There was perhaps a most distinguished sense of arrogance that filled the room that evening. You could, if just reach out your hand, all but touch it. No doubt it was from one of the most intriguing senses to the appetite of a mobster, money. A lot of money was just being tossed and thrown around to whomever whenever and it was getting to the point of being absolutely ludicrous. Gatsby started having a deeper desire to have more money. A hint of success began to loom deep in his mind. He knew that if he was to get Daisy back he couldn't just sit and wait for time to pass him by but would have to take action. His whole destiny to be molded and transformed in the blink of an eye based on one decision...but would he make it was the question.

Right there that's fine old sport. 

The young man put pen to paper and signed his name in the book. It appeared that Gatsby began a bootlegging business shortly after the fall of his friend the captain. The inheritance he had once expected to receive then stolen from him from the captains distant family. Perhaps, if they were around him more they would have been there in the boat that night to save him from drinking. Perhaps if they were in his life at all he would have never even picked up the bottle. 

I will have the packages delivered to you in a weeks time old sport. 

Package. A term most understood to mean units of alcohol. Gatsby used different words. He mixed his language up around so much one couldn't tell whether he was associated with a criminal organization or he just liked to appear as though he was with one. He sold every time of alcohol one would hope for. He would have his certain bodyguards drive to any destination needed to deliver the packages. Most time it would be for a late night club owner, a speakeasy. Gatsby had no hesitation. There was one type of alcohol that Gatsby wouldnt have any of his men deliver however...

I would like to place an order for REDRUM...If you would not mind sir Gatsby. The address is.....

Redrum. When you say one way it sounds like a beautiful liquor with a taste of something wild. It was wild. Gatsby looked the potato shaped man up and down. He noted that he didnt take too much care of himself. Stains. Smells. It was too no avail that this man had hoped for such a package to be delivered. As the man continued on Gatsby couldnt help but find himself intrigued by the mans offer. 

Slowly exiting the room Jay picked up his gun and admired it. It had been too long since it had been used. It would appear that it may be time to begin again. He put it in his holster and walked out of the shop and immediately locked up. Catching the eye of one of his closest friends he smiled and walked with them to the car. It was no doubt a moment for business, a moment for money, a moment for redrum. 

Gatsby got into the vehicle and began to push down on the pedal. Accelerating rapidly down the streets he kept his eye on his review mirror in case any of the cops would see the speeding yellow bullet. 

You see old sport, when it comes to time, you can never have too much of it. That is why you must always take advantage of every opportunity. Take hold of every moment. Seize the chances in your life because you never know what lies in store.

As he raced around the city streets Gatsby pulled his tie across the seat belt as it was only tightening on him creating a feeling of suffocation. He made is turn onto fifth avenue and got out of the vehicle. 

Well, this must be it old sport. Hurry up and get ready to drive.

As the companion got in the driver seat Gatsby ran up to the front door. He knocked politely and awaited the answer. A man in a bright grey suit flashed his pearly whites as he opened the door. He looked like the classic Government type. Goody two shoes kinda guy. Gatsby smiled at him. His gun held in his coat that was over his arm. Finger was on the trigger. 

Well how may i help you neighbor? 

Savage it would be to deliver the redrum to this man. He seemed to cheerful about life. It couldnt be the right guy but it was. Fit the description. Gatsby knew the pay was worth the risk. The money would only bring him closer to Daisy as well. Gatsby raised his coat and flashed a smile back. 

Well you see old sport, there is something you could help me with. Theres this sort of client of mine who says...

A young boy no older than seven walked up infront of his father. The man placed his two hands on the boys shoulders as he held him close. A fathers love. Gatsbys eyes were caught by the vulnerable gaze of the young boy. 

umm....Wrong house. I apologize old sport.

Gatsby stuttered. He quickly rushed back into the car and left the scene. He couldnt do it. 

His friend was staring at him with such confusion. Gatsby was sent to deliver the package and that he couldnt do it meant certain death to business. His future would now be in jeopardy. He turned the key and accelerated down the street. The trees and  houses seemed to all have their colors blur. The wind rushing over the windshield and into the car. The two men sat silently as the time continued to press on.

I couldn't do it old sport. I couldn't do it. 

The friend of Gatsby loosened his tie. There was no excuse for not carrying out these types of deals that were made. Either you were expected to deliver the package or someone would be delivering it to you. He knew that was undoubtedly coming. When they learn of the man on 5th has his heart still beating they will probably take his whole family out instead of just him then they will come for Gatsby. Thats the way these things work.

We have to find the man with the stained shirt. We have to get him before he gets me old sport. We need to make him believe the man is dead so they believe it and come to deliver the package.

Gatsby pulled into a local costume shop and immediately ran inside. The two men picked out a couple of police officer uniforms and bought some caution tape to keep people at a distance. Wandering through the parking lot back to his car he realized he would need much more help than this. He was really unsure who the man in the stained shirt was but Gatsby was certain that a man that sloppy and that careless would find himself at the crime scene to see the action. 

We need to block the street off. Both ends. Put your CA on one end and have some of his friends in the street going door to door. We will have the radio put out a news break saying that something involving police officers was happening on 5th avenue and they will continue the story later tonight. We need to sell this.

Gatsby tightened his tie. His friend puffed on his cigar. Gatsby had this awry look about him one that his associate had never seen before. 

When he drives by that will be when we get him. When he drives by ill pull him over as a cop car. Walk up to him and deliver the package. Just keep your eyes out for him. 

The sun was just beginning to fall and the planned execution was soon to commence. 

Gatsby put on the police officer glasses to help cover his face. He listened as the sirens were ringing loudly echoing across the vacant neighborhood. Surely the man would come soon enough to stroll through making sure that the hit was taken. Surely the man would smile as he knew the death of his companion had taken place. 

Here he comes old sport. 

The car was creeping by. Finally the man came to slow stop. He rolled down his window and acted quite curious. He pointed his finger down the road and raised his eyebrow.

'Say officer, what do you think happened ova there? Would you mind filling in a poor ol' man like me?'

Gatsby was not pleased. The grungy look of the man was only matched by his distasteful way of speaking. The smell that eroded from his car was thus the capping point of nausea. Gatsby removed his glasses and stared at the man. The man looked back at him trying to understand where he seen Gatsby before. Then it hit him. He was supposed to be the one to carry out the hit. His mouth dropped. He went to turn the key in the igntion and began swearing at Gatsby. 

Pulling out his hand gun he had, Gatsby began opening fire. He fired several rounds into the vehicle and watched as the man shook and shivered in his seat. The blood was covering the entire windshield. 

I apologize old sport. I couldn't find myself to kill an honest man who had so much to live for. 

Gatsby immediately ran to the cop car he had parked. His associates began to run right alongside him each hopping in their own car. They followed Gatsby up until they got to the old bridge. 

Alright, everyone put your cars in neutral and dump im in the river. There will be no traces here.

The cars plummeted from the bridge into the river. The certainty of escape from the police made the rush dim. The intensity of shooting a man who Gatsby had never really seen before still haunted his mind. He was unaware of where the man came from, who he worked for, or even why he wanted the man shot.

Lets get out of here old sport.

With the police uniforms sinking with the vehicles, Gatsby tightened his tie once more and began his way back to his delivery business. Hopefully not to deliver any more packages of Redrum to anyone.