A line of limousines stretches from the lights of Manhattan towards Gatsby's gates, as an open-topped Rolls Royce motors through Gatsby's gates, a roadster packed with rowdy revellers, swerves onto the verge and roars cheekily by...
"The whole city packed into automobiles and all weekend, every weekend, ended up at Gatsby's..."
Gatsby's magnificent castle and its illuminated fountains line a driveway packed with limousines; crowds of glamorous people stream up the broad marble stairs. Both men dressed in their evening best, Nick and Jesse offered their invitation to a doorman who shrugs. Once inside, Jesse takes off his hat, then rubs the top with his sleeve as a gaggle of gorgeous, but obviously low-class girls, carelessly sweep past both Nick and Jesse through the portico and into a bizarre mix of characters that surged toward the light at the end of this dark, vaulting, vomitorium-like passageway. Doors burst open; the dazzling spectacle of the Grand Ballroom...!
Champagne fountains vault to the ceiling. At the base of the fountains waiters scoop finger-bowl sized glasses onto trays. Nick, almost unable to believe his eyes, takes in the impossible variety of guests at Gatsby's... These guests would include: Billionaire play-boy publishers, and their blond nurses... Heiresses comparing inheritances on Gatsby's beach... Walter Chase, losing money at the roulette tables... Gossip columnists... Alongside gangsters and governors exchanging telephone numbers... Silent film stars... Broadway directors... Morality protectors... Casino collectors... Underage hecklers... And Ewing Klipspringer, dubious descendent of Beethoven!
Overwhelmed, and out-of-place, Nick approaches the bar...
"Do you know where I might find the host, Mr. Gatsby?" Nick brandishes his invitation. "I live just next door..."
"Mr. Gatsby? I've never seen him sir. Why, no one has..." The bartender automatically hands Nick a martini. He downs the martini in one gulp, steps over an even drunker guest, who collapses at his feet, and makes his way out to the terrace of the mansion. Meanwhile, Jack and Rose stepped from the staircase, in their evening best, as they take in the various guests that were coming into Jack's cousin's mansion. They were reminded once more as if they were on the Titanic, before their evening dinner with Cal. They thought they could see Jesse, but the ballroom contained a lot of people, and Jack knew Jesse easily blended in nicely with these people.
"Let's check over there. Jesse might be at the refreshments." Jack points to the champagne fountain. "People really love to talk to him."
"Jack, what if he's not here? What if he really died in that war? I haven't heard from Marion since before the war started..." Rose felt a lump form in her throat, and tears began to well in her eyes. She also thought of Marion, all alone, who was left to raise their two kids without their beautiful father...
"Rose, look at me. Jesse's a strong man. He was insubordinate; he didn't follow my orders, but he's still my friend, and I know he's still alive, even if it was a slim chance. If he can make it out of Titanic, Cal's tortures, he'll make out of this one. Trust me." Jack hugged his wife, then wiped her tears before they made their way through the throngs of the crowd, in search of Jesse, hoping that he really is there, for Jack's heart also ached, just thinking about him.
Nick gazes out over the impossibly decadent party...
"Wow." he says to the immense crowd of people, and at Jesse, who was having a conversation with a gangster, and the two laughed, while the gangster reached up to touch Jesse's hair. He watched, as Jesse took off his hat, ruffled his hair, and let the gangster have at it. Once they were done, a photographer approached Jesse, and from where Nick was standing, he could tell the photographer was clearly nervous, as he asked Jesse to stand for the camera, while his assistant began to set up the camera. Another person tapped at Jesse's shoulder, whom Nick recognized as one of the silent movie directors, motioned to Jesse that he wanted to see after he was done with the photoshoot. Unbeknownst to Nick, a mysterious, masked guest stalks toward him from behind...
"I thought I might see you here..." Startled, Nick turns to find... Jordan Baker.
Hello." Nick says nervously.
"I remembered you lived next door..."
"Its like... an amusement park."
"Who is that, is that the man we met earlier with Tom?" Jordan looked behind Nick, as another gangster played with Jesse's hair. "Does he have anyone with him?"
"Who, Jesse? He already has made some connections..." Nick says, looking back at Jesse, then saw a flapper who tried to flirt with him.
"Shall we?" Jordan seductively leads Nick down the terrace steps...
"Did you get an invitation?" Nick asked.
"People aren't invited to Gatsby's."
"Well I was... I seem to be the only one. No wait, I also have a friend who was also invited here. Who is this Gatsby?"
"A haughty East Egger," A person by the name of Teddy interjects. "He was a German spy during the war."
"Teddy Barton. Nick Carraway."
"A German spy...?" Nick says, trying to keep his composure. Meanwhile Teddy's annoying East Egger friend, Nelson, also chimes in.
"No, no, no, no. He's the Kaiser's assassin."
"I heard he killed a man once." The lanuid girls says.
"Its true!"
"You look at him sometimes when he thinks no one's watching... I'll bet he killed a man." lanuid girl says.
"Kills for fun! Free of charge!" Teddy says excitedly.
"Well he's already richer than God." Nelson followed up. Nick turns to Jordan; an alarmed whisper. "You don't believe he killed a man do you...?"
"Let's go find him, and you can ask him yourself..." Jordan says wickedly. As the dance-floor erupts, and world-famous dancer Gilda Grey is announced, Jordan leads Nick off. As Nick and Jordan bound up a winding staircase, Jordan teases seductively.
"Oh, Mr. Gatsby...!" then turns to Nick, "Shall I lead you into his clutches?" Nick and Jordan explode into a dark room. A stout, middle-aged man wheels to them with unsettling intensity.
"You won't find him!" A person who goes by the name of Owl Eyes says. He plucks two finger-bowl sized cocktails from a row lined up on the table and hands them to Nick and Jordan. He continued, "This house and everything in it, are all part of an elaborate disguise. But Mr. Gatsby doesn't exist."
"Phooey; I've met him!" Jordan fired back.
"Which one; the Prince, the Spy, the Murderer? I've been wandering his halls drunk for about a week now - but no matter where I look, I can't find anyone who knows anything real about Mr. Gatsby."
"Well I don't care; he gives large parties - and I like large parties, they're so intimate; at small parties there isn't any privacy." Jordan says, dismissively.
"But if that's true; what's all this for...?" Nick asks Owl Eyes.
"That, my dear fellow, is the question..." Owl Eyes looks to the window; and Nick and Jordan follow his gaze to... Gatsby's garden, where, as the band hits fever pitch, and twilight becomes night... THE PARTY HAS BEGUN!