Sex and Vanity by Kwan Kevin

Author:Kwan, Kevin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473576889
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2020-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

The Seventeenth Floor

821 Fifth Avenue

The chauffeur opened the door, and Reneé and Cecil stepped from the Bentley onto the burgundy carpeting, passed through the revolving doors of 821 Fifth Avenue, and found themselves in the hushed, elegant Belgian Art Nouveau lobby. A pair of doormen dressed like deserters from the Franco-Prussian War gave them the once-over.

“We’re going up to Consuelo Barclay Churchill’s. I’m Cecil Pike,” Cecil announced.

The older doorman checked a list in a leather-bound logbook before giving them a curt nod. “Seventeenth floor, Mr. Pike. Ivan will show you the way.”

Even the doormen are snooty, Reneé thought, as they were shown to the elevator by the younger doorman. She remembered walking past the building years ago when she first began house hunting in New York and admiring its splendid facade.

Danielle, her property agent, had shaken her head and declared, “Don’t even think about this one. It’s a good building.”

Reneé was confused. “If it’s a good building, why can’t we consider it?”

“Sorry, let me explain … A ‘good’ building is realtor code for the few buildings left in Manhattan with co-op boards that will never allow people of a certain, ahem, background in.”

Reneé’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean by ‘background’? I have an MBA from Harvard and letters of reference from the governor of New York, Cardinal O’Connor, and Barbara Walters. Are you telling me we aren’t qualified?”

“It has nothing to do with your qualifications or references, Mrs. Pike, which I can assure you are sterling.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Danielle lowered her voice to a whisper. “No Jews, Mrs. Pike. And that means no one with a drop of Hispanic blood either. You need to have come over on the Mayflower to get into this building.”

Now, Reneé scrutinized herself one last time in the inlaid mirror of the elevator. With her expertly balayaged hair and her expensively sculpted nose, did she still look like she had any Hispanic blood coursing through her veins?

“I can’t wait to see this place,” Cecil whispered in his mother’s ear. “How much do you want to bet it’s decorated like Frank E. Campbell’s?”

The elevator opened onto an entrance hall, and both Reneé and Cecil were taken aback by the sight of the enormous pair of Assyrian sphinxes that were at least ten feet tall flanking a faux marbre set of doors in vibrant malachite and turquoise. They could hear the murmur of the crowd just beyond the doors. This wasn’t the typical Sister Parish meets Mark Hampton decor they had been expecting; the place had a sumptuous, exotic flair that exuded a relaxed grandeur.

“Can you believe it? Old money with actual style,” Cecil whispered to his mother.

Reneé scanned the room quickly, quietly impressed, as Cecil wondered if he had time to sneak a few pictures. “Stand there, Mother. I’m going to take a picture of you before anyone sees us.”

Cecil took a few covert shots on his phone before clearing his throat and asking in a loud voice, “Now where’s everyone?”

“There they are!”

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