Fifty Shades of Gatsby by Lillian Jacobs Read Free Book Online

 
    In my younger and more vulnerable years, my mother gave me some advice.
    “Whenever you feel the urge to give into rich and powerful men, don’t.”
    I was very vulnerable back then, and had only been with one man, my husband. His name was Tom, and he was a lecherous drunk. You know the type. For me, Daisy Carraway, one man for my entire life was my chosen path. I did not care if other girls lived differently than I. From a young age, I learned not to judge others. My father taught me that, not my mother. I was taught to not hold them up to the same standards as myself, because I do not know them. You never know what their past was like – and until you know that, you can never know them. We all come from different backgrounds. Therefore, I have become highly tolerant.
    Gatsby, one of great wealth, success, and power was the best and worst thing that could have happened to me – but never judged him. I tried to never judge him – no matter what happened. It was hard, no doubt. The fact that he was completely gorgeous helped in many regards. I am not superficial, but there must always be attraction. Did I mention how gorgeous he was? You know the type.
    The year was 1922, and I just came from New York. I was an innocent, young girl, with hopes and dreams, like anyone else my age. I wanted to get into journalism and hoped to write a story on the rich members of the aristocratic West Egg. This was a very wealthy neighborhood and the subject matter had always fascinated me, as I had no money of my own to speak of. Those that lived in the West Egg were those that were “new rich,” and had just gained their money, as it wasn’t inherited, unlike those in the East Egg. They were the ones who were not used to the power – to them it was something new and exciting. They were also the ones that made fortunes themselves – so you knew that they were special, smart, and had a hunger for power. Those in the East Egg did not do the work to acquire their fortune; it was given to them.
    The mansions in the West Egg made my mouth water and my loins tingle with the thought of rich men; though I told myself to not be a typical gold digger with dollar signs in my eyes, I could not help it. This was an age of decadence.
    My husband, Tom, and I were staying with a friend of mine in W est Egg. Tom was a handsome man with gravely facial hair, and always wore the most striking three piece suits. His weakness, however, was his temper, and it often got the best of him. He played football in high school and college and was a typical athlete. The qualities that attracted to me to him in the first place were the ones that I soon grew tired of. One of them – his aggressive nature towards women – didn’t end with our marriage and I was sure that he was seeing others on the side. He was certainly not rich, but he always tried to take control of a situation, and that was enough, most of the time. Though, in the bedroom, many times his attempts to gain control only ended in flaccid results.
    “Now, just because I’m more successful than you, doesn’t mean I want to push you down. I want you to get your story. I’m here to help,” said Tom.
    “Thanks, honey. I appreciate it,” I said, sarcastically.
    “Now what is the name of th is magazine, again?”
    I told him.
    “Never heard of it, before,” he said, and the conversation ended.
    Th at really pissed me off.
    We arrived at my friend’s mansion in West Egg. Her name was Jordan and we knew each other from university.
    “Daisy!” she yelled as she ran down the steps and hugged me. I noticed that in front were fountains and luscious foliage that would look great for my story pictorial, if she allowed me to photograph them.
    “So this is the one I’ve been hearing about,” Tom said, sizing up Jordan. “I can see why you didn’t want to mention too much of her. You’re obviously jealous, and rightfully so.”
    Jordan just rolled her eyes and introduced herself. She could see my