Lies and Weddings(82)
“Who won the Murakami?” the supermodel asked.
“I did, of course. Dad stopped lifting his paddle and I placed the winning bid! His stupidity cost me an extra two million.”
“But wasn’t it worth it for the story?” the producer quipped. The group laughed politely as Eden wondered whether he was some famous Asian celebrity whom she didn’t recognize.
Freddy, meanwhile, turned to the British pop star. “Hey, I think my dad’s company produces all your concert merch.”
“Really? Your dad owns F-Star?”
“Yep.”
“Then I must thank you—you’re making me pots of money! Of course, you guys must be loads richer if you’re the ones making all my T-shirts!”
The muscled young guy, who clearly did not appreciate the attention being drawn away from him, pushed his table out loudly so that he could get up. He stood up with a slight wobble, and Eden realized that he was drunk.
“I’m outta here. John, count me in for twenty million on the film.” Putting his veiny bulging arm over the pop star’s shoulder, he added, “As long as this fucker’s in it, I’m sure it won’t lose too much money.”
“It’ll be a surefire hit!” the producer declared.
“I’m on the first card and I get to play the pimp?”
“Absolutely.”
“And we all get cameos?” the supermodel’s daughter’s boyfriend asked.
“Everyone here gets a cameo!” the producer promised.
Thomas turned to Eden. “I have to join him. Must get back to my patient.”
“Yes, of course,” Eden said, sensing that her father seemed on edge even though he was clearly pleased to see her. She figured that he was still trying to maintain his patient’s confidentiality amid this awkward reunion.
“How long are you here for?” Thomas asked.
“Probably till next Monday. Freddy’s sister’s engagement party is this weekend.”
“Deepa must have been in a charitable mood to let you take all this time off.”
Eden’s face clouded over. “That’s another story. Are you here for a few days?”
“Yes, I think so. My patient insisted on coming to LA to see his son,” Thomas said, gesturing toward the Asian Adonis, “but I don’t think we can leave.”
Eden understood her father implicitly. His patient didn’t have long. “Well, if you have a spare moment, perhaps we could have a phone chat while we’re both in the same time zone.”
“Yes, I’m sure I’ll be able to squeeze that in. Maybe tomorrow afternoon? What time will you be free?”
Before Eden could reply, the young guy interrupted Thomas. “Hey, you want a ride or not?”
“Yes, of course,” Thomas said.
“Dad, I’ll just text you later when I know—”
“Why don’t you just come over if you wanna see your dad so bad?” the guy cut in again.
“That won’t be necessary,” Thomas said, looking momentarily alarmed.
“My father’s right. I wouldn’t want to intrude…” Eden sensed that her father did not want her to visit him.
“You wouldn’t be intruding. Dr. T, she’s a tourist, I’m sure she’ll want to see Cloudline.”
“I really don’t need to—” Eden began, but Freddy’s ears perked up.
“Wait a minute—you bought Cloudline? You’re Louie—”
“Luis Felipe Tan” (International School Manila/Masters School [expelled]/TASIS [expelled]/UC San Diego [expelled sophomore year]/Florida International University [dropped out after one semester]/Stella Adler Academy of Acting [asked to leave]), the guy said, completing Freddy’s sentence.
“Whoa—congratulations, dude! My buddy invited me to a party at your house.”
“Which one? I have parties every week,” Luis Felipe said.
“I think it was the NFT party.”
“Were you there?”
“No, I was being starved to death at Rancho La Puerta.”
“The next time someone invites you to a party at my house, you should come.”
Freddy grinned excitedly. “Can we come today? Eden, you gotta see Cloudline! It’s the sickest house in all of LA!”
“Ahem, we do have a very sick patient in the house—” Thomas interjected.
“Yes,” Eden agreed, “we really mustn’t disturb—”
“Disturb what? Dad’s bored out of his fuckin’ skull! I’m sure he’d love to meet Thomas Tong’s daughter! Come over for drinks later and I’ll have my assistant give you a personal tour of the estate,” Luis Felipe decreed before stumbling out of the Cabana Room.
Eden turned to her father in concern. “You’re not seriously going to let him drive?”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas said with a little laugh. Eden and Freddy followed Thomas out to the street, where a convoy of SUVs idled just beyond the striped marquee tent. A pair of menacing bodyguards in dark suits shadowed Luis Felipe into a custom matte-silver-wrapped Lamborghini Urus.
“His license got suspended last year, for the second time. If he gets caught driving again, he’ll go straight to jail,” Thomas explained before getting into the car.