“Peik Lin, I mean it. None of your funny business here,” Rachel warned as she thumbed through another rack. A dress that was hand-painted with watery blue-and-silver flowers caught her eye. “Now this is to die for. Why don’t I try this one on?” she asked.

Patric reentered the room and noticed the dress Rachel was holding. “Wait, wait, wait. How did that Dries Van Noten get in here? Chuaaaan!” he yelled for his long-suffering aide-de-camp. “The Dries is reserved for Mandy Ling, who’s on the way right now. Her mother will kau peh kau bu* if I let someone else have it.” He turned back to Rachel and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, that Dries is already spoken for. Now, for starters let’s see you in this oyster-pink number with the pretty bustle skirt.”

Rachel soon found herself twirling around in one stunning dress after another and having more fun than she ever thought possible. Peik Lin would simply ooh and ahh over everything she put on, while reading aloud from the latest issue of Singapore Tattle:

Expect private-jet gridlock at Changi Airport and road closures all over the CBD this weekend as Singapore witnesses its own royal wedding. Araminta Lee weds Colin Khoo at First Methodist Church on Saturday at high noon, with a private reception to follow at an undisclosed location. (Mother-of-the-bride Annabel Lee is said to have planned every last detail, blowing northward of forty million on the occasion.) Although the crème de la crème guest list has been more closely guarded than North Korea’s nuclear weapons program, don’t be surprised to see royalty, heads of state, and celebrities such as Tony Leung, Gong Li, Takeshi Kaneshiro, Yue-Sai Kan, Rain, Fan BingBing, and Zhang Ziyi in attendance. It’s rumored that one of Asia’s biggest pop divas will perform, and bookies are taking bets on who designed Araminta’s bridal gown. Be on the lookout for Asia’s most glittering to come out in full force, like the Shaws, the Tais, the Mittals, the Meggahartos, the Hong Kong AND Singapore Ngs, assorted Ambanis, the David Tangs, the L’Orient Lims, the Taipei Plastics Chus, and many others too fabulous to mention.

Meanwhile, Patric would dash in and out of the dressing room making definitive pronouncements:

“That slit is too high—you’ll give all the choirboys erections wearing that one!”

“Gorgeous! You were genetically engineered to wear Alaïa!”

“NEVER, EVER wear green chiffon unless you want to look like bok choy that got gang-raped.”

“Now that looks stunning. That flared skirt would look even better if you were arriving on horseback.”

Every outfit Patric selected seemed to fit Rachel more beautifully than the last. They found the perfect cocktail dress for the rehearsal dinner and an outfit that could work for the wedding. Just when Rachel finally decided that, what the hell, she would splurge on one great designer ball gown for the first time in her life, Peik Lin summoned for a whole rack of dresses to be wrapped up.

“Are you taking all those for yourself?” Rachel asked in astonishment.

“No, these are the ones that looked best, so I’m getting them for you,” Peik Lin answered as she attempted to hand her American Express black card to one of Patric’s assistants.

“Oh no you’re not! Put that AMEX card down!” Rachel said sternly, grasping Peik Lin’s wrist. “Come on, I only need one formal gown for the wedding ball. I can still wear my black-and-white dress to the wedding ceremony.”

“First of all, Rachel Chu, you cannot wear a black-and-white dress to a wedding—those are mourning colors. Are you sure you’re really Chinese? How could you not know that? Second, when was the last time I saw you? How often do I get to treat one of my best friends in the whole world? You can’t deprive me of this pleasure.”

Rachel laughed at the preposterous charm of her statement. “Peik Lin, I appreciate your generosity, but you just can’t go around spending thousands of dollars on me. Now, I have money saved up for this trip, and I will gladly pay for my own—”

“Fantastic. Go buy some souvenirs when you’re in Phuket.”

In a dressing suite at the other end of Patric’s atelier, two attendants were gingerly tightening the corseted bodice of a scarlet Alexander McQueen gown on Amanda Ling, still jet-lagged from having just stepped off a plane from New York.

“It needs to be tighter,” her mother, Jacqueline, said, looking at the attendants, who each held one side of the gold silk cord hesitantly.

“But I can hardly breathe as it is!” Amanda protested.

“Take smaller breaths, then.”

“This isn’t 1862, Mummy. I don’t think this is actually supposed to be worn like a real corset!”

“Of course it is. Perfection comes at a sacrifice, Mandy. Which naturally is a concept you seem to lack any understanding of.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Don’t get started again, Mummy. I knew exactly what I was doing. Things were going just fine in New York until you forced me to fly back for this insanity. I was so looking forward to blowing off Araminta’s silly wedding.”

“I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but things are not ‘just fine.’ Nicky is going to propose to this girl any minute now. What was the whole point of my sending you to New York? You had one simple mission to accomplish, and you failed miserably.”

“You have no appreciation for what I’ve accomplished for myself. I’m part of New York society now,” Amanda proudly declared.

“Who gives a damn about that? You think anyone here is impressed to see pictures of you in Town & Country?”

“He’s not going to marry her, Mummy. You don’t know Nicky like I do,” Amanda insisted.

“Well, for your sake I hope you’re right. I don’t need to remind you—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve said it for years. You have nothing to leave me, I’m the girl, everything has to go to Teddy,” Amanda lamented sarcastically.

“Tighter!” Jacqueline ordered the attendants.

* * *

* Hokkien for “bitch me out” (or slang that translates to “cry to the father and cry to the mother”).

4

First Methodist Church

SINGAPORE

“Another security checkpoint?” Alexandra Cheng complained, peering out the tinted window at the throngs of spectators lining Fort Canning Road.

“Alix, there are so many heads of state here, of course they have to secure the location. That’s the Sultan of Brunei’s convoy ahead of us, and isn’t the vice premier of China supposed to be coming?” Malcolm Cheng said.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if the Lees invited the entire Communist Party of China,” Victoria Young snorted in derision.

Nick had departed at the crack of dawn to help Colin prepare for his big day, so Rachel caught a ride with his aunts and uncle in one of the fleets of cars leaving from Tyersall Park.

The burgundy Daimler finally arrived in front of First Methodist Church and the uniformed chauffeur opened the door, causing the crowd crammed behind barricades to roar in anticipation. As Rachel was helped out of the car, hundreds of press photographers hanging off metal bleachers began snapping away, the sound of their frenzied digital clicks like locusts descending on an open field.