Undying Laughter
Kelsey Roberts
For the one person who has kept me sane for almost fifteen years–Bob, I love you with all my heart.
I would gratefully like to acknowledge the assistance of Pat Harding, Kay Manning and Carol Keane of Charleston, South Carolina: my crack research team.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Destiny Talbott—She has nothing to laugh about. She’s being wooed by a stalker.
Wesley Porter—The chivalrous white knight. He is charming, if a bit peculiar.
David Crane—As Destiny’s agent, he controls her career, but at what cost?
Gina Alverez—She was at the center of the limelight before she was forced into Destiny’s shadow.
Walter Sommerfield—The patron who controls the purse strings. He’s being controlled by a ghost.
Carl Talbott—Destiny’s father. He’s annoying, when he’s sober enough to care.
Rose Porter—The manipulative mother. She knows what’s best.
Shelby Hunnicutt—Destiny’s rock. She understands the torment Destiny is suffering at the hands of the stalker.
Contents
Prologue
“He’s out there!”
Destiny Talbott’s violet eyes fixed on her friend’s concerned reflection in the mirror. Gina’s slender form seemed to heave under the weight of her urgent, shallow breathing.
A placating sigh escaped over full, rosy lips. “For God’s sake, Gina, don’t start that!” Destiny was mildly annoyed as she watched Gina anxiously twist her long-fingered hands into a knot of deep brown skin. Spinning, Destiny turned the chair in order to face the taller woman.
“That man gives me the creeps,” Gina persisted. “There’s something evil in the way he just sits there, staring at you. You’re blinded by the lights, but I’ve watched him while you’re up on stage. I tell you, he’s freaky!”
Standing, Destiny tugged off the protective cloth she wore when applying stage makeup and tossed it onto the dressing table. Bottles clinked and swayed but none toppled. “Your imagination is getting the better of you,” she said with more conviction than she actually felt. Ignoring Gina’s grunt of disagreement, Destiny bent forward at the waist, then began to feverishly brush volume into her mane of silky blond hair.
“Five minutes, Ms. Talbott!” a male voice shouted from the other side of the door.
“You got it!” she yelled back.
Gina reached out and placed a tentative hand on Destiny’s forearm. “Think, girl.” The tone of the voice was almost pleading, and at strict odds with the harsh Brooklyn accent. “I’m sure he’s the one who’s been sending you the flowers and...the notes.”
A shiver danced along her spine, but Destiny managed to keep her expression bland. “I think you’re overreacting. And anyway, he doesn’t look like the type.” Of that she was only mildly confident.
When Gina had first noticed the man, Destiny had made a point of checking him out. While she secretly admitted he looked out of place in the rowdy, younger crowd she tended to attract, he didn’t impress her as being threatening. And the notes were nothing if not threatening.
“We’re ready, Ms. Talbott!”
Sucking in one deep breath, Destiny took one final glance in the brightly lighted mirror. Giving Gina’s hand a light squeeze, she moved toward the door.
The muffled sound of the crowd caused a familiar and immediate reaction. Adrenaline rushed through her small frame, and her heart pounded against her ribs.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Miami Comedy Club is proud to present Destiny Talbott!”
The roar as she stepped onto the stage was nearly deafening in its intensity. The wooden floor beneath her feet vibrated in sync with the applause. Clasping the microphone in one professionally manicured hand, Destiny gave a warm smile that produced yet another outburst of hearty appreciation.
“Hi, folks,” she began as she walked back and forth on the planked floor, speaking into the bright void created by the harsh spotlights. “I always start by explaining my name. Only two hippies would dare name their child something as ridiculous as Destiny. My folks were definitely confused back then. My father was a Jehovah’s Witness and my mother was an atheist. So...” She paused. “I spent my childhood knocking on doors for no reason. I’m originally from D.C—” A smattering of applause indicated there were a few residents of the nation’s capital in her audience. “Washington is the home of our judicial system. In fact, we Americans are so hung up on compassionate justice that before we execute someone by lethal injection, we swab their arm with alcohol.” Destiny waited for the rumble of laughter to die down before continuing. “I’m getting my mail forwarded here, and what do you know but I got an invitation telling