Because Toby could not take out his aggressions on his wife, he turned his fury on his audiences. Anyone who rattled a dish, or rose to go to the washroom or dared talk while Toby was on stage was the instant object of a savage tirade. Toby did it with such wide-eyed, naive charm that the audiences adored it, and when Toby ripped apart some hapless victim, people laughed until they cried. The combination of his innocent, guileless face and his wicked, funny tongue made him irresistible. He could say the most outrageous things and get away with them. It became a mark of distinction to be singled out for a tongue lashing by Toby Temple. It never even occurred to his victims that Toby meant every word he said. Where before Toby had been just another promising young comedian, now he became the talk of the entertainment circuit.
When Clifton Lawrence returned from Europe, he was amazed to learn that Toby had married a showgirl. It had seemed out of character, but when he asked Toby about it, Toby looked him in the eye and said, “What’s there to tell, Cliff? I met Millie, fell in love with her and that was that.”
Somehow, it had not rung true. And there was something else that puzzled the agent. One day in his office, Clifton told Toby, “You’re really getting hot. I’ve booked you into the Thunderbird for a four-week gig. Two thousand a week.”
“What about that tour?”
“Forget it. Las Vegas pays ten times as much, and everybody will see your act.”
“Cancel Vegas. Get me the tour.”
Clifton looked at him in surprise. “But Las Vegas is—”
“Get me the tour.” There was a note in Toby’s voice that Clifton Lawrence had never heard before. It was not arrogance or temperament; it was something beyond that, a deep, controlled rage.
What made it frightening was that it emanated from a face that had grown more genial and boyish than ever.
From that time on, Toby was on the road constantly. It was his only escape from his prison. He played night clubs and theaters and auditoriums, and when those bookings ran out, he badgered Clifton Lawrence to book him into colleges. Anywhere, to get away from Millie.
The opportunities to go to bed with eager, attractive women were limitless. It was the same in every town. They waited in Toby’s dressing room before and after the show and waylaid him in his hotel lobby.
Toby went to bed with none of them. He thought of the man’s penis being hacked off and set on fire and Al Caruso saying to Toby, You’re really hung…. I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re my friend. As long as you’re good to Millie…
And Toby turned all the women away.
“I’m in love with my wife,” he would say shyly. And they believed him and admired him for it, and the word spread, as Toby meant it to spread: Toby Temple did not fool around; he was a real family man.
But the lovely, nubile young girls kept coming after him, and the more Toby refused, the more they wanted him. And Toby was so hungry for a woman that he was in constant physical pain. His groin ached so much that sometimes it was difficult for him to work. He started to masturbate again. Each time he did, he thought of all the beautiful girls waiting to go to bed with him, and he cursed and raged against fate.
Because Toby could not have it, sex was on his mind all the time. Whenever he returned home after a tour, Millie was waiting for him, eager and loving and ready. And the moment Toby saw her, all his sexual desire drained away. She was the enemy, and Toby despised her for what she was doing to him. He forced himself to go to bed with her, but it was Al Caruso he was satisfying. Whenever Toby took Millie, it was with a savage brutality that forced gasps of pain from her. He pretended that he thought they were sounds of pleasure, and he pounded into her harder and harder, until finally he came in an explosion of fury that poured his venomous semen into her. He was not making love.