Great Gatsby
Sunday, 20 September 1942 (20 years after the main storyline)
It was a normal Sunday morning for me. Right after the incident, I was puzzled by the haunting thoughts of Gatsby premature death. It was by any means, very unnerving. I seek help in a local mental institution; it did little to help me, the same thoughts of Gatsby premature death stills haunt me to this day.
Tom Buchanan retires; he resides in Paris sometimes coming back to the states for a few businesses. We don't talk a lot but daisy and I continues to send letter to each other. Daisy had been trying to get back to the states recently. The great depression reaped out their wealth and they had been living off money from Tom's wealthy relative.
Jordan and me still go for a few drinks in the city. She planned to get married next month to a diplomat working for some unknown country in the middle of Europe.
My doorbell suddenly rang. I was rushing to open the door. I look to the peephole and see who is it. It was just the mailman.
"Good morning" Call the mailman to me whilst handing me the mail
"Good morning" I replied back with enthusiasm
He proceeds to hands me the mail followed by package from Daisy. I was very anxious to know the content of the package. I scrupulously opened the mail, avoiding any unwanted error. I read the mail and found that it was from Daisy. I was full of joy much like a five year old receiving a brand new toy. Daisy was finally coming back to the states. She would be here next week. I was waiting forward to picking her up.
Next I opened the package, inside it was just some old picture of Gatsby. Much to my dismay, the picture had been in a bad condition as it was taken 30 years ago, back when Gatsby still serves in the army. This reminds me of the pastimes we used to have, Riding his hydroplanes and coming to his party with Jordan. I rest back at my chair while drinking a cup of tea. Today I planned to go out and visit a friend of Gatsby, Meyer Wolfsheim. I remember meeting him with Gatsby in the basement of the barbershop at the city.
As the clock strikes 10, I hurried myself to the car. Driving through the crowded street of New York City reminds me of the day when we used to go out to the city with Gatsby. As I drive passed the Brooklyn Bridge I saw hundreds military trucks drives past me as well as plane flying overhead. The thunderous sound eclipses the honking of the car in front of me. I manages to reach the rendezvous point we had agreed on earlier, an old coffeehouse near the bridge.
I strolled around the block a few times until I decided to go inside the coffeehouse. I saw him in the corner hiding his face with the menu book. As soon as I saw him , he approaches me slowly, I was joyful yet dumbstruck at the same time as it would be very stupid to meet him. Until I remembered that he had rigged the 1919 world series.
"Fancy meeting you here!" utter him with a raspy and almost unheard voice
"Good to see you too!" I replied while shaking his hand, he gestured me to sit in a chair across him.
"So, how's the bond business going ? Good?'' He then proceed to start drinking his tea. He gestured me to drink too. I waited for him to finish.
"Well, Not really, Thing has been going down after the war started" I replied while watching him sipping his tea cautiously
"Hmmm…. Maybe you would want to work with me? Listen I got this job just for you it's easy and you'll probably get rich from doing it. Filthy rich. Like you could earn 100 per day. Just think about it for a moment. ''
This stunned me, as I was very skeptical about accepting job from him.
"Give me some time to think about it''
"Well, well, I'll give you time until next Tuesday. You'll regret it if you don't accept it" utters him in the same raspy voice like earlier.
"You may consider a few things like your house and job, It would all be worth it " Asserts him while finishing off his tea afterwards
Exactly 5 minutes later he walks out of the coffeehouse followed by a man in gentleman attire.
"see you later, Nick, I'll talk to you later''
He goes out of the coffeehouse into his car. Where the chauffeur opens up a door to his old Rolls Royce Phantom. I sat in the coffeehouse for a few minutes. I go back to my apartment with some take-away food for dinner.
During the trip, I can't shrug the thoughts off from my mind. What is the job Meyer gives to me? It could be anything. I can't really trust him either. The stock prices keep falling everyday. It really is a tough choice. I couldn't keep living like this or else I would end up poor in no time.
I unlocked the key to my apartment and directly turn on the radio. I sat in my chair thinking about Daisy and Tom lavish lifestyle in Paris. They are just some lucky folks narrowly avoiding the great depression. I grab the newspaper and search for job in the job opportunities section. Well, most of them don't even pay more than 5 dollars per week. I rested my head back on the chair. I am still presuming the thought I had earlier. Well it would not be bad to accept his offer but what secret could a person like him hide. It would be very naïve for me to directly accept his offer. As there would probably be a catch to it . It seems legit and also decent-paying.
The thought still races in my mind. I grew tired from it and slept at the chair. I forgot about the take-away food and showers. It had been great talking to Meyer. It had been 3 months since the last time I saw him at the Grand central Terminal.