Democracy by Joan Didion

she had given any thought to going back to school, possibly a class or two at NYU to start. “I understand there are some pretty cinchy jobs in Vietnam.”
    Inez had stared at her.
    Jessie’s information about the jobs in Vietnam was sketchy but she supposed that they involved “cooking for a construction crew, first aid, stuff like that.”
    Inez had tried to think about how best to phrase an objection.
    “I got the idea from this guy I know who works for Boeing, he hangs out at the Castle, you don’t know him.”
    Inez had said in as neutral a voice as she could manage that she did not think Vietnam a good place to look for a job.
    Jessie had shrugged.
    “How’s the junkie,” Adlai had said when Inez walked back into the apartment on Central Park West a few days after Christmas.
    “That’s unnecessary,” Harry had said.
    Inez had not mentioned the jobs in Vietnam to either Harry or Adlai.
    “Dick calls, he’s still on Guam,” Billy Dillon said. He had found a chicken leg in the refrigerator and was eating it. “He says he ‘thinks’ he can get a flight up to Honolulu tonight. I say what’s to ‘think’ about, he says Air Micronesia’s on strike and Pan Am and TW are booked but he’s ‘working on’ a reservation. He’s ‘working on’ a fucking reservation. A major operator, your brother-in-law. I said Dick, get your ass over to Anderson, the last I heard the Strategic Air Command still had a route to Honolulu. ‘What do I say,’ Dick says. ‘Tell them your father-in-law offed a congressman.’ ‘Wait a minute, fella,’ Dick says. ‘Not so speedy.’ He says, get this, direct quote, ‘there’s considerable feeling we can contain this to an accident.’ ”
    Inez said nothing.
    “It’s Snow White and the Seven Loons down there. ‘Contain this to an accident.’ ‘Considerable feeling.’ Where’s this ‘considerable feeling’ he’s talking about? On Guam? I try to tell him, ‘Dick, no go,’ and Dick says ‘why.’ ‘Why,’ he says. A member of the Congress has been killed, Dick’s own wife has been shot, his father-in-law’s been fingered, his father-in-law who is also lest we forget the father-in-law of somebody who ran for president, and Dick’s talking ‘containment.’ ‘Dick,’ I said, ‘take it on faith, this one’s a hang-out.’ ”
    Inez said nothing. She had located a telephone number chalked on the blackboard above the telephone and begun to dial it.
    “We’re on the midnight Pan Am out of Kennedy. There’s an hour on the ground at LAX which puts us down around dawn in Honolulu. I told Dick we wouldn’t—”
    Billy Dillon broke off. He was watching Inez dial.
    “Inez,” he said finally. “I can’t help noticing you’re dialing Seattle. I sincerely hope you’re not calling Jessie. Just yet.”
    “Of course I am. I want to tell her.”
    “You don’t think we’ve got enough loose balls on the table already? You don’t think Jessie could wait until we line up at least one shot?”
    “She’ll read about it.”
    “Not unless it makes Tiger Beat. ”
    “Don’t say that. Hello? ” Inez’s voice was suddenly bright. “This is Inez Victor. Jessica Victor’s mother. Jessie’s mom, yes. I’m calling from New York. Amagansett, actually—”
    “Oh good,” Billy Dillon said. “Doing fine. Amagansett to King Crab.”
    “Jessie? Darling? Can you hear me? No, it’s a little gray. Raining, actually. Listen. I—”
    Inez suddenly thrust the receiver toward Billy Dillon.
    “Never open with the weather,” Billy Dillon said as he took the receiver. “Jessie? Jessie honey? Uncle William here. Your mother and I are flying down to Honolulu tonight, we wanted to put you in the picture, you got a minute? Well just tell the crab cups to stand easy, Jess, OK?”
    “Oh shit,” Billy Dillon said on the telephone in the Pan American lounge at the Los Angeles airport, when Dick Ziegler told him that Paul Christian had called the police from the Honolulu