Three
The Summer Sail Away was not just any party. It was an all-out, all weekend, all of society swank that put other bashes—Hamptons and otherwise—to shame.
Now I had been to plenty of society functions before. Growing up, my neighbors had been Getty and Kennedy cousins, for Good&Plenty’s sake. But nothing had prepared me for the extravaganza that awaited me in Jawbreaker’s mansion.
She hosted over 200 guests. And provided a guest room for anyone who didn’t already have a residence somewhere between Westhampton and East Hampton.
That was where the trouble began.
Jawbreaker’s butler showed us to our room—singular, of course, since we were so very in love—and dumped our luggage on the double bed. Again singular.
“If we weren’t intimate before,” Phelps boasted, “we will be now.”
Coun
