Ossining, New York
May, 1964
Don had called Nancy after the weekly business meeting. He gave the creative team their bone and walked back to his office, closing the door. After a call to the number Nancy gave him, they had setup a date for the end of the week. Don picked the young woman up in his Coupe de Ville. "Most of the men I know don't drive Cadillacs" She said to him as they drove away. "Most men don't drive Cadillacs." He replied. The swooping boat arrived outside Delmonico's after a long ride on the freeway. Don doted on her every need during their dinner. He could see that eyes were on him from other men in the restaurant. They wanted to be him. They wanted to live his life. Nancy was thoroughly enjoying herself. She felt a self-respect that other girls her age didn't feel. They weren't dining at Delmonico's with a Madison Avenue ad man. They weren't being chauffeured in a Cadillac.
After dinner, the Cadillac could be spotted on the 87 north all the way into Ossining. Nancy lived in a small apartment at the south edge of the city. She was being put up, in part, by the Francis' and the other part by her parents. She had dreams of attending Juilliard and this was her ticket to stay above water.
Don began unclothing her as they walked into her apartment. She put up no resistance and began removing her undergarments as they kissed passionately. She unbuckled Don's belt, drew down his pants, and lured him into the bedroom. Soon, she was on top of him and giving Don an exhilarating thrill.
Nancy had always dreamed of being with a strong, wealthy man. Don was handsome, well off, unattached, and free to play. He was gentle in person and very firm in bed. Don was looking for a foolish throwaway. Nancy was another girl in a long line of women, which swirled through his head. Her naiveté reminded him a lot of Midge Daniels with a better body than the girl from Pan Am. Don was very rough with Nancy, unlike his previous encounters. He could see she enjoyed it.
"Well…" Nancy panted, catching her breath afterwards. "That was amazing. Thank you."
"For what?" Don scoffed.
"For dinner. The lay was alright." She smiled.
Don enjoyed her coy attitude. He kissed her once again and she responded by putting her arm around his shoulder and holding his neck. With her other hand, she pulled the sheets over herself.
"It's cold. This place is always frigid. I'm going to have a shower to warm up. Do you want to join me?" Nancy said.
"I'll get it started." Don left the bed, entering the nearby bathroom and starting the shower. He went inside once the water was warm and allowed the stream to wash away the day. He stood silently under the head, thinking of his ex-wife. She troubled his mind as of late. Their rekindled romance was ruining his joy. Nancy was suddenly upon him, kissing his collarbone and up his neck. He kissed her gently this time, letting her lips do much of the work over his.
"Are you going to stay?" She asked between kisses. "You could drive me in the morning."
He thought for a moment.
"No, I should be leaving." He kissed her once more. "I'll call you."
"Okay." Nancy moved out of the way so that Don could get by. "See you later, tiger."
After drying off, Don put back on his clothes, coiffed his hair, and left the apartment. He made his way down to his car. It was 1:00 in the morning. The car started and Don pulled out. As he was accelerating down Pleasantville Road heading towards the freeway, he felt a strange pang in his heart. Again, Betty came into his mind. He missed her companionship. He missed her tucking Sally and Bobby into bed when they were young. He missed the day they bought their first television set and how excited the children were to sit and watch together. He missed Friday nights with the Hanson's. Now Henry Francis had what he wanted most.
Don turned the car off Pleasantville and headed towards Bullet Park Road. The Cadillac came to a halt down the street from #42 and Don parked. He left the car and walked up the street towards the house. After taking the walk up the path, he reached the front door, which was locked. Walking around, he came upon the side door. It was open.
The house was dark, and only the small lamp on the counter in the kitchen remained on. It was bright enough to illuminate part of the stairwell. Don ascended the stairs making as minimal noise as possible. He watched each step carefully. Once he reached the landing, he made a left and tiptoed down the hall towards Betty's room. The horrible thought suddenly occurred to Don that Henry might have returned. He hesitated outside the door, his hand on the knob. He had gotten this far.
The door opened with several small creaks. Don slid inside, and closed the door behind him. Betty was alone and asleep with a sleep mask on. Don moved slowly over to her. He sat beside her on the bed. He looked at her sleeping, admiring his ex-wife. Leaning in slowly, he moved his lips to kiss her. They touched gently with no response. Don added intensity and Betty responded in the slightest way by kissing in return. She began shaking her head, bringing herself awake.
Suddenly Betty screamed. She ripped the sleep mask from her face and reached for the lamp. Don recoiled, sitting further from her. The light came on.
"Don!" She said. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He couldn't think of anything to say.
"Hello?" She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "What are you doing here?"
"I missed you."
Betty looked at him.
"That's it?" She scoffed. "You drove all the way here just to kiss me and tell me you miss me?"
"Yes." Don muttered. Betty said nothing but propped herself against the headboard.
"We talked about this."
"I know. No flowers."
"You know what I meant."
Don stood up and moved himself closer to Betty. He was now towering over her.
"I need you, Bridie." Don said.
"What do you mean?"
Don smiled, he moved his hand and rested it on her arm. Using his index finger, he rolled the strap of her gown off the edge of her shoulder.
"You know exactly what I mean." He leaned in close to her face. His tone changed; His voice softened. "I need you. I want you. I only want you."
Don moved his face within a few inches of hers. Betty looked down to Don's mouth and then up to his eyes. She slumped back slowly. On the far side of the bedroom, near the door that was open a crack, a single prying eye was watching what was unfolding. In fear of being caught, the little eye disappeared from the crack as quietly as it had appeared.
"We talked about this…" Her voice grew meeker.
"I don't care what we talked about." He was whispering now. Don sat down beside her on the bed, not changing the distance between them. "I want my Birdie."
There were no words exchanged between them for a long time.
"Then… take her." Betty said.
First, Don's kiss was gentle and pleasant but it quickly changed to passionate and obscene. He picked her up from her slouch and continued kissing her. Betty's night slip fell down her shoulder on the other side. She sat on Don's lap, straddling him. Don ran his hands up and down her neck. Betty moaned and clutched his arms. She removed Don's tie and his shirt as they kissed, falling back onto the bed.
"What are you waiting for?" She said.
Officer John Hendrickson had called Kaye the evening after the police incidents occurred. They had seen each other later in the day when Kaye drove Joan to the precinct. Joan identified Greg's belongings and collected them. His watch and wallet were all that remained. Hendrickson then sat Joan down and explained that there was indeed foul play involved and that it was likely that Greg had been killed in the following weeks after his disappearance. Who he had angered or why was unknown. Joan cried, partly because of nerves and partly in fear. She was comforted and handed back to Kaye, who drove her home.
John picked Kaye up from Gramercy Park the proceeding Friday night for their date. He was well-dressed in a black pinstriped suit and slacks. His hair was oiled and trimmed. He drove an oriental rose '58 Thunderbird with the hard top off. He looked excitingly handsome. The 25-minute drive into Brooklyn was filled with small talk, revolving mostly around Kaye's career at Sterling Cooper. They stopped outside of Bamonte's, a small Italian place that Hendrickson's mother was very fond of.
"My mother's Italian." He said as they walked into the restaurant. "My father was Irish. So I love a good beer with my spaghetti."
Kaye smiled. They sat down in a little booth and were handed menus. As he began speaking more and more, Kaye came to the unfortunate realization that John Hendrickson suffered from a terrible disease, as her sister Elena would say. It was called "Foot-in-Mouth". He would begin a conversation well and fall flat on his face by the end. He spoke frequently about his likes; American cars, football, beer, Italian cooking and strawberry blondes. They ordered lasagne and spaghetti which arrived not long after the order.
"You told me you love your job." He said, taking a sip of his wine. "When did you start?"
"In December."
"Of this past year? What did you do before?"
"I freelanced." Kaye said, eating. A small piece of lasagne landed on her black dress. She flicked it off.
"You're telling me they hired you as the Assistant Director off the street after being a freelancer?" John asked.
"Yes." She said, looking out the window behind him.
"Bullshit." He laughed. "Tell the truth."
Kaye was caught off guard. She winced.
"That is the truth."
John smiled. Kaye said nothing.
"Wait, you're serious?"
"It's the truth." She said, looking down at her food.
"Where did you go to school?" He asked.
"I didn't"
"You didn't!" He exclaimed. "So you're telling me you never went to school, got hired off the street as a freelancer. And now you're making, what, over ten thousand a year?"
"I make a lot more than ten thousand." Kaye said, downing the glass of wine.
John leaned back, unable to see a direction to go. His ego was hurt now.
"Whose daughter are you?" He said.
"What?"
"Whose kid are you."
It took Kaye a long moment to understand the question. She snapped back at him.
"Walter Sharpe was my father. He owned the Haddonfield National Bank on King Street in Haddonfield."
"Ah, I see. He paid your way then."
"My father killed himself after the bank failed, jumping off Rockefeller Plaza. I was five. So no. He did not in fact, pay my way."
There was a sobering silence between them. The waiter came around and refilled their wine glasses.
"I'm sorry." John said. "I was out of line."
"I was homeless. I lived in the back half of my dead father's saloon car, freezing my ass off. I stole food from grocery stores. I thieved meals from take-out places. I stumbled into Sterling Cooper one terribly cold day. I stole food from the fridge and overheard just the right conversation at just the right time. I strung myself into a job long enough to prove to them I'm worth something. My father knew Juan Trippe and he gave us a chance at Pan Am. We got it, and now we're here. That's the truth."
"You're the best storyteller this side of the East River." John said.
Kaye ate her lasagne silently. She grabbed her wine glass and downed it all once again.
"What's the rush?"
"I just like wine." Kaye smiled through her teeth. John smiled back.
As the night continued on, John and Kaye drank heavily. Their meals were finished, and Kaye was being as encouraging as possible. John was giddy, and quite drunk. Kaye leaned over the table more than a few times, exposing her breasts.
Not huge. John thought to himself. But big. She's got the body of a model too. Her momma must have done something right.
John made his way to the bathroom at one point. Kaye poured some of her Benzedrine powder into John's wine. He perked up mysteriously. He was starting to mouth off a bit, and his speech was slowing down. The waiter came around again.
"Will that be all?" he asked.
"Yes, just the bill." Kaye said. The waiter nodded and walked away.
"You know, you're even more beautiful than I remember." John said.
"Oh really."
"Yeah." He tilted his head around. "I wasn't expecting it. When you opened that door in your robe…" He made an obscene gesture, indicating his excitement.
Kaye scoffed, "At first glance, you were handsome too."
He smiled bashfully, "My grandmother always thought so. How old are you?"
"How old do you think I am?"
The waiter came, placed the check on the table, and walked away.
"28?"
"I'm 24."
"That makes your story even better!" He said. "The youngest and hottest con on Madison. None like you. You're a goddess, you know?" He slurred a few of his words.
Kaye grinned, feeling lightheaded from the wine, and looked down at the bill. It was $20.
"Pay and let's go." She stood up, wrapping her coat around her arms.
"Okay Ms. Sharpe." He pulled out some cash and tossed it into the check pan. "This better be worth it."
"Quit whining." She said, walking away from him. John grinned from ear to ear. They left Bamonte's and got into his car, Kaye insisting she drive. John fired back that he was the only one who ever drove his car. Kaye pushed him over the passenger door into the seat. He laughed and they pulled away from the curb.
"Where do you live?" Kaye asked. John put his arm around her over her back.
"On Bristol Street, over in Brownsville."
"I don't know where that is."
"Not a native, eh?"
"I grew up in Connecticut. Dad worked in Jersey."
"Follow the road. You're too beautiful, you know. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
"It takes a lot to look as good as I do." Kaye said.
"You remind me of my mother." He said, caressing her shoulder with his hand.
"Alright Oedipus Rex."
"Hey, my mother is a saint. Cooks better than Betty Crocker, and could dance the night through. She doesn't have anything on you though."
Silence.
"How did Joan take the news?" She asked from the blue, watching John carefully.
"Joan who?" He slurred. "Oh, the other girl, the redhead. She cried when we told her. Her poor husband hey? Shot through the back. Probably didn't know it was coming."
"Oh really?" Kaye said.
"Yeah poor bastard got a .32 slug right into his kidney. Bled out internally." John smiled and yawned loudly. "The bullet was still inside him when we pulled him out of that swamp. Boy, I don't know what was in that wine, but I must be a lightweight or something. It was probably your friend who did it."
Kaye shot a glance over to him.
"What?"
"Well it's clear they weren't getting along, as you said." He laughed. "She probably just… offed him!" John slurred the whole sentence. "We're gonna go check her house."
"Poor guy." Kaye muttered, looking out the window.
"Yeah… I think tomorrow."
Kaye stayed silent now.
After making their way down the side streets, they arrived at his small two-story brick apartment. Kaye pulled up out front and turned off the car. She stretched as John opened the door and allowed her inside. It was a quaint apartment, with a few furnishings but was sparsely decorated; utilitarian. It lacked a woman's touch. As John removed his coat and shoes, Kaye made her way into the kitchen to open the refrigerator. Inside, a six pack of Budweiser beer was tucked into the top corner. Pulling out one beer for herself and another for John, she slipped another Benzedrine tablet into the fizzing alcohol. John came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"A beer?" He laughed. "You're still not done."
"Beer gets the best of me." She said flipping around in his embrace, and handing him his beer. He took a long swig.
"Good." John kissed Kaye. He started with intensity but slowed down and savoured it. She responded in kind and placed her hands on his neck. He was clearly experienced. He moved his hands to her waist, placing the beer on the counter. He pulled her into him as he moved his right hand up and down her back. The anger she had towards him lessened slightly, enough that she could allow herself to close her eyes and enjoy him. He may have been the dullest knife in the drawer, but he was the prettiest. John picked Kaye up and placed her on the counter. She wrapped her legs around him as he stood and she put her beer down. John unzipped her dress with his hand and used the other to hold her face. Kaye unsnapped his suspenders and began unbuttoning his shirt. He removed it and tossed it to the floor. He picked Kaye up again and with his strength, he pulled the dress down to her knees and slipped it off. Once he had pulled away, Kaye used her leg to press down on his pants, which fell down to his ankles. The man was pressing all of the right buttons.
"Well shit." He said, standing back and looking Kaye up and down. "You must be Greek because you're a god."
"Enough." Kaye said, pushing him lightly out of the kitchen area. "Finish your beer and take me upstairs."
John grabbed the beer and downed the whole can. Kaye tried to follow suit but it overfoamed and came out of her mouth. John laughed. He picked her up by the waist and held her above his head, bringing her down to his lips and they kissed. He carried her up the narrow staircase and into his bedroom. Other than a bed and a dresser, it was completely clean.
John unclasped Kaye's bra from behind and it fell to the floor. She turned and began kissing him again as he picked her up and pushed her against the wall, removing what was left of both of their clothing. Kaye moaned loudly as the second act was about the begin. John pulled away and stumbled to sit down on the bed.
"What?" She asked.
"I am so drunk." He laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what."
"My friend isn't cooperating."
"Oh." She said. "What a shame."
"I'm not feeling so good." John managed. He leaned back and passed out on the bed.
Don was standing in the ensuite bath of his old bedroom when he nicked himself shaving. With a scoff, he grabbed a piece of toilet paper and plugged the pore. Betty came up behind him, wearing nothing but an open bathrobe.
"Somethings never change." She said, watching him finish off the remainder of small hairs near his sideburns.
"The razor is dull. I was distracted." He said, looking at himself in the mirror.
"When aren't you?" Betty said, pressing her bare chest into Don's side. He put the razor down and turned to face her, kissing her lightly and then pulling away.
"What's gotten into you?" Betty asked, moving back into the bedroom, and slipping into her bed.
"I missed you, Betts." He said, putting back on his shirt.
"Tonight specifically I mean." Betty pulled out a cigarette from her case and lit it. "You were much more aggressive and… forceful."
"I'm sorry." He said, looking back to her from the window.
"No. That wasn't what I meant… I liked it. I mean what's happening, Don? What do you want from me?"
Don moved from his place at the window to the bedside where Betty was sitting. He didn't say anything until he had her hand in his.
"I don't know." He muttered.
"I won't leave Henry. You know that."
He winced. "I know."
"Then why do this to yourself."
'"Because I want you, Birdie. I want you."
Betty let Don's hand go.
"Don, you get bored in a moment. You want me now, only because you can't have me. If I left Henry, you would get bored of me within a year and have another woman. I would go back to suburbia, second place, and feel useless like I did when you were here. You're at work all the time. You hardly have time for the kids now, when you don't even have obligations to them."
Don sat in silence.
"This is why we need to stop. I will always have a place for you in my heart. But I can't live like I did before. I can't live in the background, under your thumb and shadow. And I always would. You're not going to change, and neither am I."
"And you're much better here?" Don said.
"What does that mean?"
"Is this life so different?" Don was angry now. His voice deepened, "Was Henry all that you thought he was going to be? Your voice echoes off the walls in this place. How is this life so different?"
"I've made my bed, Don. You made yours. In fact, you made it many different times in different places with different people. That's why you're not in my bed, with me, every night, here." Betty stood up, her face now flushed red. "You've had me. You've had me whenever you wanted. What more do you want? Is this revenge for before?" She was now just underneath his chin.
"No." He said.
"Then what!"
"I don't know!" He finished. "I don't know." The contempt was gone. His voice hollowed out. Betty calmed herself quickly. She had deflated him.
"Don, you didn't even trust me enough to share your secrets with me. I shared everything with you. I gave you every part of myself. You gave me Tuesdays and Fridays. You have no idea what it's like. All you have to do is come up with pithy jokes and look up women's skirts. I have to raise our kids. Now I have an invalid husband, a bratty daughter, and a new baby."
Betty moved back from Don and went to lay in bed once again. She sighed.
"I'll start now." He muttered, looking from his feet over to Betty.
"Start what?" She said, rolling over in bed. "Don't you remember? 'Betty, this is my desk. It's private. Where did you get these?' You fought me until the bitter end."
"I'll tell you the truth." He said, once again walking to sit on the bed beside Betty. "But it's going to take a while."
"You lied to me before, then?"
"I didn't lie that night I came home to you. I just didn't relive every waking detail of my life." Don said.
There was a long silence.
"Okay." Betty said, sitting back up and tightening the robe around her waist.
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay. I want to know it from the beginning. Start talking."
Don grabbed a cigarette from Betty's case. She grabbed the lighter and lit it for him.
"I was born in a whorehouse east of Mount Carmel, near Patoka, in Illinois…" Don said.
Kaye was standing at the window of Officer Hendrickson's apartment, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She was wearing nothing but her white bra and underwear. She inhaled and blew out a plume of grey smoke. Their experience left Kaye frustrated. After John had passed out, Kaye went to have a body shower, and returned to put back on her underclothes. John laid in bed and the effects of the amphetamine mixed alcohol were taking their toll. He had gone from semi-lucid babbling to nearing incoherent at some points. This was his first time taking any sort of drug. Kaye was reviewing her options. She watched a few stray cars roam by. She stood and smoked silently for ten minutes before butting the cigarette into a potted plant.
Kaye left the bedroom and walked downstairs to the kitchen. On the counter in the corner was a telephone, and she dialed Joan.
"H-hello?" a groggy voice picked up the line
"It's me. Kaye."
"Couldn't this have waited until morning?"
"They're going to search your apartment."
"Who?" Joan exclaimed. She was awake now.
"The police. John told me."
"John who?"
"Hendrickson, the police officer who sat you down and told you about Greg."
"Oh. Okay."
"You have to get rid of the gun. Now. I can't talk. I'll tell you more later." Kaye whispered.
"Oh… yes." Joan said. "Could you come and get it?"
"The gun?"
"Yes. I don't know what to do."
"Fine." She paused. "I'm coming over."
Kaye hung up the receiver before Joan could reply and walked back up the stairs. She put back on her dress, adjusted her makeup in the mirror from her clutch, and snorted a line of Raphetamine. She grabbed John's keys from the hanger by the door and took off in his topless Thunderbird. There was hardly anyone on the roads, and it made a quick journey to Joan's apartment in midtown.
"Whose car is that?" She asked as Kaye walked into the apartment.
"Where is it?"
"Here." Joan passed Kaye a shoebox. Inside was the Colt Hammerless pistol. Kaye gazed at it and then placed the lid back on it.
"Come to me at work. We can talk then." Kaye said, turning and making her way towards the door. "Let me know if they come tomorrow."
"Alright." Joan closed the door behind her.
Kaye threw the box onto the passenger seat and drove back to her apartment. It was 2:30 in the morning when she arrived at Gramercy Park. She took the box inside and ran up the stairs to her apartment. Kaye placed the box inside one of the kitchen cabinets on the top shelf. After removing her coat, she walked into her bedroom, fell into bed, and threw the covers over her face.
It was 7:00 in the morning. Donald Draper was awoken by a small stream of light passing around the curtains of the window in the bedroom. His ex-wife was naked, laying her head upon his chest, and her body was wrapped around him. Slowly the memories of the night began coming back to him. He had started with the whorehouse, the farm, Archibald, Abigail, Aimee and ended the story when he was 14 at 5:00 in the morning.
Betty said nothing the entire time he spoke. She smoked occasionally and placed her hand on his neck to comfort him. But she didn't speak. She didn't ask questions. Don was thankful for that. After he finished, she kissed him, things progressed, and they made love once again. Betty fell asleep shortly after.
Don moved Betty over, placing her head on her pillow. She moaned slightly, rolled over, and fell asleep. He got dressed quickly, putting back on his suit. In the bathroom, he coiffed his hair with Henry's oil, and applied aftershave to his face. While he was leaving the bedroom he kissed Betty on the forehead. She didn't wake.
The house was still dark. Nancy hadn't arrived yet, and the kids wouldn't be up for another hour. Luckily, Gene slept through the night and disturbed no one. Don made his way past the bedrooms, down the stairs, and out the front door. The morning was fresh. There was dew on the lawn, and the Cadillac was waiting up the street. The sunrise was full and pure orange. Many mornings in the past were like this. It bathed the whole street in gold light. Don took a moment before getting into the car to just close his eyes and breathe in.
