Day Two: 4/6/18
Era: Emancipation
"Those eyes."
She bites down on her lip harder than before. The beach was filled to five people less than its capacity. Busting tables on a heavily populated tourist beach is not how she'd imagined herself spending this entire summer. It's been getting whispered about since the Spring. Supposedly, it's the Jam of The Year. They say this will be the final party before a dearly loved person of the area is on his way out of Martha's Vineyard.
Darla took the job with the beliefs and with the strong intuition that it'd be full of filthy rich middle aged people who drink wine and talk about stocks. This, they do. They drink wine and they talk about stocks. They drink wine and talk about stocks while dancing on tables. All in the sane breath, they gossip and they gossip oh, so very much. There also is a plethora of well seasoned men that catch her eyes every single day. Today, there is one in particular who has her saying to herself,
"Those damn eyes."
He's dressed from head to toe in tip top shape. The man is just sharp. Darla cannot take her eyes off of him, as if this is her first time seeing him. She has seen him plenty of times and let it be known, he puts Jay Gatsby to shame in his sleep. Honestly, Fitzgerald is more than likely turning in his grave each and every single time Nelson throws a party for all of the Vineyard to enjoy. One could not fathom a literal Gatsby that actually walks the earth in 1996. The only thing that makes the sight so much more spectacular is the fact that Nelson is far more popular than Gatsby.
Do references back to Fitzgerald's 1920's classic and understand that Gatsby was mostly known in New Jersey and New York, some would even say the entire east coast of the time in which it is set. Nelson is international in every sense of the word. Millions across the world fly back to Martha's Vineyard for the one and only, Nelson. That's his name, too. His name's just Nelson. Rumor has it, he only tells his first name to those who are beneath the influence because he understands that they will not recall the encounter when they wake up.
"Darla!"
The voice has been calling her for the last her name for the last two minutes, little does Darla know. Her abrupt awakening to reality leads her legs to sprint across the back passage to the bar. She snatches up her designated tray, drops five wine glasses on top, and grips the bottle with her free fingers of her opposing hand. Darla knew exactly where she was to go. She was sent to Nelson's table and without a single second thought, she went to the designated area. No questions asked.
"May I interest anyone in some wine?"
Nelson's eyes meet Darla's and he smiles. "Darla!" Darla's heart melts in her chest, falling through her entire bodily system to be released through vaginal moisture. "My dearest, Darla!"
A real Prince Charming.
The killer about Nelson is his charm. Again, he puts Gatsby to shame. Nelson, the man who is loved internationally, has always held the world's in the palm of his hands. Needless to say, he is pretty likable. He knows all names. He knows the chef, the mayor, almost all of his guests, the live band, and all of of the waiters and waitresses. The charm by itself could bring a great white to the knees that it does not have.
"A drink, sir?"
"Yes, you will have a drink with us," smiles Nelson. Darla's nerves are released through her laughter as she shakes her head. Nelson never has been one to take no for an answer and he never will be. "If you don't sit down! It's a party, suga'! You 'oughta have a drink or two!"
Darla's laughter increases in quantity, that is simply how nervous she is. "With all due, respect, Mr.Nelson," begins Darla, as she pours the fine wine into the five glasses. "I do have a job to do and sadly, drinking wine at a Nelson party with Nelson is not in my job description."
"If I'm not mistaken, my love, I am Nelson." He eyes her, Darla feeling beyond uncomfortable. "Take a seat." Darla looks around at the partially full table, then at Nelson. She sighs and sits down on the far edge. Nelson takes her tray and apron and hands it off to some other service worker that had happened to be walking past.
It started with a single glass of wine.
Then, there were four glasses. He encouraged her to indulge in the snacks and entrées that covered the table. Slowly but surely, people from the table began to disappear. It was not too noticeable at first. The beach is still full of happily intoxicated smiles and dancing souls. Almost every single attendee of this particular bash happen to be over forty. All except Darla, who originally was not a guest but a server. Laughing and joking with Nelson, of all people, makes it crystal clear to her that the grass is greener on the other side.
Nelson pulls Darla to the dance floor with him when one of her co-workers hands the two of them another glass. A giddy Darla takes it as a friend of Nelson's stands up before the crowd to make a toast. "My longtime friend, Nelson, this is to your departure! We all love you. You are a light that will never be dimmed until the end of time and you throw a great shindig," The guests all laugh. "Let's make a toast to the host with the most!" Clapping erupts and everybody takes this last glass to the head.
Nelson temporarily cuts off Darla's alcohol intake following her fifth drink. He'd appreciate it if she were sober enough to hear him out when he speaks. "Dance with me." He takes her by the hand and whisks her off to the appropriate positioning on the floor. "I'd be a liar if I said I won't miss you, Darla. You make the best Shirley Temples a man can possibly drink." Darla and Nelson both let out a hearty laugh. "Look at you, you're all smiles!"
"I'm happy," laughs Darla.
"That's all I wish you will ever be," Nelson says as he finds himself gazing into her eyes.
The exact way Darla had been watching Nelson all summer, he had been watching her. They felt attached to one another in a way. Darla served Nelson every single day. Nelson read her body language and immediately knew her very well. He was very much attached to her energy. The idea that of being near him had become something he became quite fond of. Darla is a sweetheart and Nelson knows. She is apart of the reason he has to go.
Darla sighs, laying her hear on Nelson's shoulder. She says to him, "Don't go, Mr. Nelson."
"I was born an Alexander." Darla's a special case. Nelson wanted her to be sober enough to comprehend his every word. She did. She did hear his every word. "Call me that when you think of me." He not ashamed of his name but he does believe on important people should know his full name. Although, it isn't lie he was named after the son a king or anything of that nature. He is no prince.
Darla nods, "Okay."
He'd only made his request because in the morning, Darla will be the first person to have the ability to remember but he'll be gone.
