Crawbuckie Park,
Ossining, New York,
May 30th, 1964
It was mid morning when Don Draper had arrived at Bullet Park Road in the Cadillac. He suggested a walk to Crawbuckie Park, and didn't give Betty time to protest. Sally and Bobby raced to get out of the house, pushing each other, grabbing their coats and shoes quickly. Betty doddled, preparing Gene for his pram. The family made their way down the steps, onto the sidewalk and walked towards the park fifteen minutes away.
"What made you come?" Betty asked.
"The kids. And I wanted to see you." He said.
Betty smiled.
"This is nice. I haven't felt like going out much. Nancy normally takes the kids out after school." She said.
Sally and Bobby had jogged far ahead together. Sally had her arm over her brother's shoulder to keep him from straying too far off the path. Bobby was busy looking for bugs with a plastic magnifying glass Henry had bought him. Gene was napping in the pram as Betty pushed him along.
"How's the new building downtown?" Betty said.
"It's expensive." Don said. "Cooper complains that we overspent. Roger says it was necessary. It's getting too small. We'll have to get a second floor at some point."
"You're doing well, then."
"For now."
Don put his arm around his ex-wife's waist. She said nothing about it, and was taking her time to coo at her baby boy. They arrived at the park shortly thereafter. The Draper children took off their shoes and ran their toes through the sand. Sally threw her coat onto the wooden structure and began digging with her hands. Bobby sat beside her and used his magnifying glass to analyse pebbles.
"Let me show you something." Sally said, motioning for Bobby to give her the magnifying glass. An ant was making its way by one of the dunes Sally had created. Bobby moved closer beside Sally as she took the magnifying glass and used the sun's rays to torch the insect. It quickly smoked and fizzled.
"Cool!" Bobby shouted, grabbing the magnifying glass and attempting to fry other ants walking around on the sand.
"I send Nancy home on weekends now." Betty started as she and Don sat down on the park bench: Gene's pram standing beside her. "I feel much stronger than I used to. Even last month."
"Good." Don said. "Soon you won't need her."
"Yes…" Betty trailed off. "Henry's coming home. Next weekend, I think."
Don turned to her.
"I see him, almost every day. He's still at the hospital in Sleepy Hollow." She pulled some hair from her face. "He's walking now, which surprised me."
"I see." He looked away.
"Don't be like that." Betty said. "I'm worried Sally is getting the wrong idea about our relationship anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Sally was eavesdropping, last weekend. She heard me scream, and stood by the door."
"Did she see anything?" Don asked.
"No. I don't think so. I think she saw us and then left. I told her to stop spying on people. She's very nosey."
Don said nothing.
Sally had dug a deep hole to put her feet in. The sand at the base was wet and cold.
"Why are Mom and Dad together?" Bobby asked, frying another ant.
"They aren't." She brushed the sand around her ankles and into the hole. "Dad's just helping until Henry comes back."
"Oh." Bobby said.
"I think Dad still loves Mom." Sally said.
"You do?"
"Why else would he do things for us like this?"
"Because he loves us."
"When you're older you'll understand these things." Sally said, tightening the hair band on her head.
"I'm old enough to understand" Bobby protested.
"Sure, Bobby."
"Do you want Henry to come home?" Don said, his arm laying on the bench behind Betty.
Betty hesitated.
"Yes." She said. "I know we've shared… things. Together. More in the last months than we did when we were married, and I've loved a lot of it. But, I don't trust you. You lied to me. To us. As a family, for years."
"You don't feel anything for me?"
"I never said that." Betty said. "I've loved you since we met. I… I still love you. I don't know."
"Leave Henry." Don said. "I'll come back home. We can start over. Things will be different."
Betty turned from her ex-husband. Sally was attempting to bury Bobby as he laid down. Their smiles were wide. The trees were blowing in the wind.
"I'm in over my head." She said.
Bobby unburied himself from the sand and began inspecting the sand granules with the magnifying glass.
"Do you like Henry?" Sally said, cleaning her fingernails.
"Yes. He got me this magnifying glass. And he tells funny stories." Bobby said.
"You shouldn't be so easily bought."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you only like Henry because he buys you things."
"That's not true." Bobby said. "He played catch with me in the hallway. He helped me with homework. Henry does a lot of stuff."
"He's just trying to make you like him more than Dad."
"No, he's just a nice man." Bobby said.
Sally looked down at her feet. She stretched out her toes and brought them back together. Birds chirping and their parent's distant voices broke the cool morning air.
"Do you love me?" Betty asked.
Don's eyes wandered to his ex-wife's. Her hands trembled slightly, her left foot tapped in the air over her crossed legs.
"Yes." He said.
Betty twisted her body to lean towards Don.
"Then why did you leave me at home every night? There was always lipstick on your collar at 3:00 am." Her eyes had widened and her cheeks were rosy. A scowl crossed her mouth.
Don said nothing.
"When we made love, you were always sleeping with someone else. I lost you in 1958. Was it the kids? Was I boring you?" Betty clenched her fist over her knee. With her free hand, she lit a cigarette and smoked. Don pulled out a Lucky Strike and lit up.
"I didn't know what I had until it was gone." He said.
"That's it?" Betty scoffed. "We learned that in Sunday School."
"I didn't grow up in church." Don said, smoking. "I grew up in a whorehouse."
Betty let the smoke she inhaled drift out of her flared nostrils. Sally and Bobby had moved to the swing set near the edge of the park. A bead of sweat formed on her brow. She undid the upper buttons on her double-breasted jacket.
"I will always love you. Always. The more I've thought about us, together, I feel that childish joy I felt when we first met. The same feeling I got when we were in Rome. The same feeling the night you proposed. I feel like just for a minute, everything will be alright. Like I'm living my life again…" Betty flicked off the ash with her thumb. "But then I come back to reality. I'm raising three children, and I have an invalid husband who's just coming around. My in-laws think I'm a pretty little fool. I live in my ex-husbands house, sleeping in our old bed, under our covers, and I just get sick."
Don winced. He placed his hand over his leg, tapping the ashes of his cigarette onto the pavement.
"We could move away." Don said. Betty's gaze drifted to the road near the park. Cars drove by. "We could move to California, Palm Springs or somewhere warm."
"Just add heat? That's your recipe for solving this?" Betty said. "We're doomed in New York just as much as we're doomed in California. Or anywhere."
She stood up, adjusted her jacket, and buttoned it. She put her hands on Gene's pram, and checked on him.
"Bobby, Sally, we're leaving." Betty shouted. In the distance, the Draper children slowed their swinging until they were able to dismount by jumping.
"Birdie…"
"I keep waking up in the morning, reaching over for you. But you're not there. Then I remember that you were never there. Henry should be there, and I tell myself that. But it doesn't matter. No one's there. It's just me."
"It doesn't have to be that way." Don said.
"I know. And I don't want it to. I want… you to come home." She said, putting out the half-smoked cigarette, and placing it in her silver case. Sally and Bobby were nearly upon them. "But you'll always be you. And I'll always be me. We'll start off honeymooning, and everything will come crashing down in shambles again."
"Sally taught me to fry ants!" Bobby exclaimed as he and Sally jumped out of the sand and cleaned off their feet.
"Bobby, that's morbid. Don't do that again. And Sally, don't teach your brother to do those things." Betty said.
"Tattle-tale." Sally said to Bobby, averting her mothers gaze. They put their socks and shoes back on.
"Whatever, they're just ants." Bobby and Sally stood up, walking to the sidewalk.
"So you're rolling over. You're going to stay with Henry because it's easy?" Don said. The children were further ahead once again. Gene had woken up and was smiling up at his parents as he rode along.
"You think this is easy?" She laughed. "No. The easy choice would be to run back into your arms. To go back to what feels good, rather than what is good." Betty said. "I'm tired of wondering where you are. Henry may not be all I've wanted, but he loves me. I know where he is at night."
"You'd rather be safe than happy?"
"I'm happy being safe." She said. "I'm happy not guessing when my husband will leave me for someone else."
Betty and Don walked a block in silence.
"I want to change." Don said, flicking his cigarette into the gutter as they crossed the street onto Bullet Park Road.
"I know. But you won't." Betty said.
1271 Avenue of the Americas,
New York City, New York
Kaye looked over to the ticking clock sitting on the bookshelf in the Creative Room. It was an old depression era thing, with big numbers and a faded face due to sun weathering. It was 5:50PM. Stan and Kaye had been at the office since 9:00. Peggy showed up at 1:00, went immediately to her office, and began clacking away on the typewriter. Joey Baird came in at 3:00. Kaye was smoking with her legs crossed, propped up on the table. She watched the second hand on the clock tick away.
"I called the modelling agency," Joey said, sitting down beside her. "They are booked up all through the weekend. Monday are their first appointments."
"Call a different agency." Kaye said.
"I thought you'd say that, so I did. Glossy can do a shoot tomorrow. They have a few girls."
"Did they send headshots?"
"They said they would expedite them, but I was going to go to pick them up. Do you want to come?" Joey asked.
"No, you go." She said. "Show them to Stan and decide who's the hottest."
Joey grinned, standing up and leaving the Creative Room.
"These things are growing on me." Stan said, smoking a Tipalet and sitting down beside Kaye. He looked down at it and then placed it in his mouth. "Where's the warden?"
"Still in her office." Kaye said, flicking ash into the nearby tray.
"I finished the mock-shots." Stan pulled out a 12 x 18 poster board. On it was a woman, just as Kaye had described, in a white low cut shirt. The camera taking the shot from her 4 o'clock. She was shocked, yet she seemed to expect it. Tall, dark and handsome counterpart was standing at her 2 o'clock, blowing smoke gently onto her face. The write-up Peggy had finished fit well in the little box in the bottom right-hand corner of the ad.
"It's like you've done this before." Kaye smiled.
Stan winked. "I don't brag."
"Peggy!" Kaye shouted. Rustling could be heard up the hall. A door opened.
"Yeah?" Peggy said.
"Come here."
Peggy walked down the hall and into the Creative Room.
"What is it?" She said, seeing Stan and Kaye. They were both leaning back, looking at the poster board. Peggy walked around the table and looked it over. "Classy."
"It works, doesn't it?" Stan said.
"Well yes. I don't get their demographics. Most of the buyers are old men."
"Then this ad is perfect." Kaye exhaled smoke.
"Older men have sensibilities." Peggy said, grabbing a glass of whiskey from the drinks cart. "They have wives and families."
"Men are men." Kaye said.
"I think we'd be better off with something upper class. Most people associate Muriel with their Senators line." Peggy said.
"Upper class men don't smoke flavoured filtered ciagrillos, Peggs." Stan said. "They smoke Senators. That's why we're here."
Peggy drank.
"Then it works." She said.
Stan stood up and poured himself a whiskey, giving one to Kaye.
"Kids buy Tipalets." Peggy said. "Their fathers buy Senators."
"Now there's something." Stan said, sitting down on the couch.
A loud clacking blared through the office as one of the secretary's phones rang.
"I'll get it." Kaye stood up, downed the glass of whiskey, butted her cigarette in the tray and left the Creative Room. The ring was coming from Donna's desk, where Kaye had forwarded it from reception.
"Yeah?"
"Hi, can I speak with Kaye Sharpe? It's John Hendrickson."
Kaye hesitated.
"John…" She paused. "Oh shit. It's 6:00."
John laughed.
"You forgot, didn't you?" He said.
"No. Yes. I forgot. I'm sorry; I've been working all day."
"It's alright. Sometimes work takes over. Are we still going out?"
"… Sure. Yes. I'll be there in 20 minutes."
"Kaye, we don't have to go out if you're too busy."
"No, it's my fault." She said. "I'll see you soon."
"Alright, bye."
Kaye hung up the receiver and walked into the Creative Room, grabbing her jacket.
"Joey's bringing back headshots. Pick the best-looking girl with the biggest chest. Guy has to be tall and handsome." Kaye said.
"Where are you going?" Stan asked.
"Meeting I forgot about."
"Are you coming back?" Peggy said.
"No." Kaye said, swinging the jacket over her shoulders. She refilled her whiskey at the cart, drank the glass down, and began walking out. "Don't stain the table, you two."
Peggy spun to watch Kaye leave the office. Stan laughed.
"She's so unnecessarily vulgar." Peggy said, putting her copy down.
"Maybe. But, she gets the job done." Stan said, standing up from the couch and picking up the paperwork Peggy had just put down.
"How was she?"
"She's the same? What do you mean?" Stan flipped through the pages, smoking.
"You went home with her last night." Peggy said plainly. Stan tossed the paperwork back onto the table.
"So?"
"She was drunk, and high as a kite. You took her home and never came back."
"Stop concerning yourself with other peoples business." Stan said, flicking the ash from his cigar.
"You two seem close now, that's all I was saying."
"Jealous, are we?" Stan said, picking up a Sports Illustrated issue.
"Who said I was jealous? I'm just asking a question."
"Why do you care, Peggs?"
"I don't care." She said. "Why are you being evasive?"
"Because it's none of your business." Stan stared intently at her. He waited patiently on her response.
"Fine." Peggy paused. She shifted in her seat, pulled her skirt further down and finished her drink.
"We didn't sleep together." Stan said, looking back to the magazine. He smoked.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a fool." He tapped the ashes and drank.
"Oh…" Peggy said, staring up at the pictures on the wall.
"No. Because she's… interested in someone else." Stan said.
"So you do like her." Peggy turned to him.
"I never said that. If I liked her, I had every opportunity."
"So she tried to."
"I never said that. I said I had the opportunity and it didn't happen."
"So why didn't you?"
"Because she's interested in someone else." Stan raised his voice.
"You just said you had the opportunity." Peggy spun her glass further onto the table. "How can you have the opportunity and at the same time, her have no interest?"
"You know, you're really damn annoying." Stan said, throwing the magazine down abruptly.
"Well you're not being honest!" Peggy shouted.
"Why do you care!" Stan shouted back.
"Because." Peggy stared at the table. She placed her hands on her lap and breathed deeply. "You asked me to dance."
Stan sat silently.
"Why did you ask me to dance?" She said.
"For crying out loud, because I wanted to dance, that's why."
"But you asked me, you could have asked Joan."
"You know how I feel about Joan."
"Well you could have asked Kaye."
"She was blitzed."
"So then I was the last resort?"
"Forget it." Stan stood up, butting his cigar into the ashtray. "Forget it."
At that moment, Joey pushed through the front doors with a manilla envelope full of pictures. He threw them down on the table and removed his jacket, hanging it on the rack.
"They left them for us in the lobby. Saves me time. So who's the lucky lady?" Joey said, pulling out the pictures and sprawling them on the table.
Stan turned, and walked out of the room. He came back with his brown leather jacket over his shoulders. "I have to work on the campaign. I might be in tomorrow, I might not."
"What's going on? I just passed Kaye in the elevator, now you're leaving?" Joey asked.
"Ask her." Stan said, glaring at Peggy. He walked away and left through reception.
"You two fight like an old married couple." Joey said to Peggy.
"Shut up."
"Touchy. So who's the best looking?"
Peggy searched through the pictures that were offered. One particular brunette stood out. She wasn't a waif like some of the other girls, and had pretty eyes with olive skin. She was very curvaceous.
"Her." Peggy picked up the sample and gave it to Joey.
"Good choice." He said, analysing the picture. "I'd sure like to honk her hooters."
"Don't be so crass."
"Oh come on. She's hot."
"Yes, I get it." She paused. "That's why I chose her."
"Here's the guys." Joey pulled out more pictures from the envelope, spreading them out for Peggy. She quickly found a handsome tall man with dark features.
"He'll do." Peggy said.
"This guy?" Joey said. "Okay. I'll call the agency and setup a time for pictures. I'll let Harry know." He left the Creative Room with the envelope.
Peggy had her first moment of true silence in the day. No typewriter clacking, no constant thoughts swirling in her head. No work. Just a whiskey and stale cigarette smoke. She sighed.
"This is a different you." John said as he and Kaye ate their meal. He had chosen a small eatery near the docks waterfront on the south side of Manhattan. "You seem more natural."
"What do you mean?" She said, and continued eating.
"Well, you just seem less dressed up. More casual."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was." He said, taking a bite of his hamburger. "I didn't think you'd actually take my call."
"I don't judge a book by its drunken failures." Kaye smiled.
John laughed.
"Well, it won't happen again. I've learned my lesson about drinking around pretty girls." He said. John let his eyes walk up and down her. The white blouse complimented her frame. He stared longingly at aspects of her, savouring her body. As she moved, her shirt exposed part of her neck and shoulder. A purple blotch appeared there. It was not there before. He peered his eyes and noticed there were more blotches on the top of her shoulder, seeming to run down to her back.
"What did you get up to this week?" He asked.
"Worked everyday. When I wasn't working, I was entertaining my sister and brother-in-law."
"Oh you have a sister."
Kaye stopped eating, her shoulders tensing. She relaxed them forcefully, and pulled some hair away from her face.
"Yes."
"Older or younger?" John asked.
"Older."
"Are you close?"
"We were. When we were young." Kaye looked out the nearby window.
"Sorry if I've touched on a nerve." John said; his voice low.
"No. It's fine. I haven't seen her in a while."
"Nice to see family." John sipped his rum and cola.
"Any leads on the case?" She asked.
"Hmm? Oh, Ms. Harris' case. Well, some leads. Mr. Harris was in some financial trouble. We're working on that."
"Did they find the gun?" Kaye asked.
"How did you know about the gun?" John asked.
Kaye's eyes widened and she could feel her blood pressure drop. Her hands clammed up and her breathing quickened.
"You told me, last weekend." She said, snapping to his eyes.
"Oh. Probably shouldn't have said that. Oh well. Yes, they traced it back to some military surplus agent in Chicago. We'll see where it goes. Nothing conclusive yet."
"Right. Well that's good. Hopefully it's all figured out soon." Kaye said, running her hand up and down her leg. She began cleaning the underside of her fingernails with the hem of her skirt.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. Why?" Kaye shot out the answer.
"You seem distant. Distracted."
"Sorry." She stared down to her food, pushing it onto her fork. "I've just got a lot on my mind."
"Does it have anything to do with those bruises?" John asked.
Kaye clenched her shoulder to her neck. She reached over and brought the blouse further up her shoulder.
"No. You said Greg owed money to someone too?" Kaye said.
"Yeah." John paused. "Some loan shark in midtown. Quite the thing…"
Kaye had tilted her head to look over her shoulder. John noticed a thick cut that ran near the parting of her hair. It was cleaned up but was still red. She turned her head back to face him and smiled lightly.
"Did you bang your head on something? You cut your head too."
"Oh…" Kaye reached for the area where she had knocked her head into the bathroom tiles. She had fallen quickly against the cold tiles. The ugly wretched man was on top of her, removing her dress. He began undressing himself, whispering horrible things to her. Her cheeks hurt where he had grabbed her. Her shoulders ached from his knees bending her into the ground.
"Kaye?" John said. She didn't respond and was staring blankly at his chest. "Kaye, what's happening?"
"Nothing." She snapped from the blue. "Nothing, I'm sorry. I'm just really tired."
"How did you get those bruises and that cut on your head?"
She stopped eating.
"I… was reaching for soup can. It fell from the cabinet."
"And bruised your shoulder and back?" John drank.
Silence.
"I appreciate what you're trying to do." Kaye said. "But, don't."
"There are options, for getting out of a relationship." John ate another piece of his burger. "There are places you can go. Hell, I got a cot at my place. You can stay if you need it."
"Stop." Kaye leaned back in her chair. Her stomach began churning. She ran her ring fingernail over her skirt hem so hard it began to bleed.
"I can help you, hon."
"I don't want your help." Kaye said, pushing her meal away from herself towards the centre of the table. Her hands began shaking. "Can we just drop this?"
"Look, Kaye if you were hurt, I can fix this. I know good lawyers who would be willing to press charges…"
"Stop!" She shouted. Some of the patrons brought their heads out of their meals to see the commotion. "Just stop. I'm not 10 years old. I'm a big girl, and I can handle myself. If I needed your help I would have asked. I didn't ask, I don't want your help."
Kaye unfurled her skirt, stood up out of the chair, and grabbed her jacket and tam o' shanter.
"I'm sorry..." John said.
She threw a ten-dollar bill onto the table and snapped her clutch shut.
"Five is for the food. The rest is for a cab. Goodbye, John." She turned from the police officer and walked out of the diner. Tears flowed from her eyes and ran down her face. She removed her glasses and wiped them off as she walked. She inhaled shallowly.
"Kaye!" A voice shouted from behind her. She didn't turn. A man's footsteps thundered against the pavement, closing in on her.
"Kaye, I'm sorry." John had walked up beside her and was trying to step into her field of view, but was blocked by passers by. He made an attempt on the other side, this time successfully. "I was out of line."
"I've got to go." She said, reaching the black Mercedes, parked curbside.
"Wait, can I make this up to you?"
"I made a mistake. This just isn't going to work. Thanks for dinner." Kaye said, throwing her jacket onto the passenger seat, and moving around to the driver's door.
"So a guy just trying to help means its not going to work?"
"Call it whatever you want."
"You're being ridiculous. The man that did that to you is still out there. Even if you don't care about yourself, think about this: he's going to do it again. Unless you do something. I see this all the time at work. Wives not willing to give up their husbands, and they just go back to the beating. We can get the sonofabitch that did this to you."
Kaye opened the driver's door, sat down and started the car. John reached down and opened the passenger door.
"Close the door. Now." Kaye said.
"No." John replied, his nose in the air.
"You don't think I would if I could?" Kaye spat.
"What?"
"You don't think if I could do something about it, I would?"
"You've never tried!" John shouted.
"You don't know anything. You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through, and you're more interested in being right and getting your man. Shut the door, and fuck off." She cusped her lip and shifted into first gear.
"I'm sorry." He managed after a pause. "I just can't stand knowing someone's getting away with hurting you."
"Thanks for the candor. Don't call me." Kaye dropped the clutch and the car shot out from the curb. The passenger door slammed shut as she cranked the wheel straight to follow the road. John stepped back fast enough to avoid the door clipping him on the way out. He watched the sports car speed up and out of his view.
Kaye dug spastically in her purse. Her hands were shaking more furiously and a headache was raging just behind her eyes. She screamed after no brown vials could be found. Instead, she pulled a pack of cigarettes, removed one, lit it, and threw the lighter onto the passenger seat. She rolled down the window, and began smoking in long drags. The 230 SL whizzed through second and third gear, careening into different lanes of traffic, heading uptown. Finally, Kaye had pulled up outside the Time-Life Building, where she parked the car. Exiting, she flicked the butt into the gutter and walked inside the building, taking the elevator up the 35th floor.
Reception lights were still on and the telephone was forwarded to Donna's desk.
"Hello?" She said, entering through the big double doors. No answer. The hall was now dark, and only a few fluorescent lights remained on in the distance. She walked up the hall to Lane's office; it was locked. She moved further up to Don's office; the door slid open. She threw her clutch onto his sofa and filled a silver-rimmed glass from his drinks cart with rum, downing the glass. She refilled it again, and did the same. By the third glass, she slowed down and sat at Don's desk. Throwing her head back, and tilting the chair, she looked up at the ceiling, closing her eyes. Her shaking began to slow down, and a cool wave washed over her. She sat motionless for five minutes. Her cheeks began to flush, the world outside disappearing. Kaye opened her eyes.
On his desk, the pictures of Don's ex-wife had disappeared. They were replaced with Parker pens, paperwork, and scattered office supplies. The desk that was once proper was a mess. She pulled some of the drawers open. There were file after file stacked in the drawers. The top left drawer was locked. The top right drawer had a pack of Luckies in it, which Kaye removed and took one, smoking it. After finishing her third rum, she put the glass down on the desk and stared down at the locked drawer. Kaye reached into Don's penholder and found a steel letter opener. She jammed the letter opener into the lock and used her brooch pin to tickle the tumblers. After a minute, the lock clicked open.
Inside was an assortment of trinkets, a picture of his ex-wife and his children. Kaye moved the stuff out of the way. There were some addresses with girls' phone numbers and names on them and at the back, an old shoebox. It was hidden underneath more supplies. Kaye took it out, placing it on the desk and opening the lid. She tapped some ash into an ashtray on Don's desk and pinched the cigarette between her lips as she sifted through the documents. There were old pictures, some in sepia and black and white. The rest of the box was filled with documents. There was a divorce certificate from the California Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. Anna M. Draper v. Donald F. Draper. She read over the certificate, letting smoke escape through her nostrils. The year was typed at the bottom; 1953. She rubbed her forehead and winced. She put the certificate back and browsed the pictures. One in particular caught her eye; Dick & Adam. On the front was a young Don with a little boy.
"… Dick?" She said.
"Hello?" A voice came from down the hall. Kaye froze. She threw the pictures back into the box, closing it quickly. Footsteps came tapping on the linoleum outside. They got louder with each passing moment. Kaye jammed the box into the drawer and slammed it shut. The lock was stuck. She found the letter opener, and wedged it back into the lock. As the lock turned closed, Don's office door swung open.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Stan Rizzo said, standing in the doorway. Kaye said nothing.
"I thought you were Don." She relaxed her shoulders, smoked and stood up. "Did you never go home?"
"I needed some air after you left." Stan said, walking over to the drinks cart and pouring himself a glass of Canadian Club. He tilted the bottle towards her. "How many have you had?"
"Enough." She beamed, holding out the glass. Stan poured it half full. He drank three long swigs from the bottle and then put the cap back on. He raised his glass to hers.
"How did your meeting go?" He asked.
"It didn't." Kaye said, laying down on Don's couch.
"Guy was that bad?" Stan asked, sitting in the chair across from her at the coffee table.
"I never said it was a date."
"You didn't have to." He smiled.
"He's a police officer."
"Not your type."
"I was doing it as a favour for a friend." She laughed. "How sad."
"He talk about his job too much?" Stan asked.
"In a way." Kaye slid her head up onto the arm of the couch and flicked her cigarette at the wall. It bounced off the frosted partition window and fizzled out on the carpet. "He talked about me too much. Where did you end up going?"
"I went for a long walk around the block. Needed to clear my head."
"Too much work." Kaye said.
"Too much women."
"Trouble in paradise with Peggy already." Kaye smiled.
"She's the most uptight broad I've ever met. She's so… "just-so", you know? Like everything's gotta be her way. She's smart with an attitude problem." Stan scoffed. He finished his glass, sliding it onto the coffee table. Stan moved over to Don's record player and turned it on. The record started spinning. He swung his hips and snapped violently along with the beat. Kaye looked over to him and laughed. He continued dancing and began singing along to Walk Like a Man.
He motioned for Kaye to stand and dance with him. She stood and moved over to him, dancing foolishly. They yelled as they danced over the music.
"So what are you gonna do about her?" Kaye started.
"I don't know. She drives me crazy. I guess I'll drink." Stan said. He wrapped his arms around Kaye, and kissed her suddenly. She recoiled looking at his contorted face. He cracked one eye.
"You're tipsy." Kaye said. "She'll kill you."
"Most certainly, and in all likelihood."
They both kissed intimately. Kaye brought her arms to Stan's side as they swayed back and forth. He pulled her into himself and ran his hands up and down her side. Kaye exhaled in short bursts while maintaining her grip on him. Stan leaned over, turning down the record player. He pushed Kaye back and onto the couch. She grabbed Stan's hand and pulled him on top of her. They quickly threw their clothes off, and rolled onto the floor.
