Friday, June 19th, Summer 2015.
You know what they say: What happens in the Hamptons stays in the Hamptons.
The usually bustling halls of notorious prep school are now silent, the penthouses of New York’s finest are hollowed except for a maid here and there (because really, you can’t live without a little touch up), and not a limo is to be seen from the tip of the Empire State building. As half of the West power couple put it (but with better grammar, because everyone knows Harvard taught us better), “They’re probably all in the Hamptons, bragging about what they made. Screw you and your Hamptons house.”
Each year, the finer side of New York is emptied, the most elite families migrating to their summer havens, the one with better pools and more mango lassis. But we all know what happens when the aristocrats are all together in one town. Nothing but trouble.
When life gave Massie Block lemons, she made lemon-mint spritzers. Or at least, she sipped them. After a long, brain numbing swig from the drink she’d been nursing until she had it in a vice, she checked her phone once more. As suspected, zero new text messages showed up on her lockscreen. Although she tried to resist it, the rush of disappointment that followed was inevitable. Alicia was Spain, Dylan in Costa Rica, Kristen in Los Angeles, Claire in Orlando and here she was sitting at a yacht bar in Southampton clicking the home button on her phone after every drink. Pah-thetic. She was getting disgusted with herself.
She tapped her french tips on the counter, contemplating on ordering another drink, calling one of her friends or waste her attention on one the younger girls who stood nearby, who were whispering giddily and trying to decide whether or not to approach her and try their luck. She couldn’t decide which was more desperate.
“Massie!” Kimmi Retinger called out from across the bar, waving her hand esthetically, pulling Massie from her thoughts. Behind her, Savannah Avery followed in her excitement. Massie quickly flipped her brunette locks over, trying to cover her face but it was too late; Kimmi and Savannah were already taking a seat next to her.
“How are you, M? It’s been, like, forever!” Savannah smiled, twirling a piece of her platinum blonde hair around her finger. The shade of ivory that adorned her nails was so eerily close to her skin-tone that her hands looked like they belonged to a mannequin; her emerald eyes glittered as she devoured every word Massie was about to say.
“Wonderful, as usual. What are you two up to?” Massie flashed her crest white strip smile, trying her best to act like she cared. Her eyes creeped back to her phone, the home button tempting her to press it again.
“I’m about to teach a sailing clinic in an hour.” Kimmi lifted up three fingers,”Third summer in the ocean teaching the kiddos.”
Hair didn’t lie, Massie thought bitterly twirling her glass between her fingers idly inspecting the split, dry hair ends of the girl next to her.
“Can you believe that? I think the ocean, is like, the scariest thing ever.” Savannah giggled, waiting for Massie to agree.
But Massie couldn’t; nothing was more frightening than the mismatched Lily Pulitzer patterns Savannah was doning. She raised her eyebrows at the fashion choice.
“Do you have a summer job, Mass?” Kimmi asked eagerly.
“Of course not. It stresses everyone out, and life,” she took a pause to down the last of her spritzer, “was meant to be enjoyed,” Massie preached. The two girls nodded earnestly in agreement, drinking up Massie’s words completely.
“Excuse me, Miss, can I see an ID?”
The sudden noise made her turn around from Kimmi and Savannah to see a bartender with his hand opened expectantly. When she was paying half attention, she noted he was cute but up close she could see his extreme attractiveness. She always had a weakness for the blue-eyed brown-hair type. In other circumstances, she probably would’ve flirted with him. Speaking of which-
“I forgot it,” she lied easily. “They can vouch for me,” she turned to face the seats where Kimmi and Savannah were sitting, but they were empty. They ditched me, her pouty, red-lacquered mouth hung open in shock.
“Sorry, imaginary friends can’t vouch, house rules.”
Putting on her best defeated face, Massie tried again. “I wasn’t drinking anything alcoholic, though!” She stuck out her lower lip slightly, hoping to look innocent as she could wearing a slightly risqué bikini.
“But you’re still in the bar. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules. ID or not?”
Ok, last option. She carefully grabbed her Kate Spade wallet, acting like she was digging through it diligently. Then, without looking back, she took off into a sprint in the direction of the door. Her sandals slowed her down, but she channeled her inner Kristen soccer star and kept at it. She heard shouts but didn’t stop till she was on the main floor, leaning against the rail of the yacht, breathing hard as she watched the waves beneath her.
Her nervous panting turned into giggling as she realized she had just ran from law enforcement for the first time. That is, if yacht bar security counted as law enforcement. This had surprisingly been the most fun thing she had done since she got to Southampton.
PS: Got some major changes going on. Makeover, pages, etc. I’m so sorry to say one of those changes is I will be blogging solo, no PC. Thank you for all the numerous applications they were all very good, I definitely recommend you all trying out for another blog. I’ve put my older posts on draft, just so I could have more a fresh start and check out my new pages, they’re all updated. Also my RL blog – makingmyownconstellations.wordpress.com is updated – just request access (: Thank ya! xx