Nicole Carraway | The Great Gatsby

Prohibition Phooey

A/N: I went a little overboard with this one, but by the time I got all of my thoughts written down it was almost twice as long as the last chapter. Have a happy weekend!

Chapter 7

The train tracks were dark and worn from use, and browns and grays littered the paper like it really was from the dirt. The train was a huge beast. It was cold and metal, and the plumes of smoke filtering up and into the sky looked like they could swallow something whole. It was dreary and depressing, and by the time that Nicole left the valley the night before that was all that she had on her canvas. When she got home it was an entirely different picture. The image in her head had changed.

In front of the plumes of smoke and ash was color. She put in shops that were painted in blues and oranges, with lines of people chatting and lounging. There was a dog chasing after a yellow ball, two boys playing on the dirt path. A handful of railroad workers were sitting around an oil drum drinking soft drinks. There was grass peppered in, hints of green poking out of the otherwise barren ground. There were flowers on the sides of the businesses. It was lush with hope. Even the sky, which was a nasty shade of brown before had blue sprinkled in the corners. It made her feel like anything was possible.

The only way that anyone would be able to tell that it was the Valley of Ashes was the distinctive sign painted in behind the train. It was a tall sign, the overseer of the valley. The pair of eyes was distinctive - it was the sign of Doctor TJ Eckleburg. No one would be able to question it.

Nicole chewed on her lip lightly, nervous for her first critique. They were standing in her front room, and cans of paint brushes and jars of linseed oil and paint were scattered around carelessly. She should have cleaned up her mess. Mr. Gatsby didn't seem to notice. He took in the detail of the painting, his eyebrows drawn together. Perhaps he was deep within his head. Maybe he really didn't like it and didn't know what to say to her. Maybe Nicole should stop overthinking it.

"So," Nicole thought, tapping on the counter behind her. She wasn't quite sure of what to say. It was terribly quiet, and it made her head loud with wild ideas of his distaste. She let out a quiet breath. "So, what do you think?"

His light eyes found hers, and a moment later he shook his head with a small smirk. What was bouncing between his ears?

"I think that the Journal better be paying you handsomely for your work."

His voice was kind, a certain softness behind it that had stolen her attention. Her smile blossomed before him, and Nicky was overcome with happiness. "I do hope they like it." She agreed politely, but she was beaming.

"They would be fools not to." He affirmed, his gaze shifting from hers down to his hands. He was composing himself.

There was honking at the front gate outside of Nicole's home and she stepped over to the window as the noise persisted. The cars were driving past her place and continued to Mr. Gatsby's. It was never ending.

"Do you have plans tonight, Miss Carraway?"

Nicky turned back to him with a lingering smile. Mr. Gatsby looked so cool and confident, even in the middle of her humble home. It seemed so easy for him.

"I'm afraid I do. You see," she started again, holding back a grin, "I think there is a party tonight here in West Egg, and I can't miss it." She was playing coy, and she could tell that he caught on by the way the corners of his lips turned up. "What about you, Mr. Gatsby? Do you have any plans for the evening?"

"I do." He hummed, walking his way over to the door. "I'll see you then, Nicole Carraway."

The way that he said her name made the hairs on her arms stand on end, and Nicole could feel her cheeks burning red. He nodded again with a charming smile, it was hard not to mimic it. His smile was one of those rare smiles you may come across four or five times in life. It seemed to understand her, and it made Nicole feel as if anything were possible.