Chapter 50
Daisy
"Why? Because she's not your fiancée, she's my green light."
The air left my lungs. Oh no, it was happening.
"Your green light?" Max stood, the dishes rattling as his knees hit the table. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Gatsby leaped up as well, and Tuth and Neal followed. I covered my face with my hands. This wasn't happening. I knew it would the moment Gatsby had come down those stairs this afternoon, but still, I dreaded it.
"It means, she never loved you. She was just waiting for me."
"Waiting?" Max let out a laugh. "Ha. You were in prison. She wasn't waiting for shit. She tossed you aside and jumped into my car the first chance she got. Yeah, I looked into you. Your name isn't Gatsby."
I looked up from my hands, curious. What did he know? Max looked at me and nodded.
"That's right, Daisy. Your prince Gatsby isn't who he claims to be. He's a monster. He's a cannibal. "
"He was proved innocent," Neal interjected. "Your detective is shit."
Max came around the table and I flinched as his hands came down on my chair.
"Oh, it's not his overturned convictions I'm referring to."
The room fell silent.
"What?" The word slipped from my lips. Max released my chair, and I slowly rose to my feet, turning to face the room. "What are you talking about, Max?"
Max sneered. "He didn't tell you? All the time you had this summer, in his bed, and not once did he feel intimate enough with you to confess what he's been doing?"
"Daisy, don't listen to him." Gatsby reached forward and took a step, but Max tensed.
"Come near her and you'll regret it," he warned, causing Gatsby to freeze. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously.
"He's a liar, Daisy," Gatsby said from where he stood. "You know that. He's cheated and lied and kept secrets from you. He's the bad one, not me."
"Me? Having an affair is far different from eating people." Max scoffed.
I stepped out of Max's grasp and put my hands on my temples. "What are you talking about? Do you hear yourself, Max? This is wildly insane to accuse someone of--"
"I hear myself just fine. But do you hear me? Are you listening? Daisy, you need to pay attention to my words."
"Your words are absurd," I shot back. "He's not a cannibal." The words came out unsure, and I hated myself for it. Tears stung my eyes at the confession that I wasn't entirely sure.
"Daisy..." Gatsby warned.
Max strode over to me and took me by the shoulders. "The parties. They were a front. He's been using them to cover what’s really taking place inside those walls."
"What are you talking about?" I shook my head. Max's eyes were wild, his pupils as large as the smile. It sent chills through me.
I wasn't safe.
"Dinner parties." He let me go and turned to face the room. Tuth and Neal were standing on opposite sides of the room, watching and waiting. Gatsby was glaring at him as if he thought he could murder Max with his eyes. Max used their expressions to fuel him. "Tell the room about the dinner parties, Gatsby. Tell them about all the men you've kidnapped, tortured, and eaten."
"That's not true," Gatsby said.
"Liar!" Max screamed. "I found one of your girls. They confessed everything. We had to stick one—" He paused and made the motion of a gun with his fingers and pressed it to the center of his forehead. "Right there so she'd keep quiet, but she was just another less dead, so it didn't matter."
"Less dead?" Tuth asked.
"Drug user or sex worker," Neal muttered, their true crime knowledge leaking out. They turned to Gatsby. "Tell me this isn't true."
"I said it wasn't," Gatsby spat.
"You're a good fucking liar." Max laughed. "But it doesn't matter. I'm going to tell everyone the truth and you'll be fucked. Good luck getting anyone to believe you. Your pretty face saved you once. It won't happen again." Max grabbed my hand and tugged me forward. "Come on, Daisy, we're going home."
"No." I ripped away, shaking my head as I repeated the word. "I'm leaving, but... I need to be alone." I looked around the room and went to Gatsby. "Give me your keys. "
"What? Daisy, no, just come home with me," Gatsby pleaded.
Tears streamed down my face as I held out my palm. "Please give me your keys."
He dug into his suit and dropped them into my hand. I turned back to the room. My eyes fell to Max, and I raised my hands, pulling off my engagement ring. I pinched it between my fingers. He stared at it.
"You act like you're so much better than me, Daisy." Max shook his head. "I'd venture to say you're worse. Go, leave the ring if you want, abandon our relationship just like you've abandoned everything else. Have you even told your green light about Lydia? Or how we met? Why we're together at all? Why you need me?"
The air seemed to leave the room as panic jolted my system.
"He doesn't know, does he?"
"I have to go." I set the ring on the table and fled the room, speeding through the restaurant and to Gatsby's car. The waitress hadn't exaggerated. The rain was brutal, and the twenty feet to the car had me soaked head to toe. I ripped the car door open, and as I was shutting it, I heard Tuth scream my name. I ignored them and shut the door, turning the car on and yanking it into reverse. I peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
The rain, mixed with my blurred vision from crying, made it hard to see the road. I searched for street signs, trying to get my bearings. I didn't drive myself much, let alone at night in bad weather. I drove around, avoiding high traffic, until I saw a sign that made my heart soar and sink simultaneously. I turned right and followed the signs that led me to the Tennant.
I parked in the back and ran to the door. Gatsby's key ring had dozens of keys, and I began trying them, finding the right one eventually. I hurried inside and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I was out of the rain.
I could think.
I flicked lights on as I walked toward my dressing room. I just needed to sit, dry off, and absorb what Max had said. It couldn't be true, could it?
The image of Gatsby placing that bite of steak in his mouth while making eye contact with Max came to mind.
It could be, I realized.
The signs were there.
If he hadn't been accused before, would anyone even consider accusing him of such a horrifying crime?
I stopped short in my tracks when I turned a corner and saw the lights that led to the dressing rooms on.
"Hello?" I took a cautious step forward and then another. "Hello, is someone here?" I went to my dressing room and turned the handle. The light was on. I stiffened when I heard a quick shuffling of plastic. Someone was in here. What did I do?
Feeling brave, I shoved the door open, and stared at my intruder.
Lilly sat at my vanity table, in a leotard and tutu, covering her face in my makeup. All of the things Gatsby had bought for me. I recognized the clothes from my closet he'd filled. And the lipsticks, perfumes, and blushes, all of my makeup had been a gift from Gatsby to me as well. There she was, my doppelg?nger, my biggest fan, my stalker, trying to be me.
She leaped up. "Daisy, I—What's in your hand?"
I came to sometime later, unsure of where I was, what time it was, or what had happened. Had I passed out? I looked around, finding myself in my dressing room at the Tennant.
How did I get here?
I stood and turned to look at the mirror. My reflection made me pale. I stared, my hand going to my face, touching it to make sure this was real. It only made the mess worse. I stepped back and looked around the room in a panic. I spun around, my hands frantically roaming my body, searching for something that I knew in my soul wasn't there. I was confused, but I knew that I wasn't able to remember because my mind was saving me from knowing, but there were larger questions than how did I get there.
I needed to figure out why I was covered in blood.