The Last Gatsby's Brother
ACT ONE: THE COLLECTING The jazz from the basement club on South State Street didn't stop at midnight. It stopped at two, when the cops came, and it stopped at four, when the bootleggers came, and it stopped at six, when the sun came up over Lake Michigan and made everything look like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from. I was sitting on the second floor of that club, counting cash with a...
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