The itch was unbearable. Sam stood up. “Look around you. You had sex—with each of us. You went on a honeymoon—with each of us. And since you used a false name and fraudulently entered into a contract using that false name, you never actually married any of us, meaning that you essentially treated us as low-priced call girls. Where else could you get three weeks of adoringly given sex for so little money. You are a creep!” Sam shrilled.

“You have to pay for breaking our hearts,” the ravishing redhead said. Sam thought the redhead was the one who wanted to buy a Swiss chalet.

“Will money mend your broken hearts?” the senator asked.

“Damn straight it will, you creep,” Olivia said. “Now, make us an offer. You should know, none of us have much patience.”

“All right, a hundred thousand each,” the senator said.

Sam frowned. No Swiss chalet there. She waited for the women to boo the senator. Instead, the women laughed. They continued to laugh as the offers escalated. The Swiss chalet was looking more and more likely.

Sam started to squirm in her chair. She wanted to go home and take a cold shower and put on some cotton underwear. “This is stupid. They want ten million each. Take it or leave it, Dougie,” she said. “They’re done negotiating. Get your checkbook. Now!”

“Yeah, now!” the women chorused as one. The Swiss chalet was a done deal, as were the Paris fashion shows.

Sam was on her feet twirling the wimple in her hand. Surreal wasn’t cutting it.

The senator walked over to a cherrywood secretary and pulled out a hardbound check folder. As he wrote, he spoke. “I’m going to want a waiver from all of you in regard to your silence.”

“Well, sure, we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sam snapped. “Just so you know, these two nice gentlemen are going to stay with you until these checks are certified in the morning. We don’t want you taking off on us again, or maybe even changing your mind.

“It’s amazing that you remember our names,” she snapped again.

“I remember everything about each one of you. For instance, Samantha, I remember how you liked me to…”

“That will be enough,” Sam said shrilly. “No one cares.”

When each woman, Martina Crystal included, was holding her check, Sam marched to the door. She plunked the headpiece back on her head haphazardly, the wimple askew. She turned around and walked back to where the senator was sitting. She bent over, her eyes full of menace. “Where did your friends go? Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I could kill you with one chop to the neck.”

The senator, who was suddenly $120 million poorer, swallowed hard. “I think they went home.”

“What did he want? It must have been something crucial for him to leave the mountain.”