The Last Summer Girl by S.C. York
Step back in time, for some of us, a long, long, long step back in time – back to 22. You just graduated from college, wore a size 4 and drank Coronas.
You had 5 thoughts per day starting at 5:00 p.m. Where is the party? How will I get to the party? What will I wear to the party?
At 10:00 p.m. thought 4 arrives. Who is that guy?
At 1:00 a.m. the final and most important thought of the day (if you are lucky) slurs its way into existence. Do you have a condom?
The Last Summer Girl by S.C. York drops you face first in the sand, giddy and legless as you join Vanessa, Eva and T.J. (Townies from Mystic, Connecticut) in the recklessness otherwise known as the summer between college graduation and adulthood.
S.C. York intoxicates with her descriptions of New England and the high society lifestyles of the yachting rich and famous. Better than binging on Rich Kids of Beverly Hills.
The Townies hook up with Ryan and Blake (stay tuned for Rich Kids of Stonington) and trade in their boxed wine for Napa Chardonnay but they aren’t fooling the yacht club clan as evident when Vanessa finds herself in over her head during a political discussion at a dinner party.
“My prediction is populism will spread through Europe. The globalist policies of the EU are failing, I mean look at BREXIT,” Mr. Foster says to the table.
“Did you say breadstick?”
Breadstick, BREXIT…I’m with you girl. Who gives a fuck? But Vanessa does give a fuck. She wants desperately to wear Chanel and visit Her Majesty. Not “Her Majesty” the Queen but “Her Majesty” the boat. Blake, who is actually referred to as the King of Mystic, owns “Her Majesty” the boat, not the Queen. Stay with me now. Don’t let the Royals confuse you.
Good things happen on Her Majesty. Bad things happen on Her Majesty. Personally, I hate Her Majesty and if she just happened to have an accident, well then…oops…sorry…I didn’t mean to leave that iceberg there.
Hearts are broken. Friendships are tested. Secrets are revealed. The summer ticks away and adulthood is on the horizon. Vanessa finally grows up and comes to the conclusion that crowns you into adulthood…
“I’d rather be home with my parents watching Antiques Roadshow re-runs than spending a Friday night kissing your arrogant ass!”
S.C. York’s The Last Summer Girl is a fun read that reminds you of the “Party On Garth” girl you once were. So dip your toes in the sand, pour yourself a Sun Country Cooler and blast Raspberry Beret from your Walkman and don’t take this shit too seriously. It’s fucking fun.
By this book at Amazon.