6
Brian was a sorry sight, of course, but an officer cared enough to wash his face a bit in order to look more presentable for the conference call with Washington, DC, where President Sunderland was currently residing.
“You want me to look better, officer, don't ya?” Brian tried to sound teasing.
“That was an order, so don't flatter yourself, boyo,” the officer retorted harshly.
“Mr. Brandon, do you need anything else sir?” The officer turned to Vince.
“Thanks, my man, but I've got my beauty box with me wherever I go,” Vince grinned, his teeth lustrous.
“What the heck, a beauty box, is this guy an aging fag or something? Perhaps poor Alice wasn't kidding at all,” thought Brian to himself.
“I'll have to powder my nose and cheekbones for that little s**t bruised and scratched my face
