literature

A Cold Reception

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"I can't believe that fucker gets the privilege of testing new equipment!" A well-aimed punch connected with the punching mitt. "That son of a bitch's game improved that much in just a few months' time." Another punch, this time aiming much higher, was quickly blocked by another mitt. "It's gotta be whatever Capsule Corp is building. That little shit could not have improved that much by training himself."

"You still bitching and moaning about all that?" the taller man inquired in a gravelly voice. "Maybe the dude takes steroids. Oh, or maybe he's just pretendin' to be poor so he can fuck with ya."

Sharp eyes narrowed and rose to look at the bald man. "I'm not paying you to be my therapist, Nappa," the shorter man spit out as a knee rose to connect with the man's belly but was once again quickly blocked.

"Coulda fooled me." The bigger man blocked another attack. "With all the bitching you've been doing lately, how am I not supposed to think that?" A foot connected with the man's knee and both his legs buckled before he fell. A fist slammed into his unsuspecting jaw, making him sprawl out on the boxing ring's mat.

"I pay you to be a punching bag that can occasionally fight back, and to keep your mouth shut about shit you don't know." Vegeta now towered over his fallen trainer. "If you can't do either of those things then you'll get your shit and leave and I'll hire someone better."

Nappa groaned and a hand rose to rub his sore jaw as he sat up. "Good luck findin' somebody who's better."

Vegeta exhaled through his nose as he watched the other man finally stand. "After tonight I may not need you, anyway." He heard the taller man scoff and shot him a look. "What, more advice from the peanut gallery?"

A mitted hand rose between them. "No matter how advanced the technology is, it will never be able to replace a living, breathing opponent," the man said in a philosophical manner.

The shorter man ground his teeth at the statement. Vegeta wasn't sure which pissed him off more about his trainer's attitude: The fact that the man was a complete imbecile three-fourths of the time, or that the man could actually dish out a rare piece of insight. A fist once again aimed and connected with the mitt, pushing the owner's arm back with the force that was used. "Maybe not, but I could always downgrade my 'living, breathing opponent' if the advanced technology turns out to be a better trainer. At least I won't have to listen to its inane drivel."

Of course the oafish goliath did have a point now that he thought about it. Could technology replace a living body? He wanted to get better and stronger, but it didn't mean he really needed to accelerate his training that much. Another thought entered his brain: He didn't even know what kind of equipment Capsule Corp was building. Perhaps that fool Goku was advancing quickly now, but there was surely a point when the training would become repetitive and ineffective.

His goal tonight would have to be figuring out what exactly the Briefs' were building and if it was worth his time. He was hoping it would be or else he would be sorely disappointed in "Dr. Briefs and his genius daughter". He could faintly recall seeing a few articles of the Briefs girl superior mind, but that had been so long ago. Was she really as smart as the tabloids and articles had made her out to be? He hadn't exactly gotten a good impression of her when they'd met the night of the tournament three weeks ago.

"That woman and her father better be worth my time," Vegeta grunted aloud.

They had to be worth something if Frieza was after their company. The thought brought up another issue he'd have to deal with tonight. If the business tycoon was to be there, and Vegeta was quite certain the man would be, he would have to fall back for the evening. Of course, Vegeta—himself--had never been to one of the Briefs' charity events because he'd never had an interest in the capsule technology until now. Perhaps tonight would be a good time to learn just why exactly Frieza was so adamant about getting the technology and company under his thumb.

"What's that, Vegeta? You got a crush on the Briefs girl?" Nappa taunted as Vegeta's movements became more unfocused and sluggish.

His almost-black eyes landed on the taller man's lighter pair. "What the fuck did you just say?" A stronger, better aimed punch flew towards the taller man. "When have I ever had a 'crush' on a girl? Especially one I just met in-passing a few weeks ago?"

A boisterous laugh filled the room as Nappa continued to block the now furious attacks coming his way. "Man, it is way too easy to get you riled up." When the attacks abruptly stopped, the trainer refocused on his opponent.

The smaller man regrouped his thoughts, forgetting that his priority at the moment was fighting and supposedly learning. He could worry about the charity ball and Capsule Corp when he had a free moment at work this afternoon. For now, though, he needed to concentrate on his trainer and refining his fighting technique.

After the session was over and Nappa had left, Vegeta carried his tired body towards the bathroom so he could shower and get ready for work. However, a familiar itch at the back of his mind grew into an irritating throb. He shucked off his shorts before getting in the shower, hoping the heat would do its job and relax his body and mind.

The shower had done its job of massaging his muscles—even though they were still a bit sore. Unfortunately it had done nothing to relieve the tension that was still rolling around in his mind. The knowledge that he could instantly feel refreshed and healed in a matter of seconds instead of letting the burn of the intense workout/sparring match he'd just had settle throughout the day. Vegeta grabbed the towel from its rack and ruffled his loose hair before wrapping the cloth around his waist. He moved forward, his hands pressing on top of the dark granite surface of the bathroom counter as he stared at his reflection. His mind continued its battle, suggesting that he could easily stop by the hospital on his way to work, but then that would be giving into the "addiction".

"Like a fucking drug," he told his reflection with a look of disgust.

But it was a perfectly natural way to heal, there were no drugs to be taken or injected into his system. So it wasn't a drug to get addicted to, in his mind's eye. However, that was what worried Vegeta the most about agreeing and initially demanding he would be one of the very few testers for the product. His body didn't crave the almost euphoric and refreshing feeling he got with his recovery, it was his mind that was begging him to take the easy way of having his body fixed and replenished after taking a beating—even if it was minor and insignificant.

The man shook his head, his eyes closing tightly as his hands balled into fist. He didn't like anything or anyone controlling his body or thoughts; he was in control, in fact, Vegeta was enjoying the tightness and stinging in his muscles. He usually enjoyed the physical pain, but that never kept his mind from remembering and preferring the easy route. However, he was used to the niggling thoughts, and fighting them off was much easier nowadays compared to when he'd first been introduced to the procedure.

A heavy breathe passed his lips as he calmed his body and reprimanded his mind with a firm, "No."

His eyes slid back open and the man looked himself over in the mirror. A hand rose from the counter and cupped his face—his thumb on one cheek as the other fingers rested against the opposite cheek. He could feel the beginning stages of stubble since he hadn't shaved in nearly two weeks; he'd have to remember to take care of it tonight before he left for the charity ball. He continued his assessment, checking for any flaws that needed taken care of before getting dressed.

                                          ~S~

Bulma looked herself over in the mirror for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last couple seconds. She adjusted the top of her strapless dress, making sure her breasts were secured in the material before smoothing her hands down the soft red fabric, stopping at the dress' skirt—which was bunched and tiered. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself that there was nothing she could do but be a good hostess to their guests.

"Are you done prepping yet?" Yamcha asked as he sat on her bed. He'd been watching her do the same movements for the past ten minutes and it was getting aggravating. She was starting to make him nervous! He'd loosened his tie a few minutes ago, trying to get rid of the suffocating feeling the woman in front of him was invoking. "We should really get going if you want to be there before the guests arrive."

The woman spun to face her date, her lavender—now curled hair—bouncing and swinging lightly with the motion. "It's certainly not that late already, is it?" she questioned half-heartedly and a bit nervously. It wasn't like there was anything left to do before leaving—aside from slipping her heels on—but she wasn't sure if she was mentally prepared yet.

Yamcha slid the arm of his suit jacket up to look at his watch again. "According to my time it is." His head turned back and to the right so he could look at Bulma's bedside clock. "You're clock has the same time."

Bulma groaned, her hands clenching at her side. She could feel her nails pressing into the palms of her hands and she took a little comfort in the burning sensation it was creating. "Okay, just let me slip on my shoes and we can go."

The scarred man gave a short nod before finally pushing himself from the bed and straightening his jacket and pants. After making sure there were no permanent creases in his pants or jacket, he retightened his tie as Bulma reappeared in a pair of red two-inch heels.

She swaggered over to him, her hips swaying with each step she took. She gave him a bright smile, showing her teeth as her eyes squinted from the rise of her cheeks. However, her heart was still beating ferociously with the thought of what she might have to put up with tonight. When her hand slipped into Yamcha's, she knew her confident cover was blown.

His hand squeezed hers in a reassuring manner. "You'll be fine. Your father will be there, and you know he won't let Mr. Tsumetai talk him into doing something he doesn't want to do—at least not without discussing it with you first." A soft smile tugged at his lips as Bulma rested her head against his shoulder.

"I know. It's just the fact that Mr. Usagi will be there…." A large hand rose and gently swept a mass of hair away from her face before cupping her cheek. "Yamcha," was the only word she breathed before his lips descended on hers.

The kiss was gentle, a press of lips against each other. Another reassuring gesture he could give her—to show his support and understanding. He pulled back slowly, letting his hand slip from her cheek and brush over her hair again. "You're Bulma Briefs, the toughest woman I know, and that's how you need to walk into this ball, right?" When she said nothing, he continued, "Those lawyers can smell fear, at least that's the rumor I've always heard."

Another, more honest, smile tugged at the woman's lips. "You're such a nut, Yamcha." A small amount of laughter escaped as her smile widened. "But, thank you, and I guess we should be going now."

The ride to the banquet hall was quiet and a bit tense on Bulma's part. Even though Yamcha's words had lightened her mood at the house, the stress of the situation was slowly coming back the closer they got to their destination. Her hands twisted together as she stared blankly out the windshield, ignoring Yamcha's quick glances. She knew her father would take the brunt of anything that might go wrong tonight, but the company would one day be placed in her hands—that was, if it wasn't taken over by that slimy bastard Frieza.

Bulma wasn't usually a person that judged people before getting to know them, but she just knew that Frieza and his goon of a lawyer were both slime. They were both the type to bully people until they got their way; she just knew it! 'Of course,' she huffed in her mind, 'Frieza was taking his sweet time and at least being polite about it.' That was, until tonight when Frieza would finally be pulling out his big guns against them so the tycoon could either force them into giving the company to him or going public.

She bit unconsciously on her bottom lip as Yamcha parked the car and her nerves started taking over. "I can't," she whispered before turning to look at her escort. "I don't think I can do this, Yamcha. I'm sorry." She slumped in her seat, although still being careful not to ruin her outfit or hair.

A heavy sigh came from the driver's seat. "Do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you in there?" When Yamcha received a half-glare he continued, "I will, and then you'll have to deal with being embarrassed in front of the catering staff. Of course," he started a bit more disheartened at the thought, "if your mother sees she'll be shooing us back home so we can practice making grandchildren."

Bulma tried not to laugh, but she couldn't keep the smile from forming on her face at Yamcha's look of despair. She quickly sobered herself and let the light-hearted feeling fuel her diminished confidence. "Did you have to bring my mother into this?" she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest like a child. "Isn't it bad enough that she's adamant about getting us married so we can actually start having kids?" The woman groaned at all the times her mother had so politely suggested that her—Bulma--and Yamcha should stop being childish and just walk down the aisle.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as he opened the door and stepped out of the car. He took long strides as he walked around the back of the car and adjusted his tie nervously as he approached Bulma's passenger side door.  The man cleared his throat before opening the door and helping the woman out, he once again apologized.

The couple walked into the building, immediately being surrounded by the bustling noises of the catering staff doing their last minute prepping. There were numerous amounts of alcohol setting on the counters in the kitchen, all ready to be served when the guests arrived, along with copious amounts of finger foods and trays.

Bulma's eyes strayed from the food and back towards the wine and champagne bottles. She was about to pass the temptation and find her parents, when she noticed Yamcha's hand reaching out to grab a few pieces of food. So, instead of holding back like she should've, she reached for one of the more expensive and older bottles of wine. There was a corkscrew lying further down on the counter, and Bulma was in business. She grabbed an empty flute, popped the cork from the bottle, and breathed in the heavy scent of the dark-colored liquid before pouring it into the crystalline glass. She tipped the flute and her head back; downing the sweeter liquor like it was a burning shot. The flute was refilled and she took large gulps instead of downing it this time.

She could already feel the heat crawling around her body and relaxing her body. The flute was refilled a third time and she sipped at it now as her wide blue eyes glanced at her date's brown pair. "What?" Bulma asked, setting the glass down on the counter.

Yamcha only shook his head, his mouth filled with food. After chewing and swallowing, he finally answered, "Nothing." He grabbed the glass that Bulma had set down and downed the rest of its contents.

"Hey!" Bulma shouted out in frustration. "That was mine!"

He grabbed the wine bottle, pouring more of the dark liquid into the flute before handing it back to Bulma. She snatched the glass back from her companion before taking a sip from it.

"There you are, Bulma!" a high-pitched voice cut through the silence. "And, Yamcha!" The older, blonde woman pulled the man into a tight hug. "It's so good to see you. You really need to stop by the house more often; Bulma gets so lonely without her handsome beau by her side."

The lavender-haired woman rolled her eyes at her mother's chatter. "Mom, please," she ground out. This was why she'd always been afraid to bring a boy home. Yamcha had unfortunately been the first and only boyfriend she'd brought home and introduced to her parents. Luckily for her, the man was good-spirited and could easily play off her mother's embarrassing behavior.

"Don't act like you don't miss having this tall, strong, and handsome man around the house as much as I do." Mrs. Briefs covered her mouth at the inappropriate statement. "Oh goodness, I can't believe I just said that."

At least the woman had the decency to look aghast at her own "slip-up". Bulma, however, took a quick sip of her wine before addressing her mother once again. "Where's Dad?"

The blonde quickly recovered from her folly, the bright smile she always seemed to wear instantly reappeared. "He's making sure all the caterers know the proper procedure when around are very important guests." She glanced at the half-filled flute in her daughter's hand. "How's the wine, dear? Have you tried the food yet?" She looked back towards Yamcha at the second question.

"I tried a few things," Yamcha uttered.

"It's pretty good," Bulma answered before taking another sip from her glass. "You and Dad didn't try anything?"

"Didn't I tell you we were taste-testing for the wine?" When her daughter shook her head, Mrs. Briefs continued, "I could've sworn I told you. Oh well," she said happily, "I'm glad you approve, and hopefully that nice Mr. Tsumetai will enjoy it as well."

At the mention of their "special guest" Bulma tried to hide her disgusted face behind the rim of her glass. "I'm gonna go find Dad, there's a few things I want to talk to him about before the guests arrive. You coming with or staying here, Yamcha?"

"I'll stay here, unless you need me in on the conversation?" he half-questioned, not sure if Bulma was just trying to get away from her mother or if she really had something to discuss with her father.

"Nope, I'll just meet you in the main ballroom then." She was about to turn and leave before stopping herself and heading towards Yamcha. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek and gave him a confident smile.

"Sounds good," the words came out a bit shaky, more in fear of being left alone with her mother after such an 'intimate' act than anything else.

                                      ~S~

A caterer passed the couple as they mingled and laughed about a story that Bulma had no idea what it had been about. Her focus was slipping badly due to the nerves starting to climb their way back up into her head. So the heiress grabbed a glass of cheap champagne that was on the server's tray, and just as she tipped the glass up to drink the yellowish, bubbly liquor, her eyes caught sight of the man she had been waiting on.

She really shouldn't be surprised by his tardiness; the man was always "fashionably late" at any event he went to. Then he would waltz in, all smiles and apologizes because he was such a busy man. He would shake everyone's hand, going about introducing himself and donating a small fortune towards whatever charity drive was being held.

Blue eyes narrowed as they followed the well-dressed man. It would've been almost impossible to spot and follow the diminutive tycoon if he hadn't been wearing his usually bright and eye-catching suit--this evening's attire was a pure-white suit. Of course the carelessly handsome man standing next to him was also a dead giveaway to where the shorter man was at all times.

Mr. Tsumetai's personal assistant Zarbon Bellamy was a giant compared to his boss. His sea-green hair was long and usually braided, running down to the middle of his back—occasionally the braid would be thrown over his shoulder as if the thick bundle was getting too heavy. His skin was fair and smooth, almost rivaling Bulma's own perfectly light skin. The man always kept himself well-groomed, from head to toe, and tonight was no exception. His braided hair was slicked back and silky looking. His suit—a powder-blue, with a slightly darker undershirt—was accompanied by a silk gold tie that shone in the light of the ballroom like the beacon of a lighthouse.

"Bulma, honey, you okay?" Yamcha asked smoothly, noticing the woman had directed her attention elsewhere.

"Um, yeah, sorry." She shook her head lightly, blinking a few times to get her brain back on task. Bulma took another sip from her flute; giving the couple they had been talking to a smile.

Getting back to the conversation, the heiress kept one eye on her new guests as best she could while she tried to keep her mind and ears open to the couple Yamcha and she were talking to. She couldn't just blow them off, but with Frieza's appearance she found it difficult to stay focused on the topic. She tipped her glass up, again, finding the container empty when no liquid hit her tongue causing her to frown a bit. Her eyes scanned the crowd and her lips pressed together into a thin line of disappointment; she had lost her targets.

"I think you'll have to excuse us for a moment." Yamcha wrapped an arm around Bulma's shoulder, catching her attention.

"Yes, it was very lovely meeting you, and hopefully we can catch up again soon." The smile once again etched over her features as she shook the couple's hands. With the distraction gone, Bulma turned to her partner, giving him a pleading look. "I need to find my father, fast."

"Mr. Tsumetai finally appear?" Yamcha asked as he adjusted his tie and fanned out his grey suit jacket. He heard the woman next to him hiss out a 'yes'. "Okay, so what's the plan of action? Should I try to distract Mr. Usagi?"

Bulma blinked. She had completely forgotten about the tycoon's lawyer supposedly being here tonight. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' she berated herself. "He wasn't with them," she finally managed to choke out.

"Oh, well maybe Mr. Tsumetai decided to back off."

The woman snorted. "Fat chance." Her eyes roved over the crowd once again, searching out the taller occupants and looking for the lawyer but not finding him. She sighed, turning back to Yamcha. "I don't see Mr. Usagi, so maybe you're right. Let's hope you're right." She gave the man a small smile as she felt the tension in her body ease up. "I'm still going to find my father, why don't you go mingle some more and I'll catch up with you later."

Yamcha gave her a half-worried look. "Are you sure?"

Before he could say anything else Bulma stopped him. "Yes. Keep your eye out for Mr. Usagi, okay? He could be lurking around here or maybe they planned to come in separately from the get-go, and if you see him come find me."

The man gave a sharp nod, his face set into business-mode until Bulma leaned up to kiss his cheek. A smirk crossed over his lips as he looked down at the woman. "I'll find you. You just worry about Mr. Tsumetai and your father for now."

"Thanks." She smiled again before turning to leave, intent on finding her father. She slipped through the crowded floor, getting stopped a few times. Fortunately she'd been through enough of these gatherings to know how to quickly and politely excuse herself.

Unfortunately by the time she spotted her father and mother, Frieza was already there talking to them. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she once again noted that it was just Frieza and Zarbon--there was no sign of Vegeta Usagi anywhere around them. Mentally reminding herself that this was nothing new, that she could deal with this, she began her approach on the small group.

As she started her descent, Bulma couldn't help but take in the tycoon's appearance now that she could actually see him. His black hair was slicked back and shiny—not a hair out of place. The frost-white suit he wore made his medium-toned skin look a bit darker than it actually was. She wasn't shocked to see his undershirt was a few shades darker than her father's and her own hair color. She wondered if the man intentionally wore that color to every one of their benefits to impress them or piss her off. She blinked heavily and pressed her nails into her palms. A pair of light brown eyes met her blue ones, and the smile on the man's face only stretched across his lips, making him look a bit creepy—in her opinion.

"Miss Briefs."

The man extended a hand in her direction, and Bulma accepted with a polite smile. "Mr. Tsumetai, so glad you could make it."

"Oh, darling," the short man drawled, "I was just telling your father that I would not have missed this for the world."

Bulma gave her father a sideways glance while keeping her smiling face directed towards Frieza's. "Such a flatterer," she retorted teasingly, finally pulling her hand out of the man's grasp. The woman turned her attention towards the taller man. "Mr. Bellamy." She gave a small curtsy and a nod of the head as she put on her best flirty smile. "I hope your evening is going well."

Zarbon returned the heiress's smile as he reached for her now outstretched hand--raising it and bending his body down slightly to meet the appendage so he could brush his lips against the back of her hand. "It is going very well, Miss Briefs. Thank you for asking," his slightly accented words came out soothingly.

"You know I'd hate to see anyone not having fun at our charity events, even if they are only here for business." A tsk came from the shorter man and Bulma turned to see Frieza's ever present smile, even though his eyes were flickering with annoyance. "You do allow your employees to have fun, don't you?" Bulma asked furtively, trying to still figure out the man.

"Of course I do," Frieza answered simply. "Speaking of mixing business with pleasure," he started out blithely as his smile became a bit more twisted and turned into a half-smirk, "where's that boyfriend of yours?"

Bulma stepped back, moving closer to her parents and giving herself a bit more personal space. "He's catching up with some friends, or at least that's where I left him last." She watched as Frieza's face showed a bit of disappointment and her guard was thrown off, especially at the man's next statement.

"Such a shame, the young man is always such a delight to have around."

The lavender-haired woman felt her lip curl up into a sneer. Before she could say anything, though, a server approached the small group with four glasses of dark red wine.

"Oh, Bulma, sweetie, I'm sorry but I only asked for four glasses because I didn't know you would be here," Mrs. Briefs told her daughter, her face turning a bit pouty.

Bulma was about to dismiss her mother's apology when her father spoke up.

"Honey, I'm sure the server can go fetch another glass for Bulma if she wants one."

"If you'd like, Miss Briefs, you may have mine," Zarbon offered, holding the crystalline flute towards the woman.

The small smile reappeared on Bulma's face. "Thank you, but my father's right."

"I insist," the tall man pressed, practically shoving the glass under the woman's nose. "I won't drink it, and there's no since in sending this young woman running back to get another glass."

She took the glass, a "thanks" beginning to part her lips when she was interrupted.

"Now that we have that settled," Frieza started, shooing the server away, "there are few things I would like to discuss with Dr. Briefs."

Bulma's lips pressed into a thin line before she took a sip from her glass. The tyrant started on his usual spiel to the doctor, completely ignoring the woman as she listened half-heartedly. It wasn't like this was the first time she'd heard the man's "ideas" for her father's company. As she kept her ears open to the conversation, Bulma let her eyes wander the room—of what she could see—as she continued to sip at her wine.

She didn't know how long Frieza had been talking when she caught a familiar face step out of the crowd and head towards a table. The grip on her glass loosened slightly, and she felt her mouth open before closing again. Vegeta Usagi, not the Mr. Usagi she was expecting to see this evening, but the sight lightened her stress and sent a smile across her lips. She'd only give herself one guess on why the younger Usagi was here this evening.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to excuse me for a moment," Bulma interrupted, not caring what was being said at this point. She directed her attention towards the two men. "It was very nice seeing you again, Mr. Tsumetai and Mr. Bellamy, and I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening."

One of Frieza's thin eyebrows cocked up at the woman's quick departure, since she rarely left her father's side when it came to business. His eyes slide in the direction she headed, but he was easily distracted as Dr. Briefs picked up the conversation that had been broken by Bulma.

                                            ~S~

Bulma set her glass down on the round table causing a pair of dark eyes to shoot in her direction. "Well don't you clean up nice," she quipped as she pulled a chair out so she could sit beside her new guest.

She had to admit that the man literally did clean up nicely. The hair that had been spiked and sweaty was now slicked back and came to a point at his shoulder blades, and the half-naked look was replaced with a full and expensive-looking black suit—a crimson tie rested against a charcoal undershirt. When her eyes drew back up to his face a sneer was twisting his lips.

"And you look no less attention-seeking than when I saw you last time," the man answered blandly as his eyes quickly raked over her form.

A genuine smile lit up her face as a hand brushed her hair over a shoulder. "Some people prefer the spotlight. I can't help that I'm a natural beauty."

Vegeta snorted. "Do you actually want something or are you just here to greet me as a good hostess should?"

"A bit of both," Bulma answered before taking a sip from her glass. "Is that alright with you?"

"Hmm." There wasn't much he could do about it, aside from getting up and walking away. "What do you want?" he asked a bit suspiciously. He unconsciously slid his chair back as she leaned forward.

"I want your honest opinions about Mr. Tsumetai." When she received a confused look, Bulma pulled back as a sigh left her lips. "Your father is his personal lawyer; you have to at least know something about the man."

"Of course I do," Vegeta bit out, straightening in his chair, a hand smoothing his jacket out of habit. "But you just said it yourself. My father works for the man, and I'm quite satisfied not shoving my nose into his and Mr. Tsumetai's business."

Bulma scoffed, taking another quick sip from her glass. "I'm not asking for business secrets," she hissed, well aware that they were sitting in a crowded room. She scooted her seat closer so she could keep her voice as low as possible. "I just want to know if he's trustworthy." Another sigh escaped. "You should be quite aware that he's been trying to talk my father into taking Capsule Corp public."

"So? And why exactly are divulging all this information to me?"

Bulma shifted back, resting against the chair. "Oh please, it's not like it's a big secret. So just tell me what I want to know and I'll leave you alone."

Vegeta leaned forward, an elbow resting against the table's surface. "You want to know about Frieza?" When he received a nod in response, his lips turned down in a slight frown. "Fine, but I have just one question for you."

Bulma gave a small victorious smile. "Ask away."

He grabbed the water bottle, screwing the lid off. "Why haven't you taken the company public yet?" The bottle pressed against his bottom lip as a smile passed over it. When he received a confused look, the bottle lowered so he could speak again. "Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

One of her hands balled into a fist and landed softly on the table. "This isn't a negotiation, Vegeta," she seethed, her other hand unconsciously picking up her glass of wine so she could finish it off.

Vegeta shrugged, taking a sip of his water before answering, "So defensive over one little question? Or are you just a mean drunk?" His dark eyes flashed to her empty container before making eye contact with her again.

Bulma rolled her eyes before pointing an accusing finger at the water bottle. "And what exactly are you drinking, mister high and mighty? I know for a fact that we're not serving bottled water here tonight."

"Yes because how else would you get all these people to donate money if they weren't drunk off their asses," he snidely commented. "As for what I'm drinking, it's water. Do you have a problem with that?"

"I suppose not," she answered a bit disheartened.

"So are you going to answer my original question? Or are we done here?" Even though he wanted the woman gone, he knew there were lots of questions he wanted…needed to ask her. However, it would probably be easier to ask her father since the old man didn't have a biased attitude towards him.

Officially thrown off her high horse, Bulma gave a small nod. "The main reason we don't want to take Capsule Corp public," she started slowly and a breath above a whisper, "is because we don't want a lot of extra hands in the company pot." She gave a short glance towards the man beside her before continuing, "If someone with a lot of money and power comes along and decides to pick up our company there's the very real potential of that person ruining all of our hard work. Not that we'd let it happen," she added hastily. "But there's always that chance, and we really don't need to take the chance with a big investor like that."

"Very impressive, Miss Briefs, and if I'm not mistaken you've answered the question you asked me earlier." Vegeta received a narrowed look, but before he could continue another man joined their party.

"Bulma, I've been looking all over for you!" Yamcha leaned against the table with one hand, acting as if he were out of breath. His eyes darted from his date to the man beside her causing his spine to straighten and a hand to smooth down his opened suit jacket.

The woman tilted her head slightly, giving Yamcha a not-so-friendly smile. "Is something the matter?"

"Huh?" the man standing asked dumbfounded. "No, I finally made it over to where your parents were and I guess I just got a little worried when I didn't see you with them."

"Yes, it's because I saw Mr. Usagi come in and sit down." Her blue eyes swept a glance at said man. "What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't welcome him? Oh," she started suddenly, not caring that Yamcha was about to say something, instead she turned her sights back on Vegeta. "I suppose I should introduce you two."

Yamcha stuck his hand across the hand, waiting for the other man to take the offered appendage. "Yamcha Kaito," he introduced himself with a firm shake of the hand.

"Vegeta Usagi. Nice to meet you," the lawyer said in a bored tone, pulling his hand back. His dark eyes ran back to the woman. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, Miss Briefs?"

Bulma's gaze shifted from Vegeta to Yamcha, then back again. "I think we're done here," she answered a bit stiffly. A hand rose, and Yamcha took it to help her up. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Usagi."

A smile passed over his lips. "I shall." Vegeta stood from his seat, giving a slight nod of the head before turning in the opposite direction of the couple.

Bulma turned on Yamcha, not caring to stare at the short man's retreating back. "What the hell, Yamcha?" she spit out, all while trying to keep her composure.

"What? What did I do?" He raised his hands in defense, his back bowing a bit so he could lean away from the woman. "I was seriously worried when I didn't see you with your parents."

Her face was set in a scowl and her body was tense, but she took a calming breath and willed her body to relax. "Is Frieza still with them?" she asked lowly even though no one was around.

Yamcha shook his head. "He was leaving when I was heading in that direction. So I take it nothing out of the ordinary happened? And that was the Vegeta Usagi you were worrying over?"

"I suppose so," Bulma sighed, a hand rose to brush at her hair. "I was just so relieved to see the younger Usagi here instead of his father, and, no, there was nothing out of the ordinary with Tsumetai." She blinked in surprise when Yamcha's hand grabbed hers, tugging her closer to his body.

"Well now that everything's over and there's no major crisis," he started in a half-sultry tone, "maybe we could skip the rest of the event?"

A rush of heat spread through her body causing a full-fledged smile to break out across her lips. "Let's go talk to Mom and Dad and make sure it's okay first."
FINALLY, the the next chapter of Order out of Chaos!

Last Chapter --> [link]
Next Chapter --> [link]

So, it took quite a bit longer than I hoped to get this chapter out all because of the last few scenes....the easiest stuff to do in this chapter? The Bulma/Yamcha stuff! I did enjoy doing the Vegeta opener as well, but it's hard to do what I want with without ruining the surprise :XD:

Name Meanings:
Bellamy (French): Handsome friend
Kaito (Japanase): Phantom Thief

So, aside from all that, I hope everyone who reads enjoys and reviews/critiques are always welcome :aww:

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters. They belong to Akira Toriyama.
© 2011 - 2024 inuy21
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Lavonya-Vegeta-Lover's avatar
hehe.... I like your name meanings!!!!!
I wonder what the kind of testing he's doing in the hospital.....