I Never

Any man knows his relationship is in trouble when his lady only focuses on the gifts she receives, not the thoughts behind them. For Trunks Briefs, it was the same song and dance yet again. His four month relationship with Kendra McKendree was reaching a pivotal point, and Trunks decided it was time to make her choose: she was either in it for him, or she was in it for the money he made. Trunks hated to do it, for this lady once had a charming, beautiful soul. That combined with her silky brunette locks, her pouty pink lips, and her lovely form once made Trunks think that he finally found his dream girl. Sure, beauty was great, but money apparently did not buy someone who saw him for the man he was on the inside.

"We're still going to the game, right?" Kendra asked, making sure the clubhouse seats were where she was going to spend Sunday.

Already she's asking? Trunks thought.

"No Kendra, we aren't." Trunks replied in a tone that told Kendra the jig might be up.

"What? Why?" Kendra pleaded. But those are clubhouse seats! I worked hard to convince him to buy me those!

"Kendra, I want you to tell me something." Trunks spoke as he brushed his long purple locks of hair away from his eyes. "If I made ten thousand bucks a year doing janitorial work, would you still date me then?"

If that was the case, maybe a one night stand. "Of course I would!" Kendra lied. But you make much more than that.

Trunks took her answer with a grain of salt, but he supposed her answer was good enough, for now. She would have to prove it in time, however. It took only a second for Kendra to squander that time. She was too fixated with the perks of dating the CEO of Capsule Corp. to get the message.

"So, why aren't we going to go to the game? Did something come up?"

Money on the brain, just like the rest of them.

"Excuse me, miss?" Trunks waved down a nearby young waitress. "Check please."

"What?" Kendra screamed. "I'm not finished with my steak!"

"Finish it then. I'm out of here."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm done Kendra! I'm through!"

"Fine, you couldn't please me anyways."

"What? Please you? I spoiled you! You have to be kidding me! You've been using me too long!"

"Fine, whatever."

"Find a cab home." Trunks fumed as he signed the check paying for their meals. He walked out of the upscale restaurant and into the cold, wintry air, which was becoming thick with a heavy, fluffy snowfall. Trunks grumbled as he walked to his car, a black, classic muscle car, now covered with a delicate layer of snow. The roads still seemed passable, however, and so Trunks reached into the glove compartment for the ice scraper/duster and dusted the snow off the windshield.

Trunks climbed into the car and raced out of the parking lot, anxious to leave the jaded memories of another failed relationship in the dust, or more accurately called, a snow-tail. Pedaling through the gears, Trunks raced for the other end of town, the V-8 engine releasing its deep, throaty roar, until he arrived at a new pub in town called the Southern Belle. The snow was falling even heavier at this point, but Trunks decided it was too early in the night to return home, so inside he went.

The Southern Belle was surprisingly modern, newly refurbished and decorated in all things southern and country. Some of these decorations Trunks didn't agree with, but oh well, it was not his place and so it was not up for him to tell the owner how to decorate it. If he really thought it a pain in the ass, he could choose to leave and not come back, but Trunks decided to give the place a chance. Right now, however, more pressing matters beckoned. He walked up to the bar and took a seat on a stool right next to the antique cash register, and turned his eyes to the television, which had the Monday night football game on the screen. The home team was getting crushed forty-eight to nothing, and only in the second quarter! Trunks chuckled as he drew a comparison of the game to a time a few years back when a hapless thug thought Trunks was prime mugging material. However, the thug wound up with more injuries in places he didn't even know he had, and had never hoped to inflict upon his victim. The barmaid, a tall, lanky, middle-aged blonde walked over after washing a pitcher to serve her new customer. "May I get you something?" She asked.

"Yes please." Trunks thought for a moment what he would like, but his mind kept returning to the failed relationship he had hoped to bury by this time. "Get me a tall glass of your recommendation."

"Dark amber alright for you?"

"Sounds fine to me."

"Coming right up then."

Trunks removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with a damp towelette. He folded them in and placed them to the side when the barmaid returned with a cold pitcher of beer. She poured it into a tall frosty pint and handed it to him. Trunks thanked her for the drink and took a long pull off the top. Not bad, he thought, it definitely had a strong taste which suited him. He made a note to order this more often.

"So, what has you down tonight?" The barmaid asked, striking up a conversation.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Sandy."

"I'm Trunks."

"Interesting name, nice to meet you. Now, you look like you've been through the ringer. What's on your mind?"

"How did you know?"

"Kid, I've been doing this for twenty years. After a while you learn how to read people's faces."

"Ah, well, I just dumped a girl about fifteen minutes ago." Trunks thought for a moment, wondering how much he should open up. "Well, she was more interested in what I could buy her rather than what I could give her myself."

"I see, so she was after your money."

"Yeah, that's it. The thing about it though was when we first started dating, she was the loveliest girl, in fact she was embarrassed at first I'd pay for the meal when she wanted to get food from the local fast food joint."

"But she saw what you had to offer, and she liked the idea of rolling in it. Am I right?"

"You're dead on. I'm telling you, wealth has been a curse on my love life." Trunks said before taking another drink.

"Kid, let me tell you something. Money is like a narcotic, especially when it comes to other women. A lot of them will swear money doesn't mean a thing, and a few might even believe it at first. But once they get that first whiff of it, they start to like it. And it isn't enough for them. They need more, and more, and more, until eventually she owns half your estate and then you're reading in the newspaper she's just newly married to the decrepit ninety-five year old billionaire who already has both feet in the grave. Now, do you see why men turn gay these days?"

Trunks nearly performed a spit-take. He managed to down the remainder of his beer, and then chuckled loudly. "Yes! Because men aren't as likely to be concerned about their own needs!"

Sandy motioned to fill Trunks's glass with another pint of beer but he waved her off. "No thanks, it's snowing outside and I don't need any more than this."

"Good idea, kid. Driving in the snow can be rough. How about I turn it to the weather, I'm sure it's more entertaining than this massacre they call a football game."

"Suits me."

"Okay, here we go." Sandy flipped the channel using the remote.

"Woohoo, would you look at that?" Trunks replied. He had long since learned to read Doppler radar, and depending upon one's point of view, the radar read something very exciting, especially to kids, or something very horrible, especially to those who worked for a living.

"A cold air mass has settled into the area ahead of a cutoff low pressure system. Since it is cut off from the jet stream, it has stalled out over the area, and it won't move for a while. What this means folks is that we are in for some big-time snow amounts. I can confidently predict two to three feet of snow, and we very well could end up with more before this system moves out of here. It all depends on when it moves out. So stay tuned here folks, once the roads get bad you might be stuck for a while. If you're traveling, you might want to make some contingency plans."

"Well, there goes my whole week." Sandy grumbled.

"I won't mind it so much at all, really. Looks like I'll be stuck in bed." Trunks replied. He noticed patrons were few and far between at this point and decided it would be best to return home before traffic snarled everything up. He paid his tab and left, feeling a bit better now that he had a hurt out of his system.

-------------

"I wonder how she's doing out there."

"Oh Gohan, you shouldn't worry so much!" Videl replied.

"I know, it's just…"

"She's daddy's little girl, right?" Videl finished for him.

"It's not that," Gohan refused to admit.

"Yeah, what is it then?" Videl replied. Gohan provided no immediate answer so she took the reins. "Gohan, she's eighteen years old now. It's her time now to be an adult, okay?"

"That's precisely the thing though! She's eighteen, and doesn't have the experiences she should have."

"That's why it's her time, Gohan! She needs to learn those lessons on her own, just like everyone's child does. You can't shelter her from every little thing; protect her from every little worry. It just isn't fair to her!"

"I'm just worried she'll get used though." Gohan shot back, trying to take back initiative. "Used and hurt. I don't want that to happen to her!"

"Gohan, her father and grandfather both have saved the world many times. And she has the same pedigree you have. She's knocked around a few nasties herself back in the day, and on top of that she never got a grade on her final report card below an A. I'd say brains and brawn are a pretty good combination."

"Yeah." Gohan grumbled.

"Gohan, your dad walked his own path. You've made yours. Now let Pan walk her own path."

"You're right."

-------------------

Pan Son had barely made it into town the day before. She also hadn't fully unpacked yet into her one bedroom apartment, primarily because she used today to acquaint herself with the city, an effort hampered by the snowstorm moving in. She made her way back to the outskirts of town however before the roads got too far out of shape, and so Pan parked her black sedan in the lot and returned to the warmth of her home, a home she was still pretty unfamiliar with. Pan Son would become the second generation to go to college in a few weeks, and this would be her place to live, where everything would happen. Pan decided tonight would be a good night to curl up underneath a blanket and read a book -Pan preferred spy thrillers- and perhaps catch the game on television. Scratch that, she decided, when she saw the score was an astounding sixty-two to nothing in the third quarter. Someone was getting an old fashioned ass kicking, reminiscent of the ones she handed out in her childhood. Her thoughts eventually drifted however to the prospect of getting a job. She had one interview to do. Perhaps she'd get a job tomorrow. Perhaps.

----------------

Trunks managed to squeeze in behind a snowplow as he made his way out of town and then turned off to a dirt road. Trunks raced up the hill and to his home, which was typical of the normal four-person family, a new brick house, but he was the only occupant in it. As Trunks walked up to the door, he looked over at his garage, which contained multiple more modes of transportation. He grumbled and walked into his house, then made his way down to the basement, his private place to vent out frustration. He hoped his equipment could take what he had to dish out tonight, because he hadn't tested the punching bags out at super saiyajin two.