A Night Without Gatsby

Chapter 7- First Impressions

I yawned as I woke up in the morning, at about 9:30 am. I watched Bradley as he tried to get on top of the bed, clawing desperately at the hanging blanket. He mewled and whimpered for help. I couldn't help but smile and gently lift him up and hold him in my hands. He quieted his whimpers and then fell silent when I gently rubbed his back. He fell asleep. I laid back down in my sheets. Today was Sunday, a very lazy, and yet loud day. I looked outside my window to see many newcomers drive to Gatsby's place, whooping and hollering obscenities of joy. It was continuous and nonstop ever since I had moved in.

The parties were wild and obnoxious, going almost all day long, all the way into the late hours of the night. They would be everywhere, like an army of ants feasting on the dead hulk of a beetle.

'No wonder it was only $80 a month...'

I groaned softly. No extra sleep today. I got out of bed and put on some slippers and a robe to go check the mail. I walked out and opened the box. Nothing more than the regular rent and bills. I sighed softly and took them in hand.

"Mr. Carraway?" I looked up to see a man in his late 60's, about 6'4", looking down at me. He had on a light blue messengers outfit with a fitted cap to accompany a white mustache. His shoes were polished and black.

"Yes?"

He handed me a manilla colored envelope and left.

"...." I turned it over to see my name, adress, and everything written on the corner. I looked to see who had sent it, and it was none other than Gatsby himself.

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. I re-entered my home and opened it up, being cautious while doing so. Out slipped a piece of art paper, thick to the touch. In gold, cursive print stood out an invitation to one of his parties, this evening. I blinked. Since when I had been invited to anything?

I silently put the invitation to the side and went on with my day. I got Bradley a small collar and some food, along with his own make-shift bed. I went grocery shopping, made tea, anything a stereotypical man would do. I sat at the dining table, mindlessly staring at the invitation. "...." I looked at the clock. "6:30..." I read aloud to myself. Bradley gave a small yip for attention. I pat his head.

'What even is the harm? It's just one party.' Besides, it'd be rude to decline.

I quickly put on the best suit I could find. Bradley whimpered and jumped on my leg, wanting to go with. "Brad... I don't even know if he allows dogs, you can't come..." Look at me. Talking to a pup. Marvelous.

Brad whimpered and kept crying. I sighed softly. Of course he would want to come.

'He has been ripped from his mother at such a young age... He must be so scared and looking for comfort...'

"Well, come on. Mom's gonna take you with." I gently scooped him up, and he immediately calmed. I put him in my coat pocket and left for the next door neighbor's house.

Once again, music played as I got to the front porch steps. Yells and cries of laughter filled my ears as cars drove to and from Gatsby's yard, all in a drunken haze. I walked up to what I assumed as a butler or some worker of the household. "Excuse me, I was wondering where I could find Gatsby. He sent me an invite, and--"

"He is unavailable right now." The male briskly left. "Invited? No one gets invited." I turned around to see none other than the one and only Jordan Baker. "Jordan?" "Mhm." She gave a flick of approval with her cigarette. "He's not here?" "I wouldn't know. No one would."

I groaned mentally. There was no way I could find him in this monstrosity of a mansion, especially if he was constantly moving around with guests. I kept walking around, trying to find him. Bradley mewled softly again. I sighed and went to the pier, knowing the smoke was affecting him. A few other 'guests' were standing on the pier, drinking martinis and making light conversation. I went to the edge, overlooking to the other coast. The same, slow-blinking green light emerged from the light fog. I stared at it, wondering why he... Gatsby... reached for it...

"You reach for it too. Hopefully for a different reason." A male spoke behind me. Startled, I turned behind me to see a young male, in his early 30's.

He had combed back, blonde hair, and dazzling blue green eyes. He had on a neutral, yet striking and deadly stare on him. "O-oh. I apologize, I didn't know this spot was reserved." A tint of hate and regret coated my voice.

"It's... Not alright, but I'll let it slide, old sport." We stood there for a good few minutes. "... May I ask who you are?"

"Oh! Where are my manners? Name's Gatsby. Jay Gatsby."

Author's Note: Yay! Part Seven!! So, sorry I haven't been updating as of late! Just... Not in a good mood. I promise though, I'll try as hard as possible to update as much as I can! Also, it will stop being from the book, aand it'll transition to my imagination and the movie. Hope you guys will understand. Anyways, hope you all enjoy! All credit goes to F. Scott Fitzgerald!!