The Kid and Joan enter the bathroom.

JOAN: You keep liquor in the bathroom?

KID: Sure, why not?

The Kid closes the door. He plants a clumsy kiss on Joan’s mouth. He grabs her chest.

JOAN: Not so fast.

KID: Shut up.

Joan slaps his face.

JOAN: Don’t ever say tha-

The Kid drunkenly hits her in her face. He grabs her hair and bangs her head on the wall. Her forehead bleeds. He unzips his pants and tries to force her head down. Joan resists and claws at his face, drawing blood.

Outside, Sal approaches the bathroom, eager to use it. He goes to knock, but stops when he hears what sounds to be a struggle, and a woman saying “Stop!”. He opens the door, and witnesses the disturbing scene before him. 

SAL: Morton, what the hell?

Sal pulls Joan away. He shoves the Kid into the wall.

KID: Mind your own business, you old queer!

Sal’s jaw drops. He grabs a bottle of cologne from the sink and smashes it over the Kid’s head.

JOAN: Oh, my God!

SAL: You’re a piece of garbage, Morton. And you throw one tacky party.

Sal looks over at Joan.

SAL: Shall we?

They leave. The disturbance in the bathroom has gone unnoticed, as the gathered masses have been singing “Auld Lang Syne” and throwing confetti beneath a banner reading “1959”.

SAL: And it’s meant the world to me that-

JOAN: (Through tears) Shhhhhhh….

Dissolve into the past. Joan stands by herself in a living room full of people. Music plays on a large turntable next to her. She is younger, more wide-eyed, and grinning from ear to ear, to no one in particular. A young man with drink in hand stumbles up to her.

KID: Hey, gorgeous.

JOAN: Hello.

KID: I’m Morty.

JOAN: Joan.

KID: Joanie, this is my place. And you look like a girl with reeeeal taste.

JOAN: (Giggling) I suppose so. What do you mean?

KID: I’ve got a bottle of something that’ll knock your socks off. Guaranteed.

JOAN: I’ll have a drink.

KID:  Follow me.

Joan looks around, and with a shrug that reads “What else am I going to do?”, she smiles and follows him through the mass of chatting, drinking, folks, right past Sal Romano, who sips a glass of champagne and eyes the two.

TO BE CONTINUED

Joan stands by herself in an empty office, staring out the window, clutching a tumbler of brandy. Her hand subtly shakes. The door opens and she jolts around with a start. It’s Sal.

SAL: (Surprised) Joanie.

JOAN: I’m sorry, Mr. Romano. I’ll leave.

SAL: Don’t give it a thought. (Grinning) Pour me one and I won’t report you.

Joan chuckles and pours one for Sal, who shuts the door and walks over to her. She hands him the glass.

SAL: I know I already congratulated you…but I just thought it would be inappropriate if I didn’t also say just how…

Sal chokes on his words, clears his throat, and regathers himself.

JOAN: Sal?

SAL: We’re all so…so god. damn. proud of you, Joanie.

Joan’s eyes water and her lip begins to quiver.

SAL: And it’s meant the world to me that-

JOAN: (Through tears) Shhhhhhh….

TO BE CONTINUED…