LED panels, projecting rapid stop-motion video sequences as Tracy Kuan launched into her classic dance hit “People Like Us.” The crowd roared in approval and rushed onto the dance floor.
Oliver grabbed Cecilia Cheng by the arm and said, “You are under orders from your grandmother to help me. I’m going to cut in on Alistair and Kitty, and you need to keep your baby brother distracted. All I need is one song alone with Kitty.”
Kitty and Alistair were grinding against each other feverishly when Oliver and Cecilia cut in, Alistair giving up Kitty reluctantly. How was he supposed to dirty dance with his own sister? “You’ve got the best moves on the dance floor!” Oliver yelled into Kitty’s ear, as Cecilia steered Alistair closer to the stage.
“I danced backup for Aaron Kwok. That’s how I got my start in the industry,” Kitty yelled back to Oliver as she continued to shimmy wildly.
“I know! I recognized you the minute I saw you the other day. You were wearing a short platinum blond wig in Aaron Kwok’s music video,” Oliver replied, expertly herding her toward a strategic point on the dance floor without her realizing it.
“Wow! You have a good memory,” Kitty said, feeling flattered.
“I also remember you from your other video.”
“Oh, which one?”
“The all-girl back-door-action one,” Oliver said with a little wink.
Kitty didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’ve heard about that video. That girl supposedly looks a lot like me,” she shouted back at Oliver with a smirk.
“Yes, yes, she’s your identical twin. Don’t worry, Kitty, your secret is safe with me. I’m a survivor, just like you. And I know you didn’t work your pretty ass off, quite literally I might add, to end up married to an upper-middle-class boy like my cousin.”
“You’re wrong about me. I love Alistair!” Kitty protested.
“Of course you do. I never said you didn’t,” Oliver replied, spinning her right next to Bernard Tai, who was dancing with Lauren Lee.
“Lauren Lee! My goodness, I haven’t seen you since last year’s Hong Kong art fair. Where have you been hiding yourself?” Oliver exclaimed as he switched partners with Bernard.
As Bernard began to ogle Kitty’s skimpily swathed décolletage, Oliver whispered into Kitty’s ear, “Bernard’s father, Dato’ Tai Toh Lui, has about four billion dollars. And he’s the only son.”
Kitty continued to dance as if she hadn’t heard a single word.
Seeking respite from the ear-splitting music, Astrid headed outdoors and climbed onto one of the terraces overlooking a canopy of treetops. Charlie noticed her leaving the banquet hall, and it took every ounce of determination for him not to follow her. He was better off admiring her from afar, in the way that he always had. Even when they were living together in London, he loved nothing more than to watch her quietly as she drifted through a room in her inimitable way. Astrid had always stood apart from any woman he had ever known. Especially tonight, when the most stylish women in all of Asia were dressed to impress and drowning in diamonds, Astrid outdid all of them by appearing in a flawlessly elegant cheongsam and an exquisitely simple pair of chalcedony drop earrings. He knew from the tailoring and intricately embroidered peacock feathers that the cheongsam had to be vintage, likely one of her grandmother’s. What the hell, he didn’t care how she might feel—he needed to see her again up close.
“Let me guess … not a fan of Tracy Kuan?” Astrid asked when she saw Charlie walking up the steps onto the terrace.
“Not when I have no one to dance with.”
Astrid smiled. “I’d happily dance with you, but you know the press would have a field day with that one.”
“Heh, heh—we’d wipe this wedding off the front pages tomorrow, wouldn’t we?” Charlie laughed.
“Tell me, Charlie, back in our day, were we anything like Colin and Araminta?” Astrid sighed, peering down at the fantastical harbor, its row of Grecian columns like leftover props from the set of Cleopatra.
“I’d like to think we weren’t. I mean, kids these days … the spending is on a whole other level.”
“ ‘Spending Ah Gong’s† money,’ as they say,” Astrid quipped.
“Yes. But at least we had the sense to feel naughty doing it. And I think that back in those days when we lived in London, we were buying things we actually loved, not things to show off,” Charlie mused.
“No one in Singapore gave a damn about Martin Margiela back then.” Astrid laughed.