Sex and Vanity

by Kevin Kwan

“I’m so jetlagged, I forgot. Plus, if I left the tip on my credit card, wouldn’t that make the tax amount higher by a few dollars?”

  Marian simply shook her head, not wanting to think how much Charlotte’s trust fund must be worth at this point. The Barclay family office was even moving into swanky new digs at Hudson Yards next year.

  Freddie came back from the maître d’ with a twenty.

  “Oh, that’s too much of a tip for the driver, don’t you think?” Charlotte wondered. “Can we see if anyone can break that into smaller bills?”

  “Freddie, just give it to the driver,” Marian commanded.

  “Classic Madam Buzzkill,” Freddie muttered under his breath as he ran off.

  Charlotte was still standing, looking rather preposterous with half a dozen shopping bags across each arm. “I checked my luggage with the nice lady but thought I’d better not check all these precious duty-free gifts—wouldn’t want them to accidentally go missing,” she said breathlessly as she began distributing her bags. “Marian, here’s that hand cream you wanted from Boots. And, Lucie, some of your favorite royal blend tea and salted caramel biscuits from Fortnum & Mason. Freddie, thank you for taking care of the driver. I thought you might like these English chocolates.” She handed him an oversize bar of chocolate from a brand that was available at every deli along Lexington. “And Cecil, let’s see, I got you a signed copy of Mary Berry’s new book…Now, where did I put it?”

  “Charlotte, please sit down. We can do presents later. Now, shall we all do the lobster buffet or order off the menu?” Marian said.

  “I don’t care as long as I can steal some coconut macaroons from the dessert table,” Freddie said.

  “Oh, before we order, I should wash my hands. I haven’t washed since JFK,” Charlotte said, getting up again.

  “For fuck’s sake!” Cecil muttered, throwing his napkin on the table. “Arcadia Mueffling has the Duke and Duchess of Ravenscourt over this weekend, and I could be at her stunning Atelier AM–designed house on Gin Lane drinking decent champagne and enjoying a special luncheon cooked by José Andrés right now!”

  Lucie, Freddie, and Marian gaped at Cecil, not sure how to react to his outburst.

  “Cecil, I’m very sorry you have to endure this. But Charlotte did just arrive straight from London, and naturally she’s a bit out of it. If you’d prefer to go to your royal luncheon, please don’t let us keep you,” Marian said calmly.

  Cecil, realizing that he had crossed the line, forced a smile and said, “It’s fine, Marian. I’m sorry if I was being rude. I think I’m just faint with hunger.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead to Arcadia’s and I’ll join you in a little bit?” Lucie gingerly proposed.

  “No, no, I’ll wait for you, baby.”

  * * *

  …

  Charlotte was in the process of hovering over the toilet seat when she heard the door fling open and someone enter the next stall. From the force of the stream hitting the water, she knew it had to be a man.

  “Excuse me, this is the ladies’ room,” she said in a loud voice.

  “Oh, sorry, I thought this was the men’s. It had a picture of a sail on the door,” the man in the next stall replied.

  “Yes, it’s rather confusing if you’re not a member. The sails are for the ladies. The men’s has the drawing of the rope on the door,” Charlotte said, feeling a little awkward as she tried to minimize the sound of her peeing. She came out of her stall and headed for the sink. A few moments later the man also emerged and they caught sight of each other at the same moment in the big wicker mirror.

  “George Zao!” Charlotte gasped as though she had seen a ghost.

  “Oh, hi.” George smiled back, looking far less surprised.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I have a tennis match with Freddie.”

  “What! You know Freddie? Does Lucie know you’re here?”

  George frowned. “I dunno. Maybe.”

  “What are you doing in Sag Harbor?”

  Taking his turn to wash his hands, George explained, “I work in the city. We took a summer house here.”

  “Who is ‘we’? Are you married?”

  “No, I spend weekends here with my mother,” George replied, rather amused by Charlotte’s apparent confusion. As he headed out the door, he said, “I believe we’ll be seeing you later. My mother has invited everyone over for dinner tonight. She’s having her new chef who’s just arrived from Vancouver make Peking duck.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte said, as her mind began spinning into overdrive. She walked slowly back to the table with a strained expression on her face and said nothing as she sat down.

  “Okay, we’ve taken a vote and we’re all doing the buffet,” Marian announced, as she and Freddie leaped up from their seats and made a beeline for the lobsters.

  Lucie was about to get up when Charlotte gripped her arm forcefully and stared into her eyes. “I saw him. In the ladies’ room.”

  “Who?”

  “George Zao!”

  “George was in the ladies’ room?”

  “He came in by mistake. Why didn’t you tell me that man was here?”

  “What is there to tell? He lives in New York and East Hampton now.”

  “East Hampton! But that’s too close! I thought maybe he’d be in Hampton Bays or Quogue with all the summer riffraff. And that ghastly mother of his is here too?”

  “Yes. Mom’s become friendly with her.”

  “How typical. She’s trying to cultivate your mother! Does it make things awkward? Where are they in East Hampton?”

  “Cecil got him to rent Cissinghurst.”

  “Cecil? How do they know each other?”

  “It’s a long story…”

  “Oh dear God. Has George been stalking you? Is that why he came to East Hampton?”

  “It’s nothing like that, Charlotte,” Lucie said, exasperated.

  “Does Cecil know about you and George?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Oh, Lucie, my poor Lucie. How mortifying for you! I hope it doesn’t bring back too many awful memories. Remember, you were just a teenager then! You were so young and impressionable, and swept up by your first summer romance with an exotic foreigner!”

  Lucie shook her head in frustration, annoyed at Charlotte’s overreaction. At the same time, a tide of shame suddenly came seeping into her mind.

  “You should have told me he had resurfaced! I could have helped.”

  “Charlotte, don’t start with all that again. Capri is ancient history. I’m about to be happily married and George couldn’t care less about me. He’s got this Swedish model girlfriend with blond hair like an Afghan hound’s and legs that go up to her throat.”

  “Really?” Charlotte paused. “But what would happen if—”

  Lucie stood up abruptly. “Charlotte, I don’t want to hear it. I want my lobster. Coming or not?”

  *1 Named after Enzo Ferrari’s late son, Alfredo “Dino,” the 2.0-liter, V-6-powered mid-engine open-top sports car was designed by the great Pininfarina, with original, unmolested specimens going for upward of $400,000.

  *2 No baby Zalaa Jinst white goats were harmed in the making of this novel. Cecil’s sweater was actually made from adult goats that grow long, fine fibers in the winter to protect themselves, and herders hand comb the fibers from the goats since shearing them can be too stressful for the animals. An average-sized Zalaa Jinst cashmere sweater requires the wool from approximately four adult goats.

  X

  Cissinghurst

  EAST HAMPTON

  The chef was presenting a pair of glistening roasted Peking ducks to everyone at the table just as Cecil arrived for Rosemary’s dinner party. He came bearing a case of Dugat-Py Mazis-Chambertin Burgundy for Rosemary and a profusion of flow
ers.

  “I’m sorry I was in such a foul mood this morning.” Cecil smiled sheepishly as he presented Marian and Charlotte with enormous bouquets.

  “What beautiful peonies!” Marian remarked.

  “And that’s not all,” Cecil said, as he whipped out two boxes of chocolate truffles and handed one each to Marian and Charlotte.

  “Ooh! Truffles from Maison du Chocolat! My favorite! You’re absolutely forgiven, Cecil,” Marian exclaimed, as Freddie leaned over and swiped a truffle with stealth speed and popped it into his mouth.

  “Thank you, Cecil. I’m not even sure what we’re forgiving you for,” Charlotte gushed, as she began to think of whom she could regift the expensive chocolates to.

  “What happened this morning?” Auden whispered to Freddie.

  “Cecil was just being Cecil,” Freddie whispered back, his front teeth all brown from the chocolate.

  “Darling, could you come with me for a moment?” Cecil asked Lucie.

  “Of course,” she said, getting up from the table. The two of them went into the cavernous oak-paneled living room, which was dominated by three huge Tiffany glass chandeliers and Venetian revival furniture. Cecil and Lucie sat down together on the Knole sofa and, clearing his throat, Cecil began:

  “Darling, I have to explain about this morning. When my family first moved from Midland to Houston, we were invited to lunch at the local country club by these business associates of my dad’s. This couple was trying to do Dad a favor and get us into one of Houston’s most exclusive clubs. We got all dressed up—my father put on a new suit he had bought at Barneys New York in the Galleria, my mother bought a dress from the Yves Saint Laurent boutique at the Pavillion and took me shopping for my outfit at Neiman’s. I was seven and thought I looked supercool in a new striped dress shirt and dress pants from some Italian brand I couldn’t pronounce.* We got to the country club and my mother immediately realized that everything about our outfits was wrong. Everything. My father’s suit looked too shiny, her Yves Saint Laurent cocktail dress was too flashy for Sunday brunch, and, worst of all, I wasn’t wearing a jacket and tie, which was required. I was seven years old, for fuck’s sake. Who knew that all the men, no matter what age, were required to wear a jacket and tie? The coat check man at the club tried to be helpful and lent me a jacket and tie. I was very small for my age, and even the kid’s-size jacket was so large it looked like an overcoat on me. And the tie was this horrendous pickle-green thing from the seventies that smelled of mothballs. But I had no choice, I was forced to wear it, and I felt so humiliated. I remember all the other boys in their smart navy Brooks Brothers jackets and chinos staring at me like I was some freak.”

  “Oh, Cecil…,” Lucie began, feeling guilty.

  “We weren’t accepted into the club, of course, and I realize now it had little to do with how we dressed. At the end of the day, our money was just too new, my dad hadn’t gone to the same schools as all the other fellows, and my mother looked a little too exotic for their tastes.”

  Lucie gave him a confused look. “Too exotic? But your mother looks like Robin Wright.”

  “You didn’t know my mother before she changed her hair and had all her work done. She looked like Salma Hayek. She was very pretty, but it didn’t matter to those people. My mother swore that day that she would make it her mission to become one of the best dressed women in the world, and by God, did she ever.”

  Lucie nodded. “Your mom is the chicest lady I know.”

  “I know it sounds silly, but this morning at Dorset triggered me, and it brought me back to that moment when I was seven. I felt like a complete outsider back then, and I felt like one again today. It made me realize that no matter how much money you have, no matter what you’ve accomplished, these people will just find new ways to make you feel excluded.”

  “Cecil, I understand, really I do. You’ve seen firsthand that among my father’s family, I don’t really feel like I belong. They’ll never truly see me as one of them.”

  “I know, Lucie. That’s why we’re meant for each other. You are a thousand times more beautiful than anyone in that family of yours, and you know what? They’re just jealous. I could see it in all their eyes at our engagement party. You and I, we’re a threat to them. I thank God every day for my little bit of Latin and royal French-Cajun blood. We are marvelously photogenic, we have exquisite style and taste, we’re famous to only the right people, and we live fabulous lives they will never begin to understand. Still, that doesn’t excuse my behavior this morning. I was a complete ass. Will you forgive me?”

  “Of course, Cecil,” Lucie said, as she embraced him on the sofa. “I’m sorry I made you go through all that. We should have left, really.”

  Cecil reached into his pocket and took out a velvet box. Oh God, not another ring, Lucie couldn’t help thinking.

  “Here’s a little present for you. I saw it on Newtown Lane and just couldn’t resist.”

  Lucie opened the box and in it was a strange-looking key fob. “What’s this?”

  “Come outside with me,” Cecil said.

  They walked to the front door of the house, and parked in the circular driveway was a brand-new platinum-white Aston Martin DB11 Volante convertible with a big pink-and-silver bow on its hood.

  “Your MINI Cooper’s almost ten years old now. It’s high time you were driving something newer, safer, and befitting your status,” Cecil commented.

  “Oh, Cecil, you shouldn’t have!” Lucie sighed, wondering how she would get over the embarrassment of driving such a flashy car.

  At this point, everyone had come outside to see what the commotion was, and Cecil proudly showed off his new gift to Lucie.

  Freddie whistled. “That’s a nice set of wheels. The two of you should get into fights more often.”

  “My goodness” was all Marian could say.

  “You’re very blessed, Lucie,” Auden said, checking out the instrument panel of the car.

  “I know,” Lucie replied, trying to sound grateful.

  George remained silent, but Rosemary hugged Lucie excitedly. “Lucky girl! Cecil, how much did you pay for this?”

  “Er…it was a little over 225k.”

  “Wah, so cheap! In Hong Kong, this car would cost at least half a mil.”

  “Well, you should get one then, Mrs. Zao,” Cecil remarked.

  “I just might. But how can I drive such a car to garage sales? I won’t be able to get any bargains if they see me pull up in this thing!” Rosemary said.

  “We really should go back in before the Peking duck gets cold,” Marian warned.

  “Oh, shit!” Freddie exclaimed, as he rushed back into the dining room ahead of the others.

  “Wait! We need to take some pictures of me and Lucie by her new car. George, would you do us the honor?” Cecil asked.

  “Sure.” George grabbed Cecil’s phone while Cecil draped himself over the hood of the car, raising his arms and propping his head up with his hands as if he were Ferris Bueller, all the while directing Lucie. “Now, Lucie, just stand a little to your right and lean back onto me. Legs apart, like you’re a Bond girl. Twist yourself into an S shape. No, Lucie, S shape, not L.”

  Lucie contorted herself against the cold metallic hood, mortified by the ridiculousness of the pose. She wondered if this was how Sports Illustrated swimsuit models must feel when they were trying to look sexy balancing on sand dunes. Did these poses just come effortlessly to someone like Viv?

  “Where’s your surf buddy Viv tonight?” Lucie asked George with a wink.

  “She’s in Miami.”

  “Another bikini shoot?”

  “Probably,” George answered.

  “George, could you put it on beauty mode and raise the phone really high? That’s the best angle,” Cecil called out.

  “Sure.”

  “Smile, L
ucie,” George called out.

  “Don’t smile too much, babe, it won’t look sexy,” Cecil said as he tilted his head ever so slightly.

  Lucie stopped smiling abruptly. She felt her face get hot as she tried not to look at George, more out of embarrassment for Cecil than for herself.

  After the impromptu photo shoot, the three of them went back into the house, and as everyone began tucking into the aromatic crispy duck drizzled with sweet bean sauce and wrapped in delicate rice-flour pancakes, Cecil looked at his plate in dismay. “My tortilla is filled with nothing but duck skin.”

  “It’s not a tortilla, it’s a Chinese pancake,” Freddie said with a laugh.

  “The skin is the delicacy in Peking duck,” Marian explained. “It’s air-dried for seventy-two hours and glazed with spices before it’s specially roasted to produce this perfect golden crispy skin.”

  “Sorry, I can’t eat the skin of any animal, not even if it’s a delicacy,” Cecil said.

  “Hiyah, have some of the noodles with duck meat, then,” Rosemary said, heaping a portion of the braised e-fu noodles with duck onto his plate. “Don’t tell me you’re just like that model lesbian friend of George’s! She won’t eat any animal skin because she thinks it’s too fattening.”

  Freddie’s curiosity was piqued. “Is she a model lesbian or a lesbian who’s a model?”

  “I’m not sure. Both, I think. But haven’t you met her? Viv?” Rosemary said.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure,” Freddie said, glancing across the table at George and noticing that his sister was also looking at him strangely.

  Cecil checked his phone and let out a gasp. “Over sixteen thousand likes on the Aston pic already. See, whenever you’re in pictures with me, our likes go through the roof!”

  “I’m glad it makes you happy,” Lucie said.

  Cecil cleared his throat to make another announcement. “One more surprise: I managed to get tickets to a very special screening of a new movie tomorrow night. The duke and duchess were executive producers on the film, and they are hosting an exclusive sneak preview screening at the East Hampton Cinema before the film officially premieres at the Toronto International Film Festival. A few of the actors will even be there.”