Free Best to Laugh: A Novel by Lorna Landvik Page A

start your own. Carrie, the letter is J and your category is verb. ”
    The game continued until the final round, and Yancey told Filo his letter was N and his category noun.
    The light and Filo’s word arrived at the same time. “Nimbus.”
    Beep.
    “Jerry,” said Yancey. “ Adjective. ”
    “Noisy.”
    We were all sitting forward in our seats, taking everything in. In my mind, I shouted my own answers, Nadir! Nullify! Nymph! and imagined my fellow contestants were doing the same thing.
    Filo Nuala, who played football in stadiums filled with raucous, beer-drinking fans, didn’t seem adversely affected by the respectful quiet of this tiny audience; he was focused and sharp, and it didn’t surprise me when he and Jerry won the game.
    “Carrie, I’m afraid we’re going to have to say good-bye to you,” said Yancey. “But let’s let Jimmy Jay tell us what you’ll be taking home.”
    “Yancey,” said Jimmy, standing in front of a display. “Today’s parting gifts include beautiful and unbreakable Melnor dishes—a place setting for six—along with a guarantee that when company comes over, the only thing you will break is bread! Also, Yancey, our lucky contestants will be taking home this beautiful Zirconian pendant and matching earrings by Gerral Jewelers, a case of delicious Rice Doodles, and this very timely clock radio, courtesy of K&H Electronics!”
    B Y LATE AFTERNOON, there were only three contestants left in the stands and I was resigned to not being called that day when Chip came up to us during a commercial break and said, “Candy, you’re up.”
    Those words had the effect of a blast of desert heat: I felt a deep flush and all saliva in my mouth evaporated.
    As I walked toward the set, my legs turned to jelly, their bones to sponges. My heart, which had been running like a steady reliable Ford engine, now revved up like a Ferrari’s. My palms sprouted geysers and I wiped them on the sides of my skirt before I shook my partner Precia’s hand.
    W HEN THE RED CAMERA LIGHT CAME ON, Yancey introduced me to the home audience and then asked, “So what do you do here in Hollywood, Candy?”
    I hadn’t planned to say anything other than I was new in town and looking for work, but unplanned words tumbled out of my mouth.
    “I’m Dooby Carlyle’s stunt double.”
    Filo’s laugh was sharp and quick—Dooby Carlyle was his former 6’5” three-hundred-pound teammate who’d parlayed his fame on the field into a new career as a cowboy/detective in the hit action/thrillers Rodeo Cop and Rodeo Cop II.
    I relaxed in the laughter of the audience and the game began. My team, as the contender, got the first turn.
    “Precia, your letter is G and your category is adjective. ”
    Beep. Her light went on.
    “Gigantic.”
    At my beep/light I said, “Gracious.”
    “Gleeful.”
    Beep.
    “Candy, verb, ” said Yancey.
    My mind made a sharp turn. “Guarantee.”
    Beep.
    Yancey told Precia her new category was noun.
    “Gutter.”
    Back to me. “Give.”
    “Giant.”
    The low buzzer blatted.
    “Precia, I’m sorry, you already used the word ‘Gigantic.’”
    One of the rules of Word Wise was that you couldn’t form a verb or adjective out of a noun already used, or vice versa.
    Precia bumped the top of the console with her fist and whispered, “Sorry,” to me.
    Filo and Dorothy were given our remaining time to finish the G round.
    The football player gave “Gassy” and “Gamine” as adjectives and Dorothy “Galvanize” for a verb, but when her category switched to noun and she said, “Greek,” the buzzer rang.
    “I’m sorry, Dorothy, Word Wise does not accept proper nouns.”
    “Dagblast it,” said Dorothy. “I knew that.”
    The rounds continued, and although Filo and Dorothy made a valiant effort with the letter U (“Umbrage” and “Umlaut” were two of Filo’s nouns), at the end of the play Precia and I had three more points, which meant I’d be back the next day as the returning