P A M E L A

Gossip had an irritating ring to it when it spread through the highly polluted streets of New York City, but it did have a relieving weakness. Stories flew in and out of ears quickly, and under this rule, the standard gossip that milled around was usually cast aside within the hours of noon and evening.

The Buchanan family, however, were exceptions to this rule. Rumors of infidelity had become so prominent within conversations, the family was eventually forced to leave for several years. Whether or not the rumors were true would be a mystery only to be solved within the confines of the family, though seeing the interactions between the tired Daisy Buchanan and her nearly abusive husband, Tom, would allow the observer to deduce enough. Their love story was one filled with alcohol and misconduct and, unfortunately for them, their leaving the city only amplified these grievances. Within the city, a ridiculous myth rose, one saying that the Buchanans would forever be cursed with lackluster passion, and that their lives would always ring through the ears of the area's most notable gossipers.

Unlike the rest of the population, however, Pamela Buchanan did not believe one word. She managed to ignore every sideways glance and snarky remark as she lived her life as the infamous daughter of the unattractive couple. Even as her mother urged her to stay with her in their vacation home within the Grand Isle, Pamela disregarded all of her inhibitions and set forth to rebuild a life for herself within her birth city. Of course, her small apartment room in the center of the liveliest part of New York was laughable in comparison to the Long Island mansion she had grown up in.

"You've decided to come here at the wrong time, Miss," the cab driver commented, ignoring Pamela's obvious disinterest in conversation-making. "There's not much to do here except starve now that the businesses aren't making much money."

Pamela attempted to give the man a reassuring smile, though she was far from foolish. The economic troubles that he spoke about were common knowledge at this point. It had been 10 years since the stock market crash, and the hopes for finding any monetary success were so low, some people were naming it the age of the Great Depression. Nevertheless, Pamela felt drawn toward her hometown, and her character was far beyond being afraid of the prospect of failure.

"Don't mean to scare you," the man continued, and at this point, Pamela wondered if he had ever considered closing his mouth. "Wouldn't want to put a frown on that pretty face of yours." At this, he gave a loud laugh, to which Pamela felt an unwelcome shiver run up her spine. For a moment, she wondered whether her surname would put him in his place. Perhaps the Buchanan legacy was as powerful as her mother said it was.

"There's no need to apologize." Pamela smirked at the already distracted driver. "I personally prefer it when people tell me things in advance. It's refreshing." And it was. Being hidden from the cruelty of society had taught Pamela that much. She no longer desired the fragility that her parents treated her with.

"A woman with an open mind!" The man exclaimed. "That's an oddity. I suppose I find you refreshing as well, Miss..." He waited for her to offer her surname. As if she wasn't nervous enough to return, Pamela felt the familiar dread of telling a person her last name. She wasn't ashamed, necessarily, though bringing up her family history usually brought out enough cruelty to halt any casual conversation.

"Pamela Buchanan," she replied, after a moment's hesitation. "You can call me Pammy, though."

Thankfully, the man hadn't seemed to recognize the name, or, if he did, he had the decency to not bring it up. In a slow manner, Pamela began to grow a liking toward the stranger. Yes, he talked too often to make her comfortable, though he lacked the common prejudice that she was greeted with so often nowadays.

"Well, Pammy Buchanan, I hope your stay here isn't as hellish as it has been for several others." His words were blunt, but they carried a dark humor to them. "You said to drive to 2nd Street?"

"Yes, at the apartment duplex to your right, please," I responded as he maneuvered around the street corner. Choosing the place to live itself was easy enough, though as Pamela observed the busy streets surrounding it, she began to grow apprehensive. Her shaded adolescence had left her ill-prepared for the city crowd.

The driver whistled as they neared her apartment, taking in his surroundings in a curious astonishment that mimicked Pamela's.

"You've found quite the place, Miss. Right in the heart of New York City," he said with his mouth forming an excited grin. "And you're only a few blocks away from Boyce Steel. If I were you, I'd find a job there as an assistant at your earliest convenience."

Pamela matched his grinning expression, glad that he had the same mind as hers when she first found her home. Boyce Industries was one of the many companies that she had found and strategically situated herself near. It was no coincidence that her apartment was a mere 2 minutes' walk from the towering building.

"I'm glad we have the same mind. It would be a dream of mine to work at Boyce," she said admiringly. The man nodded approvingly before parking the car. As he began unpacking her things from the trunk, Pamela took her time looking over the expanse of the city. The buildings rose so high, the clouds touched them. Pamela felt an overwhelming feeling of smallness, though at the same time, an inexplicable desire to raise her hand toward the sky. Soon, she would make herself tall enough to contend with these buildings. She could feel it with every fiber of her being.

"Good luck on your travels, Ms. Buchanan. I hope to see you as the new assistant for Boyce Steel," the driver handed her her final suitcase, tipping his hat politely.

"Thank you," Pamela smiled as she handed the man a few bills.

"Enjoy your stay!" He called out as she started to move toward the apartment building.

"I plan to." Pamela turned back, waving. "Oh, Sir!" She stopped herself from walking further, wanting to have a last word with the kind driver.

"Yes, Miss?"

"I don't plan on becoming an assistant at Boyce." After feeling a surge of confidence from the man's confused look, she continued, "I plan on becoming an executive."

Satisfied with his shocked look, Pamela swiftly made her way toward the building's doors, refusing to look behind her. Fleetingly, she realized that she had never asked for the name of the driver. There were no weary feelings, however. From seeing the busy streets of New York City, she concluded that she would meet many people here, most of which she would not know their names. There was one name, however, that she was set to make known. Pamela Buchanan was going to recreate her family legacy, and this time with her name painted on every corporate billboard within the city.

«««

A/N: Sooooooooo.... What do you think? ;) I'm super excited to be getting this out on Wattpad. Writing this story is entirely new to me, as it's in a formatting that I'm totally unaccustomed to. Third person omniscent? Past tense? This is new ground, folks.

If you don't already know, this story is basically a continuance of The Great Gatsby, told in the point of view of the now-older daughter of Daisy Buchanan. Pammy was three years old in the book, though in this one she's 18. The time period is a lot more different, too, since she's older. Pamela grew up in the '20s, which, as you probably know, were filled with parties and happy times. Now, it's supposed to be 1939, which is about the mid-to-endpoint of the Great Depression. SUPER DIFFERENT, am I right? I loved reading Gatsby, and even though I totally hated Daisy, her backstory is very interesting to me. I feel like her family life would be interesting to follow, no? At least, I feel like Pamela's story deserves to be told. Plus, the 1900s are my favorite time period to study, since several things are happening within the century. I mean, having a decade of prosperity and following it with the nation's worst economic downfall is crazy.

For those of you who caught the really insignificant The Awakening reference, props to you. You slay me.

Tell me what you think of the story idea! Like? Dislike? Love? Comment/rate/inbox me!

All the love,

Liliana <3