Hi! Sorry it took so long. Here's my brief comic relief chapter, 'cause I this idea came into my head, and I thought it would be fun, and it wouldn't leave me alone. And thanks for all the reviews. I write to please myself, but to hear other people enjoy my writing is really nice. And don't worry, I have big plans for the next chapter. So, without further ado, I present chapter six:
I opened my mouth to tell Jordan that it was no problem, nothing for her to worry about, but before I could, Gatsby blurted, "Nothing!" and grinned sheepishly. I elbowed him in the ribs, and he pulled away from me and glared. "Like I said, nothing!" Jordan wasn't convinced, and she laughed at his antics. It occurred to me that maybe he didn't want to keep it a secret from Jordan. I felt bad for him, only for a moment, though. All he wanted was Daisy, and I was beginning to wonder if she was the one thing in the world he couldn't have.
"Now, Mr. Gatsby, tell me the truth. Or I'll have Mr. Carraway explain it to me," she said silkily. Was it some kind of persuasive technique, to call us by our last names? Come to think of it, it seemed to work, because he faintly muttered something vaguely recognizable as a curse.
"It was a plan. For Myrtle to get Tom back, and for me to get ahold of Daisy. She was in on it. We both were. We wanted you to see, or at least Tom and Daisy," he said quickly. Jordan smiled, pleased with her success. I'll have to keep that in mind, calling people by their last names. She slinked up to him, stood right in front of him, and stared him down. She laughed.
"You're an idiot!" she exclaimed at last. "You are aware you had Daisy precisely where you wanted her before, correct?"
"I didn't," he mumbled icily. He took in a deep breath and looked at the floor, as if something interesting where down there, as opposed to the weathered hardwood floor. "Last night, when we went back to pick rooms, remember? Well, really, Tom chose them – 'We should all sleep with our spouse!' – But that's beside the point. He pulled Daisy and me into the closet where we found Myrtle and George, because we needed to settle things. She couldn't do it. I told her to tell him she never loved him. He was threatening her and seething and yelling and mad, and she couldn't do it. He said she was dead to him, and she still loved him. How can I contest to that?"
"Oh," Jordan muttered. Jordan and I glanced at each other, than at Gatsby, then back at each other. Before we could say anything, Gatsby forced a smile across his face.
"I've got an idea to lighten the mood!" he cheered, almost running out of our room. We chased him into the lobby, where he picked up one of the table legs, and shimmied out the door, hollering, "I'll be right back! No worries!"
He came back pushing two shopping carts full of booze.
"Booze!" he exclaimed. "Don't ask me where I got it from. Wine, beer, vodka… anything you want!"
"It's not moonshine?" Jordan teased, and he shook his head and smiled. Happy to see the alcohol, we all swarmed the carts, grabbing bottles of our favorites. Tom made us some fruity drink, I forget what, and we all had some of that. It was good. I had a few shots, and George dared Gatsby to drink a whole bottle of whiskey all at once. The night was a blur. It was like all of Gatsby's other parties, where the alcohol ran free and the party never quite seemed to end. Somewhere in that haze, someone suggested a game. It might've been me. We sat in a circle, and someone spun an empty bottle, and whoever the bottle pointed to, they had to kiss. We rotated clockwise, laughing and gagging and having fun. Tom and Myrtle were the first to kiss, and though such a thing would've usually been tense, the liquor eroded the awkwardness between us. George and Jordan went next, followed by Gatsby and I. The longest kiss, in my memory, was Gatsby and Daisy, and when they separated, both were lit like a Christmas tree. Though when Jordan and I kissed, it lasted a bit long for my liking. But my favorite kiss was Gatsby and Tom. Oh, trust me, you've never seen such as sight as that. And they didn't hesitate. The two locked lips without trepidation. It's that damned alcohol, I tell you.
At some point in the night, we all stumbled off to our respective rooms to sleep. I woke up next to Jordan on one of the couches. She was topless, and to my horror, so was I, and my pants were unbuttoned and pulled down to my knees. Gatsby was asleep beneath a desk. Again. Most of us ended up hungover. I didn't see George all day, Tom spent much of his time in the bathroom. My head was abuzz, and it was a struggle just to coax Gatsby to lie down on one of the couches. Daisy was fine, and so was Myrtle. If anything were up with Jordan, she took it all in stride, just like everything else. But, even despite all of that, even though nothing was accomplished that day and we all were hungover, it was worth it. None of us would've given up that one night. Because, for that small, fleeting period as time marched on, we forgot about the Biters and the world. And, most of all, we forgot ourselves.