“He didn’t go to Singapore. He went to Macau for Colin’s bachelor party.”
“WHAAAT? Colin’s bachelor party is this weekend? Who the hell invited Alistair to his bachelor party?”
“Do you really need me to answer that?”
“But Colin is better friends with ME!” Eddie screamed, the pressure building in his head. And then he felt a strange draft from behind. His pants had split open at the ass.
* * *
* Cantonese for “Did you make a mistake?.”
† Cantonese for “how beautiful.”
‡ Cantonese for “no need to be so polite.”
§ Cantonese for “What are you saying?” or, better yet, “What the hell are you talking about?”
11
Rachel
SAMSARA ISLAND
The bachelorettes were enjoying a sunset dinner at a long table set under a pavilion of billowing orange silk on the pristine white sand, surrounded by glowing silver lanterns. With dusk transforming the gentle waves into an emerald froth, it could have been a photo shoot straight out of Condé Nast Traveler, except that the dinner conversation put a damper on that illusion. As the first course of baby Bibb lettuce with hearts of palm in a coconut-milk dressing was served, the cluster of girls to Rachel’s left were busy skewering into the heart of another girl’s boyfriend.
“So you say he just made senior vice president? But he’s on the retail side, not the investment banking side, right? I spoke to my boyfriend Roderick, and he thinks that Simon probably makes between six to eight hundred thou base salary, if he’s lucky. And he doesn’t get millions in bonuses like the I-bankers,” sniffed Lauren Lee.
“The other problem is his family. Simon’s not even the eldest brother. He’s the second youngest of five,” Parker Yeo pontificated. “My parents know the Tings very well, and let me tell you, as respected as they are, they are not what you or I would consider rich—my mum says they have maybe two hundred million, max. You split that five ways and you’ll be lucky if Simon gets forty mil at the end of the day. And that won’t be for a loooong time—his parents are still quite young. Isn’t his father going to run for parliament again?”
“We just want what’s best for you, Isabel,” Lauren said, patting her hand sympathetically.
“But … but I really think I love him—” Isabel stammered.
Francesca Shaw cut in. “Isabel, I’m going to tell it to you like it is, because everyone here is wasting your time being polite. You can’t afford to fall in love with Simon. Let me break it down for you. Let’s be generous and assume that Simon is making a measly eight hundred thousand a year. After taxes and CPF,* his take-home is only about half a million. Where are you going to live on that kind of money? Think about it—you have to factor a million dollars per bedroom, and you need at least three bedrooms, so you are talking three mil for an apartment in Bukit Timah. That’s a hundred and fifty thousand a year in mortgage and property taxes. Then say you have two kids, and you want to send them to proper schools. At thirty thousand a year each for school fees that’s sixty thousand, plus twenty thousand a year each on tutors. That’s one hundred thousand a year on schooling alone. Servants and nannies—two Indonesian or Sri Lankan maids will cost you another thirty thousand, unless you want one of them to be a Swedish or French au pair, then you’re talking eighty thousand a year spent on the help. Now, what are we going to do about your own upkeep? At the very least, you’ll need ten new outfits per season, so you won’t be ashamed to be seen in public. Thank God Singapore only has two seasons—hot and hotter—so let’s just say, to be practical, you’ll only spend four thousand per look. That’s eighty thousand a year for wardrobe. I’ll throw in another twenty thousand for one good handbag and a few pairs of new shoes every season. And then there is your basic maintenance—hair, facials, mani, pedi, brazilian wax, eyebrow wax, massage, chiro, acupuncture, Pilates, yoga, core fusion, personal trainer. That’s another forty thousand a year. We’ve already spent four hundred and seventy thousand of Simon’s salary, which leaves just thirty thousand for everything else. How are you going to put food on the table and clothe your babies with that? How will you ever get away to an Aman resort twice a year? And we haven’t even taken