Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

Kitty nodded diligently. “I understand—no talking, no vomiting, no ass-backing.”
“Now, as I said, I don’t want you to expect too much today. This is just an introduction,
and a chance for Her Majesty to become acquainted with you.”
“So you’re saying she isn’t going to give me a knighthood today?”
“Kitty, women don’t get knighted in Malaysia. There is a whole different system of
honors here. The sultana can bestow a title whenever she pleases, but don’t get your
hopes up that it’s going to happen today.”
“You sound angry at me,” Kitty said with a little pout.
“I am not angry, Kitty. I’m just speaking over the chopper noise.” Truth be told, Oliver
had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown ever since Kitty had delivered her
ultimatum, and he was anxious for everything to go as planned today. He had way too
much to lose if it didn’t. Trying to placate her a bit, he continued, “I’m just trying to make
you understand that these titles given by royals like the sultana are real honors. They
honor truly deserving people who have done a tremendous amount of good for Malaysia
over a lifetime. People who build hospitals and schools, who start companies that support
entire towns and provide work to thousands of locals. These honors mean a great deal
more than Colette’s title. All she ever did was spread her legs for some posh dimwit.”
The helicopter swooped over the Kuala Lumpur skyline, passing the iconic Petronas
Towers as it started to descend. “So this is where the sultana lives?” Kitty asked as she
peered out at the exclusive leafy neighborhood of Bukit Tunku.
“This is just her little crash pad in KL for when she comes to the capital. She has
residences all over the world—a house on Kensington Palace Gardens, a villa overlooking
Lake Geneva, and of course, the gigantic palace in Perawak,” Oliver informed her as the
chopper touched down on the great lawn.
The two of them jumped out of the chopper, and a uniformed officer awaited them on
the lawn. “Welcome to the Istana al Noor,” he said as he led them toward a humongous
white palace that resembled a wedding cake. Entering through the front doors, Oliver and
Kitty found themselves in a vast reception hall with nine gigantic pyramidal chandeliers
that descended from the coffered gold-leafed ceiling like upside-down versions of the
Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
“This is her little crash pad?” Kitty remarked.
“Oh, you have no idea, Kitty. Her home in Perawak is twice the size of Buckingham
Palace.”
They were shown into the drawing room, which had dramatic black marble floors and
walls painted in a shimmering crimson hue. The space was filled with priceless Peranakan
gilded wood antiques mixed with fantastical Claude Lalanne bronze furniture. Facing
them was a vibrant pink-and-yellow triptych of Andy Warhol paintings depicting the
Dowager Sultana in her younger days. “Wow, this was not what I was expecting,” Kitty
said, clearly in awe of her surroundings.
“Yes, the Dowager Sultana was definitely a hell-raiser back in the seventies,” Oliver
noted as they both sat down on a backless velvet settee. Next to the settee was a round