Once yet again, the party was grand. Music boomed and people swayed and sniggered and gulped and swam and dashed and consumed and participated, the lights shining and rushing everywhere. Mr. Gatsby had outdone himself once again.

I never thought that Gatsby was the one to get himself into trouble. I knew he worked with Meyer Wolfsheim, but from what I had seen when they led me through that secret passageway to that club I never knew was underneath the local barbershop, Gatsby had a good relationship with Mr. Wolfsheim. I respected the thick man, for not everyone can fix a World Series, no matter how uncomfortable the gambler made me.

But as far as Tom had told me, Wolfsheim was as dirty as the tooth pinned to his clothing. (I shuddered at the thought of that ghastly thing he kept fastened to his tie.)

Why would anyone ever...? Never mind, I found that I really didn't care or have the stomach to know why he kept a human molar attached to him. It was so uncivilized and downright-

"-Nick?"

I was hurried back into reality as Gatsby put his hand on my shoulder, grinning at me. I noticed he tried to keep up a smile while at affairs like this. I was now disturbed that his face might freeze that way. Not that it would matter or affect anyone in a bad way. His smile was…well…more than breath taking... "Yes?"

"It doesn't seem as though you are paying attention, Old Sport. But it also seems that you are, with the way your eyes are making love to me."

I blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over m-"

"It's quite alright, I can assure you. I apologize."

He was always asking for forgiveness of something. I didn't understand how me staring at him would be HIS fault…"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Gatsby blinked at me. Why was he so…?

"Apologize for everything that is beyond your control."

"I'm sorry, Nick, Old sport, but I do not apologize for everything. I'm sorry I feel offended of it." CLUELESS.

I sighed. "Mr. Gatsby, you don't have to apologize for every single-"

"Mr. Gatsby, Chicago's on the phone." One of the servants interrupted.

Gatsby waved him away. "Not now." He glared as the servant left and turned back to me smiling as if he had never frowned in his life. "Now what was it you were saying?"

I stared at him blankly.

Gatsby chuckled. "Oh dear Nick, you are staring at me again. I am so sorry."

Perhaps if he got punched in the face, he would have more sense.

"Stop it Jay! I won't have it anymore!" Daisy Buchanan laughed as she playfully hit him.

"Daisy dear, how could I stop possibly?"

I watched Gatsby take her hand in his, staring deep into her eyes and I found it hard to stop staring at the two myself. Maybe I should have left the table, but something glued me.

"You make me feel young." Daisy told him.

Gatsby stared at her. "You make me feel…" And he tried to find the perfect word, everything must be perfect for this girl. He found it, and said it with such triumph and passion and yearning that the word truly did fit its meaning "…Great." Great, I repeated in my head. For that moment he saw the light as Daisy's eyes flared and lit up. In that moment he truly felt great.

The servant was back once more, taking a toll on the moment that had failed before Gatsby's eyes as Gatsby put the ring back in his pocket, of course, I didn't see this. "Mr. Gatsby, its Mr. Sméagol, he-"

"Not now!" Gatsby barked bitterly, a look of sheer hatred in his eyes as the look shoved the servant away.

I had never seen such annoyance in a person, and trivial anger that could start a war if tried. And we all stared, bothered by this. I looked around our table. Daisy looked of concern, I was astonished, and Jordan's eyes were slightly wide, while Gatsby tried to play it off.

If Tom were here, I'm sure he would have laughed.

The party was over, and as guests and groups and single files of people exited the palace, I stood on the top of the stairs with Gatsby, watching everyone leave. We talked, and I always found myself deeply intrigued on what the man had to say. He just has that way about him.

"Oh Old Sport, I do wish we could spend time together outside of these ridiculous parties. They get boring after a while don't you think? I've grown tired of them so long ago…"

I nodded. The parties- while most splendid and spectacular- did seem to drag on into an infinite cycle.

"Let's go up in my hydroplane, tomorrow. Oh please, Old Sport, I've become so bored there isn't much for me to do except always accept business calls-" More like NEVER accept business calls. I wondered how someone wasn't affected by this in some way. "Business!" Gatsby got excited. "Nick, have I ever told you of my story of my business? I'm terribly sorry if I haven't."

"No. I really can't say that you ever have, Mr. Gatsby."

"Please, Nick, please do call me by my first name. Call me Jay! I would very much adore hearing it from your tongue!"

"Uh, Mr. Gatsby?" I asked him, and I saw the disappointment try to bury itself from his bright eyes as I refused his request.

"Yes, Old Sport?"

"Business?"

And the gleam in his eyes shone once more. "Ah, yes, Business! So very sorry to trail from it and keep you wondering." There he goes again… "Now, business, Nick. Business is a group word. You can't just start it all alone, it is all about who you know and what you've learned, a very complicated procedure if you-"

The servant from before came back, and to me, he looked frightened. "M-Mr. Gatsby-"

"Not now, we are talking!" Gatsby snapped coldly and just like the many times before, the servant disappeared from our presence. "What was I saying, Nick? …Oh yes! Business cannot be done alone, you see. You need people on the inside and out. Business is a…"

And the rest trailed on as I listened to him, knowing good and well that Gatsby didn't know what on earth he was talking about.

"Goodnight, Old Sport. Remember that we are going up in that Hydroplane tomorrow. So come over bright and early."

"Will do, Mr. Gatsby." I told him and gave him a farewell, till tomorrow. I bid him goodnight and found my way home, successfully ending my night.

Gatsby stood on his front steps as he watched Nick leave, staring as the young man rounded the garden and disappeared behind bushes. He sighed and jumped at a voice to his right.

The servant who kept trying to get him all night stood by his side, talking in his ear. "Mr. Gatsby, please…"

He then vanished into his house, wishing that he could hide behind his friends once more.