When she married him, Gabriela had been under the impression that Greg earned far more. Soon after the wedding she learned the bank owned three quarters of his apartment. While she never thought Greg was loaded, the reality was, he was barely getting by. But, it was the fact that he showed more interest in gaming and bidding on eBay than in her that she couldn’t get past. While her marriage to Greg had been a necessary stepping stone and nothing more, it irked her that he didn’t place her at the center of his universe the way other men did. She concluded he must have a mental defect and looked forward to the day she would be rid of him. That was when she stepped up her game to find and secure husband number two.

With no intention of remaining a store clerk for the rest of her life, the next man she married would have to be significantly wealthier, handsomer, and much more devoted than the first. I didn’t come this far to end up in a tiny apartment looking at a crumbling brick wall. She intended to marry someone with wealth and power and live in the high style she believed she deserved.

From then on, whenever a new male customer entered the store, she’d size them up. First, she’d check for a wedding ring. If he wore one, it wasn’t a deal-breaker, just an annoying complication. After working with that customer, and observing how much money he spent and how easily he parted with it, she might move him to the next level, laying on the compliments like thick honey. Within minutes she could tell which ones only wanted a little in-store flirt and which ones might be up for more serious extra-curricular activities.

Over time, handfuls of older well-to-do men coming into the store regularly asked for her. After her initial encounter with any eligible male customer, she’d do extensive background research on him to get a general sense of his net worth.

“Why Mr. Granger, are you here again?” said a smiling Gabriela with her sultry, gravelly voice. “You practically bought everything in the store last week. The shelves were so empty after you left that we had to order new merchandise. Did I forget something?”

Slightly flustered, the overweight, fifty-eight-year-old married father of three sputtered, “I figured I could use a few more white and blue dress shirts and maybe a pair of cufflinks, Gabi. We didn’t look at any of the cufflinks when I was last here.”

“Of course,” said Gabriela, putting on her most sorrowful face, “why didn’t I think of that? I always say that a perfect pair of cufflinks makes a man. They give him that little something extra. Come with me, I know the perfect pair for you.”