Due to The Great Gatsby being on again, here's chapter 2.

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

The Great Gatsby © 2013 Baz Luhrmann

It was nearly a week later that Wilson received another invitation from Maxwell, this time for lunch in the city. Upon Wilson's arrival on the estate, Maxwell bundled him into a powerful convertible and zoomed off.

During that week, Wilson had heard a lot about Maxwell, too much for it to all be true. Wilson preferred to stay out of it, and had hoped there were no more reasons to visit the estate. But a direct invitation would have been rude to refuse.

At the moment, Wilson was regretting his decision. Maxwell drove like a maniac, and only seemed half-focused on driving—the other half was focused on carrying on a conversation with Wilson.

"So, pal, what did you think of the party last night?"

"It was fine," Wilson replied, voice rising an octave as Maxwell narrowly missed a car.

"You should come to another one—you meet the most interesting people there. There are some interesting people where we're going for lunch, come to think of it."

Wilson merely nodded, not trusting a scream not to fly out instead. They blew by a billboard with a pair of glasses on them, and Wilson squinched his eyes shut, hoping the motion sickness would pass.

"I suppose you've heard a lot about me," Maxwell continued.

"A bit," Wilson noised through his teeth. Calm breaths, calm….

"Well let me tell you then—alleviate your fears.

"Firstly, I've never murdered a person in my life. A rabbit, once, but that was an accident. I served in the War, got all the medals—here's one," to which Maxwell handed a small medal to Wilson. "Travelled the world, made my fortune, and now I'm here." Maxwell glanced at him. "So what's your story, pal? What brings you to West Egg?"

"My cousin," Wilson said, strained. Maxwell hadn't slowed once he arrived at the city. "There's a policeman following you, by the way."

Maxwell glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled over. Wilson resisted bolting from the car right then and there.

But after a short conversation, the police officer let them go on their way.

"Friend of the commissioner," Maxwell explained.

The restaurant was basement level, surprisingly posh, in a speakeasy sort of way.

"That's Leif over there," Maxwell said, directing him as the waiter took them to "his usual table." "Over there is Mr. Pegkeng. And up there, that dancer, her name is Miss Ginger, but everyone calls her the Spider Queen. You should see her dance."

"Mmm," Wilson noised, entranced. Maxwell sat him down before sitting down himself. A waiter came over and deposited a few drinks. Another came over and told him he had a few messages to attend to.

"I have to go," Maxwell told him. "But don't worry pal—I've got someone else coming over to fill the lunch conversation."

Wilson watched him go, wondering who he had in mind.

"Oh, Mr. Wilson! So you're who Maxwell had in mind."

Wilson looked up to see Willow Burnshigh standing over him. He scrambled to get her a seat.

Wilson had to admit, Miss Willow was frightening, but in an intriguing way, he felt—she was certainly different from other women he had met. He watched as she played with the fire from the table candle, the waiter delivering their food and drink unnoticed.

"So," she said, finally taking her attention away from the fire to pick at her food—she had braised eggplant, pirogues, and honeyed nuggets, Wilson noted; he looked down to see he had some sort of meat stew. "I suppose Maxwell told you all about himself."

"He did," Wilson said, suddenly regretting not paying more attention—threat of imminent death tended to distract him. "But I feel like I don't know him any better now than I did before."

"I found out I didn't know him at all," Willow said, taking a bite of pirogue. "He talked to me the other night, told me the whole thing—why he's been having all these parties, why you're so important—"

"What?" Wilson asked, startled. "Willow, what's going on?"

"It's scandalous, absolutely scandalous, and you and I will be in the thick of it! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Willow!" Wilson snapped, eliciting silence from the nearby tables. He waited until conversation resumed before he continued, in a controlled hiss, "What is going on? What does this Maxwell want with me?"

Willow rolled her eyes at him, then leaned closer, the fire catching the light strangely in her eyes. "He wants you to introduce him to your cousin Charlie—invite her to tea."

Wilson blanched. "But….But she's married."

Willow beamed. "I know—that's what makes it so scandalous."