Love Cycle

I know everyone has a black sheep in the family. But my family’s black sheep is ruining my life. The worst part is it’s not even his fault.

I’m Violet Gatz and I hate it here. A few weeks ago my parent’s moved me to Long Island, New York from North Dakota. “It will be a great opportunity at a better life” they said. Well I liked my life just fine. This was the year my crush, Rodney Brand, was going to notice me. I had it all planned out. A new wardrobe. A new hair do. A few planned “random” meet ups. Throw in a couple of hair flips, flirty smiles, and he would’ve been asking me out in no time.

My parent’s don’t know anything about this place. It’s not like they’ve been here before. They hadn’t spoken to my Uncle Jay in over 20 years. They also had no idea that he and I wrote to each other often. He told me all about these rich people and why he chose to live here.

He dies and now they’re so concerned with “sorting out” his belongings. They’re such moochers. I’m sure they wouldn’t be so helpful if his belongings didn’t include a huge palace, a yellow Rolls Royce, and unlimited wealth. They didn’t even like him and only had awful things to say. Like how he abandoned the family and changed his name. Little do they know that I’m doing the same. Uncle Jay was not a bad guy, my parents are just insane. I inherit the palace when I turn 18 in a couple of days, along with all of my Uncle’s belongings. If I didn’t love my parents I’d kick them to the curve. Instead I’ll move them to the worker’s quarters. Okay fine, to the guest house. I can not have them causing the staff to go on strike because I’m sure not cleaning this place. Besides that will keep them from getting in the way of my plans.

My Uncle’s letter’s read like fairy tales. He spoke of expensive cars, beautiful clothes, and lavish parties. Mostly he spoke of Daisy. How he was going to win her back and how her husband is an arrogant philandering idiot. He placed Daisy on a pedestal and spoke of her like she was a delicate golden princess. She sounded like a spoiled, entitled, and nasty woman to me. And I’m here to knock her off of that rotten pedestal that I’m sure cost my Uncle his life. The newspapers said he was murdered by a “madman”. This “madman” just happens to be the husband of Myrtle, Mr. Buchanan’s mistress. You do the math. I sure did. And it added up to Daisy the dimwit. My uncle also wrote about Tom and Myrtle. I know they are both at the root of my uncle’s death and Myrtle’s death too. I’m not trying to be Sherlock Holmes and prove it. Wealthy people never pay for anything. Not even justice, for committing murder. Instead I’m getting revenge.

As I sit and stare into the green light, I declare that Daisy will pay.

The Buchanans will pay.

Their world is about to be changed forever.

I need the perfect look to go with my new identity before any of the vain socialites lay their pretentious eyes on me. My uncle gave me a prominent start in society with no ties to him. The story is that I come from old money. I am the great great granddaughter of a billionaire oil tycoon. My uncle made sure I was on their level.

Millie, my Uncle’s former house manager, the only one that wasn’t replaced weekly, booked me an appointment at Long Island’s most prestigious salon. If you ever want to know anything about anything, housekeepers have all the knowledge. These people treat staff as though they do not exist. As if workers don’t comprehend the same language as wealthy people. Idiots right? I was able to get a quick lesson of all the “It” socialites and their renowned but unclaimed roles. I discovered who the gossips, influencers, and troublemakers are. This proved to be extremely helpful while I sat under the hairdryer at the salon. The stylist draped a pink satin cape around me to protect my new lavish clothes. The pink rollers in my hair smelled of sweet burning plastic, while I listened to the entitled troublemaking snobs gossip.

“I heard that there was a love triangle and they both put out hits on each other’s lovers,” said Jacqueline, in hushed tones. “ I’m surprised they stuck around after the scandal. I would simply be too mortified to show my face.”

The other ladies gasped, clutched their pearls, and fanned their hairdryer heat. I unsuccessfully coughed to disguise a snicker at their ridiculousness, while catching their disapproving glances.

“You must be the family that just bought the old Gatsby mansion?” sneered Jacqueline, as she peered at her crimson lips and deep black hair in a gold compact mirror.

“It’s Violet,” I said with a forced enthusiastic smile, “and yes I believe that was the name I was given for the previous owner.”

“I was told there were interesting events that used to take place at my new home. Wild parties and such.

His story is such a tragedy” I said while mimicking their ridiculous responses from earlier.

“Such a tragedy,” agreed one of the blonde minions.

“Not to ease drop but I think you were also mentioning my other neighbors,” I said as I leaned forward to speak reticently. “They do have some peculiar behavior going on at their dock in the middle of the night.”

Excitedly clicking her tongue, Jacqueline and her entourage simultaneously leaned forward to listen. “What kind of behavior?” Jacqueline asked eagerly.

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep I like to take walks by the water,” I lowered my voice. “And on numerous occasions I’ve seen Daisy meeting questionable characters at the dock. And It didn’t seem as though she wanted to be seen.”

The women gasped, which I took as encouragement to continue.

“I asked my housekeeper about the men and she said they were involved in drugs. You know housekeepers know everything,” I said assuredly while mimicking their mannerisms again, as they all vigorously nodded in agreement.

Right on cue for my dramatic exit, my stylist came to relieve me from my center stage debut.

“Ladies I’ll be hosting a birthday soirée tomorrow to get to know the community. I also want to show off the new decor and renovations to diminish any bad juju being said about my place. I hope to see you all there!” I mentioned as the stylist lead me away.

The stylist swiveled me around in the chair allowing me to see my long strawberry blonde hair in the mirror. The loose waves were pinned to one side. I looked like a woman. No longer a girl.

Millie did all of the heavy lifting for my soirée as she had done plenty of times for my uncle. The soirée buzz from all of New York’s socialites had already begun. Along with whispers of Daisy’s drug habits after my handy work at the salon. At this rate I’ll have her name destroyed before I even lay eyes on her. Pretty nifty if I do say so myself.

While Millie finalized my event, I went to tan on the deck. My timing was impeccable as Tom Buchanan sailed by. He passed by multiple times gawking at me. He was just as arrogant as my Uncle’s letters spoke. As though he were entitled to my attention, he boarded my dock and introduced himself. I’ve never wanted to punch a stranger in the face so much. Instead, I obliged him and worked all the tricks that I had previously planned for Rodney as I introduced myself. He lead with his importance in the community while his hand lingered on my lower back.

“I can introduce you to all the ‘right’ kind of people,” he spoke smugly. As I nodded and smiled.

“Yes, I’ve heard so many things about you and your wife.” I do hope to see you both here tomorrow night.

“You can’t believe everything you hear kitten, unless you are hearing it from the bulls mouth.” He said with a smirk, as his eyes traveled up and down my body.

“The bull sounds like the life of the party,” I said as giggled and batted my eyes.

This idiot was eating up all the flirting tips I learned from women’s magazines.

“It was nice meeting you, but I must finish getting ready. I do hope to see the bull again soon.” I said while placing two lingering kisses on both cheeks and hurrying away. Hook. Line. And Sinker.

The party was more extravagant than I could have ever dreamed. People were everywhere drinking, dancing, and laughing. It was as if my Uncle’s letters, had come alive. Feeling a bit overwhelmed and deeply missing my Uncle Jay, I stepped out to his favorite part of the gardens for some privacy and fresh air. When I arrived there was a blonde woman that was sobbing quietly.

“Miss are you okay? Can I get you anything?” I asked approaching her.

Startled she looked up at me and immediately began wiping her face. The most captivating face that I had ever seen. I immediately wanted to fix whatever was ailing her.

“I’m sorry,”she apologized. “I’m fine. Im just being foolish. ”

“Aren’t you cold?” I offered her my wrap.

“I deserve it,” She refused while shaking her head. “The bite of the cold reminds me I’m still amongst the living.”

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, trying to appease this golden angelic face that stirred my insides. She motioned towards a glass full of amber liquid beside her foot.

“Just sit with me,” she softly demanded. “Misery loves company.”

Breaking the content silence that fell upon us as we sat she choked up a soft murmur, “The previous owner was an old friend of mine. He used to throw extravagant parties just like this.”

Uncle Jay didn’t have any friends. The words almost slipped off my tongue as recognition clouded my thoughts like black dye in a glass of water.

It’s her… It’s Daisy….. All of sudden clarity bells rang and every word, every sentence, every feeling that my Uncle wrote of her was understood.

I realized she had stopped talking and was gazing at me, waiting for a response. She looked at me as though I was the most important person in the world. As I began to respond, she quickly pressed her finger to my lips and listened to the chatter underneath the balcony where we sat.

“Can you believe the Buchanan’s showed their faces here tonight?” bellowed a hoarse slurred voice.

“Their temerity is unbelievable!!” Whined a high squeaky voice.

“People died because of them and they go on living their lives like nothing happened!” The hoarse voice exclaimed.

“Maybe it’s the drugs affecting their brains.” The whiny voice suggested.

“I’d imagine the drugs could only improve their brains.” The hoarse voice mocked, as the voices faded into the distance.

Daisy’s soft moonlit skin seemed to become even more pale as she stood abruptly and said, “I must go.”

I scrambled to my feet, but she was gone from my balcony and onto my pedestal before I could say don’t go.

The party is over, a week has passed, and I am now known to society. None of that matters. None of my initial plans were accomplished at the party. Instead I can’t get Daisy out of my mind. I tried sending a “thank you for coming” gift basket to her house this week only to find that the Buchanan’s had left town. No forwarding address.

Now the green light resumes its place in this lucid dream. And blinks again in longing, heartache, and heartbreak. My world is changed forever.