Punchline Read Online Free Page B

grease, a fact Darryl tried to impress upon his readers, not to mention his macho entertainment editor, Greg Ormand.
    Greg didn’t believe it, and the cook at this establishment obviously didn’t, either. But Darryl’s stomach was uttering a series of hopeful rumbles, so he ordered the house specialty of fried catfish and hush puppies and went to join Belle.
    As he slipped into the booth, she folded her sunglasses and hat onto the table. “Here’s the story. We left the party together. Then we went our separate ways.”
    “What if someone saw you leaving my house?” He ran his fingers through his precision-cut black hair. “Those tabloids pay big bucks to informers. If they find out we lied, it will be obvious why.”
    “I suppose so.” Belle drummed bright-red nails on the tabletop. “Okay, so we went to your place and argued, and then I left.”
    “The next morning?”
    She sighed. “Maybe nobody else will read the item. Maybe we won’t have to explain this.’’
    “Belle,” said Darryl. “This is Los Angeles. We have an entire industry, of which we are a part, that feeds on meaningless trivia like this.”
    “What rotten luck!” She glared as if he were singlehandedly responsible for their dilemma. “The first man I’ve…indulged myself with since my engagement broke off, and it had to be you!”
    “Doesn’t that tell you something?” He knew he was tempting fate, but he enjoyed watching her bosom heave with fury. Especially when it was only restrained by tiny bits of string that threatened to unravel at any moment.
    “Doesn’t that tell me what?” she retorted.
    “You could have gone home with anyone,” he said. “Subliminally, you must find me attractive.” “How do you know it wasn’t you who selected me?” she returned, then fell silent as a waiter shuffled over and dumped their orders on the table.
    “Would you quit staring at my chest?” Belle snapped at Darryl after the man departed. “You’re making me mad on purpose.”
    “But you bristle so picturesquely.”
    “If you’re not careful, I’m going to take my food and eat it somewhere else,” she snarled.
    “You can’t do that.”
    “Why not?”
    He stopped nibbling at his fried catfish, which tasted better than it ought to. “Because you have to give me a ride home. I came with my art director.”
    She paused with a forkful of clams halfway to her mouth. “But I came with a couple of women from the office. I was going to ask you for a ride.”
    She appeared more annoyed by this circumstance than Darryl. Indeed, his continuing exposure to Belle in her state of semiundress was making a return to the office less and less appealing.
    “Let’s share a cab,” he said. “We’ll go to my place and you can help me string my kite.”
    “Excuse me?”
    He reached across the table, grateful for the dark seclusion of their booth, and fingered a bit of yarn poking from the side of her bikini bra. “One tug and we’ll have plenty of string. But I don’t suppose we’ll feel like flying a kite.”
    “It’s an old bathing suit. I happened to have it in my desk,” she snapped. “If you’re so in love with it, I’ll have it delivered to your office.”
    “It won’t be the same without the contents,” Darryl protested.
    Belle dropped her fork with a clang. “For your information, these aren’t contents, this is my own personal body!”
    “And a very nice half-naked one, too.”
    “Everybody dresses this way at the beach!”
    “Besides, I know what you look like without it.” He kept his voice low enough so no one else could hear. “How about a rematch?”
    She choked as if too many words were fighting to escape at once.
    Someone opened the restaurant door, bathing them in a burst of sunlight. Darryl leaned back, delighted by the scene before him: Belle sputtering in fury, while the bright light turned her hair and eyes into red, amber and gold fireworks.
    “Don’t you see, it’s perfect,” he teased. “We