(Untitled)

[headofaccounts]

Sterling's Gold.

Pete almost doesn't believe it when he sees the book on the Rec Room shelf. Still, when he sees the title followed by the words 'by Roger Sterling' on the spine, he pulls it out, staring, slightly dumbfounded, at the dust jacket (the ink sketch of the author on the back isn't bad) until he reaches a chair, then proceeding to sit

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[broken_brushes]

"I'm guessing that one's not going on Pete Campbell's list of favorite reads," I surmised as I paused a few feet away, a cup of peppermint tea in hand and my eyebrows arched in curiosity. He looked kind of like he'd eaten something bitter, or maybe just needed to something to punch.

"Do you know him, Roger-?" I began, then hesitated, remembering the first time we'd met. "Wait, didn't you work for someone named Sterling?"

[headofaccounts]

"I did," Pete replied, eyes lingering on the book a moment longer before he looked up at Shari. (He doesn't manage to change the look on his face quickly enough.) "The, um. The book's from a few years ahead of where I was."

[broken_brushes]

"I take it there's something in there you'd rather not know," I guessed as I perched on the edge of the coffee table, cup clasped in both hands. I afforded the front of the book a critical once over. What a pretentious title.

[headofaccounts]

"Some things were - are - a little unexpected," he admitted, offering her the book in case she cared to look at it, although he doubted that any of Roger's non-immediate history would be that fascinating for him. (He'd looked up to Don, not Sterling.) "But I guess I should have seen that coming."

[broken_brushes]

"Like?" I asked, setting aside my tea to accept the book. It looked like a standard autobiography, albeit for a guy I couldn't imagine caring to read about. Maybe you had to be in advertising to give a crap, I don't know. The filigreed cover complete with cupid just made the whole thing seem all the more ostentatious.

[headofaccounts]

"The company's added two partners in the time since I left. It's Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, now, not just Sterling Cooper." A beat. "Well, now, in the future, whenever. It's a big move. I don't even recognize the last name."

[broken_brushes]

"And you're wondering why it's not yours," I surmised, glancing up from the book to Pete's face. You didn't have to know him that well to know he was a competitive guy, and he'd obviously been proud of his professional accomplishments when we'd talked about them in the past.

[headofaccounts]

"It just makes me wonder what's going on," he confessed, accompanying his words with a vague gesture. "You know. Out there. I don't know if I'm even still there. I mean, I don't know why I'd - I don't know what happened after I came here." And, yes, he wanted to know why he hadn't been included as a partner. He knew that he hadn't been as far up the ladder as Draper had been when he'd left, but he'd worked hard.

[broken_brushes]

"Have you read it yet?" I asked as I tipped the book back Pete's way. "Obviously it isn't going to tell you everything you want to know, but there might be clues, if it was written after you left, like you said." Personally speaking, I didn't expect there to be much factual information in an autobiography titled Sterling's Gold, but hey, there might be something worth knowing near the end.

[headofaccounts]

"True." He looked back down at the book as he took it back, actually flipping it open to the front page. "I guess I could give it a shot. Probably the back half." For a moment, he fell silent, then looking up and attempting a smile. "How've you been? Haven't talked to you for a while."

[broken_brushes]

"I'm…okay," I replied with a cant of my head. The pause between words probably said more than I could, and honestly, what was there to say about it? One more person lost, life goes on. Que sera sera, as Doris Day would say.

"I've been focusing on Council business, and the bakery will probably be opening around the middle of the month now that the snow is gone. So I've been keeping myself busy." I plucked idly at the hem of my blue jeans. "You can come by anytime, you know. To the house or office, or…wherever. I'm always glad to see you."

[headofaccounts]

His expression suggested that he'd cottoned on to what the pause meant, the sympathy marking his features a little more prominent than he'd like. (Losing Daisy had been a large blow. She was the first person that he'd known who'd simply disappeared.) Still, at her last remark, he managed to shift it into a smile.

"Same to you, lovely," he said, with a nod. "And I'll keep that in mind. Congratulations about the Council election, by the way. I don't think I ever got to tell you so in person. And the bakery, too."