408
PARTISAN R.EVIEW
in the face. That was necessary as well. He brought up his most impersonal
tone.
"That isn't really very funny," he said.
Heimlich was not fooled. The carnivorous look was on him.
"Friend of yours?" he demanded.
"Not exactly."
"Oh no, not exactly," said Adriana. "He's being modest," she told
Heimlich.
Modest
did not sound much like a virtue the way she said it.
"He's always talking about Abbie Hoffman said this and Abbie Hoffman
said that and how many weeks Abbie Hoffman's been underpaid. Not
underpaid.
Underground.
He put his picture up on his wall, that's
not exact–
ly
for you. He's like the world's biggest Abbie Hoffinan fan. They did all
that taking over the buildings stuff together at Columbia. Abbie Hoffimn
is like his
main
man."
Mick was staring at her. He wondered if she knew what she was doing.
He wondered if she even knew who Abbie Hoffman was. He had never
heard her use the words
main man
before, that much he knew for certain.
"Just shut up," he murmured, "okay?"
"Well he is," she insisted. "You always thought he was real hot shit."
She turned her party face to Heimlich. "The one he
really
likes is that
weather lady," she said. "You know the one, whatsername, Bernadette
Dohrn."
Heimlich turned a lamprey grin on Mick and waited.
"Bernadine," Mick said finally, not looking at Adriana, correcting her
without enthusiasm.
"Whatever." Adriana gave a blithe shrug.
"Well," said Heimlich, "we can use that too. We can have her working
a swing shift in a Cuban cathouse to support her Quaalude habit."
Mick knew he could not afford to lose his temper. The worst thing he
could do was to let Heimlich know that it mattered to him. Then again,
Heimlich already knew. Of course he knew. The whole thing was a set-up.
Al/ right then,
Mick told himself. The important thing was not to admit it.
The problem was that he was going to end up doing what Heimlich
wanted no matter what, and both of them knew it.
"['m really not interested in this," he said.
"Oh no," said Adriana. "You're not interested. Well you oughta be
interested. You better be interested. I can think of three hundred good rea–
sons why you
should
be interested."
Heimlich stood there waiting, a smug look on his face, one hand
stroking his chest like a huge pink spider massaging his heart. The beat of
bad blood was loud in Mick's ears. The rhythm was unmistakably military.
It did not matter what they told you on the news: the war was not over.
