Too many things were happening at once. Max with his mistress, my doppelgänger. Neal with their neighbor, Gatsby, the man whose name haunted me. And now, the stranger in the dark opera house. I resented each of them for so carelessly living out their rich lives and not caring how it affected everyone else. Yes, I came from wealth, but we were never like these men. These men were cruel and callous. Everyone was just pawns in their games. I could never treat someone like they were nothing.
My phone’s chirp pulled me from my dark, half-drunken thoughts.
Unknown: Penny for your thoughts?
I read the message and my head shot up in alarm. Was I being watched? Quickly, I replied.
Daisy: Who is this?
Unknown: Who do you want it to be?
I set my phone down after reading the message. Someone was messing with my head. It could be anyone. I didn’t have any friends other than Tuth and Neal. I picked up the phone.
Daisy: Have we met before?
Unknown: Of course we have.
I didn’t know how to reply.
Unknown: When will you dance for me again, Daisy?
Ah, so there it is. The faceless opera owner.
Daisy: You haven’t invited me back.
Unknown: I am a very busy man. Why don’t you record yourself for me. Tonight.
Daisy: I’m at home. Although something tells me you knowthat.
Unknown: I know a lot of things about you, Daisy. Why do you think I dressed you in green?
I raised an eyebrow at the glowing green light across the lake. Could it be—could they be the same man? If so, it wasn’t a coincidence. Someone wanted my attention.
No, it was too specific to be connected. No one knew of my love for... him. I swallowed, shoving down all the emotions that came with thinking of my first and only true love. The man across the lake was just a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald, like me and a billion others. The man talking to me now, though...
Unknown: Word has it, your fiancé had a studio custom built inside your home. Perfect place to record.
Daisy: Oh, so you know of him? And still you text me... aren’t you worried I’m showing him these messages right now?
Unknown: Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Max Stanton at the Cutler Hotel with your lookalike as we speak?
That bastard. Both of them. Max, for the adultery; Unknown for calling me out about it.
Daisy: You think you’re funny.
Unknown: No, I think you’re beautiful. Daisy, dance for me.
Daisy:What do I get in return?
Unknown: Go up to your studio right now, and I’ll send you a photo of myself.
I stood, my heart hammering, leaving my dinner half eaten, and rushed up the stairs to the third floor. The moment I flicked the lights on, revealing the brand new studio, my phone pinged.
Image received.
My breath caught as I stared at his marvelous tattooed abs, counting each hard line half-hidden by ink. Momentarily distracted, I looked up, wondering how he'd known I'd made it up here.
Unknown: Are you going to dance in that?
