He just grinned his shit-eating, horn-dog grin as he pulled out his little black book and proceeded to jot down his latest score. “ They’re all fair game”.
We all grinned back. We knew where our wives and girlfriends were, right? Have another beer, Ed. At least you’re here, where I can see you.
Well, the world turns; I married, had twin boys, changed careers and moved up to the San Francisco bay area. As is wont when one passes the 50 year life marker, one looks back and wonders "whatever happened to so-and-so" and "oh-hell-he-died-when?" Phone calls are made: The theatre had closed with the passing of the founding artistic director, all my fellow actors had moved on to work in the comedy and drama of real life despite being so close to Hollywood, hairlines receded, paunches and wrinkles magically appeared, kids were born and grew up, and Ed, still in Ventura, had gotten married and divorced.
And he had a daughter. A teenage daughter.
“That’s great Ed. Kids are the best toys I ever had.”
“Yeah”. The word was long and drawn out. “It’s great.”
“Teenage girl though, phew. I’ve got my two guys starting to look at girls, tough enough dealing with boys. Girls have got to be… well, you know…”
Beat. “Yeah, I’ve got to watch her. Got all kinds of guys sniffing around.”
