Nick: I would hear music coming from my neighbor's house all throughout the long summer. People came and went in the morning, sunbathed in the afternoon and attended lavish parties in the evening. The resulting mess was always left to a handful of servants and a gardener to tidy up the next morning, and frankly, I often found myself feeling sorry for the poor sods. It so happened one day that I received an invitation letter to one of these parties, so I cleaned myself up the best I could and put on my finest suit before going over to Gatsby's place. I tried to find the host, but all I got instead was Jordan staring contemptuously at me from a distance.

Jordan: I thought you'd be here, with you being his neighbor and all...

Nick: You sure do look unhappy to see me.

Jordan: Oh, it's not you. It's me. You see, for all of my endless practice, I didn't even come close to winning last week.

Nick: Gee, I wonder why. Anyway, what do you really know about Mr. Gatsby?

Jordan, along with another other party guests, simultaneously gasp.

Party Guest 1: I heard he killed a man once!

Party Guest 2: I heard he was a German spy during the war!

Party Guest 3: No way, he was on our side! But I do believe he has taken lives. You can see it in his eyes!

Jordan: All of this talk has made me just as curious as you, Nick. How about we go look for our mysterious host while getting a chance to deepen our relationship along the way?

Nick: Sounds good to me.

Nick and Jordan soon ascend a staircase into a large library, where a stout man with owl-eyed spectacles stands on a table sorting books.

Owl Eyes: What do you think?

Nick: About what?

Owl Eyes: The books. Believe it or not, they are real. Pages, cardboard, and all!

Nick: Amazing! And to think I have never seen such versatile objects in my life!

Owl Eyes: What brought you here? Or did you just come? I was brought, just like most of the people here. I've been drunk for a week, and I thought being in a library would make me sober again.

Jordan: How long have you been here?

Owl Eyes: About an hour, I think.

Nick and Jordan leave the library and make their way to the garden. They sit themselves down at a table with a young man and a little girl.

Young Man: Your face is familiar. Weren't you in the Third Division during the war?

Nick: Yes, I was in the Ninth Machine-gun Battalion.

Young Man: I was in the Seventh Infantry until June 1918. I knew I'd seen you somewhere before. Want to go for a walk with me sometime, old sport?

Nick: You haven't even told me your name yet, sir.

Young Man: My name? Well...

Jordan: Having a gay time, aren't we?

Nick: This is quite an unusual party. All this time, and I have yet to see the host. I live next door too, so I guess I have a right to know who my neighbor is.

Young Man: I'm Gatsby.

Nick: Pardon?

Young Man: I said, I'm Gatsby. I'm your neighbor, the one who threw this incredible party.

Nick: What! I can't believe it! Oh, I beg your pardon...

Gatsby: No, the fault is on me, old sport. I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host.

Nick: He had one of those rare smiles that you only encounter four or five times in your life, that understood you just as you wished to be understood, believed in you just as you wished to be believed, and filled you with reassurance that you were fine just the way you were. I guessed that he wasn't a day over thirty, and not to mention, he was kind of handsome too...

Jordan tries to get Nick's attention by clearing her throat loudly, but he doesn't notice. A butler arrives and whispers something in Gatsby's ear before excusing himself.

Gatsby: I must be going, old sport. If you want anything, just ask for it. I'll rejoin you later.

Gatsby leaves the table. Nick turns to Jordan.

Nick: Who is he?

Jordan: Didn't he just tell you that he was Gatsby?

Nick: No, I mean where is he from? And what does he do?

Jordan: Well, you're getting quite excited. He told me once that he was an Oxford man, but I don't believe it.

Nick: Why not?

Jordan: I do think he killed a man...but that doesn't matter when he throws large parties like this one. I hate small parties, since there's never any privacy. Do you know what I mean?

One jazz concert and crowd dance-off later, a butler approaches Nick and Jordan.

Butler: Miss Baker? Mr. Gatsby has requested to speak to you in private.

Jordan: With me?

Butler: Yes.

Jordan: Ooh, I wonder what he plans to do. Nick, be a good boy while I'm gone.

Jordan leaves Nick's side and follows the butler. Nick finishes his drink and goes to get another. He sees Jordan again an hour later as the party is slowly ending.

Jordan: Nick, you won't believe what he told me!

Nick: Do tell...

Jordan: I could talk all about it right now, but I think it's more fun to just tantalize you. Why don't we meet up in a few days and discuss it then?

Nick: You know, Jordan, maybe you should be a gossip columnist instead of a golf player...

Jordan: Oh no, golf has been my lifelong passion! I'd rather die than give it up!

A car comes to a stop by Nick and Jordan. Jordan waves goodbye to Nick and gets into the car, flashing a teasing smile at him before the vehicle speeds away. He waves back, then stops to wonder when he will meet the elusive Gatsby again.