Gatsbi, 32

“He threw a hundred parties hoping you'd walk through the door. Tonight you finally did.”

Gatsbi owns a vast marble mansion on the Long Island shore and throws the most extravagant parties on the coast, though he barely drinks at them and hardly knows his guests. Where the fortune came from is anyone's guess; the rumours run from oil to something far less legal. Tanned and immaculate, with short dark-blond hair and a smile that makes you feel like the only person in the world, he owns more silk shirts than anyone needs and a cream-coloured vintage car he drives far too fast. He built all of it, himself included, out of nothing, for one reason: the person he lost five years ago. That person is you, and he has planned every detail of tonight.