On a good note, itĎs extra long....


Chapter 15



Picollo came home to his flat from the Silver Dragon that Wednesday night in a less than happy state. He flung his beer bottle somewhere in the apartment, not even wincing when it crashed, breaking onto the floor in tiny pieces.

He walked to the refrigerator and opened it, disgusted with himself that there was nothing there but beer. He grabbed one anyway and slammed the door shut, stalking into the messy living room. He popped the bottle open and took a few chugs as he surveyed his surroundings.

ĎSomeone needs to clean this dump,í he thought, plopping onto the couch and grabbing the television remote off the coffee table. When he clicked it on, he was met with gray fuzz.

Picollo sighed, leaning his head back onto the armrest. ĎForgot to pay the damn cable bill.í He was stuck with the basic UPN and WB. And sorry, but Jerry Springer and Dawsonís creek werenít really the best of choices at the moment.

He shut it off and looked around the room for something to keep him busy. It didnít matter that it was nearly 2 in the morning because he was suddenly hit with one of his inconvenient cases of insomnia.

The red light on his answering machine was blinking. It was probably Yamcha calling to say that he couldnít find the NOS tanks.

ĎI knew I couldnít trust him to do something so simple.í

Picollo pressed the play button.

"Hey Pic, itís Nail," came the familiar voice tentatively. Picollo shook his head and positioned his finger over the delete button.

"Just hear me out before you erase this message, Picollo. Please," the voice pleaded. There was a pause as if the guy as waiting for Picollo to do something.

"Weíve been wondering how youíre doing. Where youíve been." Picollo snorted and took another drink out the bottle. ĎAfter how many months since you last called?í

"You never returned my calls, so I guess I kind of gave up for the last few months" the man said, as if answering Picolloís question. "Dís worried about you. Hell, even Iím worried about you. And Dad....well you know him."

Picollo stiffened. íIf he starts talking about Dad...í

"He never talks about you," Nail continued. "But I know he thinks about you all the time. And Iím sure if you guys talked, everything would be fine! You guys canít go on living like you donít know each other. Please. Just give me a call Picollo. You know the number."

There was a click as Nail put the phone down.

Picollo took another swig from the emptying bottle.

His mind was growing hazy again.

He headed to his room.

The rain was pouring on the window.

Suddenly the bottle was crashing into the wall, spraying into little pieces all around him. Picollo fell to his knees, his face buried into his hands as he remembered how he tore his family apart.

Time passed on his knees as he shed tears for all the things heíd done. When heíd cried all he could, he stood to his feet and climbed into his bed.

Picollo took a few breaths to calm himself down, and then searched under his pillow for the framed object he held every night. When heíd retrieved it, his head fell back onto the pillow.

One last tear escaped his eye as he stared at the picture of his once complete family.

His hand glided over Dís face, and then slid over his and his twinís, Nail. Hesitantly, he touched the face of his mother, and lingered there. She was so beautiful. He held back tears and moved his fingers to his father. Picollo remembered those days as the ones when his father had life in his eyes.

Before Picollo had killed his own mother.

Picollo closed his eyes, trying to fight off the pain that was suddenly coursing through him.

"Iím so sorry," he whispered, hugging the picture close to his chest.

"Iím so sorry Kami," he said, before falling to sleep.

For him, there was nothing worse than losing his fatherís love.


Bulma woke up sweating.

His hands were still running all over her body. She was tingling.

Bulma looked over at the clock on her table.

3:00 am.

Why did she feel so wide awake? She threw off her covers and wearily trudged into the bathroom, turning on one of the faucets and splashing her face with cold water. She looked into the mirror and took a deep breath, satisfied that she hadnít shed a single tear.

And why should she?

It wasnít like anything cry worthy had happened.

Bulma felt the sudden urge to punch something.

She went into her room and changed into something comfortable. She swept her hair into a ponytail and decided to forgo the boxing gloves.

Bulma passed through the living room, downstairs, and to what she liked to call her workout room.

She didnít realize how angry she was until she hit the punching bag with great force. She hit it several times, reveling in that split second in which her fists connected with the bag.

Before she know it, she was talking to herself.

"What did you expect Bulma?" *punch* "Heís probably a fucking," *punch* criminal for chrissakes!" *punch*

Bulmaís hits steadily became more violent with each punch.

"Iím not nervous," she said, her voice belying her statement as he came closer. "I just...donít like you."

Vegeta chuckled softly into her ear. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!" Bulma shouted, punching harder. "I hate you!" She tried to forget the way his body felt pressed up against hers and the way his lips moved with her own.

"If you had any idea how much more respect I have for you than any of those other females, then you would give me an apology."

Tears of anger stung at her eyes as she remembered his words.

"Respect?" she asked to the empty room. "You have a fucked up way of showing respect!"

Her punches became increasingly violent and her tears flowing more freely.

Soon, she became exhausted. She hugged the bag, resting her weight on it and closing her eyes.

When had this case become so much more difficult?

Bulma needed to take a cold shower.


"Why arenít you asleep?"

"Why the hell arenít you asleep?"

"íCause you keep moving around."

"No one asked you to sleep in my room."

"But your bedís bigger than mine."

"Iíll tell Mom to buy you a bigger bed," Vegeta grunted rolling over to his side.

"Whatís eating you?" Speedway wanted to know.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, for one, you usually stay over your own place on the weekdays, and secondly, youíre acting like a total Snape."

"A what?"

"Harry Potter reference. You wouldnít understand. Whatís up with you?"

"None of your business."

"I bet it has to do with that girl Mom was talking about."

Vegeta faced him. "What girl?"

Speedway smirked. "That girl you spent the night at."

"You mean Bulma? What about her?" Vegeta asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Speedís eyes widened in mock surprise. "You actually remember this oneís name? You must be in love!"

"Youíre only 7. What the hell do you know about love?"

"I know about love!" the boy countered indignantly. "At least everything Suzy tells me."

"Suzy? The one with the cooties?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She says that when someoneís in love, they canít sleep at night," he said, as if reciting a script.

"Is that right?" Vegeta asked indifferently.

"Yep. And she says that when someoneís in love, they do stupid crazy things. Especially in the guyís case."

Vegetaís eyebrows quirked up. "Stupid things? Like what?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe like, if you give one girl a pack of Skittles, when you know you were supposed to give it to a different girl. But Suzyís just a chick. What does she know?"

With this, the boy closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

Try as he might, Vegeta couldnít do the same. He pillowed his head on his hands and glanced around his old room. Usually, the pictures of him posing on the front covers of underground racing magazines that were hanging on his walls would have filled him with a sense of pride.

But right now, he didnít give a fuck.

What the fuck had he really been thinking? What the fuck had he been thinking when heíd jumped into bed with Rayven?

But who could blame him really? He was only doing what any other normal man would have done in his situation. So what was the problem?

Oh, right. Bulma.

He couldnít get the blasted woman out of his head! It was as if her scent, her body, her voice, her face, her kiss, were all imbedded into his brain and he couldnít get them out. Didnít know if he even wanted to.

Since when had he gone from wanting to fuck her silly to wanting to make love to her. Or rather....make like. And what the fuck was his mind thinking?

He seriously needed some sleep, he decided as he rolled over onto his side, guilt still coursing through him as he attempted sleep once again.


"What time is it?"

"Around 4 am," Jay replied, resting his chin on the pillow more comfortably.

"Then thereís nothing on," Zaria complained, still flipping through channels.

He snatched the remote from her hands. "Youíre not looking hard enough."

She rolled her eyes. "Thereís no way youíll find anything on at this time of morning."

Jay smiled, settling himself more comfortably on her bed. "There," he said proudly when he stopped on a channel.

"Youíre kidding right?" Zaria asked with disbelief. "This is a cartoon."

Jay shook his head. "This is not just any ordinary cartoon. This is the Mr. Squarepants.

"Oh, well excuse me," Zaria laughed, "but I donít quite understand the whole hype about this Spongebob guy. Iíd much rather watch a football game."

"Thatís Mr. Spongebob to you."


He edged closer to her so he could explain.

"Okay, thatís Spongebob," he informed, pointing.

She rolled her eyes. "Wouldnít have figured it out myself, Jay," she replied sarcastically. "The big yellow sponge kinda threw me off. Whoís that?" she asked, pointing to a big pink starfish.

"Patrick. He has the power equivalent to Nappa."

She nodded. That pretty much summed it up. "And him?"

"The best guy to ever grace this show...Squidward."

Jay smiled. Not many women would actually sit down and listen to an explanation on the world of Spongebob. But then again, not many women felt comfortable watching and betting on basketball games with his friends.

They watched the show for a while with interruptions from Zaria who was full of questions, until she noticed how hot it was getting in the room.

She jumped off the bed and went to the window, trying to open it.

"Can you help me here?" she asked, grunting in exertion when it wouldnít budge.

Jay was too immersed in the cartoon.


"Huh?" he asked, still staring at the television.

"Help please?"

He finally turned to face her and gave her a Ďwhatís-the-problem-here?í look.

"Itís stuffy in here."

"So take off your shirt," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Zaria raised her eyebrows.

Jay rolled his eyes and tugged off his own shirt, leaving him in his undershirt. He tossed it onto the ground and turned back to the television.

She shook her head and did the same, throwing her top somewhere onto the ground. She jumped on the bed, lying down on her back as opposed to Jay who was on his stomach. Her head was hanging over the foot of the bed, making it so that she was watching the television upside down and her hair pooled onto the ground.

"Whatís going on?" she asked referring to the cartoon. "Is Bob still trying to find out whatís in Patrickís secret box?"

Jay turned to face her body. His eyes widened at the womanís slim figure.

She was perfect. He admired her tanned body, his eyes raking over her smooth legs to her nicely shaped hips. He licked his lips as he roamed over her torso which sported a belly ring. He particularly liked this part of her body even though, apart from her arms and legs, it was the only other part she exposed. His eyes reached the curve of her bra and lingered.

"The guyís obsessed," Jay answered.

Her face scrunched up. "Obsessed to the point where he canít even sleep at night?" she asked, oblivious to the fact that Jay was talking about something entirely different.

"Can you blame him?" he replied, almost to himself as his eyes stayed glued to her body.

She sat up. "If he wants to know whatís in the box so much, why doesnít he just ask?"

"Let me take you out," he said, changing subjects as he was prone to doing.

"What do you mean?" she asked almost shyly after a short pause.

"Like, formally," he said, nervously. ĎWhat the hell is wrong with you Jay?í he scolded himself. ĎHow many girls have you asked out in your life and you pick this one time to act like a fucking idiot?í

"I mean, like, dinner. At a real restaurant. Not one of those burger joints we went to tonight. And not as friends this time."

She smiled at him and bit her lip. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. But before she could pull back, he pulled her in closer, prolonging it. He ran his hand up her bare back , toying with the clasp of her bra.

Zaria stiffened.

"Whatís wrong?" Jay asked, breaking away from her.

"I heard something," she said, jumping off the bed. And sure enough, he heard the sound of keys opening the front door.

Her eyes widened. "My brother! You have to leave! Quick!"

Jay jumped out of the bed quickly, frantically putting on his shoes. "And why are we running from your brother again?"

"Because heíll kill you."

"Oh, right," he said, going to the window and opening it. He swung one leg over the ledge before remembering something. "So, was that a yes?"

She nodded. "Yes! Now hurry up! And be careful."

He leaned up and gave her a quick kiss before starting down. She watched as he climbed down the side of the house and breathed a sigh of relief when he made it onto the ground.

But the sound of her door slamming open transformed relief into anger.

"Donít you know how to knock, Zarbon?" she asked, grabbing her shirt and putting it on.

"Whoís car is downstairs?" the green haired man demanded, obviously ignoring her question.

"What car?" Zaria asked, deciding to play dumb.

He pushed by her to the window. Zaria held her breath, hoping that Jay had already driven off. She watched his face scrunch up in confusion.

"I could have sworn I saw someoneís ride outside," he said.

"Yeah, well you must be seeing things. Thatís what happens when you do too much coke with your buddies."

He ignored her once again, his eyes scanning the room. They stopped on something that was on the ground. He went over and picked it up.

"Whoís shirt is this?" he asked in a way that said, ĎIt better be yours.í

She snatched it from him. "None of your damn business Zarbon. I donít know who gave you permission to come into my house anytime you feel like and I sure as hell donít know how you got my keys."

"If you must know, I got them from Zarmine."

She snorted. "I should have known. Youíve transformed her into your very own partner in crime."

Zarbon chuckled. "So what does that make you, sweet Zari? An innocent bystander?

She didnít answer him for a few moments. "What youíre making me do is wrong," she told him quietly.

"Donít tell me youíve turned into a fucking nun. All you have to do is be my little spy for a while."

"Iím not your little anything."

"Temper, temper, Zari. Weíve been through this before. Nobodyís hurting anyone. Youíre just getting information for me."

"I want out."


"You heard me."

Zarbon growled in frustration. "Donít pull this shit on me Zaria! He fucked your sister! He fucked Zarmine and dropped her like she was dog-shit! Add to the fact that he left her pregnant?"

Zariaís hands fisted up at her sides.

"No one does that to a Ginyu," Zarbon continued. "All Iím asking you to do is find out what Vegetaís got for Race Wars. Get close to whoever you have to, I donít care. Just find out. Then weíll fuck up the one thing he wants most."

Zaria was left standing there angrily as Zarbon left her room.


"You got your inhaler?" Vegeta asked his younger brother as they headed towards Dieselís.

"For the third time already Vegeta; Yes!" Speed answered exasperatedly. "When will you and Mom finally realize that Iím not a kid any more?" he asked with a pout.

"First get rid of your Pokemon cards. Then weíll talk about it."

"I could just stay home by myself you know."

"Right. So you can order Pay per view movies all day like last time?"

"So, what? Iím gonna have to come to your workplace everyday of my summer vacation?

"Weíll see," was Vegetaís answer.

He crossed his arms and gave a vexed look. "I canít wait until little league football games start up this summer. Then I can have something to do with my life."

"Now, stay here," he said, sitting the kid on one of the stools Bulma was on the day he met her. "Chi will probably be workiní the bar today. When she comes, tell her to fix you up some breakfast. Iíll be back in a few to give you some cash so you can go to the stores. Can you remember all that?"

Speedway rolled his eyes. "No, Vegeta. I think youíre gonna have to write it down somewhere in case Iím suddenly hit with amnesia."

"I need to quit teachiní you how to be sarcastic."

"No, Vegeta," Juu said, walking in with Jay and Krillin behind her. "You need to quit teaching him how to be such a cute little hottie." She kissed him on the cheek.

When she wasnít looking, Speedway wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. He looked at Vegeta and mouthed the word "cooties."

Jay ruffled the kidís hair. "So, you been practicing the words I taught you?"

He nodded his head enthusiastically. "I got slut-bomb and asswipe down. But I canít remember the one about the cat."

Jay shook his head. "Not cat, Speed--" Jay was cut off by Krillin who elbowed him in the gut.

"Whatís say we get to work now, huh buddy?" Krillin said, laughing nervously at Vegetaís glare.

Jay nodded. "Good idea," he said before the two scurried off to the back.

Juu rolled her eyes. "See you inside then Vegeta," she said, leaving the two to head to the back also.

Vegeta turned to his brother. "Forget everything Jay told you."

Speedway rolled his eyes. "You know, Vegeta, itís about time you started introducing me to the real world."

"Give me a few years," Vegeta said, leaving the boy to go to work. In all actuality, Vegeta didnít mind if cussing was the kidís second language. He just didnít need his mother accusing him of being a bad influence.

"Hey Bossman!" Launch called out when he came in. "Why so late?"

"Long night," Vegeta answered, grabbing his gloves from one of the messy work desks.

"Yeah, with his left hand," Krillin whispered to Jay and Chiatzu, snickering.

"Whereís Jared?" Vegeta asked no one in particular.

"Heís with Bulma in the Computer room," Picollo answered from under the hood of a car.

Vegeta then remembered the car that he and Bulma were making, and that he was most likely going to use for Race Wars. Like hell he was going to let her do all the work!

He headed to Tinkís room and barged into it without knocking. Bulma was leaning over Tinkís shoulders, watching the computer. Vegeta refused to notice that the way she was bending allowed her short shorts to show off her finer assets.

She turned to look at him but then back to the screen. "Itís about time you got here. I thought Iíd have to do this thing myself." There was an obvious icy edge to her tone.

He stood beside her so he could get a good look at the screen. "Well Iím here now, arenít I?"


Tink raised his eyebrows. "Is it just me, or is there major tension in this room?"

"You know, no one asked you to be here in the first place," Vegeta said, ignoring Tinkerís comment and letting his anger get the better of him.

Bulma faced him. "Fine."

To his surprise, she walked out of the room.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Vegeta heard Tink say, "I think you better catch her dude." Tink took off his beanie to rub his head. "As daughter to the CC owner, she has infinite connections. And if you truly want to win Race Wars..." he let the sentence hang.

Vegeta sighed, frustrated. When he left the room, he was met by Krillin and Jay. Before he could ask, both men pointed towards the junkyard. Vegeta grunted a thanks and headed that way.

When he opened the door to the room full of parts, he saw Bulma sifting through the junk.

"We need to talk," he stated firmly.

She didnít look at him. "What about?"

"Donít act like you donít know Ďwhat about.í"

She continued to look through the stuff, not glancing up at him even once. "If youíre talking about last night, which Iím sure you are, then thereís really nothing to talk about."

"Donít give me that shit Bulma," Vegeta growled, grabbing her arm so she would stay still."

She snatched her arm from his grasp. "Donít touch me, Vegeta," she warned. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to ease your guilty conscience? To say that it was no big deal and that youíre forgiven? Well fine!" She threw here hands into the air. "Youíre forgiven, Vegeta."

"Donít lie to me."

"What can I say? I canít blame you. Youíre a man. You have a dick," she said, as if he didnít already know. "When a man wants to get off, heíll do it. What say do I have in your sex life?" she spat.

ĎMore than you think,í he wanted to say, but was cut off by Chichiís head popping thorough the door.

"Hey Bulma! You think youíre up to workiní the bar with me today. Yamchaís busy helpiní Picollo with somethiní else."

Bulma nodded. "Iíll be right there."

Chichi nodded back and closed the door.

"Are we done here, boss?" Bulma asked, heading to the door.

"You know damn well that weíre not."

"No, I didnít think so. Looks like weíll just have to take a rain check, eh?"

For the second time in half an hour, Bulma walked out on him.


Bulma was so angry that she failed to notice the young boy sitting at the counter. What she did notice, though, was Goku scoffing down bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

"Shouldnít you be working?" Bulma asked him more harsh than necessary.

He just nodded absently.

"Here, Bulma," Chichi said, giving her a plate of waffles and eggs. "Give this to that kid sitting there."

Bulma looked at the plate Chichi gave her confusion.

"What do I look like Chi? A waitress?"

Chichi raised her eyebrows. "I didnít make you sign up for this."

ĎYou might as well have,í Bulma thought. ĎI would have agreed to anything so I could get out of that room with Vegeta.í

"Fine," Bulma sighed. And as an afterthought: "Do I have to curtsy afterwards?"

"Cute. Hurry up. We have a business to run you know."

"Right," Bulma said wondering when sheíd turned from a person of authority to an employee.

She walked to the young boy but did a sudden double take at the striking resemblance the kid had to a certain drag racer. All he needed to do was grow a few feet and heíd practically be Vegeta.

"Whoíre you?" the young kid asked boldly when she set down the plate and glass of orange juice.

"Whoís asking?" Bulma replied, itching for a fight, even if the kid was probably less than half her age.

He looked over his shoulders, as if checking to see if anyone else was there.

"Not the invisible man standing behind me thatís for sure." He snickered at his own joke.

Bulma rolled her eyes. This one was definitely related to Vegeta.

"Who are you." Bulma countered, already knowing the answer.

"I asked first."


"So youíre not allowed to do that."

"Sayís who?"

The boy stopped to think for a moment. "Youíre good."

Inside, Bulma laughed. It felt pretty good to beat a bratty little kid at his own game.

"My nameís Speedway. My friends call me Speed. Iím on summer vacation so I gotta come here with my brother. My brotherís Vegeta in case you didnít know. People say I look like him but I donít think so. I think Iím more of a David Beckham slash Justin Timberlake. What do you think?"

Bulma blinked at the rapidness of which the boy spoke. "I think you need to stick to de-caf. Geez, no wonder they call you Speed."

He took a bite out of his waffle. "So, I told you who I am. Who are you?"


The boy blinked at her brevity. "Thatís it?"

She shrugged. "What do you want me to say? Iím Bulma the Vampire Slayer?"

Truth was, Bulma had been trained not to share too much information with people. Even if that person was a 7 year old kid.

"Oh, so youíre Bulma?" Speedway asked, light dawning onto his face. "Hmph. Thereís nothing so special about you. Donít know why Vegetaís been up all night."

Bulma raised an eyebrow, disregarding his "nothing so special" comment. "Up all night?"

"Yeah," Speed answered, scarfing down some eggs. "I think the guyís in love or something."

"In, l-love?" Bulma repeated, to make sure she was hearing right.

"Uh-huh," he informed with a full mouth. "And he better do something about it real quick Ďcause if heís gonna be staying over the house, then I wonít be getting any sleep."

"How do you figure?" she asked nonchalantly, leaning onto the counter.

"How do I figure what? That I wonít be getting any sleep?"

"That heís in Ďloveí."

"Oh, well I have this friend...well not really, sheís just a girl but I progress. She says that when you canít sleep, then youíre in love. Or something like that."

Sheíd forgotten that she was talking to a 7 year old kid.

"You got a lot to learn about love kid," she said, flicking him on the nose. "And by the way, itís Ďdigress,í not Ďprogress.í Okay?"

Speedway watched her walk back to Chichi. "Same diff," he said, going back to his waffles and eggs."

ĎBesides,í Bulma thought. íI couldnít even get a wink of sleep last night. And that doesnít mean anythingĎ.


As the day wore on, nothing of particular interest had happened. Speedway had left hours ago to raid the candy stores and Goku had left earlier to work in the back. Business was really slow but not that that was anything new.

So, Bulma had nothing to do. Nothing that followed Vegetaís rules anyway. She wanted to check out what was in that basement Yamcha was talking about. And if what was in there was what she thought was in there (stolen goods) then she obviously couldnít ask Chichi because she was most likely in on it.

Every now and then, Vegeta would pass by and go into the messy room that people liked to call his office. Bulma didnít even glance at him. Even though there was a semi big glass window attached to it, Bulma couldnít see what the hell he was doing in there, on account of there was a huge messy desk blocking her view.

And she sure as hell would have liked to find out what was going on in there too.

But, as of that moment, she was stuck watching the small no-cable television that came with the place. The only good thing on was a Nascar race. She usually didnít watch that kind of thing, but, she was quite intrigued by it now.

A few weeks ago, thereíd been no way in hell sheíd have even thought of professional racing as a thrill much less a sport. She thought of it like she thought of jumping out of a plane. It was like the chances of dying are doubled.

But on the other hand, there was that indescribable feeling of an adrenaline rush. Plus NOS? Nothing compares.

Bulma heard the now familiar sound of a car pulling up. Her mind quickly went into Ďbusiness mode.í

A man got out of the car and headed for the place. He was medium built with dyed black hair and a blonde goatee.

"Hi," Bulma started in on the lame greeting. "What can I get you?"

He shook his head. "Iím here to pick up Speedway Spencer. Any idea where the kid might be?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow in surprise. Did this guy actually think she would randomly give out the location of a 7 year old boy? Did the term "sexual predator" mean anything?

But before she could say anything, a deep voice behind her beat her to it.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The man chuckled. "Vegeta. Always one to get straight to the point."

"What are you doing here?" Vegeta repeated more forcefully.

"Iím here to pick up Speed. Remember? Football tryouts?"

"Well heís not here," he replied shortly. "Bye."

"Thatís so unnecessary, Vegeta," Chichi said, shaking her head.

Bulma was confused. Who the hell was this guy and what rights did he have to Speedway?

The man sighed as if he were fed up. "Vegeta, please donít tell me youíre still pissed Ďcause of me and your mom."

Vegeta gritted his teeth. "Leave Celeste out of this," he growled.

The man rolled his eyes and turned away. "Tell Speed Iíll pick him up tomorrow. Itís a shame heíll miss out today just Ďcause his older brother canít handle his mother having a boyfriend."

Before Bulma knew it, Vegeta jumped over the counter and punched the guy in the back of the head. When he fell onto the ground, Vegeta flipped him over onto his back and began to hit him repeatedly in the face.

Maybe it was because the shit was just piling up on him. First Rayven, then Bulma, and now this fucker? Maybe it was because the guys words were actually true. Or maybe it was because Vegeta really needed to hit something. Hell, it could have just been the hot weather, but right now, that didnít matter. What did matter was his fist connecting with the guyís face.

He felt more than one pair of hands grab him by the shoulders.

"What the hell is wrong with you Vegeta!" Chichi shouted as she and Bulma pulled him off the poor man.

"Stay out of the Chi!" Vegeta growled.

"Youíre trying really hard to make an asshole of yourself arenít you?" she threw back at him.

"No, thatís alright," the man said, standing up and wiping a dribble of blood from the side of his lip. "At least now he can get it out of his system."

"Fuck you Connor," Vegeta spat.

They all heard the door to the backroom open.

"Whatís up with all the commotion?" Goku asked before stopping to look around. Behind him was Jay, Juu, and Krillin. "Geez, what happened here?"

"Donít worry about it Kakkarot," Vegeta responded venomously. "He was just leaving."

"Whoís leaving?" a small voice asked from the entrance. Speedway looked from his brother to Connor and knew something was up. "What happened to your lip, Connor?"

The man tried to put on a smile, but it only came out looking like a grimace.

"I just fell Speed. Nothing to worry about."

Speed narrowed his eyes but then shrugged it off. "Ready to go tryout for football?" he asked, hopefully.

Connor nodded his head and turned to look at Vegeta. "I guess Iíll be seeing you then," he said.

Bulma could hear Vegeta growl deep in his throat.

Speedway smiled at his brother. "See you later Vegeta. Cross your fingers and maybe Iíll make it on the team."

Vegeta nodded absently, still eyeing the other guy.

"Come on Speed, letís go."

They watched as the two got in the car and drove off.

"What was that all about?" Goku asked.

Jay shook his head. "Donít ask. Itíll just make Vegeta unnecessarily angry all over again."

"Donít start," Vegeta warned.

"Itís true!" Chichi scolded. "That was absolutely unnecessary and you know it Vegeta!"

"Fuck off Chi," Vegeta replied calmly before retreating back to his office.


ĎToday is too unreal,í Bulma thought after Vegeta had gone back to his room. She wanted to think out what had just happened and why Vegeta had gone all crazy, but someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, coming face to face with Yamcha.

Although Bulma was in no happy mood, she forced a smile. It was part of her undercover job to be an actress.

"Hey Bulma."


"I just wanted to let you know that...if thereís ever a time you need to talk to someone...Iím here for you."

Bulma blinked. ĎOkay...and why are you telling me this?í

"About....last night."

ĎOh, right.í

"Now, I know that I donít know all the details, but I feel so bad that whatever happened, happened. But I say, kudos to moving on, right?

ĎWhat is this guy trying to say?í

"And since weíre on the subject of moving on," he continued, "how about I take you out? As friends."

Bulma looked up at him in awe, hearing the words come out of his mouth, but not really understanding them.

"How does that sound?"

Bulma opened her mouth to say something along the lines of, "It sounds like you rehearsed that," but then thought again.

ĎWhoís the biggest sucker here that I can get answers from?í she asked herself. It was time to stop worrying about her life, and start taking action on this case.

"Sure," she answered. "When?"

Yamchaís eyes lit up in surprise. "Uh, 8:00 tomorrow night? Flamingo Cantina? Iíll pick you up."

"Thatís good for me," Bulma answered, smiling.


"Whatís wrong Vegeta?" Rayvenís silky voice came from behind him. She slinked her arms around his neck.

"What do you want Ray?" Vegeta wanted to know, as he absently shifted through papers.

"I want you...to be happy," she replied, making sure he heard the pause and turning her words into a double entendre.

Vegeta sighed.

"You seem stressed Vegeta," she said, rubbing his shoulders slowly. "You need a break."

Vegeta closed his eyes, reluctantly enjoying the womanís massage.

"And I know exactly what you need."

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Letís go to dinner. Just me and you."


She stopped her ministrations. "And why not?"

"Because I said so."

Vegeta looked up through his glass window and noticed two figures standing together and talking. Well, more like one was talking and the other was just listening.

He watched as Bulma stared at Yamcha as if he were a god or something.

"Fuck it," he said. "Letís go."

Behind him, Rayven smiled. "I knew youíd say yes. Tomorrow. 8:00? Flamingo Cantina."

Vegeta just nodded.

* * * * *

I swear...That was the biggest bitch to write! I wrote that last part off the top of my head. It sucks when you come out with a good chapter, but then you canít top it. Which is why this chapter came out all weird to me...not bad, just not my style. Iím so disappointed in myself because I realized that this whole summer, I only came out with 1 chapter! 1! I felt so bad....so I think this is the longest chapter Iíve ever written. It was pretty...blah. But thatís ícause the ball starts to roll in the next chapter.

Hey, but we do find out that Zarbon and Zaria are related....and, whatís this? Vegeta has got some chick pregnant?? Whatís going on here? And Picollo is Kamiís son?? I didnít see that one coming. In fact, that plot only came to me like 2 chapters ago when one of my reviewers mentioned something about wanting to know about Tien and Picolloís home lives. Strange relations indeed.

And now, I think Iím going to have to come up with a schedule on when Iím going to come out with chapters....and I seriously canít promise you that it will be every other week. Sorry. Anyway, please, please Review. Give my friend Simba some pride. Some people gave me some good advice and Iíll be sure to e-mail you back. Itís hard to know how your characters look when youíre writing them.

luv, peace, and chicken grease!

~Scrambled Thoughts~

Table of Contents
Chapter 14
Chapter 16