*2 Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.
7
NICK AND RACHEL
SHANGHA
I, CHINA
Nick awoke to the vision of Rachel luxuriating in a patch of sunlight by the window, sipping her coffee. “What time is it?” he asked.
“It’s about a quarter to one.”
Nick bolted up reflexively as if an alarm bell had gone off. “Bloody hell! Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were sleeping so sweetly, and we’re on vacation, remember?”
Nick stretched his arms and let out a groan. “Ugh. It doesn’t feel much like a vacation.”
“You just need some coffee.”
“And aspirin. Lots of it.”
Rachel laughed. Since their arrival last week, the two of them had been swept up in the tornado that was Carlton’s social life. Actually, it was more like Colette’s social life, since they had attended a mind-blowing number of fashion boutique parties, twelve-course banquets, art openings, restaurant soft openings, a recital at the French Consulate, VIP after-parties (followed by several VVIP after-after-parties), and something billed as a “site-specific transmedia performance piece”—all at Colette’s invitation. And this was before hitting the clubs every night till dawn.
“Who knew that Shanghai’s nightlife scene would put New York to shame? I’m ready for a quiet night in. Do you think your brother will be offended?” Nick asked.
“We’ll just tell Carlton we’re too old for his crowd,” Rachel said, blowing on her coffee.
“Says the girl who was hit on about a dozen times last night! I thought I was really going to have to bust out some of my ninja moves to get those French guys to leave you alone at M1NT.”*1
Rachel laughed. “You’re such a dork!”
“I’m the dork? I’m not the tech geek. Was it just me, or has every European fellow in Shanghai invented some app that’s going to revolutionize the world? And do they all need to have that much stubble? I can’t imagine what it would be like kissing them.”
“Actually, that would be kinda hot—watching you and that cute Polytechnique grad make out! What was his name? Loïc?” Rachel cracked.
“Thanks, but I’d prefer Claryssa or Chlamydia or whatever that friend of Colette’s name was.”
“Haha—Chlamydia is exactly what you’ll get if you kiss her! You’re talking about that girl with the fake eyelashes who asked you point-blank if you had an American passport?”
“Her eyelashes were fake?”
“Honey, everything on her was fake! Did you see how crushed she looked when Colette broke it to her that we were married? I don’t understand how all these people missed the wedding bands on our fingers.”
“You think a little piece of gold is going to stop them? Women here just don’t understand your social cues. You confuse them—you look Chinese, but they don’t get your body language. You don’t behave like a typical wife, so they don’t even realize we’re together.”
“Okay, from now on I’ll be sure to drape myself over you and gaze adoringly into your face at all times. You’re my one and only gaofushuai,”*2 Rachel cooed, fluttering her eyelashes facetiously.
“That’s the spirit! Now where’s my coffee?”
“It’s in the coffeemaker at the bar, and you can refresh my cup too while you’re at it!”
“What happened to my subservient little wife?” Nick padded languidly to the bar as Rachel called out from the other room, “Oh, my father called this morning.”
“What did he have to say?” Nick asked, groggily trying to figure out which button to push on the unnecessarily high-tech espresso machine.
“He apologized again for not being here.”