"There! Does that satisfy you?!" he pointed to his bed, where a long sable fur fling lay with a fur-lined, tight-fitting blue dress. A pair of matching blue shoes and a matching blue hat with peacock feathers were sprawled beside it. An open jewelry box revealed a collection of diamond teardrop earrings and long strings of pearls. Bulma released a trapped breath as she ran her fingers across the soft pelt.
"That should help you blend in a little more now, does it? I had somebody pick that up at the store downstairs."
"Why are you doing this?" she turned to look at the boxer. "Why are you doing this?!"
"You should consider yourself lucky. It was little enough I could do," he told the still bewildered woman. "Don’t tell me you don’t like it?"
"No…I mean, I like it, YES! Of course I like it…but…" she held up the pearl necklace. "These are awfully expensive…"
"I told you. It was little enough I could do. I have the money."
"Let’s see how that looks on you, shall we?" Vegeta interrupted, taking the necklace from her. He then had her face the full-length mirror as he struggled to fasten the pearls around her neck. Bulma’s heart began to beat like crazy. The hairs on her back stood as the prince’s fingers grazed momentarily upon her skin. She was feeling a bit giddy now; intoxicated by the mixture of feelings she couldn’t comprehend. The butterflies in her stomach started flapping about, tickling her insides with their small wings.
"There," the man put both his hands on the woman’s shoulders, both of them gazing at their reflections. The German lady’s fingers found their way to the string of pearls that hung loosely around her neck. Then, she saw it. It seemed as if she were watching one of those silent, romantic movies. Vegeta had bent his head down and started trailing soft kisses on her shoulders. His lips found their way to the nook of her neck, as she tilted her head sideward, closing her eyes at the feel of his hand around her waist. When she felt his other hand begin to unbutton her dress, her eyes flew open. A strong sense of déjà vu permeated her thoughts. It had been like this before…Yamcha had seduced her this way too.
"Stop it!" she backed away from the boxer. "Just…just stop it!" she flopped down on the bed and curled her manicured fingers around her green hair. Vegeta looked somewhat disappointed, as he leaned over the dresser.
"I can’t accept these," Bulma finally broke the silence. "I don’t even know you! Why the hell are you doing this?!"
"Doing what?! Is there something wrong with what I’m doing?!"
"Yes! You’re turning me into your little charity case! Do I really look that deprived to you?!"
Vegeta stared at the woman sitting on his bed. He knew why he had done this; but he couldn’t put it into words.
"Look," the flapper stood up. "I…I don’t want to be the subject of your pity, okay? I’ve had too much of that and I don’t plan to have any more. Just…just say that you want sex in exchange for these things and maybe I could feel better about myself."
"You want the truth?"
"Of course I want the truth! Who doesn’t? Now spill!"
"Fine," the prince took a stick of cigarette from a pack and lit it. "You sure you could handle it?" he gave one last chance for the woman to back off.
"Just spill it!"
"I want you to be my mistress," he finally blurted out. Bulma’s jaw dropped.
"Maybe that’s not an appropriate term," Vegeta puffed out some smoke. "After all, I’m not married. Are you?"
"I’m not, but that’s beside the point!" the woman grinded her fingers together in her tight fist. She didn’t really know how to react to such a proposal. "Are you saying…you want me to be your fiancée?"
"That’s different!" the boxer snapped. "I just want a sexual affair and nothing more. I don’t even have plans of getting married!" he extinguished his cigarette against the ashtray. "If I should need to shower you with gifts to stay with me, I will."
Bulma sat back down on the bed, too stunned to speak. Here was another man offering to be her sugar daddy just as Yamcha had. But this was different. She had loved her beau; this man was a complete stranger. Her beau had been unfaithful; and this man…
"If I am to agree," she started, "will you be seeing anybody else?"
It was a tense moment as silence clouded the room; the couple gazing silently at each other. The flapper felt her hands tighten into a ball; her teeth clenched behind sealed lips. Then, Vegeta began looking at her as if she were some kind of idiot.
"Why would I?" he asked. "I’ll have you. Why should I go look for others?"
"You mean…you’ll be faithful to me?" the blue-eyed woman breathed, barely above a whisper.
"I’m just being practical!" he flared. "I don’t want to spend money on twenty women at a time!"
"Take me home, Vegeta," Bulma stood up suddenly. "Now!"
The prince watched as the flapper put on her cream brown coat and cap, a tight feeling nagging at the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t understand what that feeling was: anger, frustration, disappointment…it was all too confusing.
"What are you waiting for?" the lady asked, standing beside the open door.
Silently, the boxer put on a more appropriate set of garments, before exiting with the woman who had just rejected him.
The luxury car screeched to a halt in front of the red brick building of a neighborhood in the Bronx. Mud streaked across the tires of the Silver Ghost, degrading its pearly white form; but its owner doesn’t seem to notice. Bulma swiveled her head of green strands to Vegeta, who kept his unreadable onyx eyes on the steering wheel and nothing else. The woman’s brows met in the middle as she tried to catch her lover’s gaze; but he wouldn’t let her. They had traveled in silence and now that they had finally reached their destination, the prince still wouldn’t utter a single syllable. The flapper sighed. She could never understand men.
"Are you going or not?!" Vegeta demanded icily through clenched teeth, his penetrating gaze burning through the blue of the flapper’s eyes. Bulma’s breath caught in her throat. She had never seen him this angry; but she wasn’t about to let him boss her around. Straightening her spine, she leaned over and kissed his full lips. Vegeta blinked his eyes rapidly, trying hard not to close them against the woman’s prolonged kiss. After what seemed like eternity, she drew away.
"Thank you, Vegeta…" she dismounted the vehicle, careful not to dirty up her new shoes with the puddles that had covered the sidewalks. A loud rumble of engine noises and screeching tires sliced through the night air, causing her to stop abruptly. Her suspicions were confirmed when she followed the fading noises with her eyes. The Rolls Royce had sped off. As white puffs of smoke exited from her mouth and nostrils with her every breath, she began to wonder if she had made the right decision.
"Of course I made the right decision! I love Yamcha; not Vegeta," she mumbled; but it seemed weird. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. Quickly, she made her way inside the apartment, eager to think of nothing more.
Vegeta lay heavily on his king-sized bed, the pillows bouncing at the force of his fall. Putting his strong hands behind his head, he turned slightly to stare at the expensive clothes and jewelry he had offered to Bulma. Just the sight of these things brought back that same tight feeling in he had in his chest when she had refused him.
"What did I do wrong?!" he thought angrily. "I offered her things she could never get by just singing at clubs! That woman has too much pride!"
He stared up thoughtlessly at the chandelier that hung above him, illuminating the whole room with a pearly white glow. He had never felt this low in his entire life. That woman had just barged unexpectedly in his life and by doing so, changed it in more ways than one. Never has one woman affected him so, and never has a woman rejected him. He was a champion: always expecting victory to come with his every endeavor. Defeat was new to him; something that he didn’t want. Disgusted with himself, he stood up and took his car keys. He was once again, going to turn to the one thing that gave him relief: boxing.
"Who was that, huh?! Speak!!"
"And since when did you take interest on the men I spend time with?!"
Bulma and Yamcha’s screams could be heard throughout the apartment; thankfully, the closed door muffled their hateful words, which ricocheted off the four walls.
"I can accept you spending time with different men at a time," the scarred man started. "But this man…I’ve seen you come out of that same car twice already! Who is he?!"
"Why do you care?! You always go out with other wome—"
"This is different! You’re dating another man!"
"I’m not dating him!"
"Liar!" Yamcha kicked a footstool beside him, sending it against the wall behind Bulma, startling her. "What do you call these?!" the businessman held the pearl necklace that still hung around the flapper’s neck. She had forgotten to take it off.
"I…I bought these!" she squeaked.
"Oh, hooey! I saw your wallet! You couldn’t have bought these by yourself!"
"Oh, so now you’re jealous?!"
"Yes! I am jealous! I’ve invested a lotta dough on you and what do I get? I gave you all you could ever want!"
The couple stared hatefully at each other, the room permeating with the smell of animosity between them. Finally, Yamcha raised his hand and pointed towards the door.
"Get out!" he hissed. "Get out, you gold-digging slut! I don’t need a woman such as yourself!"
"Yamcha!" Bulma stared at her beau with frightened eyes. "Y-you’re not serious are you?"
"Oh, yes I am serious! You can go back to your new boyfriend for all I care! As of tonight, you are evicted from this apartment!" the scarred man started for the door.
"Yamcha! Don’t!" the flapper clung pleadingly on to her beau’s arm, but he wouldn’t have any of it.
"You’re not satisfied with me!" he accused. "You were never satisfied with me! You always want this and want that! And don’t think I didn’t see you flirting up to some rich guys! That’s what you want is it?! Wealth! Money! Fortune! You knew I could give you some of it, but not all!"
"No! That’s not what I want! I just want you to be faithful to me! Is that too much to ask?!"
"Well, you weren’t being faithful to me just then. Goodbye Bulma. I’m sure your new sugar daddy could provide for you even more than I ever could!"
The thundering sound of the slamming door reverberated through Bulma’s ears, almost as if it was the door that sealed her to her Fate. What little strength left in her legs diminished, sending her flopping against the carpeted floor. Her dainty hands flew to cover her tear-streaked face, sobs shaking her petite form. The man she loved had just walked out on her. She had rejected the only man who would take her in. And now, she was evicted from her apartment. Where was she to go now? After a few more minutes of crying she stood up. She had made up her mind. She was going to go back to her relatives in Queens. They may not like it when she shows up on their doorstep, but at least she could have a room to sleep in. She promised herself that she would be working twice as hard in order to afford a new apartment. The sooner she’s back on her own, the better. She then started the painful task of emptying the room she had come to love. It took her a good six hours to finish packing away her precious belongings, mostly because she stops to cry or stare off into space. It was only when darkness fell that she stood to look at the bare room. Now, only the bed, the desk, sofa, closet, as well as a few tables and chairs were left along with the memories of love Bulma had thought she would be carrying with her. But now, these walls will forever be tainted with the hurt love had implemented upon her heart. Battling the tears that had been threatening to overflow from her lids, she painstakingly left the apartment with a huge suitcase.
* * * * *
Flapper = A stylish, brash, hedonistic young woman of the 1920’s with short skirts and shorter hair
Gold Diggers = women who pursue men for money
Oh hooey! = Nonsense!
Oh Yeah = I doubt it