But he was aware that it was already too late.
He had been trapped into this situation because of his affection for Toby: he had really loved him. He had watched Toby destroy others—women who had fallen in love with him, comics who had tried to compete with him, critics who had panned him. But those were others. Clifton had never believed that Toby would turn on him. He and Toby were too close, Clifton had done too much for him.
He dreaded to think about what the future held.
Ordinarily, Toby would not have given Jill Castle more than a second glance. But Toby was not used to being denied anything he wanted. Jill’s refusal only acted as a goad. He invited her to dinner again. When she declined, Toby shrugged it off as some kind of stupid game she was playing and decided to forget about her. The irony was that if it had been a game, Jill would never have been able to deceive Toby, because Toby understood women too well. No, he sensed that Jill really did not want to go out with him, and the thought galled him. He was unable to get her out of his mind.
Casually, Toby mentioned to Eddie Berrigan that it might be a good idea to use Jill Castle on the show again. Eddie telephoned her. She told him she was busy doing a bit role in a Western. When Eddie reported back to Toby, the comedian was furious.
“Tell her to cancel whatever she’s doing,” he snapped. “We’ll pay her more. For Christ’s sake, this is the number one show on the air. What’s the matter with that dizzy broad?”
Eddie called Jill again and told her how Toby felt. “He really wants you back on the show, Jill. Can you make it?”
“I’m sorry,” Jill said. “I’m doing a part at Universal. I can’t get out of it.”
Nor would she try. An actress did not get ahead in Hollywood by walking out on a studio. Toby Temple meant nothing to Jill except a day’s work. The following evening, the Great Man himself telephoned her. His voice on the telephone was warm and charming.
“Jill? This is your little old co-star, Toby.”
“Hello, Mr. Temple.”
“Hey, come on! What’s with the ‘mister’ bit?” There was no response. “Do you like baseball?” Toby asked. “I’ve got box seats for—”
“No, I don’t.”
“Neither do I.” He laughed. “I was testing you. Listen, how about having dinner with me Saturday night? I stole my chef from Maxim’s in Paris. He—”
“I’m sorry. I have a date, Mr. Temple.” There was not even a flicker of interest in her voice.
Toby felt himself gripping the receiver more tightly. “When are you free?”
“I’m a hard-working girl. I don’t go out much. But thank you for asking me.”
And the line went dead. The bitch had hung up on him—a fucking bit player had hung up on Toby Temple! There was not a woman Toby had met who would not give a year of her life to spend one night with him—and this stupid cunt had turned him down! He was in a violent rage, and he took it out on everyone around him. Nothing was right. The script stank, the director was an idiot, the music was terrible and the actors were lousy. He summoned Eddie Berrigan, the casting director, to his dressing room.
“What do you know about Jill Castle?” Toby demanded.
“Nothing,” Eddie said instantly. He was not a fool. Like everyone else on the show, he knew exactly what was going on. Whichever way it turned out, he had no intention of getting caught in the middle.
“Does she sleep around?”
“No, sir,” Eddie said firmly. “If she did, I’d know about it.”
“I want you to check her out,” Toby ordered. “Find out if she’s got a boyfriend, where she goes, what she does—you know what I want.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie said earnestly.
At three o’clock the next morning, Eddie was awakened by the telephone at his bedside.
“What did you find out?” a voice asked.
Eddie sat up in bed, trying to blink himself awake. “Who the hell—” He suddenly realized who was at the other end of the telephone. “I checked,” Eddie said hastily. “She’s got a clean bill of health.”