Punchline Read Online Free Page A

Belle spun away, blocking his view of the paper.
    “Well?” he demanded. “What does it say?”
    “You can read it when I’m done!” She took a determined step forward.
    Darryl, who towered at least a foot over Belle, reached over her head, plucked the newspaper from her hands and scanned the article.
    “Hey!” Belle grabbed for it. “Buy your own!”
    “There aren’t any more.” He held it out of her reach and skimmed through the details. When she stoppedjumping up and down like a frustrated basketball player, he politely lowered it so she could read, too.
    Darryl’s body hadn’t entirely forgotten her nearness, but his brain was preoccupied with absorbing the details of what had happened at the press party. It seemed that he and Belle weren’t the only ones who had succumbed to the punch, which had been laced with an aphrodisiac.
    Although the victims of the prank had managed to keep it quiet for weeks, eventually a waiter in search of extra income had approached the newspaper. Darryl skimmed on, then suddenly felt the air whoosh out of his chest as if someone had punched him. He handed the paper to Belle and pointed to the final paragraph.
    At the same time, he heard Elva announcing her departure. She’d given Darryl a ride from the office, but he couldn’t leave now. “I’ll catch up with you later!” he called.
    He and Belle needed to talk. Afterward, he would cadge a ride from her, since their offices were only a block apart.
    She read the last sentence aloud, her voice crackling with indignation. “‘Among those seen exiting together were arch-rival editors Belle Martens and Darryl Horak.’ Oh, my gosh!”
    “At least they don’t speculate about what happened next,” he offered.
    “Has anyone seen this? Can we burn it? Can we smash their printing presses and shoot their staff?” she asked.
    “This, from an editor?” Darryl grimaced.
    “This paper is nothing but trash!”
    “Well, nobody believes the garbage they run in tabloids, anyway,” he said.
    She let out a disgusted breath. “Channel 17 believed it. That was no coincidence, Darryl. They were after us today.”
    “And they got us,” he observed grimly.
    “Belle!” one of the women called across the sand. “You coming?”
    “Go on without me!” As her friends departed, she turned back to the tabloid. “This just hit the stands today. We’ve got to coordinate our stories.”
    He nodded.
    “Nothing happened,” she announced.
    “Absolutely nothing.”
    “We’ve hardly even met.”
    “We hate each other.”
    “Don’t exaggerate,” she said.
    “I’m not.”
    Belle took a deep breath. “You know what? I’m starving. Let’s go eat.” Tucking the newspaper under her arm, she set off down the boardwalk so fast that Darryl had to take extralong strides to catch up.
    He couldn’t believe the woman’s nerve. She hadn’t even asked if he was hungry. Or maybe she realized that what he was hungry for couldn’t be purchased in a restaurant.
    She paused at a souvenir stand to buy a Lakers cap and a pair of cheap sunglasses. “So no one will recognize me,” she said, putting them on. “Look how much trouble we’re in already.”
    It wouldn’t, of course, have occurred to her to buy a cover-up for her body, as well, he reflected ruefully.
    A half block farther on, Belle led the way into a seafood shanty and ordered fried clams, garlic bread, cottage fries and milk. She paid so fast, Darryl didn’t have time to reach for his wallet, which was probably a good thing, because he suspected she would have challenged him to a duel for such a chauvinist act as offering to pay.
    “Milk?” Darryl said. “You drink that stuff?”
    “I’ve got a craving.” She retrieved her change and marched toward a booth in the gloom caused by smokedglass windows, leaving him alone at the counter.
    There was nothing on the menu that appealed to him: no broiled seafood, no fresh salads. Being a he-man didn’t mean you had to swim in