The Deer Park by Norman Mailer

deserves another. I’ll get drunk with your girl.”
    “You’re a jewel, Charley,” Munshin said huskily.
    “What if you-know-what happens?” Eitel drawled.
    “Are you a sadist?” Munshin said. “I don’t even think of things like that.”
    “Then what do you think of?”
    “You’ll like Elena and she’ll like you. It’ll make her feel good to know that a fellow with your reputation and your presence admires her.”
    “Oh, God,” Eitel said.
    The phone was ringing.
    Munshin tried to say something more as if he were afraid Eitel might change his mind, but the noise of the telephonewas too distracting. Obeying the irregular rhythm of the switchboard operator, it would stop, it would be silent, and then it would ring again.
    “Answer it,” Eitel said irritably.
    Munshin pinched the receiver against his jowl. He was preparing to make another drink, but the sounds he heard through the earpiece stopped everything. We listened to a woman who was crying and laughing, and her fright quivered through the room. There was so much terror in the voice and so much pain that I stared at the floor in shock. One cry sounded, so loud in its loneliness I couldn’t bear it.
    “Where are you, Elena?” Munshin said sharply into the mouthpiece.
    Some climax passed. I could hear the sound of quiet sobbing. “I’ll be right over,” Munshin said. “Now, you stay there. You stay there, do you understand, Elena?” He had no sooner hung up the phone than he was drawing on a pair of trousers, fastening the buttons to a shirt.
    Eitel was pale. “Collie,” he said with an effort, “do you want me to come along?”
    “She’s in her hotel room,” Munshin said from the door. “I’ll call you later.”
    Eitel nodded and sat back. We were silent once Munshin was gone. After a few minutes, Eitel got up and mixed a drink. “What a horrible thing,” he muttered.
    “How does a man,” I asked, “stay with a woman who is so … It’s messy.”
    Eitel looked up. “A little compassion, Sergius,” he said. “Do you think we choose our mates?” And, moodily, he sipped on his drink. “I wonder if I’ll ever know the answer to that one?” he said almost to himself.
    Time passed, and we kept on drinking Carlyle Munshin’s liquor. Slowly, the afternoon went by. It seemed pointless to remain there, just as pointless to move on. Outside, there would only be the desert sun. “I’m depressed,” Eitel said witha broad grin after half a dozen drinks. I had the feeling his face was numb; slowly, with pleasure, he was patting the bald spot on his head. “Wonder how Collie is making out?” Eitel said after another pause.
    As if to answer, there was a knock on the door. I went to open it, and an elderly man shouldered me aside and walked into the living room. “Where’s Carlyle?” he asked of nobody in particular, and left me to follow behind him.
    Eitel stood up. “Well, Mr. Teppis,” he said.
    Teppis gave him a sour look. He was a tall heavy man with silver hair and a red complexion, but even with his white summer suit and hand-painted tie he was far from attractive. Underneath the sun tan, his features were poor; his eyes were small and pouched, his nose was flat, and his chin ran into the bulge of his neck. He had a close resemblance to a bullfrog. When he spoke, it was in a thin hoarse voice. “All right,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
    “Do you know,” Eitel said, “that’s a good question to ask.”
    “Collie’s up to something,” Teppis announced. “I don’t know why he saw you. I wouldn’t even want to breathe the air a subversive breathes. Do you know what you cost me on
Clouds Ahoy
?”
    “You forget the money I made for you … Herman.”
    “Hah,” said Teppis, “now he calls me by my first name. They leave me and they go up in the world. Eitel, I warned Lulu against you. Marry a fine young American actress, a girl who’s too good for you, and you just drag her name through the muck and