The Front Porch Prophet

“Get ready,” A.J. informed him. “You’ll be catching me around her in about five minutes.” A vein throbbed on Pootie’s forehead, and A.J. hoped he hadn’t been eating any Krystals lately. There was movement in the Mustang, and the three running buddies eased out and arranged themselves. A.J. reached in the open window of the Hog Farm and retrieved the Louisville Slugger. He smacked it against the side of his venerable Chevrolet, adding a dent to the collection while indicating his resolve to the worthies standing opposite. One of them flinched. Pootie’s eyes narrowed to a squint.

“I’ve heard about you and that bat,” he said. “Chicken shit.”

“Oh, great,” A.J. said, his eyes not leaving Pootie. “You bring three guys to do your talking for you, and I’m a chicken shit.”

They stood at impasse, and it may have gone bad but for the intervention of the Gods of Romance, one of whom chose that moment to stretch, spit out his cosmic toothpick, and address the situation in the parking lot below. He was a union god, apparently, and had finished his smoke break before springing to action, but late is better than not at all.

So up drove Maggie. Pootie and company stood in the harsh glare of her Torino’s headlights, gesturing wildly. Opposite them stood A.J., with the tip of his bat resting on Pootie’s chest. She stopped the car about a foot from the boys and got out.

“What are we doing?” she asked quietly. By silent agreement, Pootie’s compadres shuffled over to the Mustang, looking like a low-budget edition of the Keystone Cops. Pootie stood his ground but would not look at Maggie. A.J. looked at her, but his bat remained planted on Pootie’s sternum. Maggie removed her hands from her hips and folded her arms. This pose had the unintended effect of accentuating her bust line, and A.J. got weak in the knees. He swallowed and spoke.

“We’re just talking,” he said. Although he had not started this, he knew he was in trouble. He was raised to take his medicine, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too bitter.

“Just talking,” Pootie agreed. He, too, knew he was in a predicament, and he was not the most astute rich boy to ever climb out of a Mustang.

“About?” she directed her query at A.J., who didn’t know if it was a good sign he was now spokesman for the group.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” he began, throwing caution to the wind. “Pootie here seems to think I’m trying to steal his woman-that would be you-and he wanted to discourage me. I was about to explain to him that you are way too fine for his sorry likes, and that I intend to do whatever it takes to make you mine.” Pootie did not appreciate the “sorry likes” part and started for A.J., but A.J. shoved him back with the Slugger.

A.J. had a tendency to second-guess himself, but not this time. He had not planned to speak, but he would not recant a single word if he had a year to rewrite the discourse. The declarations drifted in the air like cotton fiber. Finally, Maggie spoke.

“I am nobody’s girl,” Maggie said. “Roger,” she continued, “I think it would be better if we didn’t go out again.” A.J. brightened. It seemed to be rolling his way. “A.J.,” she continued, “when I need someone to make me his, I’ll let you know. Until then, take your bat and go play baseball. And quit bothering me every night while I’m trying to go to work.” It had been rolling his way, all right, and it had flattened him when it arrived. Having spoken her piece, Maggie turned and walked toward the mill. A.J. watched as she crossed the parking lot, his heart fractured. He looked over at Pootie, who was staring at him with hatred.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Pootie promised as he backed away from the bat.

“We’ll get some Krystals and drink some beers,” came A.J.’s reply. He was saddened by his setback, and climbed into the Hog Farm with the firm intention of having a smoke and a think. Pootie left several dollars’ worth of tread on the asphalt when he roared away.

A.J. came to the conclusion he was confused on the subject of women. He did not know where he was going wrong with Maggie. He had twice demonstrated his willingness to fight for her honor, and she wasn’t impressed. He had shown his undying devotion to her by making a nuisance of himself, and she didn’t seem enchanted by the gesture. He had declared his intentions and had been told to go away. He just didn’t get it.