"Why does Wolfshiem care about what happened to the Wilson family?" Nick asked, nearly jogging to keep up with Gatsby as the late night air swirled around them. The elder didn't answer for another minute, a pause long enough for Nick to wonder if he heard him at all, "I suppose he doesn't. More over Catherine is pushing him to pursue the problem to find her sister's killer. Not to mention, Wilson owed a lot of money to Wolfshiem. If he's dead, he can't repay that money. And do you believe that Myrtle was only sleeping with Tom?" He glanced at him and Nick took a look on his face. "But…" He bit his lip, how on Earth did this all tie together that perfectly and still be this much of a dramatic theater of angst? His long coat fluttered a bit as he kept up with his brisk pace, "Where are we going?" Gatsby shook his head, "Better if you don't know, old sport. I would have preferred to leave you at the hotel but I don't want anything to happen while I'm away, understand?" There was a pause before Nick grunted with one eyebrow raised to a point of near irritation, "Not really."
Gatsby smirked at that, "Good. The less you know the better you'll feel." And with those words Nick put things together, "You're doing a job for Wolfshiem?" The taller nodded slowly, "Nothing too serious. He just needs a man he can trust to supervise a shipment of some cargo into this port." As he said it the pathway they were walking down between two large buildings opened into a wide port, two ships were moving in and dropping anchor. Nick swallowed, "What sort of cargo?" Gatsby sighed, growing tired of the questions directed at him all at once. "I don't know, old sport. I assume alcohol." Nick had a funny feeling about the way he said 'assume'- still not completely trusting him about his previous statement that that was all he worked in. Tom went to the same school as Nick did, but he rarely hit things on the hammer like knowing Gatsby was only a bootlegger. Something else that Tom had a teacher back at Yale preach at him was never use the word 'assume'; it always made an 'ass out of you and me'. The memory didn't bring a smile like it usually did for him and nodded, "Alright… let's get this over with. Just… show me what to do. I got myself into this I might as well do something."
Gatsby looked at him strangely before nodding, "Stay with me. I'll guide you through it." Nick didn't comment again, his eyes down cast as many men looked at him like he was the lowest scum of the earth. It made him quiver in anger how they could turn their nose up at him when they were the ones covered in tattoos and spat tobacco where someone's shoes could easily be marred with the black gunk. For once Daisy's reference to him as a rose seemed strangely real. He wasn't fragile… but he believed in the finer things, but he had thorns that were bigger than Gatsby's- who looked so much calmer than he should have in that area full of hulking men and women who barely had any clothing on with bottles in their hands that were thrown back once too often into their broken teeth filled mouths. They watched the shipment role in and Nick was looking the entirely wrong direction he should have been.
A box came tumbling from the top of the ship. Gatsby grabbed him and pushed them both off the edge of the dock. Nick pulled his torso back on top of the dock, the elder behind him. The box lay broken were they were standing a few moments ago. Guns, the types that you saw in movies firing upon helpless police men, lay scattered in the wooden wreckage. Nick looked to Gatsby to see mirrored shock and anger. Gatsby lifted himself up the rest of the way, pulling up Nick as well. They cleaned up the split mechanize as Wolfshiem would have called it and went home roughly five in the morning, having not spoken since the discovery. Nick was immediately upon Gatsby once they had walked back into the little apartment, "You told me it was alcohol!" Gatsby was quiet before muttering, "I thought it was, I have never been involved with anything else, old sport." Nick yelled, "Stop!" Gatsby stopped moving- perhaps breathing with the ferocity of the yell. After a moment of stillness the elder dared to ask what he wanted him to stop. Nick nearly snarled at him, "Calling me 'old sport'. My name is Nick! Not Old Sport. Not Mr. Carraway. NICK! You would do well to remember it! And like Hell you've never been involved with anything else!"
Gatsby shifted a bit and nodded, "Alright… the truth then. I was in the business of making fake bonds. I never transported alcohol, I find it quite disgusting to be even more honest." Images of Dan Cody in his drunken fits flashed in Gatsby's mind. There was silence and Nick sat back down. "Is that why you brought me?" The elder shook his head, "You saved my life." Nick snarled at him, suddenly finding an anger at him that had been swelling since he knew the rich replaced their broken people with new ones and life wasn't what he expected, "I'm starting to regret that decision. Don't lie to me anymore, Gatsby." He spun on his heel, walking back to his bedroom. Gatsby called after him, "And what would you have done if I had told you the truth?" He came after him, "You would have stayed in New York and been in jail- now you don't trust me because of a lie I told you to protect you from yourself!" Nick laughed humorlessly, "Really and how were you protecting me from myself?" Gatsby paused before breathing out, "Because you would have tried to leave. And you need me."
Now it was Nick's turn to be silent and think carefully at what Gatsby had just told him. In a way, he was right. He knew nothing about California, nor could he return to his family after everything that had happened, and Wolfshiem was more than a small problem. He did need Gatsby. "And I need you." Gatsby told him again softly, "Meyer wants two men and there isn't another I trust as much as I trust you at this moment. I'm sorry I lied to you but if you leave we're both going to be killed." Nick looked up into his eyes, anger still in his features but he had calmed considerably. "I'll stay. But no more lies." He told him with finality, quieter he added, "I won't stand for you dropping to their level."
Again with that stupid understanding smile. It didn't occur to him how his feelings toward Gatsby influenced his opinion of that smile. At first he had thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world, now it seemed more annoying than the speech he had just give him. Gatsby knew exactly who he was referring to and he nodded, "No more lies, I promise." Nick nodded, "I'll hold you to that." He turned, "I'm going to bed. There has been enough excitement for one night." And with that, the door closed in Gatsby's face. With a sigh Gatsby answered, "Goodnight, Nick."