Zihan had been working out escape routes, sketching and resketching maps of Buchanan’s estate and the surrounding waterways. Meanwhile, I kept us organized, pulling everyone together when nerves threatened to tear us apart.
Jay threw himself into the invitations, spending hours in theChronicleoffice late at night, perfecting the gold geometric borders and ensuring every name in Gatsby’s network—from business partners to students still lingering in the city—received a gilded invite.
JOIN US to Celebrate the
Engagement of Jay Gatsby Jr. and Daisy Whitley
The Gatsby RESIDENCE
135 W GATE Dr., Huntington, NY 11743
April 14. 9–12 p.m.
All are invited!
When Uncle Beet and Auntie Lorraine saw the invitation, they pulled Daisy aside, shaking their heads over the news.
“You’re not serious, Daisy,” Uncle Beet said, his face all wound up with worry. “Getting married so young? To a man... like this?”
Auntie Lorraine surprisingly wasn’t much softer. “We thought you’d take your time, look around, find the right person. But he seems like he’s got a bright future. I suppose that’s worth something.” She gave a small sigh, trying to mask her disapproval.
Daisy only smiled, smooth and unaffected. “Trust me—he’s everything I need, Mom. He’ll give me the life I’ve always wanted! And maybe a little more.”
They exchanged a look, but they knew better than to push further. Even if they didn’t understand her choice, they couldn’t argue with the security that a rich boy provided!
Some tension in the air lifted with Auntie and Uncle’s blessing. It allowed us to get down to the real work, which happened in my room, where we went over blueprints and scrawled notes like battle plans.
Jay’s hesitancy never truly left despite everything he knewabout the havoc Buchanan brought to Harlem. When I shared the implications of his ties to the Blue House burning, it wasn’t enough to steel Jay completely either.
After the invitations were delivered, all Jay wanted to do was hide in my room and talk and play board games. So we sat on the floor the day after his arrival, playing Uncle Wiggily.
Jay was overthinking as the game went on, and I worried that nothing would induce him to speak until out of nowhere he said, “I still have my doubts.”
“Please don’t abandon this now,” I said. “It’s too late.”
“I just feel nervous.”
“I know. Me too. When we leave here, it’ll all be over.”
He played with a little green piece in the shape of a rabbit. “But it won’t,” he said. “They’ll be after us. Would you kill the people after us? We never even got that far.”
“I wouldn’t kill anybody,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“They’d kill us,” he said, in a deadpan way. “We’re tempting death—don’t you feel that?”
“Just think brightly. Please.”
Jay was just whining. I knew he didn’t mean it. We’d already gone to the trouble of duping his father into the party. It couldn’t be for nothing.
“Don’t you think we could elope and find jobs—wouldn’t that be far more romantic?” Jay said. “We don’t have to do it this way.”
I wanted words to melt from his mouth more like a rockslide come to kill me and less like a fudge sundae. Because I wanted to do everything he said, against my best interests.
Daisy and I had planned this. We all had agreed to it. Why plan it if we weren’t gonna follow through?
“Buchanan’s done too much harm,” I said, and that was my final answer.
The game was ruined now that we were bickering back and forth, so I went off to Daisy’s room. I knocked and then listened at the door and heard the shower running from the bathroom.
