lamps in the shape of lotus blossoms. But the focal point of the space was a three-story rock wall carved with ancient-looking Buddhas. Growing out of the wall were live ferns and other exotic botanicals, while off to the side, a spiral glass-and-stone staircase wound its way to an upper floor.
“Mrs. Bing wanted the Grand Lounge to feel like an ancient Javanese temple,” Carlton explained.
“It’s just like Borobudur,” Nick said in a hushed whisper as he touched the moss-covered stone.
“You got it. I think she fell in love with some resort there many years ago and wanted it replicated on her plane. The wall is an actual temple façade from an archaeological dig. They had to smuggle it out of Indonesia, from what I’m told.”
“I guess you can do whatever you want with a 747 if you don’t need to fit four hundred seats,” Nick surmised.
“Yeah, and having five thousand square feet of space to play with also helps. These sofas, by the way, are upholstered in Russian reindeer leather. And up those stairs, there’s a karaoke lounge, a screening room, a gym, and ten bedroom suites.”
“Sweet Jesus! Nick, come over here right now!” Rachel said in a panicked voice from across the room.
Nick rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”
Rachel stood dead in her tracks at the edge of what appeared to be a lap pool, shaking her head in disbelief. “Look—it’s a koi pond.”
“God, you scared me. For a moment I thought something was wrong,” Nick said.
“You don’t think anything’s wrong? THERE’S A FRIGGING KOI POND IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS PLANE, NICK!”
Carlton came over, highly amused by his sister’s reaction. “These are some of Mrs. Bing’s prized koi. You see that fat white one over there with the big red spot right in the middle of its back? Some Japanese tosser who was a guest on the plane once offered the Bings $250,000 for that fish. It reminded him of the Japanese flag. I do wonder if these poor koi ever get jet-lagged.”
Just then, Colette entered the main cabin swathed in a hooded angora poncho, trailed by a large entourage that included her mother, grandmother, Roxanne, a few of the girls from earlier, and a retinue of maids. “I can’t believe those idiots let you on board! I wanted to give Nick and Rachel the tour myself,” Colette said with a little pout.
“We haven’t seen anything except this room,” Rachel said meekly.
“Okay, great! Knowing your love of bathrooms, I wanted to show you the hydromassage room myself.” Lowering her voice, she said to Rachel, “I wanted to warn you ahead of time. My parents bought and designed this plane while I was away at Regent’s. So I can’t be held responsible for the decor.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colette. This plane is unfathomably gorgeous,” Rachel assured her.
Colette looked genuinely relieved. “Here, come meet my grandmother. Nainai, these are my friends from America, Rachel and Nick,” Colette announced to a plump septuagenarian with a standard-issue Chine se-grandma perm.
The old lady smiled tiredly at them, baring a couple of gold teeth. She looked as if she had been hastily yanked out of bed, shoved into a St. John knit jacket two sizes too small, and hustled aboard the plane.
Colette surveyed the cabin, looking rather displeased. She glanced at Roxanne and said, “Send for Fernando right now.”
The man arrived momentarily, and Colette gave him a lethal glare. “Where’s the tea? There should always be cups of steaming-hot Bird’s Tongue Longjing tea*2 waiting for my mother and grandmother the minute they get on board! And little plates of hua mei*3 to suck on during takeoff! Hasn’t anyone read the Aircraft Standards Manual?”
“I apologize, Miss Bing. We only landed a little over an hour ago and haven’t had time to turn around the plane properly.”
“What do you mean you just landed? Wasn’t Trenta here all weekend?”
“No, Miss Bing. Your father just returned from Los Angeles.”
“Really? I had no idea. Well, get us the tea and tell the captain we’re ready for takeoff.”
“Right away, Miss Bing,” the chief purser said, turning to leave.
“One more thing…”
“Yes, Miss Bing?”
“There is something in the air tonight, Fernando.”
“We’ll readjust the cabin climate right away.”
“No, that’s not it. Can you smell the air, Fernando? It’s nothing like Frédéric Malle’s Jurassic Flower. Who changed the cabin scent without my permission?”
“I’m not sure, Miss Bing.”
After Fernando left the room, Colette turned to Roxanne again. “When we get to Paris, I want new copies of the Aircraft Standards Manual