Tiffany pulled up to the Robbins Reef Yacht Club in her two-year-old Hyundai that she still has a jillion payments on. The neon lime green paint was already wearing thin, a fact that her mother pointed out by scraping at it. “Fiberglass,” was her only comment. Tiffany and her friend Stephanie don’t make quite enough money between the two of them to “qualify” for the apartment in Williamsburg they’re applying for, though they’d be able to make the rent by not buying a lot of the stuff they usually buy, or by running up their credit cards to the point of no return. Odds are on both approaches. So they need a guarantor for the apartment, a financial “adult” who agrees to come up with the rent in case they can’t, and they’re looking at Tiffany’s mother, who spends most Sundays drinking at the Yacht Club’s Tiki Bar with her boyfriend Clay, who keeps his motor yacht moored in a slip that’s been in his family for three generations.
