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The Sirens of Salem
Tom Forman was feeling exceptionally full of himself as he sat across the table from the owner of Jeffers Pharmacy, the largest of the three drugstores in the town of Salem. Although it certainly wasn't the largest contract he had ever negotiated, Tom was still surprised and very pleased that he was able to convince the conservative pharmacist to stock so much of Tom's new line of power foods and beverages. The success definitely made his two day swing through Blaine County worthwhile.

It was three o'clock on Friday afternoon. However, Tom wasn't particularly anxious to make the two hour drive back to the stark one bedroom apartment he had been calling home ever since his wife divorced him a year ago. He gulped the last of his second martini and looked across the table at his companion, Frank Jeffers, a man at least twenty years older than Tom. "So, Frank, what do you folks do for fun around here on a Friday night?"

Frank gave Tom a fatherly smile. "Go home and spend time with our families," he replied quickly. "Of course, the Pizza Hut over on Salem Road is popular with the younger crowd."

Just then, the waitress approached the table. Tom, who fancied himself a lothario, noticed that she was reasonably attractive for a woman who was at least thirty. He reasoned that under any circumstances she was probably the best this town had to offer. And she wasn't wearing a ring on the third finger of her left hand. "Can I get you anything more here?" she asked cheerfully, her blue eyes moving back and forth between the two men.

Frank shook his head. "Nothing more for me, Franny," he said. "I've got to get back to the store."

Tom flashed his best smile toward Franny. "I certainly wouldn't mind buying you a drink, honey, as soon as you're all done here."

Franny's pleasant smile turned to ice and she glared at the salesman. "No, thank you," she said in a very controlled voice. Then she dropped the check on the table, turned around, and walked away stiffly.

Tom huffed and looked over at Frank. "What's with her?" he questioned rhetorically. "I was just trying to be friendly."

Frank slid out of the booth and stood up. "She's not looking for that kind of friend," he answered. He turned toward the door. "Tom... I hope your power bars sell better than you do. Thanks for lunch." He walked away without waiting for a reply.

Tom flushed slightly, took a deep breath, and gathered himself together. He had been rebuffed before many times. He was determined not to let it bother him, especially the rejection of some small town yokel who was probably way past her prime. He picked up the check and studied it for a few seconds. Then he took out his wallet and set down the exact amount plus fifty cents.