"Could be," nodded Cahill. He turned over his shoulder and called to the waitress. "Hey, Snookey, make it two instead of one."
"Mine's White Star."
"That's all right with me. It's easier to drive this rod with a clear head."
"No doubt," said Farradyne. "So now that we are about to drink together let's face it. You had more in mind than to pass the time of day with a nervous spaceman who wanted to be alone."
"Correct. Or as you birds say, 'Aye-firm.' How's the hellblossom business?"
"That's easy to answer. I haven't any and I am not in the business. See?"
"People say you are."
Farradyne grunted. "Not too long ago someone accused me openly. The story started when someone suggested that the only way a guy could come from down on his bottom to the top of the heap in one large step was to be among the big-time operators. The heavy-sugar know-how. To the limited imagination this meant running love lotus."
Mike Cahill was silent while the waitress brought their drinks. When she left Cahill lifted his glass to Farradyne. "Is you is or is you ain't?" he chuckled.
"I ain't," said Farradyne, drinking with Cahill.