Brandon stared at her unsmiling, taking in the small details of daddy’s little princess. The lip gloss that she wore was barely there but enough to accentuate her already plump lips. They were subtle and flawless, as were her well-manicured French-tipped nails. She had dark features: dark, thick, shiny, near-black hair that flowed down halfway to her elbow and dark lashes that draped over those big brown eyes. The fact that this grown woman was standing here talking to an obviously overbearing daddy and that she referred to her grandmother in Spanish brought back the annoying reminder of . . .
“Yes, I promise,” she said, finally sounding as impatient as Brandon was beginning to feel. “Okay, bye, bye. I love you too.”
She hung up, smiling crookedly at Brandon, who again offered no smile in return. Turning back to the lady behind the counter, she waved the salad away and glanced around. “Is there some place here I can get a salad made?”
The lady behind the counter pressed her lips together, taking the salad back. “You can try Gordon’s,” the lady said, and with that, she was done with the princess, moving on to Brandon. “What’ll it be?”
Brandon put in his order for a turkey sub and an iced tea, not noticing which direction the princess had gone. He ate quietly, sitting on the floor near a window overlooking the runway, his back against the wall.
He was over being bitter about having to transfer back to a place he’d vowed he never return to. San Diego was a huge city, and the truth was just as in South Carolina where he’d been a DI for the past four years, he’d be spending most of his time on the base anyway. Whatever time he spent off the base he’d be sure to steer clear of La Jolla.
“Well, I was just gonna go back to the same gym I always went to.”
Brandon glanced up to see the princess on her phone again, standing in front of a seat in one of the nearest rows of seats to him. He studied her for a moment as she removed her coat, revealing the rest of her long high-heeled boots. They went all the way up past her knees. What she wore under them—skin hugging leggings and a gray sweater that draped over her round but tight little ass and hips—said a lot about how much time she must spend at the gym.
As his eyes made it all the way up to the scarf around her neck and back to the full lips that had caught his eyes the first time, he noticed she was watching him watch her. The expression on her face was an amused one. Brandon was anything but amused. Her lips curved into a smile, and he looked away. Pulling himself up, he gathered his trash. He threw his military bag over his shoulder and walked away, annoyed that he’d given the pampered princess yet another reason to feel better about herself, as if a girl like her didn’t already have enough reasons to feel superior to those around her.
A few days after Brandon arrived in San Diego, he was all set. They’d given him a week to relocate. Who needed a full week? His things along with his Jeep were delivered the day after he arrived, and his apartment was already set up before he got there. They’d offered to put him up in the NCO condo complex on base, but as he did in North Carolina, he preferred living off base. It was the only time he ever left the base, but living on base meant closer contact with some of his co-workers. Everyone who lived on base spoke of the base as a small town-like place where everyone was a close-knit military family. He wanted no part of that. All the relationships he’d ever made in the Marines were strictly professional. Having no emotional attachment to anyone, even his fellow Marine brothers, was how he liked it. He lived and breathed the Corps, and if he ever had to, he’d take a bullet for any of them any day. He respected them all, and they could trust he was absolutely dependable, but there was zero attachment.
On occasion back in North Carolina, he’d had a beer with some of them at the local watering hole, and they’d talked work and sports. Mostly he’d listen, adding little to the conversation. He was used to the jokes about him being a hard-ass. Some of the guys even tried breaking him out of the character they accused him of being in at all times, but it never happened. It never would because it wasn’t an act. He just had no desire to open up to anyone and talk about his personal life. As he told them all, he didn’t have much of a personal life, so there was nothing to talk about.
Now that he was at a new base, he already knew the invitations to have a beer with his “brothers” were going to be inevitable. But just like back at his old base, he didn’t want his lack of socializing to do just the opposite of what it was supposed to do—keep the attention off his personal life. It seemed the more of recluse he was, the more mysterious and interesting he became to those around him.
Already, he’d only been there a few days, and the questions had started. He’d been asked twice by a couple of his superiors why he lived off base if he was single. “Why fight the traffic every morning when you could just be here already?”
Another one of the single DIs had questioned if there were other motives. “Is it so the chicks here don’t see who you take home every night?” The DI had laughed when he’d also asked, “You don’t want them comparing notes?”
This morning, he was meeting with the previous Gunnery Sergeant in charge of the platoons and lower ranking DIs that Brandon would now be in charge of. He wanted to touch base with Brandon and show him around the building he’d be calling home for the better part of his weekdays.
“It’s been under construction for some time,” First Sergeant Carter said. “When it’s all over, there’ll be a new building over there with a bridge that connects to this one and an underground tunnel that will connect both buildings as well.” He pointed at the area in question as they walked around some of the construction work just outside the building they were headed into. “In the meantime, it’s been a pain in the ass. Make sure you save anything you’re working on often because even though they’re supposed to tell us when they’ll be shutting off the electricity for a few minutes, they don’t always do. Some of us have learned the hard way that we should’ve backed up our shit more often.”
Carter shook his head as he walked on before continuing. “Some of the engineers have set up camp inside the building. Letting them borrow a couple of offices and conference rooms in the building took up less room than bringing in a temp bungalow for them.” He looked back at Brandon. “Get used to seeing civilians in civilian clothing coming in and out of here.” The sergeant turned back to where they were headed but continued talking. “It’s usually during the week, but they’re all on strict orders to wear their photo ID badges at all times. So if you see anyone in here without one, feel free to question him. In fact,” he glanced back at him very seriously, “you’re supposed to. Civilians without photo ID are not allowed in this building at all. Those photo IDs make them the only exception.”
Brandon nodded, following the sergeant into an elevator as he continued to talk. They got off on the second floor, and Brandon followed him once again through the long hallway. A couple of plain clothes men walked out of one of the doors, and Brandon took note of how the sergeant scrutinized them but kept walking as they both were wearing large photo IDs around their necks. Brandon took in what the IDs were supposed to look like for future reference. The door to the ladies’ room next to the room the other men had walked out of opened, and a woman also dressed in a plain clothes skirt suit walked out. The clinking of her shoes that echoed through the stark hallway as she walked caught Brandon’s attention. Not often did you hear that on the base. He glanced down to take a look and saw the high-heeled shoes she wore.