New York City, New York
December, 1963
Don immediately poured the mutineers drinks. Kaye had filled her glass twice and was deep into the second. Her head was spinning, and she felt as if she was in flight. Her eyes were glazed over, and her breath stank of alcohol. Beauty covers a multitude of sins. Kaye was on the border of staggering but still able to maintain her composure as she left the office, following Roger. Don briefly said to Allison that the office would be closed for carpet cleaning over the weekend
"So how much are you paying me?" Kaye slumped down into the armchair in front of Roger's desk in his office.
"Aren't you going to take me to dinner before you screw me?" Roger inhaled on a cigarette.
"You think I respect you enough for that?"
Roger leaned back into his tall swivel chair. "Fair. You tell me."
"What does Don make?"
Roger didn't say anything but instead opened a folder with some documents in it.
"Don makes a lot of money."
"There's a nice spot for a rope to hang right behind the door." Kaye smiled.
Roger paused, leering at Kaye.
"Twenty thousand a year." He said.
"Twenty-two five."
"Would you like me to put on a dress and bend over first?" Roger laughed, dragging on the cigarette for a long while.
"For 3 years." She said.
There was a still silence in the room.
"What choice is there anyway." He admitted, leaning back in the leather chair. "Ill have Jane draft the contract."
"I want an advance." She said, standing from the armchair and stretching.
"We're not even out the door yet." Roger whined.
"All you need to worry about is that contract and picking your soldiers."
Kaye walked sensually towards the door. He sat silently.
"I want a thousand by Sunday."
"I think we should..."
"I don't care." Kaye smiled at Roger. "You're a handsome devil. Con your way into it. Or start preparing your resume. it's up to you."
Kaye walked out of Roger's office with the sense of authority she had never felt before. It was surging through her veins. She looked around and saw the secretaries clacking away on memos; The copywriters slaving away at their stations. Monday, it would be hers. She watched as the buxom redhead head secretary was scolding some new girl. Kaye looked over to Bert Cooper's office in the corner. She strode past the front door and up the stairs, knocking quietly on his door.
"Come in." he said.
As she opened the door, he motioned her to proceed.
"Take off your shoes."
Kaye froze, looked to him briefly, and saw that he was shoeless. She proceed to remove her heels and walked in slowly, sitting down.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Sharpe." He was sitting on his sofa, sipping green tea.
"I know I cannot buy respect." She sat down opposite him. "And instead, I have to earn it."
"Fair."
"What auto companies do Sterling Cooper represent?"
"None, dear." He sipped the tea.
"How about airlines?"
"Well, we had Mohawk. But we got much ahead of ourselves. None, currently."
"So we're riding on tobacco, the dying brand."
"Tobacco is still good today."
"Today. But not tomorrow. All those studies are coming out now."
"Don't let Roger hear you say that." Cooper smiled. "You said you worked in advertising?"
"I've done spreads for Carnegie Hall, the museum, Maidstone Club, free lance work."
"So, this is quite the step up for you." Bert sipped the tea again.
Kaye sat silently.
"Not trying to offend dear, just pointing out facts."
"I'm no fool, Mr. Cooper."
"I never said you were." He put his tea down on the coffee table. "I've never met a twenty something who successfully pushed their way into upper management overnight."
Kaye briefly prided herself.
"Then we need to seduce someone big."
"Who did you have in mind?"
There was silence.
"How old are you?" Cooper said.
"24."
"You'll lose yourself in this business." He stood, walking over to his desk.
"I can handle myself just fine."
"That's not what I mean."
Kaye hesitated.
"I know what I'm getting in to."
"I don't think you do, Ms. Sharpe. You have the brains and talent. But you don't have the experience."
"That's why I'm under Don."
"You seem to think that's a good thing." Bert said, taking up his tea. "This business will swallow you whole."
Kaye stood up.
"We'll see." She said.
Silence.
"Have a good day, dear." Bert sipped his tea.
"You hear about Sinatra's kid?" Roger said, inhaling on a cigarette with a whiskey neat in his hand.
"No." Don said, looking at the shelves of alcohol behind the barman.
"Kid got dropped off at his mothers. The idiots felt bad and let him go."
"There's worse outcomes I suppose." Don replied.
"The news is where they start with "Good evening" and then waste your time telling you why it's not." Kaye said. Roger smiled.
"I can't believe he was gonna leave." Don said, looking to Roger.
"Who?" Kaye said.
"Pete Campbell. New head of accounts or whatever job we create to fill his billings. That little shit." Roger replied.
A brief silence followed.
"Look, they still have a picture of Kennedy up." Roger smoked. "Although, what are they gonna do? Take it down and put up Lyndon Johnson?"
"Not in this place." Don replied.
The two men laughed quietly. Kaye smoked.
"You know anything about politics sweetie?" Roger asked Kaye.
"I voted for Kennedy."
"Yeah, you and the rest of the world." Roger quipped. "Would have been better to just vote Nixon."
"Better for who?"
"Arguably better for Kennedy.'" Roger said.
They drank.
"I've acted like I've started a business my whole life." Roger opened. "but I inherited it."
Don's smug look disappeared, and he spoke quietly to Roger.
"I need an attorney."
Roger didn't reply but looked at Don with prying eyes.
"Divorce."
"So it's true, huh?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Henry Francis."
Don looked perplexed and broke, "Who?"
"Shit." Roger whispered. "Right when things were almost normal."
Don's face quickly changed to anger. "I need you to tell me what you know."
"Margaret's friends with his daughter." Roger raised his hands in jest.
"Are they sleeping together?"
"I don't know." Roger paused. "It came from his daughter; she talks about him. It sounds like it's serious. I was gonna tell you. No, I wasn't; I thought you knew." He sighed. "I'm sorry I told you. Believe me."
There was a long pause while Don looked sorrowfully into his whiskey.
"I am sorry about that." Roger added.
"They'll probably go to Reno." Kaye inhaled on the end of her cigarette. "Irreconcilably differences" or something like that."
Don looked over to her. His gaze steadied for a long while and he exhaled deeply.
"Ill fight her." There was still anger lingering in his tone.
"Probably best not to." Kaye said.
A long silence.
"I'm going home. Goodnight." Don said. He stood swiftly, putting on his coat, tipped his fedora, and left the bar. Kaye got up and moved over one stool to sit beside Roger.
"So what's your story?" Roger asked.
"What is there to know?" Kaye said, a slight delay in her speech.
"Its not everyday a woman cons her way into power."
"Today's not everyday." Kaye said.
"I suppose not." Roger snickered.
"I grew up in Connecticut." She said. "Got bored of the life there. My parents and brother are gone. Just my sister and her husband."
"Then some man swept you off your feet and carried you here?"
"I left." She drank. "A note in the night, took my father's car and headed for New York."
"I appreciate a good underdog story." Roger replied. "Here's your money." He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a manilla envelope.
"Welcome to Sterling Cooper—Whatever we are." Roger raised his glass and Kaye followed suit.
"So, what's your story?"
"I got a lot of ducky war stories for you." Roger said childishly. "If that's your thing."
"Pinned down in a foxhole on Iwo Jima?"
"I fought on Okinawa, if that makes you feel any better." Roger said.
"Are you always there in your dreams?" Kaye asked.
"Sometimes." Roger turned to face the barman. "You never really leave. The fight changes. Grenades become diapers." He inhaled on his dwindling cigarette.
Kaye butted hers into the ashtray.
"I'm going to land us something." She stated.
"Oh yeah?" Roger smiled.
"We're gonna need more that a few million to get a good office."
"I said that to Don when we were leaving. I don't know when we're going to be back somewhere like that again."
"Good thing you hired me."
"At gun point, may I add." Roger butted his cigarette as well.
"I'm worth every penny."
"Darling, I have no doubt about that. Any woman who drinks an old fashioned is my kind of woman."
Kaye smiled, leaned over in her chair, and kissed Roger on his cheek. She caressed it with her hand, and then brought it back to her drink.
"So when did you get divorced." She started.
"Who told you?"
"Who isn't here?"
"Mona, is her name." Roger said. "The greatest woman I ever met. We have one daughter. She's about your age, Margaret. She just got married two weeks ago."
"To Margaret." Kaye raised her glass, Roger followed. "What about Don?"
"Betty," Roger drank. "They've been married, oh, ten years now I guess. Two kids. Wait no, three. She's a real stunner. Gorgeous woman. But she has that acid smile, you know? There's always something going on."
"I know the type." Kaye said. She pulled a newspaper sitting on the bar closer to her. She briefly flipped through pages.
"Looking for a new job already?" Roger pried.
"Looking for my first job at my job."
"You'll never find them in there. That's the Journal."
"When are we meeting next."
"We could make this a nightly thing if you want." Roger said.
"Cute." She said, without looking up.
"Tomorrow morning, and we aren't leaving. Bring lunch. And supper. Then breakfast, and lunch and supper. Then probably breakfast." Roger drank slowly.
"You have your golden egg. The rest of us need something." Kaye replied. "I'll find mine, we'll land Coke."
"Even Burnett isn't that good."
"Burnett doesn't look like me."
Roger smirked.
"This is New York." She finished her drink and turned the glass upside down, placing it on the bar. "Not Chicago."
She grabbed her coat and stood from the stool.
"See you tomorrow?" Roger asked.
"I'll be waiting at the office." She leaned over and pecked his cheek.
"See you tomorrow, sweetheart."
Pete Campbell stood in the elevator and held the door as he noticed his co-worker, Harry Crane coming in. He stood there pensively before speaking,
"I'll admit it. I'm a little scared."
"Of what?" Crane replied.
For one horrific moment, Pete believed he spoke too soon.
"Why are you here?" He replied.
"I don't know. Cooper called me." He pulled a cigarette from a pack and placed it in his mouth. "First they're cleaning the carpets, now they're not. Why're you here?"
"Umm…" Pete shrugged. "Work."
They left the elevator unceremoniously, but Pete moved quickly and tried to get through the door first.
"Hey everybody, Harry Crane is here." He said awkwardly.
"Relax Pete, we're expecting him." Lane replied from a small table in the foyer. Roger sat beside him and Cooper across. Kaye was sitting in a chair behind Cooper.
"What's going on? Why are you here?" Pete looked to Lane. Harry, confused, spoke next.
"I'm sorry, what's going on?"
It was Cooper who broke the silence.
"P.P.L has been sold to McCann, we're starting a new agency, we'd like you to join us as our new head of media." He smiled, nonchalantly.
"Are you kidding me?" Harry said.
Roger with disinterest replied, "Yes, yes we are, happy birthday."
"We need your answer." Cooper prodded.
Harry hesitated, "I... should really call my wife."
"Mr. Crane." Cooper interjected. "Harry, this matter is secret and time-sensitive. If you turned us down and elect to be a mid-level cog at McCann Erickson, we'll have to lock you in the storeroom until Monday morning."
He paused briefly.
"I'm sure you understand."
Harry looked to be a deer in the headlights. He stood a moment quietly.
"Pete." Bert looked over to him.
"We were hoping you could decipher these job sheets." Lane handed him a folder containing material lists.
"I never look at these." Pete was moving to pass them on to Crane but Kaye jutted in, pushing her hand to grab the folder. She flipped open the folder and began reading down the sheet."
"Who's this?" Harry looked to Kaye.
"Kaye Sharpe, she's the Assistant Creative Director. She'll be working under Don." Cooper said, maintaining contact with Harry to watch for his answer.
"When did she get hired?" Pete said, sourly.
"When she inflated the life raft to get us out of McCann." Roger replied, indifferently reaming through papers. "What's it gonna be, Harry?"
He paused for a second. "Can't we just take everything?"
Cooper smiled and placed his hand over his shoulder.
"That's good thinking, but we don't know where anything is. No one knows how this works." Lane replied.
"I'm sure most of this is in a storage closet or the art department." Kaye said, handing the folder to Harry.
"Let me make a phone call. I'll take care of this."
"No. No more conspirators." Lane objected.
"I'll be discreet." Roger smiled, walking to his office.
"Where's Don?" Pete asked.
"He'll be here soon. Matters at home first." Lane answered. "Where are the accounts files?"
"In the storage room." Kaye said. "There's ten filing cabinets full of paperwork."
"Right then. Harry, Pete, you sort through the accounts files grabbing all we need. Kaye, you and I will work through this job sheet and see what we can find. Meet back here once it's all sorted."
Harry and Pete took off down on of the halls to the storage room. It was already unlocked. They began rummaging through the files and grabbing the necessities for the transition. Kaye and Lane sat at the foyer table and pushed through the main account information on American Tobacco.
It was hours before they were able to complete a rudimentary list of the items required for the transition. The group was huddled around the table when the main door swung open, and Joan walked across the foyer.
Roger smiled and stood quickly, followed by Lane.
"Mrs. Harris, what a pleasure to see you." Roger said.
Cooper stood to greet her.
"What is she doing here?" Lane whispered to Roger.
"I said I'd be discreet."
"I made a list and I called some movers." She showed a long white card with names on it.
"Do you know where all this stuff is." Kaye passed Joan the job sheets.
Joan paused briefly, confused.
"Yes. Of course, you'll need the job bags on all these accounts. We'll also need logo files, all the film we can find, and negatives which aren't actually here."
"There you go." Roger said.
"Very good. Now I can pack." Cooper said, slipping away from the crowd.
At that moment Don walked in, Peggy beside him.
"Sorry I'm late." He said, walking towards the table.
"Hi." Peggy said meagerly.
"Joan. What a good idea." Don said joyfully. "Well you're here, what'dya bring?" He faced Pete.
"North Amerian Aviation, Secor, Jai Alai, Samsonite."
Don grabbed the dossiers from Pete.
"Clearasil."
"Really?" Peggy said.
"I made it." Pete replied.
"Where do we start?" Roger said.
"I'd start in the art department." Joan said.
"It's locked." Harry added.
Don, Harry, Pete, and Kaye left the round table walking towards the art department.
"Who was she?" Peggy asked Roger.
"Your new underboss. Assistant Creative Director Kaye Sharpe."
"What?" Peggy quipped angrily. "When did she get hired?"
"Friday, when she got us out of McCann." Roger lit a cigarette.
"Was there no interview?" Peggy continued.
"There was no job until Friday, Peggy. Who cares? We're not at McCann." Roger sat back down.
Don had just kicked the door open on the other side of the office and Pete, Harry and Kaye walked into to begin compiling supplies. Don turned around, heading for his office.
"What's your experience?" Pete said, turning to Kaye. He was unboxing pencils and typewriter ribbon.
"I've done freelance work for Carnegie Hall, the Maidstone Club, places like that."
"So not much then." Pete finished.
"Your biggest client right now is your wife's dad, Pete." Harry said, sitting down.
It took long hours to complete the required work for the new business. At the close of the day, just past 5:00 pm, the new company was walking through the front doors. Kaye was out first, leaning against the back of the elevator.
"I like a confident woman." Harry said, standing in front of Kaye. "It's good to have you on the team."
"Give it a rest, Harry." Pete said.
"What do you want? I'm making conversation."
"Not well." Pete concluded. Joan walked in, she was holding a piece of paper that Don handed her.
"What's Don up to?" Harry asked.
"Why don't you ask him." She said.
"Secrets. I like this." Harry said.
"I didn't say it was a secret." Joan smacked her lips.
"He's getting a divorce." Kaye said. There was a brief silence of bewilderment where Pete and Harry turned to her. Harry smiled wildly at her boldness.
"It's not our business." Joan shot.
Kaye ran her hands through her hair. Don and Roger pushed into the elevator.
"Finally. Let's go." She said.
"Sorry, had to take in the last breath of stale air. We'll be shining shoes on the streets for the next few years.
"How much are we getting paid." Harry asked.
Kaye lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly. Her cheeks depressed. She exhaled through a thin lisp she made. The elevator was descending rapidly. "We get clients, we get paid."
"Jennifer won't like this." Harry said, reaching for a cigarette.
Don spoke up. "None of this is easy. None of this is something we're used to. We're all going out on a limb and taking a risk. We have a team here, we have a goal. Stick to it."
"Anything for you, Patton." Roger saluted.
"I'm going to the Maidstone Club." Kaye said.
"Partying already? Wait until we land something." Roger quipped.
"Come with me." Kaye said, exhaling more bluish smoke.
"I'd have to call mother at home."
"I'll make it worth your while." Kaye said, flicking the ashes to the ground.
"I'm sure you would." Joan said. The elevator dinged.
"Men are like dogs, Mrs. Harris." Kaye began. Pete stared at Kaye. "They devote themselves to one bitch for ten minutes, get bored, and leave you for their secretary." She said. Joan flushed and said nothing. The crowd exited the elevator, pushing through to the lobby entrance.
"I'll come if I drive." Roger said as they made their way onto the street.
"You drive."
"See you tomorrow." Don waved his hat. Everyone agreed and went their separate ways. Kaye followed Roger to a cream white 1959 Cadillac coupe. The top was up, Roger pulled the door open for the young woman and ushered her in. He walked around the opposing side and slid into the car, roaring the V8 to life. They spun around on the road and headed north.
"Where are we going?" Roger asked.
"East Hampton."
"That's quite the drive."
"I said I'd make it worth your while." Kaye reached into her clutch and pulled out a golden flask. She spun the top open, and took a swig.
"Is the party starting now, or later?" Roger held out his hand. Kaye placed the flash in it and he downed a long sip. Kaye took it back, drank twice, and sealed it. She pulled a cigarette from a carton and lit it. Roger did the same.
The drive northeast was uneventful. The sky was darkening as they headed into the night. Roger spoke about the old days of advertising. Kaye sat in silence. The pulled up to the club by 7:30; there were cars scattered everywhere.
"How are we getting in here?" Roger turned the white behemoth and parked it alongside another Cadillac on the grass.
"It's never what you know." Kaye exited the car, pushing the great door closed.
They walked side-by-side up to the front door where a tall, sturdy and handsome man stood as the sieve for undesirables.
"Do you have an invitation for tonight's event?"
"No." Kaye said.
"Ma'am, everyone needs an invitation."
"I know Jack Jr., get him out here."
"Ma'am, everyone needs an invitation."
"Just get Jack." She said angrily. He sighed and turned inside, asking another man if they would grab the owner. After a moment a tall, slender man with short cut blonde hair appeared. He was conventionally handsome with austerity about him. He smiled seeing Kaye.
"Ms. Sharpe. Always a pleasure. Lewis, let them through."
Kaye smiled condescendingly at the man as she and Roger made their way into the club. Jack followed them.
"What brings you out?"
"Business and pleasure."
"Always. The first rounds on the house. I'll catch you around, I have some things to attend to. Goodday, Ms. Sharpe." Jack spun and walked away.
Roger looked to Kaye.
"My father knew his father." She explained.
"Lucky you."
Kaye was silent. They both approached the bar, Kaye ordering a Manhattan and Roger an Old Fashioned with a large lime peel in it. The room was crowded with socialites, celebrities and drunkards.
"They say Diana Ross was supposed to be here, but they wouldn't let her in." Roger looked around.
"They'd let her in if she had more money than God."
There was a brief silence as the barman brought their drinks.
"Business and pleasure, hey?" Roger smiled.
Kaye looked to him. "The only way we're getting off the ground is if we take to the skies."
"What did you have in mind." Roger winced.
"We need a whale. And I'm harpoon hunting." She drank down the entire Manhattan quickly.
"Who's the target?"
"He's been coming to Maidstone since my father was here. He'll probably come here until he dies."
Roger said nothing but began looking around. An overweight man, in his 60's with peppered grey hair and a clean-shaven face sat down at the bar. His eyes were mid set, nothing distinguishing marked him. He was the average 60-something American man. He was wearing a well tailored suit, that flattered his rotund shape.
Kaye looked over to him slowly, smiling. The man caught her glance eventually, his brows furrowed. He made no move towards them but slowly, a smile began appearing on his face.
"My stars." He said quietly, jolting up and approaching Kaye. "Young Miss Kaye."
"Hello Juan." She stood quickly, wrapping her arms around the old man. He followed.
"It has been a long time since we saw each other." He looked her up and down. "You have become quite the young woman. It must be, well near ten years since I saw you. How are you doing."
"Good, better than I was. Came down from Connecticut a few years ago."
"Good. The city is much better anyway. How's Elena?"
"She's well. Still up in Bridgeport with Hugh."
"Fantastic. May I sit?" He motioned to the barstool. She nodded and sat back down. "Who's this gentleman with you?"
"Roger Sterling." He stood up, reaching out his hand. The old man shook it gingerly.
"I recognise the name. You're an ad man? Sterling Cooper, up Madison."
"Decidedly so." Roger said.
Juan chuckled. "Of course. I think I did business with your father once in the late 30s. You look just like him. Juan Trippe." The man said. "Sorry, I forget to say my name anymore."
"Juan Trippe," Roger 's gazed snapped to the old man. "As in, Pan American, Juan Trippe?"
"The very same." He laughed jovially.
"What have you been doing?" Kaye asked. Roger sat back, bewildered.
"Still working hard. Can't let anyone down you know. Sherry please." He said to the barman. "I saw the work you did for the Club. Colour me impressed!"
The barman poured as Kaye replied. "It wasn't much. Always my sideline."
"False modesty, Miss. Kaye. It doesn't suit you." Trippe winked.
"Thank you."
Trippe took the sherry the barman placed down and took a long swig.
"They really do have the best stuff here." He put the glass down. "I am flattered you came all the way out for the party."
"Couldn't miss it." She finished her Manhattan. There was a brief silence.
"I've made something of myself." Kaye said, out of the blue.
"Have you now?"
"I have a stake in a new company. We're just starting up,"
"Good for you my dear, good for you." Juan raised his glass. "Your father would be proud."
She gave a slight smile and continued, adjusting her glasses.
"You know me, Juan. You know my capabilities." She hesitated. "I want us to represent you. I want to represent Pan Am."
Trippe took a moment, he leaned slowly against the bar. Sloshing the sherry around in his mouth, he looked to the ceiling and down once again. Roger's hair stood on end.
"If you've just started, you're too small, dear." He placed the sherry down. "I might be inclined to do it, but some freelance work for the Maidstone won't cut it with the board. I'm sorry, Kaye."
"Don't be sorry," Kaye said, reaching for a cigarette and lighting it. "Let us show you we are worth the time."
"I just don't see how they would ever go with some start-up."
"We're not some start-up." Her blood was beginning to boil. "We have Roger, Bert Cooper, people who've been in the industry since you took your first flight. They are with us financially. Then we have people like Don Draper, the kingpin of creative."
Trippe stood up, finishing the sherry.
"It was great to see you, Kaye. I appreciate you coming out. Let's not spoil the mood with business talk. I'm here, you're here, to have a relaxing night."
She inhaled deeply on the cigarette and took Juan by the arm, bringing hers into the crook of his elbow.
"Walk with me." She protested, pulling him away from Roger and moving through the lounge. He followed her steps.
"Juan, you've known me, my family, since I was born. We've been hard-up since my father died. Elena and Hugh are barely making it by in Bridgeport, and I abandoned them 3 years ago. I stole father's Nash and I built it into a home because I've lived on the streets. I did work for Carnegie Hall that was all but consistent, and I was a beggar on the streets for over a year now. The Maidstone job got me by for 3 months, but I'm flush out now, and I need you."
Juan's face fell. Kaye detested recanting her life.
"I'm not asking for you to throw your whole company at us without trial." She placed the cigarette to her lips and inhaled, blowing out a long plume. "I'm asking you to let us come to you, with a campaign that would make your board leap."
The old man stood a long moment in contemplation. He scoffed and looked into her eyes.
"Alright."
"Alright?"
"Alright." He silenced her. "You, and your band, have one chance."
"Thank you, Juan." Kaye flicked the ashes from her cigarette into a gold tray standing again a partition wall.
"One chance. And do not make a fool of me, Kaye. I am going out on a long limb for you. Do not make a fool of me."
"I never have before." She smoked. "I never will."
The rest of the evening went by uneventfully. Kaye came back to Roger with the news, and he was stricken with silence and excitement. They drank much, and upon leaving the club were fully inebriated. Roger slumped into the car, missing the keyhole with his keys a few times. Kaye pulled her dress close as she reclined into the leather seat.
"Let's go" She said, slurring slightly.
"I'm trying." Roger laughed.
"Be careful. I don't wanna die." Kaye grabbed Roger's fedora and placed it over her eyes.
"Are you gonna sleep on me? I don't even know where to drop you off." Roger began backing out. He tapped another car while in reverse. "Whoops." He mumbled, shifting to drive.
"Take my back to the office. I live near there."
"Okay, that doesn't make any sense but okay."
"It does make sense." She said, speaking through the hat. "I jus- don't wanna talk about it."
"Okay."
Roger took off flying down Old Beach Road back towards New York City in the late evening. He was sober minded enough to know to watch the lines but drunk enough to be reckless. He crossed the yellow line many times; in the late night, it didn't matter as much. Roger forgot to return to Manhattan and drove to his own house. Kaye had slumped over sideways, laying across the bench seat, her head near Roger's lap. He was too drunk to get excited. He pulled up in front of his own house, turning off the loud radio and finally the car. He strolled inside, leaving Kaye in the dark.
