you see that, the one on the left?" he said to his scruffy companions. "Check it out. A perfect ten, you gotta vote ten. This one I'm gonna personally meet."
With that, he stood up and walked across the floor to the girls, who were settling at their table. Ignoring the others, straightening his shoulders, he looked into Marcia's eyes and assumed the winsome grin he had practiced so often in front of a mirror.
"Excuse me, miss. My name's Ainesley Cody and I live close to here and I come in a lot and I've just got to say, and the other fellows over there agree with me, that you are the prettiest girl that ever walked into this place. You are just terrific!"
Marcia glanced nervously left and right, then back to Ainesley with a surprised You mean me? expression. The other girls giggled. Several, all larger than Marcia, were thinking they were just as pretty.
Ainesley, the talented fast-talker, abruptly shifted gears. A sadness came into his face, and he continued in a calmer voice, shaking his head slowly, in mock remorse.
"Well, I guess I just made a fool of myself. Believe me, I've never just walked up to someone like this before. I hope you'll forgive me, and I apologize to you, ma'am, and to you all."
Marcia stayed stock-still. The girl to her right elbowed her in the side, laughing, then turned to Ainesley and said, "Do you mean me?"
Without answering, he walked back across the floor to rejoin his buddies and stood with them, making gestures and facial expressions meant to look both serious and concerned. He cautioned the others not to laugh or raise their voices. He knew Marcia and her companions would be looking his way in eager conversation of their own. He kept them in view furtively, with sidewise glances.
Later, as the girls were heading for the door, none carrying the gold medal, Ainesley eased up to Marcia, making a pleading gesture with his hands up, palms forward, and fingers spread.
"Excuse me," he said, then hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say, but in an un-Ainesley lapse was beginning to feel confused. The would-be ladies' man and casual seducer felt a pang of sincerity.
"Could I say something?"
Marcia halted politely. Two of her friends stayed with her as he finally put the words together.
"Listen, I'm sorry if I seemed rude when I came up to you. But you do look like such a terrific person. I'd appreciate if I could just talk to you sometime, maybe get a cup of coffee, like they say in the movies. That's all." He turned his head down a bit to imply modesty, then added, "May I at least give you my name and number? And maybe could you give me yours? Just to give me a chance to talk a couple of minutes on the phone someday, that's all. And then I'm gone. I promise."
Ainesley nervously handed her a pencil and two scraps of paper torn from the table mat. One had his name and telephone number written on it, and one was for her to write hers. Marcia was flustered. This was not in her finishing-school playbook. Trying not to be rude, she took the slips of paper and said, "Thank you. Excuse me, I have to go." And walked quickly to the waiting van.
She thought, Ms. Rhodes at Hartfield would have given me an A for that. Or maybe not. Did I just make a mistake?
Ainesley caught up with one of the girls who had stayed with her, and commanded, "Quick, what's her name? Please, I'm a good guy. I just gotta know."
"Marcia Semmes."
With that innocent betrayal, Marcia Semmes's fate was sealed.
A few days later, with a telephone directory of Mobile and Pensacola, in which few Semmeses were listed, Ainesley quickly tracked Marcia down.
"Is Marcia there?" he asked on the telephone.
"No, she's at the college today," Elizabeth Semmes responded.
"Spring Hill College, I guess."
"Yes. You can reach her there. Who shall I say called?"
"A friend. I'll call her there. Thanks a lot."
Knowing he wouldn't be given her number at the school, Ainesley simply waited until the first holiday weekend and called her at home again. This time she was the one who answered. "Yes?"
"Hi, is this Marcia Semmes?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"I'm Ainesley Cody. We met at the FloraBama a month ago. I sort of hoped you might remember. I'm a senior at the University of West Florida, over in Pensacola," he lied. "I hope you'll forgive me, but