Funland by Richard Laymon Read Free Book Online Page B

kind of language?”
    Now she looked really pleased. “Oh? And Joan doesn’t?”
    “That’s different.”
    “In what way?”
    “I thought you wanted to argue about bums.”
    “We’ll get back to them. Tell me, why is Joan permitted to use that kind of language, and I’m not? This ought to be good. Is it because she’s ‘one of the guys’? She obviously is not one of the guys. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
    “You’re certainly feeling your oats tonight. Or your bamboo shoots.”
    “Joan was talking like a sailor at the barbecue last week. You never once said boo about that.”
    “I don’t criticize my guests.”
    “But it’s all right for her to talk that way.”
    “Doesn’t bother me.”
    “But I’m not allowed to say ‘pissed off’?”
    “Coming from you, it sounds incredibly phony and childish. You sound like a second-grader trying to shock her parents.”
    Her face went red. Her mouth dropped open.
    “You bastard,” she muttered.
    Dave knew that he’d gone too far. She had been spoiling for a fight—for a chance to pit her superior social conscience against the cynical cop—but she hadn’t expected it to get up close and personal. She hadn’t counted on being humiliated.
    “I’m sorry,” Dave said. He put his hand on her arm.
    She jerked it away from him.
    “You asked,” he pointed out.
    “Go to hell. Oh, pardon me. Phony, childish me.” She pushed herself off the couch and walked toward the front door.
    “Gloria.”
    She opened the door.
    “Come on, let’s forget about it and go to the Wharf Rat.”
    She looked back at him.
    Her eyes were red.
    Good Christ.
    “Hey,” he said, “I didn’t mean anything.”
    “No. Of course not. Enjoy your dinner.” She left and shut the door hard.
    Joan slid the zipper up the front of her white denim dress and checked herself in the bedroom mirror. A lot of leg showed. This was her first new dress since minis had come back into fashion. She supposed it would take some getting used to.
    “Neat outfit,” Debbie said from the doorway.
    Joan looked at her sister. “Do you think it’s too short?”
    “Looks great,” Debbie said, wandering into the room. “Can I borrow it sometime?”
    “Sure, I guess so.” The girl lacked Joan’s height and figure, but the dress would probably fit her. Hard to believe that she had grown so much recently. And a little sad.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I don’t want any of your boyfriends drooling on it.”
    “Get real.”
    “Your boyfriends don’t drool?”
    “You ought to know. You see as much of them as I do.”
    “Somebody has to watch out for you.”
    “Somebody ought to watch out for you.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Are you going out with him again?” Debbie’s upper lip lifted slightly as she spoke.
    “He’ll be here any minute.”
    “It’s your life.”
    “That’s right, it is. There’s nothing wrong with Harold.”
    “No. Huh-uh. He’s perfect. Why don’t you marry him?”
    “He hasn’t asked,” Joan said.
    Debbie’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t, would you? I mean, if he asked, you’d tell him to screw off, right?”
    “I think I’d be more diplomatic about it.”
    “But you wouldn’t marry him?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “Well, at least you’re not totally bonkers.”
    “Thanks.”
    “’Cause he’s sure no prize. If you ask me, I don’t know why you go out with him at all.”
    “Did you hear me ask?”
    “What do you see in him, anyway?”
    “Harold’s a nice guy.”
    “You could do a lot better.”
    “Yeah? Who appointed you Mother?”
    The smug smile fell off Debbie’s face.
    “I’m sorry,” Joan said.
    The girl shrugged, but her face had gone pale and for just a moment her eyes looked frantic. She quickly turned her head away. “Where’s Mr. Wonderful taking you?”
    “A movie. You know, that Summer Film Festival at the university.”
    “What a thrill.”
    “We might go someplace afterward. I’ll be home by midnight, or I’ll