“You come on too strong,” said Sop Choppy. “What you need to do is relax, forget about marriage for the moment and just try to strike up a friendly conversation like a normal person.”
“They’ll see that coming,” said Serge. He moved his right arm in a wide circular motion. “You have to sneak up from the back side.”
“I’m going to do you a favor,” said Sop Choppy. “I want you to walk up to a woman right now and start talking. This very minute.”
“Where?”
“Right here.”
“In a bar? Are you crazy?” said Serge. “The force fields are up. I always have the worst reactions.”
“Worse than pepper spray?”
“He’s got a point,” said Bud.
“I don’t see any available women, anyway,” said Serge.
“What about her?” said Sop Choppy.
“Which one?”
“The petite number in back with the sunglasses. She’s sitting all alone. I bet she’d just love for you to come up and talk.”
“I don’t know….”
“Consider it batting practice,” said Sop Choppy. “Go on now, get over there.”
The others: “Do it, Serge.” “Come on, Serge.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes nothing….”
The gang watched as Serge walked over to the table and started talking. After a few seconds, the woman jumped up and ran out of the bar crying.
Serge came back to his stool.
“Jesus,” said Bud. “What on earth did you say to her?”
“Nothing. Just, ‘Why the long face? You look like someone died.’”
The screen door opened. A large group of people streamed into the pub and stood silently behind the stools. Bud tapped Serge on the shoulder and pointed.
Serge turned around. “Oh, no. Not you guys again!”
They didn’t say anything.
“Who are they?” asked Rebel.
“These people from the cult meeting. It’s a long story.”
Some in the group held tape recorders toward Serge.
“Go on now!” said Serge. “Shoo!”
They just stood there. A few took snapshots.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
A man in the front piped up. “Because you speak the truth.”
“I lie all the time. Ask anybody.”
The man turned to the rest of the group. “See? Everyone lies. But he’s the only one who tells the truth and admits it.”
Serge made a whining sound. “Why me? Don’t you guys have some guru or messianic folk singer to follow?”
“Yes,” said the one in front. “But we found out they had other agendas. Wanted to screw all the women and have the rest of us put our houses in the churches’ names. Or they were selling herbal supplements. But you’re different. You don’t have any agenda at all.”
“Oh, I’ve got an agenda all right. I want to be left the hell alone!”
The man turned again to the others. “Doesn’t even want to be followed. That means he’s The One.”
Serge raised his arms toward the ceiling in exasperation. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“He’s calling on The Father.”
“No! Stop it! It’s a figure of speech!” said Serge. “What can I do to get you to go away?”
“Give us a message.”
“Message? Okay, I have a message. Here it is: Do as I do. And you know what I do? I follow nobody. You got it? I follow nobody at all. That’s exactly what all of you should do: Follow nobody!”
The group exchanged glances. “Follow nobody?” Then nods. “Follow nobody!”
They wandered out the screen door, chanting:
“Hey, I got an idea,” said Rebel. “I know the perfect woman for you. Real outdoorsy type. Saw her fishing on the bridge when I came in here. Probably still there.”
“What are we waiting for?” said Sop Choppy.
“I don’t think so,” said Serge. “This hasn’t been a very lucky day for me.”
“Come on, Serge.”
The gang coaxed the reluctant suitor off his stool and out the door. They started up the road to the bridge. Serge’s mood brightened. “I love the fishing scene!”
“There you go,” said Rebel. “You already have something in common with her.”
They passed a man with barbed wire tattooed around his upper arms, working a spinning rod, Marlboro hanging from his mouth. Then a pair of African Americans cutting bait and listening to a cheap radio.
“There she is,” said Rebel.
“Where?”
“At the very end.” He pointed at a tall, freckled redhead in shorts and a black sports bra, gathering up the skirt of a nylon cast net. “Her name’s Daryle.”
“I’ve never seen a babe cast-net before,” said Coleman.
The woman expertly folded lengths of mesh, gripping the braided retrieval cord in her teeth.
Serge’s mouth hung open.
The woman started spinning on the bridge. She took a couple quick steps toward the railing and twirled the net high in the air, lead weights evenly fanning out before slapping down in the water.
“What do you think?” asked Rebel.
“I’m in love.”
The woman reeled the net back over the rail, depositing a respectable quantity of flopping fish on the bridge.
“You’re up,” said Bud.
“I’m too nervous….”
The guys pushed Serge in the back. “Go talk to her.”
Serge walked up and stood a few feet away. The woman was gathering the net again and didn’t see him at first. He coughed. She looked up.
Serge was bouncing on the balls of his feet with a big smile. He tried to speak but nothing came out.
The woman wound the retrieval line. “Can I help you with something?”
