Slick whistled between her teeth to be heard over the decibel level in the bar. She waggled the empty pitcher. A fresh one was brought almost immediately. She poured generously, slopping over the tabletop. No one seemed to mind as they raised their glasses in yet another toast.

The conversation turned to lawyers and who knew whom. The man at the bar listened in awe as Douglas Rainford, III’s, future and financial demise were discussed. His gut told him they would prevail. His face turned hot as the conversation grew raunchier and more off-color. He started to pity Douglas Rainford, III.

It was ten o’clock when Poke heard Sam Rainford call a car service after she invited all the women back to her condo to spend the night so that they could further plot and scheme. He couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would remember anything in the morning. They’d consumed six pitchers of margaritas. The bartender looked at him pointedly, so he ordered another Heineken.

Surely they would make a stop at the ladies’ room on their way out. Or, they’d go one by one. He needed to contract his boss for further instruction. He yanked his Blackberry out of his jacket pocket. Another message. Check in. He did. His message was simple. They’re sloshed. Scratch original plan. Have better one.

He almost missed Sam when she tottered toward the bathroom. He slapped bills down on the bar and followed her. He stepped out of the way to allow Slick to enter the restroom behind Sam. He leaned against the wall and waited. He argued with himself about approaching them or waiting till morning. Before he could make up his mind, Sam and Slick exited the restroom, their spike-heeled shoes in hand. He was about to speak to them when the first, second, and third Rainford wives appeared out of nowhere.

His chance to speak to Sam and Slick evaporated. He walked to the door and left the bar. Morning would be time enough.

Outside, Poke stood to the side out of the rain that had started to fall. The night was warm, perfect July weather. He watched as the five women piled into the Lincoln Town Car. All of them were carrying their shoes and laughing as they tumbled over one another. Just to be sure the women made no other stops along the way, he followed them home at a discreet distance.

He hated sleeping in his car, but his boss would kill him if he allowed the two women to get away from him. They were wily enough to pull a fast one. For all he knew, they had been on to him the whole time. He’d learned a long time ago never, under any circumstances, to underestimate a woman and her capabilities.