Their Little Beauty (MxMxM+)

(66.5) Bonus Chapter- Harlow's Woes

Ask a smart man what could be done with fifteen grand, in cash, and he would give a smart answer. Such as, investing it in stocks, buildings or even profitable hobbies- like alcohol brewing. Possibly putting it into an account to collect interest over the years until it had accrued into a much larger sum would be a better option for those able to leave it untouched long term. Or maybe, if financially suitable, putting it towards an incredible holiday for the whole family, or even using it as part of a down payment for a person's dream home. Those all sounded like very mature, smart and good choices for handling a large sum of money. 

Ask Harlow Flaxen however, and most of the time he would have been too drunk or high to give a coherent answer, much less a sensible one. Because what this man had thought to do- and actually did- with a little over fifteen grand was to flee to a different country, book himself into a luxury hotel then spend a large chunk of his stolen cash on expensive suits and jewellery. All so he could enter and look the part in high-roller casinos with the wealthy and influential. There, he shook hands and sweet talked his way into several beds, parties filled with illegal activities and lived it up until his nose was so clogged with Dust that it was a miracle any scent-receptors lived to smell another day.

Harlow was not a very intelligent or wise man, but he knew where his skills lay and how to use them. Gambling was his biggest asset, manipulation his slimiest trick, and he showcased these talents by winning a lot, winning big, and flaunting those wins with abandon. Money was practically bursting from his pockets; opportunistic women were clinging to his arms and foolish men were hanging off of his every promise and proposal on how to increase their wealth, claiming to be somewhat of an on-the-rise tycoon. Soon enough, he had made somewhat of a reputation for himself under the guise of someone new, mysterious and filthy rich.

Harlow was an extremely convincing liar, after all, having practised avidly the last ten years of his life. It was only natural people gravitated to the person who told them anything and everything they wished to hear.

But as all good things must come to an end, so did his luck. As well as his impressive win streak. And if there was one thing Harlow was, utterly and dreadfully truly awful at, it was knowing when to quit. When enough was enough.

Unable to bring himself to leave the high risk- high reward tables, he continued playing countless games, betting away every coin he had, each piece of jewellery, even his car until finally... it ended up with his life on the line.

Many had told him to be wary of Polifemo 'Lucky' Moberley, a man made from scars and cigar smoke. He was much the stereotypical mobster, making money through illegitimate means, violence and targeting the vulnerable. And with Harlow on his last legs, desperate to reclaim what he'd recently lost and infatuated with the grandiose world he'd lied his way into, he was the perfect target.

All it had taken was a little over one measly year for all of his money to disappear, Harlow reduced to a man wearing a rumpled, old suit and scraping forgotten pennies from slot machines. He'd been thrown from the hotel following a drunken assault towards a staff member, the friends he'd made had abandoned him during his downfall.

He'd hit rock bottom, once again.

It was moments like these- when he was forced to face exactly just how dire and pathetic his situation was- that he sometimes thought of Briar. Or, more specifically, what they'd had. Briar earned the vast majority of their income, never actually realising just how much people paid to own him for a night, and all Harlow had to do to keep him happy was placate him with sweet promises of a brighter future, or the fear of impending harm befalling them.

In their relationship, Harlow was able to disappear for days- sometimes weeks- at a time and go wild, spiralling on benders and having the time of his life, never to be bothered by more than a few texts or calls. Then once he returned home, spun some half-truths or straight up lies, Briar had accepted it. He accepted anything and everything. It was so simple and easy to fool him. Childsplay, really, and it had been a constant source of empowerment for Harlow.