“The Law and her sidekick, Tex, the Crackpot Coffee Guy were on the job.”

“Tex glared at the next customer, the unfortunate who'd opened his mouth. "She's a badass motherfuckeress. She'd kick your ass soon as look at you. You've clapped your eyes on The Law. Count yourself lucky, sucker. Now what'll it fuckin' be?”

“Tex shrink-wrapped a dealer’s BMW. Wrapped the wholething in plastic wrap and then used a portable blow drier on itto tighten the plastic. Wordhas it, it was several layers deep.”

“Which one are you?" I whispered. "What?" he asked. "Are you the good guy, the sweet guy who takes care of me or are you this guy who's kind of a jerk?" His answer was instantaneous. "I'm both those guys, babe. Your job is to get used to it." There it was, another order. Not even an ultimatum. Just, "get used to it".”

“It looked like GQ was having a convention and all the best looking guys had decided to have a coffee at Fortnum's before going to seminars on how to cope with being really, unbelivably, fucking gorgeous”

“Tex (wearing a tux, and not happy about it) boomed from across the room, “Roxanne Giselle Lo… I mean, Nightingale! When are those fuckin’ harpists gonna shut the fuck up and so we can get some rock ‘n’ roll?”

“The Coffee Guy, whose name is Rosie by the way, has moved to El Salvador.' I lied.This was not met with happy noises.'He's turned his back on coffee and is in the wilds of Central America building houses for the poor. I think we should all take a moment away from our quest for coffee-satisfaction and think about this noble decision. As you clamor for caffeine and curse the hard-working but innocent staff at my store, Rosie is sitting in the bed of a beat-up pickup bumping across roads to make one room homes out of mud for those who have nothing at all”