Read Best to Laugh: A Novel for Free Online Page A

sentence, overcome as she was by a sudden crying jag.
    Mood swings are by nature odd and unexpected things to witness, but this one seemed truly bizarre. Ed’s expression telegraphed he felt the same way I did; nevertheless, he got out of his suede club chair and the two of us flanked the bereft Amazon, patting her wide, shuddering back and offering inane assurances like “There, there” and “It’s okay.”
    She picked up real quick on the inanity part.
    “It’s not okay!” she said, sniffing in a gurgle of phlegm. “It’s never okay!”
    “What do you mean?” asked Ed gently.
    “That ‘Americanese’ thing—I was just trying to be funny! But I’m just a doofus and nothing—not even a little joke!—ever works out for me!”
    This confession inspired another bout of tears (for such a big womanshe had a delicate, kittenish way of crying), and when she was all done and Ed refilled her wine glass, she explained how she and her trainer had been confident of her taking home the Miss Dynamo Lady trophy and how she had just that evening heard from said trainer that they’d failed to get her entry in on time and she’d been disqualified.
    “And the cash prize is five hundred dollars! The women hardly ever get cash prizes, and we have to fight to get even an ounce of the ton of respect male bodybuilders get, even though we have to work harder because of our testosterone deficit!”
    Maeve’s face, by virtue of her nearly nonexistent eyebrows, looked naked, and when it crumpled, Ed and I braced for more of her kitten cries, but the big cat drew in a deep breath and lifting her broad jaw to the ceiling sniffed deeply.
    “I guess I’ll just have to train extra hard for the Valley Vixen event. The cash prizes aren’t that hot, but rumor has it the winner’ll get free membership at this great gym in Toluca Lake and a year’s supply of protein powder and vitamin supplements.”
    “Speaking of which,” said Ed, “anyone hungry?” He retreated to the kitchen and returned with a tray of nuts, cheese, and crackers, none of which he served in their original packaging, further impressing me as to the man’s hosting abilities.
    Muscly Maeve was curled up on one side of the couch, I sat on the other, and Ed was back in the club chair, and it was in these positions that we did what people will when they don’t know each other; we told our stories. That is, Maeve told hers, and we listened.
    Watching as Ed topped off her glass for the third time, she told us if she had to describe herself as a kid, it would be tall, homely, and lonely.
    “It’s not that my parents didn’t love me; it’s just that there wasn’t a lot of time for me. See, Father is a professor of linguistics—he’s at the University of Munich now and Mother—well, Mother of course is Taryn Powell.”
    I knew I wasn’t drunk—a few too many Ripple wine binges in my misspent youth had tainted my taste for the grape, and I had hardly touched the cabernet Ed poured—but the bodybuilder’s words made me feel as if I were.
    “Wait a second,” said Ed. “Did you just say your mother is Taryn Powell? Taryn Powell, the actress?”
    “No, Taryn Powell the bearded lady. Who do you think?!”
    “Wow,” I said.
    “No kidding,” said Ed.
    “I don’t like to broadcast it,” said Maeve, picking cashews from the bowl of mixed nuts. “People are never straight with you when they know your mother’s a movie star. Well, was. Now she can only find work on TV.”
    My grandmother never missed an episode of Summit Hill, the nighttime soap opera starring Taryn Powell as Serena Summit, the regal, long-suffering matriarch of a wildly rich and fabulously flawed family.
    “I can’t wait to tell my grandma that I live above Taryn Powell’s daughter!”
    Maeve finished chomping nuts and swallowed hard, her red-rimmed eyes threatening to irrigate her face again.
    “See, that’s exactly what I mean! Now all of a sudden I’m someone interesting, when just