.”

Constantine, Augustine, and Kalliste stood obediently in a straight line in the middle
of the sunken formal living room, all dressed up in their new outfits from Ralph Lauren
Kids. Eddie sprawled on the plush velvet brocade sofa, inspecting each of his children,
while Fiona, the Chinese maid, and one of the Filipino
nannies hovered close by. “Augustine, I think you should wear your Gucci loafers with
that outfit and not those Bally moccasins.”