Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Lucian, are you all right?”
His smile failed to reach his eyes. “Yes. Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“You know you can talk to me about what’s bothering you.”
“I don’t want to worry you.”
That didn’t reassure her. She scooted closer to him and played with the buttons of his shirt. “Thank you for finding Parker for me. It was a wonderful gift,” she whispered, brushing her lips along his jaw.
He shifted and looked down at her. “Let’s not talk about Hughes right now.” He patted her thigh and gazed out the window. She frowned and dropped her hand from his collar.
When they arrived at the estate, Dugan carried in their luggage. Lucy, the maid of Lucian’s estate, awaited their arrival, and Evelyn followed Lucian into the great room. He went to the bar and poured himself a drink. “Do you want some wine?”
“Are you planning on getting me drunk?”
He took a long sip of the amber liquid in his glass. “I plan on getting myself drunk and figured it would be rude to do it alone.”
There was no teasing tone to his voice. Her posture straightened. “Lucian, what’s going on? Don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I know you’re lying. Ever since we had that fight last week I feel like you’ve been keeping something from me.”
He refilled his glass and drank it down. Ignoring her question, he went to sit on one of the club chairs. His tie was undone and he looked too disheveled for what their day had entailed.
“Do you know that I’m a prick, Evelyn?”
Her brow knit tightly. She’d never seen him act so peculiar. “You’re not a prick.”
He laughed. “Oh, yes, I am. Be smart. Know who you’re dealing with. I’m a first-rate cocksucker who will do anything to get what he wants without thinking of the consequences.”
She took slow, measured steps and lowered herself to the chair beside him. Something was wrong. “Did you lose a deal?” she whispered, trying to make sense of his mood.
“Oh yeah, I’ve lost.”
She reached to comfort him, but he stood. At the bar he filled his tumbler again. This time when he sat, he brought the decanter with him. She waited for him to say more. He sipped his drink and she could actually see the brandy setting in. His cheeks became rosy and his eyes a bit glassy.
“What did Hughes mean when he said that thing about boats and waves?”
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. It’s the last line of The Great Gatsby. He read it to me last summer. Haven’t you read it?”
“No.” He stared at the ice in his glass as he tilted it side to side. “What did he mean?”
“Parker? Who knows? He’s always quoting something or other. How he applies literature to his own life is beyond my interpretation.”
“Fitzgerald wrote that, no?”
She nodded.
“What do you think the author meant? Tell me the story.”
She really didn’t have the energy for this. They were supposed to be focusing on them, not having a literature lesson. But, for whatever reason, Lucian wanted to talk about this, and she decided to tell him.
“Well,” she said, drawing her knees onto the cushioned seat. “Daisy's husband's having an affair and everyone knows it, except Daisy and the mistress's spouse.” She paused, her throat tight, distracted as she recalled the mysterious apartment. She shook away the uncomfortable thought and continued with her synopsis.
“Nick, the main character, is trying to make something of his life. The whole story’s an ongoing struggle revolving around challenges that stem from wealth or a lack of wealth. Nick lives in a poorer part of town next to a man named Gatsby, who’s rich from bootlegging and in love with Daisy, but he doesn’t find happiness. There’s betrayal and drama and no one really finds a happy ending. I don’t know why it’s considered such a great classic.”
“And do you suppose I am the laughable Great Gatsby trying to manage my destiny?”
“Lucian,” she said slowly, waiting for him to look at her. “You’re Lucian. Who cares what Parker meant?”
“What was it he said? Say it again.”
She sighed. “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
He sipped his drink. “Do you know who Parker’s father was, Evelyn?”
His question came out of left field. She blinked, unable to connect the dots. “He was a criminal.”
Lucian chuckled, but there was no humor in the hollow laugh. “We always remember people for their worst, don’t we? Parker’s father was a legend among the gods of my field, a master of real estate. He had a gift for buying and selling at just the right moment. He could set the market on an upward trend as quickly as he could send a name into an abyss of failure. That’s how much buyers treated his word as creed. He killed himself after he was busted for insider trading, but I don’t believe that was how he made his fortune. He had a gift. I think he turned to insider dealings when he lost his gift and feared losing his fortune.”