Kinsman leaned back in the limousine's velvet uphol- stery. Thanks, Dad, he said to himself. You've always made it so easy for me.
* * * 20
Neal McGrath drove him down 101, toward the Navy's Moffet Field, weaving his new Chrysler convertible through knots of traffic and past hulking, hurtling diesel tractor- trailers-
"You're sure you can pick up a flight back to Boulder?" McGrath yelled over the rush of the wind.
"Sure!" Kinsman hollered back. "The guy I rode out with told me he was going back late this afternoon."
McGrath shook his head as he carefully flicked the turn signal and pulled around a station wagon filled with kids. The wind pulled wildly at his long red hair.
"The family's going to be very disappointed that you didn't stay for dinner."
"Not Dad. He threw me out."
McGrath snorted. "You know he didn't mean that."
"Sure."
"Where the hell were you all night, anyway? You look like you got rolled in an alley."
"Just about." Kinsman told him about Diane and her campus activists as the convertible zoomed down the high- way.
"Sound like a bunch of Communists," McGrath growled.
Kinsman laughed. "We didn't discuss politics in bed."
"What an easy lay. She sure tried to recruit you, all right."
The Moffet Field turnoffwas approaching. McGrath slid into the exit lane.
"Neal ... I don't even know her last name!"
"So what?"
"So look her up for me, will you? Maybe the family could give her a little help . . . with her singing career."
"A Communist?"
