This story is dedicated to Mallie-3 and Springandbysummerfall. Not only was it a part of the We're Just Sayin' Google+ community gift exchange in 2014 for Mallie-3 originally(whoops!) with the writing prompt: "The main reason why Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live" - George Carlin. It was also quietly read and encouraged by Springandbysummerfall as it has been developing and fleshed out more recently. I made the final push to have it written and ready for the holidays these past 4 months and I appreciate Springandbysummerfall's diligence in reading and offering constructive criticism when needed. I have only a few more chapters to write, but most of it is done and ready. This is my Christmas gift to all of you!
Welcome to my first attempt at lighthearted comedy, yeah yeah I know...completely out of character for me. It's supposed to be a reflection of the characters, themselves, without sticking to strict characterization from the original series. Intending for this story to be silly, fun and still grounded in real-life struggles, I understand that it deviates. This is an alternate universe created for laughter and enjoyment and I hope that is what it brings you this holiday season!
Lighting a cigarette between pouted rose lips, Bulma drew slowly on the glowing stick between her slender fingers. Wrist hanging loosely while watching a thin ribbon of smoke curling upwards in lazy escape, Bulma couldn't help but wish she could do the same. She eyed the room from her corner perch. Her gold stiletto hooked on the chair's footrest made her knee curve perfectly for her crossed leg to rest comfortably. One arm bent on the cocktail table cradled her elbow in the palm of her hand as she released a sigh clouded with cigarette smoke. She took another long drag of her cigarette before flicking the powdery end against the ashtray.
Blowing the smoke from the side of her mouth with an irritated huff, she watched a pair of delicate manicured hands wrap around the arm of an all too familiar, neatly pressed navy blazer. Straight blonde strands curtaining the girl's face didn't hide the pearly smile or long lashes batting flirtatiously at the man in the jacket. A jolt of jealousy when his face lit up in a warm grin welcoming the attention was sickeningly green in intensity.
Angrily trying to stab the cigarette through the ashtray to extinguish it, two already expired ends sticking up in surrender from suffering the same fate, she turned her attention to a nearby monitor. She sipped her wine absentmindedly as the image on the screen warned of a low-pressure system starting to develop in the Western part of the country. To her it was just a series of disconnected images flashing on the screen. What held her attention was the intensity of her want to go home that was directly related to the juxtaposition of the blonde who was sidling up to the navy blazer.
She didn't even notice when her best friend, ChiChi, slid easily onto the chair next to her with another round of drinks for them both.
"Jeez, Bulma." Her tone laden with disapproval, ChiChi wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I thought you quit that nasty habit years ago."
Eyeing her friend over the rim of her glass, Bulma knocked back the last of her moscato before setting it aside to make room for its replacement.
"I guess this will just help end my year with a bang, then." Bulma grumbled, snatching the new glass of wine from her friend's hand.
Bulma was stuck at the Titans' annual Holiday Charity Gala. Her once-long-time-boyfriend-now-ex-fiancé was living up the single life while she was still picking up the pieces from their break up. When she attended the Gala last year, they were newly engaged and, she had believed, madly in love. He was more than happy to show her off on his arm while women's gazes trailed after him wistfully. Now she hid at one of the cocktail tables lining the edge of the venue as West City's finest elites - business moguls, investors and celebrities - worked the circuit of renewing stale networking connections and pocketing new ones. Even the well-known faces from neighboring towns floated in and out of the foray.
Bulma's father, founder and president of Capsule Corporation, was the brains behind the largest tech company of West City. Just as integral as inventing, the need to mingle with current investors and potential backers helped to keep the company thriving. Her father, more intrigued by the process of creating versus the dryness of attending social functions, had passed the torch to his daughter for events such as this.
On any other evening, she enjoyed meeting new people. She loved immersing herself in conversation about politics and the advances in the scientific community, especially when it veered in the direction of practical application. Where science currently resided, theories about its future and setbacks that force companies, such as her father's, to rethink and revolutionize were topics she passionately engaged in. Those that frequented these events had often shared numerous conversations with her. The real thrill for Bulma, though, was when someone new to the scene challenged her expertise. They were the ones who saw her only as a pair of legs working the circuit to keep funding flowing for her father's company and treated her as such. It was always satisfying to put these naïve naysayers in their place. They learned, rather quickly, that Bulma Briefs was the other half of Capsule Corporation's inventions and ideas. She donned overalls and grease just as easily as an evening gown and makeup. Working as a second set of hands for her father since she first showed interest in his labs, she was born with a bow in her hair and a wrench in her fist.
The event wouldn't be so terrible, in fact she would have enjoyed herself immensely, if Yamcha wasn't in attendance as well. A starting player for West City's major league baseball team, he was obligated to attend as part of his contract with the team. The autumn event, hosted annually by the West City Titans, brought in funds to help families in need during the holiday season. Bulma was there not only for Capsule Corporation's benefit, but to also show support for such a noble and generous cause by helping to give back to the community.
When the blonde leaned in to giggle something into Yamcha's ear, Bulma turned away in disgust.
"Ignore him." ChiChi urged. "You're a single gal now! You should be working the room and making him jealous of you, not the other way around."
"I guess," Bulma sighed. Twirling the stem of her glass in her fingers, she watched the pale liquid slosh around the as it left ghostly trails clinging to the sides.
"How about a bet?" ChiChi offered.
"A bet?" Bulma asked, perking up a bit.
Bulma was grateful that ChiChi allowed herself to be convinced to come. Although ChiChi's boyfriend, Goku, was sharing laughs and drinks with Yamcha and some of his teammates, it was nice to have an ally or two to help buffer the hushed gossip about their breakup which Bulma knew was the hot topic of the evening. Although ChiChi immediately took Bulma's side during the messy break up, Goku was his natural good-hearted self during the fallout. He refused to play favorites, despite the details in each side of their story, and instead remained neutral.
That's why Bulma kept him as a friend. No matter how bad someone's actions were, he was always able to find the good in a person despite all of the bad.
"What's your wager?" Bulma could feel the fog of her depression thin briefly.
"Dish duty…for a month."
"Dish duty? With as much as you have Goku over, are you sure you want to put that on the table?" Bulma teased. "You know feeding a small army has less clean-up then feeding him…dirtying almost every pot and pan we have. Are you sure you're willing to banish him from the house for an entire month after you lose?"
"What makes you so sure you're going to win?" ChiChi shot back with a smile. "You haven't even heard the details."
"I'm sure it will be a breeze." Bulma leaned forward with elbows resting on the table. She loved a challenge. With the possibility of being able to avoid dishwashing for the next four weeks, she was eager to accept. "What are your terms?"
"You have to get the number of a guy –"
"Oh, that's easy!"
" – of my choice. No matter who I choose."
"On the condition that he has to be single." Bulma interjected with hand raised. "I don't need any more drama in my life right now."
"Agreed. You have until the auction or else you lose."
"Deal." Bulma stuck her hand out towards her friend. ChiChi's hand grasped Bulma's and a firm handshake was exchanged.
"So," Bulma's gaze drifted around the room studying the sea of faces bobbing before her. "Who's the lucky guy that gets to be hit on by moi?"
"Hmm," ChiChi scanned the room looking for the perfect guy to sabotage Bulma's efforts. "Oh! How about Mr. Short and Handsome over there?"
Bulma looked in the direction she was pointing.
"Krillin?!" Bulma squealed in surprised horror over ChiChi picking one of Yamcha's closest friends. "Are you kidding me?"
"No!" ChiChi waved her hand dismissing the short, bald catcher on the team. "Behind him! The one who's leaning against the bar. His back is to us."
Bulma squinted through the crowd to see who ChiChi was referring to. Her face went slack when he turned around.
Bulma recognized exactly who ChiChi picked.
"I know," ChiChi grinned. "Quite a catch, right?"
"No." Bulma sat back with arms crossed defiantly. "No, no, no, no, no. Pick someone else."
"Why?" ChiChi asked, confused by Bulma's reaction. "What's wrong with him? He may be a little short, but he sure is handsome."
"You don't know who he is?" Eyebrows raised in surprise, Bulma stared at her friend. "Seriously?"
"No I don't." Looking in Mr. Short-and-Hansom's direction, ChiChi shrugged. "Enlighten me."
Bulma cleared her throat and said matter-of-factly, "He's only the most self-centered, bigoted, pretentious asshole this side of West City."
"Who's an asshole?" Bulma turned to see Goku standing behind her with a drink in-hand.
"You're girlfriend." She said, shooting ChiChi a wink. "Are you enjoying the event?"
"Oh definitely!" Goku sat in the empty chair across from Bulma. "Thanks for inviting us." Sliding his seat closer to ChiChi, Bulma watched his hand move to hold ChiChi's under the table. Knowing the two of them all too well, she knew exactly how their fingers would be threaded with a comforting squeeze before settling on ChiChi's knee.
Fighting back the nostalgic longing tightening in her chest, Bulma cleared her throat. "Your welcome." Forcing the pang down, she drew up a warm smile. "It's the least I can do for everything you guys have done for me."
"Someone has to take care of you." ChiChi joked, winking at Bulma.
"So why's Cheech an asshole?" Goku asked, bringing the conversation back to the bet.
"I made a wager with Bulma," ChiChi explained. "I bet her an entire month's worth of dish duty that she couldn't get a phone number from – " Chi-Chi pointed at Mr. Short-and-Handsome " – that guy."
A moment of silence passed before Goku let out a low whistle. "Mr. Breigh from Train Insane? Wow, Cheech…you must really hate doing the dishes."
ChiChi looked from Goku to Bulma and back to Goku utterly confused. "How do you both know who he is and I don't?"
"I know of him because I make it a point to know anyone that makes a seven digit salary and who is a powerful investor who might set his sights on Capsule Corp. He - " Bulma thumbed in gesture at Goku, " – knows of him because any fitness fanatic in the Northern Hemisphere has been inundated with Train Insane's gyms and paraphernalia. He has a reputation of having the same control issues as a dictator with every business he invests in. He pretty much works his way into the company by any means necessary, buying shares and seizing assets, then absorbs them through his incorporation. Capsule Corp has been sure to avoid the waters that shark swims in. I have no want to go anywhere near him."
ChiChi waved her hand dismissively at Bulma. "I thought you were a mastermind genius or something. I'm sure you'll figure out a way to separate business from pleasure." She gave Bulma a wink. "Besides, going head to head with a power player like the one you just described might help you get out of your funk. Our couch cushion is starting to sag a bit."
"Oh ha ha ha." Bulma sighed. "Sorry Cheech but that's not going to happen. You're going to have to pick someone else."
"Nope. We agreed to the terms - a man of my choosing. You shook on it. The bet is on, unless you choose to forfeit?" ChiChi beamed with the knowledge that she bested her genius friend. It was a rare occasion when she could pull one over on Bulma. "Goku, sweetheart, would you like to come over tomorrow evening for dinner? I'll make sure to cook you a scrumptious four course meal with a succulent desert." She teased evilly.
"Alright! Alright!" Bulma conceded with hands up in surrender. She shot daggers at her turncoat friend. "I'll do it." Chair easily sliding away from the table, Bulma stood. "I have to go to the bathroom, first."
"I would wish you good luck, Bulma," Goku flashed her a toothy grin, "But that dinner tomorrow night sounds too good to pass up!"