Siren Song

Siren Song

Three men in business suits sat at a small round table in the lounge of the Red Rooster Inn.

“I can’t stand another one of these freaking meetings,” said Bill Silverman. He sat a bottle of Bud on his belly. There was a Marine Semper Fi pin on his lapel. “Fer chrissakes kid, loosen your tie.”

The youngest man in the trio, Jessie Adams, blushed, put down his Coke and unbuttoned his top button. “How long you guys been working for Fidelity?” he asked.

Bill sucked on a cigarette. “What’s it been Jimmy? Six years? Kenny’s been around a year or two longer than we have. I was in ‘Nam the same time as Kenny. In ‘71.”

“You were in Vietnam?”

The third member of their party, James Ciccone, a balding man with bushy black eyebrows, pulled his lips away from his vodka and water long enough to force up a nervous laugh. “Don’t get him started.”

Bill chuckled. “You wanta know about ‘Nam ask Kenny sometime. No wonder the guy’s freakin’ fried. Look at him, up there.”

A fourth Fidelity man stood across the room leaning against the bar. Ken Alexander. A tall man, with frizzy hair, a bony nose, and wire frame glasses. A young woman sat slumped on the stool beside him, her body as limp as her hair. She looked ready to slide to the floor like spilled milk. She held a thin straw in her mouth, and tried to focus on Jessie over the rim of the glass.

Jessie took a draw on his Coke. “Man, I just want to go home.”

“Yeah,” said Jim rattling his glass at the waitress. “So you can climb back on top of that girlfriend. She’s really cute. What’s her name, Mary? Nice. How’d you ever end up with a white girl?”

Bill grunted as he shook an empty pack of Marboros, crumpled it like a beer can and
pulled a fresh pack from his suitcoat. “She must have been pissed off when she found out you were going to Harrisburg for two weeks.”

Jessie sank back in the cushions of his chair. “Some things you just have to get used to.”

“My wife loves it when I go away,” said Jim. He wiped a sheen of grease from his forehead and smoothed it back across his bald spot. “It’s a chance for us to get away from each other for a while. You’ll find out about that stuff later.”

“I thought Ken was married?”

“He is, I think.”

Bill laughed and coughed till his freckles disappeared. “Look at that drunken fool.”

Ken pointed a finger at Jessie and motioned to join him and his female companion.

“What does he want?”

“You know he’s up to no good,” chuckled Jim.

When Jessie would not rise Ken left the bar and pulled up a chair between Jessie and Bill. He eyed each of the trio, sizing up their drinks, frowning at Jessie’s cola like it was a Pink Lady.

“You guys meet any girls?”

“Are you kidding?” gagged Bill.

“Do you see that young lovely I was talking to?”

Jessie glanced around Ken’s adam’s apple for another look while Bill and Jim merely shifted their eyes. “She looks really frosted, man.”

Ken laughed, “You’re right about that. And guess what?” He slapped a hand on Jessie’s back, and with the other hand, plunked down a gold key on the table. “She wants to bear your bambinos.”

Bill and Jim could not conceal their delight. They went off like firecrackers.

“You gotta be kidding,” said Jessie. He took another look. “You know, I’m getting hitched in a month.”

“Which is reason to take full advantage,” grinned Ken. “After another month kid, you ain’t going to be getting no nookie, so belly up to the bar and buy her more of the bubbly.”

As the men watched, the girl slid off her stool. She smiled crookedly at Jessie, waved, and then using the hand rail she made her way wobbily out of the lounge.

“My man,” Ken said shaking Jessie’s shoulder, “she wants your big black schlong.” He picked up the key and dangled in before Jessie’s eyes. Room 903. He tossed it toward Jessie’s lap and the young man caught it with one hand. “Go do the dew. Just don’t catch nothin’.”

The men all laughed, all except Jessie. “You guys are joking, right? This is some sort of a prank? Who’s in 903? Fletcher?”

“No my brother, I kid you not,” Ken said, holding up a palm. “Scouts honor.”

Bill waved the barrel of his beer at Ken. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah I’m serious. The little slut really wants it.”

There was a moment of sweaty silence during which Jessie said a silent prayer.

Jessie tossed the key into the ashtray for the waitress to pick up. “Not interested,” he said. He would not have these men gossiping about him like women back at Fidelity.

Ken edged closer to the arm of Jessie’s chair. “Kid, you’ve got to be kidding. This is a free one. There is a piece of tail upstairs singing to you. Can’t you hear it! Don’t you feel it?”

“Leave him alone,” said Jim. “He’s engaged.”

“Well, that’s okay,” grinned Ken, “he’s still single, technically.”

“Get her number,” barked Bill, “and invite her to the bachelor party.”

Jessie shook his head and his hands and stood up. He looked straight at Ken Alexander, saw the crooked tooth smile and the smudges on his glasses. “You’d go to bed with a girl that tweaked?”

The thin man answered without hesitation. “I’d let her blow me.”

Bill roared and shook the table. “You’re friggin’ ignorant.”

“No I’m not. I’m just being a man about it.”

“Ken,” said Jim, “she is pretty ugly.”

“I don’t care. I banged Tina’s bridesmaid Holly Johns three hours before our wedding and she was the size of a piano. You can’t fight the call of the wild. It’s the siren’s song. The eternal
quest.”

Bill coughed into his fist, face red, muttering, “Pigs. . . pigs. . .”

Jessie folded his arms, still shaking his head. “Naw, that’s all right. You guys go right ahead. One of ya‘ll go. She’ll never know, right? How about you, Jimmy?”

Jim waved at the men bashfully, “No, not me. My wife would kill me. Look, I’ve got five kids already. What do I need with another mouth to feed?”

Bill snapped open his lighter. “Oh yeah, what about that little Puerto Rican number out in Columbus?”

“That’s never going to happen again!”

“Yeah, we heard all about that,” Ken grinned.

“What about you, Ken?” asked Jessie, motioning toward the key.

“Me? No way.” He waved his bony hands at the ash tray like it contained the AIDS virus. “I’m already going through a divorce. I don’t need the extra added aggravation.”

“Come on,” Jessie said, “you did the deal. You do the honors.”

The thin man stood and swayed. He was a tall man, over 6’4” and bony as a 2’ x 4’. “I don’t like cutting into another man’s territory, even a new guy. It’s just not right. You go. If you don’t, two years from now you’ll be kicking yourself.”

“And your wife, and your kids,” choked Bill.

“Naw, I got myself a good woman at home,” Jessie said, backing away from the table. “You boys all have fun. Good night.”

As he walked away, covered in laughter. Jessie heard the whispered word “faggot.”

In the lobby Jessie paced back and forth in front of the desk. A young woman in a red blazer appeared. “Can I help you?”

Jessie tried not to stare at the open buttons and the tan line below her throat. “Yeah. I forgot my key.”

“What room are you in?”

903. “No, 610. Yeah, 610 that’s it.”

“And your name is?”

“Adams. Jessie Adams.”

“Here you go,” the girl said with a polite smile.

Jessie talked to himself as he entered the elevator. He punched the button for the sixth floor. “Gotta call Mary. Gotta call Mary.” The steel wires sang and Jessie rose.

When the doors opened he hesitated. His finger wavered over button #9.