They begin to appear around nightfall at Riley McDermott's Las Olas entrance, a long line of unescorted knockouts, streaming through the door and across the restaurant's glossy floor in high heels and low necklines, like models in a runway show. Soon their curving figures will line the glowing turquoise bar, perfectly coiffed heads all swiveling in the direction of a passing man's bulge — the wallet, of course. Because these ladies didn't bring a purse, and in such skimpy ensembles there's hardly room for a pocket. So buy a drink for her and her friends. Complain about the market, and remember to scratch your chin with the left hand, slowly, so she can read the word "Rolex." Soon that yacht won't be so lonely.