"Oh my god, that bitch is a heartbeat above a blow-up doll," Harlow said, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling before chasing a sip of his cocktail with a gulp of vodka. "Dumbest set of tits I have ever laid eyes on, I fucking swear. I keep her around purely for entertainment value. She makes me feel like Steven fuckin' Hawking."
Harlow laughed when she downed her drink, and without pause he went about mixing up a second one for her, not about to let her go thirsty. "Oh lord, honey, if you have to knock it back like that to talk about him, it can't be anything good. What's the problem? Small dick, isn't it? That's the only explanation for a rock that big."
Harlow's snicker was practically a purr, and he sat on his legs in front of Adelaide as she knelt on the bar, knee-to-knee with her. He grabbed two shot glasses from under the bar and poured Ciroc into them, offering one to her and taking up the other. He figured once he got her to knock back a few, she'd be ready to stand up and move. "Come on, bitch, this shit tastes like suntan lotion. I feel like I'm drinking the Soviet Coppertone Baby. Get the fuck on my level before I steal your fucking phone and send your Big Bear a text telling him you want to suck his soul out through his dick."