I told Nick the next day at the tailor shop I was fine with taking the train. I took his invite as a way to let off frustrations from all the work I've done lately. I'd even taken extra late night hours to work off the last of my month's rent. "Nonsense, I wouldn't mind coming to get you," Nick tells me. I laugh as I push a piece of tangled hair away from my eyes as I sew together the last of a rip in a woman's delicate shawl. "Nick, it's alright! I'll meet you at your house. Like you said," I smile. I push his mended clothes toward him over the counter as I continued my work. Before he could take out his wallet, I pushed his hand away, putting a finger to my lips. I shook my head as I smiled at him. We both glanced my employer, Mrs. Regina, as she spoke to woman across the shop. "It's our secret," I laugh quietly to him as I set aside the turquoise shawl and shove his clothes into his chest. He smiles hesitantly and tips his boater hat to me as I push my long braid over my shoulder and watch him go. "We'll have a grand time, I promise," he tells me as he backs out the door and onto the busy sidewalk. I finished up my work as I fold the shawl gently and place it in a cotton bag for the young woman speaking to Mrs. Regina. "Ms. Juniper," I say quietly as she hands me her customer description and I pass her her glamorous shawl.
"I think you have a dress here, as well, don't you?" Mrs. Regina asks her. "Oh, that old thing?" Ms. Juniper began in a tightly wound voice. She was a common, wealthy patron of our shop; I recognized her time to time especially by the ring of her speech. "You can cut it up and make rags of it for all I care. It's Summer now, no need for a Spring ensemble," she finishes with a whip of her head that sends her crystal dangling earrings into a vicious sway. I nodded gently as Mrs. Regina gestures for me to go throw it out per the lady's request. I went to the back and it was easy to hear the bustle of the city street from the open back door where Mrs. Regina's cat, Jolly, spent his days sun bathing in the back alley's perfect spot in the sun. I find the corresponding dress baggage that meets the numbers of the customer description number and take it out of its bag to perhaps give Jolly a new sunning bed. The dress was gorgeous. A creme color with little pearls sewn in; it's not a normal style you can find in a shop window or that you purchase at any little store in general. It's hand stitched and falls to the my knees in Belgian lace with fringe at its end. It would fit perfectly. I look around to see if Mrs. Regina is looking like always.
What am I doing? Stealing a dress? But Ms. Juniper doesn't want it anymore. Does she? What if she asks about it? She won't. All my thinking forces me to thrash it into my large clutch that barely closes even when I've folded it carefully. I look and see Jolly sitting on the box that crowd the sewing machine just by the back entrance of the shop. He's not quite the daintiest cat in the world, but his perfect midnight coat and striking amber eyes win me over like nothing else. "Don't you look at my like that. It's another man's gain from another man's loss, that's all," I whisper to him as I feel him force the top of his head into my hand, expecting a brief scratch behind the ears.
I put the dress on at home, the fit was perfect. My hair was in large curls and I let them hang in shining spirals. I've had friends tell me I should cut it, turn it into a short do that says "wealth" with every brief lock. But my mother said if I were to cut it she'd be heartbroken. I swore I'd never cut it again. Putting on nude T-strap kitten heels I wait for the clock to strike six, where I'd be headed for west Egg and Nick. I clutch my mother's strand of pearls around my neck as I begin the short journey to the train, that takes me straight into West Egg and all its glory. Lights are bright and cars are roaring. I can see two girls dancing in their car as I walk out to the street from the train stop stairs. Nick's house shouldn't be far from the Second Street. I follow my instincts instead of a map as I'm able to direct myself toward the edges of the Sound, where the grass grows greener and the houses grow bigger. It's hard not to hear the boom of a band and the gossip of people flying through the gates of the gigantic mansion next door as I knock on Nick's door. Nick is immediately there as he smiles. "Hello Nick," I smile. "Shall we?" he smiles, sticking out his arm, "Perhaps you'll get to meet a friend of mine tonight."
We walk to the Gatsby mansion that just makes me feel like I'm in a book even by standing on just the front lawn. I go with Nick through the doors of the home, where women and men are drunk and there are entertainers flying about. I don't know what to do with myself. "This is incredible," I say to Nick. "I should find Gatsby and thank him for the invite," he tells me. I nod as I look around, a waiter immediately shoving a drink in my hand. I look back at the alcoholic poison as I swallow and pass it to Nick. "I don't drink," I tell him, to ease his confusion. It isn't long before I lose Nick in a crowd, calling out for him until I end up on the balcony overlooking the backyard area, and I'm speechless. Streamers fly, women and men dance like its the last they ever will. Drunks are everywhere as if this was the Secret, and wold famous actresses and artists brush past me that I never thought I'd actually see with my own eyes. I look around for Nick, but it's truly hard to see his shining black hair or small form in the midst of a million gyrating bodies. "Nick?" I begin to call. I have to call his name several times before a tall woman approaches me. "Nick? Nick Carraway?" she asks. "Yes, I'm looking for Nick," I tell her. I turn to look at her fully and I try not to display any sort of surprise. "Jordan Baker? You know Nick?" I recognize. Jordan Baker, a slim woman of at least six feet and shining black hair smiles at me as she looks over the balcony. "Nick has gone to find Gatsby. Are you his sister, perhaps?" she asks. I shake my head. "No, I met him at my job just the previous night. I'm afraid I don't know anyone else here," I tell her. She gestures for me to walk down the steps with her as she looks me over.
"You're job...wait. I know you. You're the girl from the Secret," Jordan revels as she turns to me suddenly on the last step. "Yes, that's me," I blush as I look at her slightly. "Maybe you'll sing something for us later. I get sick of all these familiar faces that perform. They need something raw," she replies as she gestures to the crowd of people. I fix my hair as I look around. "Where do you think he is? Nick?" I ask. "Well, I don't know. When he realizes no one has ever actually seen this Gatsby. Lots of rumors fly around about him. Some think he once killed a man, you know," she stated. I tilted my head. "Well if they're rumors, perhaps none are true," I say. "We won't know for sure," she says into her cigarette. I watch Nick as he suddenly appears. "Nick what is wrong with you, leaving a girl by her lonesome," Jordan says as she gestures to me. "I haven't found him, so i decided to have a few drinks," Nick tells us as he sets aside his empty martini glass. "Let's wait until the end of the party," I suggest. It's too late.
Nick is drunk and I can tell he can't quite keep his mind together, he grabs Jordan's arm and off they go to dance as confetti continues to fall. I shake my head as I begin to go back inside when I get to the top of the steps. I stop midstep upon the glimmer of a ringed hand sitting on the balcony railing of fine pillars. A man stood just in front of me, dirty blonde hair and a black suit and bowtie. He's drinking champagne, and his colored eyes are set on the dancing crowd. My breath hitches as his head begins to turn and I quickly dive inside. It couldn't be. It's not that great of a coincidence is it? I can't see for the slightest second as I grip the wall inside, a wave of surprise rushing over me as I breathe, "Gatsby."