"I am a little hungry," I admitted.
"Perfect. Let's get you downstairs."
We left the mysterious hall and headed down to the kitchen.
"Have you worked for Gatsby long?" I asked him.
"Since he brought in staff about eight months ago," Dewayne answered.
"I see. Are you from around here?"
"I grew up in Detroit, so not too far from here," he said, pushing the doors open to the large kitchen. I stared around the giant blue and silver room. It looked like a restaurant kitchen.
Steam rose from a large pot on the stove, and various pieces of metal clanged together somewhere I couldn't see.
"Jules, Daisy is here for breakfast," Dewayne called over the noise.
"Daisy?" a deep voice with a French accent replied. A moment later, a smiling White man with mousy brown hair and a muscular frame came around a corner. "The Daisy?" He hurried over and pulled me in for a large hug.
"Yes," Dewayne interrupted Jules's greeting. "Let's get her fed, hmm?"
Jules put me down and smiled even wider. I looked from Dewayne to Jules and back again. They made me feel so welcome already. I wondered what Gatsby had told them about me.
"Yes, yes.” Jules took my hand, dragging me to one of the many kitchen islands. He pulled out a stool and directed me to sit.
"What do you like to eat in the morning? Eggs, oatmeal? I can make anything."
I considered my options. Neither Eggs nor oatmeal sounded even slightly good.
"What is that face? Do you not like eggs?" He frowned.
"No, it's not that. I just..." Back home, Max spoke to the kitchen staff. I didn't have a say in the menu. The only time I was allowed to choose what I ate was at a restaurant, and even then, Max would often speak over me. Jules waved a playful finger at me and chuckled.
"You want something sweet, don't you? Let Jules create something special for you, then."
I was offered coffee, with a flat of mini pitchers of various creamers. I tried them all but ultimately poured the 'spiced caramel' creamer into my hot drink, and watched as Jules prepared me breakfast.
He seemed like a happy cook. Turning on music, we listened to piano melodies while he chatted, asking about me.
"I hear you are a dancer, yes?"
I nodded.
"I used to attend ballet back home in France. It is a beautiful art. I must see you perform soon." He mixed something into a bowl and turned the stove on.
"Yes! My company will be performing at the Tennant Theater later this year. Gatsby owns it; I'll make sure he gives you tickets."
He shook his head and waved his spatula playfully at me. "Oh, no, no, no. I want tickets from the Prima Ballerina herself! I need people to know that I am friends with the star of the show!"
I laughed and relaxed further into my seat. Everything about this place felt... right. I sat and watched Jules work his magic, and after a few short minutes, he slid a warm plate of perfectly cooked pancakes with strawberry compote and a dollop of whip cream on top. He offered me a knife and fork and I took them eagerly, my stomach suddenly beginning to rumble.
"This is delicious, Jules!" I complimented. The manbeamed proudly as he sat down across from me to watch me eat. I scooped up another bite and shook my head, incredulous. "I don't think I've ever had homemade whipped cream."
"Only the best for Gatsby's Daisy."
I smiled and returned to my breakfast. It was gone entirely too soon. Once my plate was empty, Jules took it from me and set it in the large washing basin. He returned to me quickly and sat back down.
"Now, the rest of today's menu. What do you like?"
