The Limey Page #3

Wilson taps out a cigarette from a pack of "Silk Cut" he's

produced from his pocket.

WILSON:

What more is there.

ED:

I'm just sayin' -- it was a steep

hillside. There was no moon that

night...

Wilson's quiet stillness is getting to him.

ED:

Coulda happened to anyone, man. I never

knew her to be reckless. I mean, sure,

she would smoke a little grass, or

something, have a few drinks. But that's

it, nothing more than that.

WILSON:

No, not my girl. Self-control, she had.

Point of pride.

(smokes)

And people don't change, do they.

ED:

I dunno... Maybe they do.

Wilson notes the tattoos on Ed's forearms.

WILSON:

Going straight, are ya.

Ed looks at him. Sits down again. Keeping his forearms under

the table.

ED:

(looks away)

Boomerang.

WILSON:

Y'what?

ED:

I knew when I was droppin' that letter

into the mail slot it was gonna come back

and smack me in the face.

(looks at Wilson again)

I did my time, okay? My sister, her ol'

man's up in Chino right now doin' eight

years.

WILSON:

(re the family inside)

This ain't your lot?

ED:

You kiddin', man? I don't need a wife

and screamin' kids. I still got my

youth.

And yet -- he lives here. Wilson declines to pursue the

matter.

ED:

I go to work, try to keep my life

together, put all that sh*t behind me,

man. What d'you want from me.

WILSON:

(calmly smoking)

I only asked.

Ed sighs. Reaches for one of Wilson's cigarettes.

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