Chapter 64
Daisy
"What do you mean? I saw the video at the abortion clinic, I read the birth certificate." Gatsby furrowed his brow.
"You must have found the altered birth certificate, which lists Daisy as Lydia's mother. Which is exactly what we were hoping for if people went snooping." Max snickered.
"If... you're not her mother..." Gatsby was confused.
I hung my head and sat in the chair next to me. I put my head in my hands. I knew this was coming, but the shame and guilt was just as horrible as I'd imagined it would be.
"Lydia's biological mother is a girl I fucked one time in college.” Max lifted his gun again to Gatsby. “I tried to get her to abort, but we got to the clinic and she refused. That's when I met Daisy. She had a problem, I had a problem, and we decided to help each other."
"Sit down," Clarke demanded of Gatsby. Carefully, he walked backward into a chair, plopping down while keeping his hands up.
"I still don't understand. Daisy, what... the video showed you at the clinic."
"I don't know what video you saw." Max dropped the gun slightly and went to the mini bar, pouring himself a drink. "But maybe she can help explain better. Why were you at the clinic, Daisy?"
I looked around the room. All three men were staring at me, waiting to hear my answer. My eyes rested on Gatsby, and my stomach turned.
"I wanted to tell you."
"You were pregnant?" His words came out in a whisper.
"Yes. Was . Sweet, innocent Daisy here found herself in a little bit of trouble, and found a way out of it. However, fixing one problem led to a bigger one, and that's where I came in to help."
I stood up and rested my hand on my middle. I was going to throw up.
Max was loving this. He'd been waiting for this day, no doubt.
"You see, Lydia's biological mother, Mia, was a nobody. Some chick on a DEI scholarship. She came from a shit family, with no money, no name, a true fucking embarrassment. It was bad enough people saw me in public with her, but now she was carrying the child of a Stanton? No, that wasn't going to fucking happen. I had to figure out something else. And Daisy, what was your problem again? Oh yeah, your grandma found out you were pregnant and told you if you aborted it, she'd disown you. And you couldn't pay for ballet school if you had no money. Do you see where I’m going with this, Gatsby?" Max spat.
Gatsby soaked in the information. "You agreed to adopt the child, to keep your inheritance."
I hurried to a trash can, hurling my head into it and vomiting. I was a horrible human. I chose money over the well-being of a child.
"Not just adopt my daughter. She also agreed to marry me, and before you came around, she'd grown to love me. Didn’t you, Daisy? Love me. We were going to have a child of our own soon. Before you came into the picture.”
Liar!
The room was spinning. I stood and wiped my mouth. I walked to the mini bar and took a swig from the open bottle. It burned, and I gagged, but I needed the taste of vomit out of my mouth.
“I never loved you, Max. I did what I had to do. I stayed because I was waiting for Gatsby.”
“A man you thought was on death row?” He snickered. As the three of us went rounds with each other, Clarke had sat to watch us.
“I would have waited forever if I had to.” I turned to Gatsby. “Max and I couldn’t have had a child because we’ve never had sex, and that was never going to change.” I stared pointedly at him.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” he muttered, and, as if remembering, raised the gun again. “Tonight, this is ending. You’re not leaving this room alive, Gatsby, and after the party, me and Daisy will be leaving forever. I'm taking her away, and she'll never see this fucking lake again. Clarke, do it." He motioned to his partner.
Clarke stood and dug into his coat pocket. He removed a set of handcuffs and bunji rope. Gatsby tried to stand, but Max cocked the gun and he was forced to sit back down as Clarke handcuffed his wrist to the arm of the chair and then tied him to it.
"What's the point of this, if you're just going to shoot me? I'm not moving," Gatsby said.
"I want you to watch as Daisy and I make our first child together."
I stiffened as Max swung his gun at me. I stepped backward, hitting a bookcase .
"Clarke, hold her down."
"Don't do this." I shook my head. "Max, this is wrong."
"Wrong? You want to tell me what I'm doing is wrong? Your boyfriend kills people. He was going to kill me, if you don't remember. They found Yong this morning. In Sweden. I'm not stupid; I know he didn't kill himself. Not to mention Lilly. Clarke is a widower because of him. It's eat or be eaten, quite literally with this one." He smirked at Gatsby. "And I'll be damned if I am someone's fucking meal."
I scanned the room, looking for an escape. Clarke was coming toward me, his eyes looking hungry, excited almost.
“Is this why you’re doing all of this, Clarke, because you think Gatsby killed Lilly?”
“Daisy”…" Gatsby warned.
Clarke paused, the light in his eyes dulling.
"Yes. She was my everything. She was beautiful and sweet and never would have looked at another man. Gatsby seduced her, had been trying to convince her to leave me, and when she wouldn't, he killed her."
"How are you so sure?" I asked.
"Max found his diary." He pointed to Gatsby.
Diary?
A devious smile crept across Max’s lips. There was no fucking diary. Clarke grabbed me and dragged me over to the desk. He took hold of my wrists and shoved me down so I was bent across the desk, with him holding me in place. A chill of fear ran down my spine as I heard Max's footsteps behind me, inching toward me.
"Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, how I've waited for this moment. I never imagined having an audience, but hey, gotta keep up with the times. What do you think, are you ready to become a mother, for real this time?"
Max grabbed my hips and, out of reflex, I lifted my leg and kicked my heel directly into his groin. He fell back with an "oof!" and I yanked myself free from Clarke's hold. I heard the gun drop onto the floor, and I spun around to look for it. Max and I saw it at the same time, and I dove for it as he rolled.
I managed to get it and kick him away again before I stood and pointed it at him.
"Don't move." Keeping the gun trained on him, I went to Gatsby, untying him. The handcuffs were still attached to the wooden chair. Gatsby stood and yanked, using his foot as leverage to break the chair and remove the handcuffs from the arms, leaving it stuck on his wrist. I looked over at Clarke, who was standing there, arms empty, looking utterly lost without orders from Max.
"Gatsby didn't kill Lilly, I did."
The room was silent for hardly a moment. Max laughed.
"No, you didn't. He did. Why are you trying to save him?"
I shook my head. "No, it was me. I found her in my dressing room, wearing my clothes, using my makeup and perfumes, and I snapped. It also wasn't Gatsby having an affair with her; it was Max," I told Clarke.
Clarke dropped into the office chair and put his hands on his temples.
"None of this makes sense. Why would..." He looked up at Max. "Why would you help me look for her, if you knew what happened?"
Max stood, limping slightly.
"I didn't know jack shit. Don't believe a word she says. She's a pathological liar. She lied about our daughter for years. She was fucking this guy all summer; she can't do anything else but lie. Who would you believe, Clarke, a liar, or your friend?"
"Daisy…" Gatsby moved closer, muttering under his br eath. "You need to leave, find Dewayne, and shut down the party."
"Yes." Clarke stood. Lifting his suit jacket, he removed a handgun. "Daisy, I think it's time you left. Leave the gun."
Max hurried forward, taking advantage of my surprise, and snatched the gun from my hand.
"I can't?—"
"Go." Gatsby put his hands on both sides of my head and kissed me. "Make sure my guests are safe."
"But what about you? I can't let you do this... you're my green light." A single tear slid from my eye.
He nodded. "We promised each other years ago, remember, that we'd find a way to get our green lights? I'm keeping my promise. Go, my Daisy."
"She's not your Daisy," Max snarled.
"You're right. Just like I was never really Gatsby, was I? Go... Shiloh."
I stared at him and, for a brief moment, everything fell away. The room, Max, Clarke, Gatsby and Daisy, all of it. It was just him and I, suspended in darkness. The real us.
Emile and Shiloh.
And then a gun went off.