If she had been slightly more sober, the young woman probably wouldn't have rested her head on the dirty bar counter. She sighed heavily as she stared at the remaining beer left in her glass. A couple more wouldn't do any more harm, she knew she'd have a bitch of a hangover in the morning anyways. She raised her sapphire eyes to meet the bar tender's. She smiled meekly at him and mumbled, "In for a penny, in for a pound right? One more please Dante."
Dante chuckled at her as he filled an iced mug with a cheap lager. The woman was too drunk at this point in the night to notice a difference in quality. "Don't make me cut you off sweetheart," he chirped at her as he clunked the mug inches from her porcelain face.
The woman struggled to prop herself on her forearms to slurp at the foam slowly dripping down from the mug. She flashed a sly smile at Dante. "Don't make me take my business elsewhere," she remarked. The only response she got was a shake of the bartender's head. His casual dismissal of the threat lit a spark of rage within her. "S'not a joke!" she snapped at him, "I'm a Briefs dammit! A Briefs!" Before she could get more worked up, the kind bar keep gently tucked a lock of cerulean hair behind her ear.
"I know Bulma honey," he whispered to her, "I know." He gave her a warm smile, before turning away to tend to his other customers.
Tears rushed her eyes at Dante's affectionate gesture. She couldn't remember the last time she had been shown kindness or felt a comforting touch. She slowly allowed her head to sink back to its place on the bar counter. She pressed her cheek against the iced surface of the mug to cool her flaming cheeks. "It used to mean something," she mumbled to herself.
The name had meant something. It meant something before the economy went to shit. Before her dad died and left her a crumbling empire to fix. Before she had gotten the phone call that had ended it all.
"What do you mean 'no deal'?!" she barked into the phone, "Everything is already arranged! We've spent hours on this merger! How dare you back out now?!"
"Our apologies Ms. Briefs," the cold voice echoed on the other line, "After going over the numbers one more time, we've concluded that it's just not in our company's best interest to tie ourselves to a sinking ship such as Capsule Corporation."
"No," Bulma whispered into the phone, gripping the receiver so strongly that it pained her hands, "It's not a sinking ship, it's fine. We are bouncing back, if we merge with Inferno Incorporated we could be the strongest company on the market. Please, please reconsider."
"You have our sincerest apologies," he said flatly, "But it's not going to happen. Best of luck in Capsule Corporation's future endeavours."
"Yeah? Well FUCK YOU too!" she snarled as she slammed the receiver down. She sank down to the floor, one single tear escaping and rolling down her face.
She had sat in the still darkness of her room for what seemed like hours until she had mustered up enough energy to drag herself to the nearest bar.
It was all over. That was her last chance to save her father's company. Come Monday, she'd have to break the awful news to her employees: Capsule Corporation was bankrupt. She'd have to watch all their faces crumble as they realized the hellish situation they were in. She thought of all the company get-togethers, all her employees' beautiful partners and children that would be devastated by the bankruptcy.
How could this have happened? He remembered when her father had officially signed the company over to her. He had placed both frail hands on her shoulders, his eyes boring into hers as he said, "Bulma, this company is a family, and we take care of our own."
"Sorry papa," she breathed.
"Aw, now what does a pretty little thing like you have to be sorry about?" a soft voice cooed beside her.
Bulma's eye's snapped open to see a woman sitting beside her. She was twisting a cocktail cherry in between perfectly manicured bubblegum pink nails. Her long sunshine blonde locks twirled all the way down to her shapely buttocks that was almost peek-a-booing from her barely there black leather skirt. The woman wore a friendly smile, baring many pearl-white teeth. However, it was her eyes that momentarily transfixed the young drunk woman. A beautiful violet colour that burned with a cold fire behind them. The woman scooted her chair closer towards Bulma, closing her eyes and grinning even wider like a cheshire cat. "Hmmmm?" she said, "What is it baby? You let old Delilah know all about it."
The stranger's friendly demeanour and Southern drawl made Bulma smile in spite of herself. "It's nothing really," she mumbled. Bulma realized she must have been more intoxicated than she thought, she swore this side of the bar had been deserted just moments before.
"Oh honey, you may be able to trick these silly old bar flies with those lies, but I can see you're a lady with a bucket full of troubles," she declared as she popped the cherry between her blood red lips.
She snaked her long fingers onto Bulma's bare leg as she leaned closer. Her hand felt warm and comforting. Bulma raised her eyes to meet the burning violet irises and allowed herself to feel an embarrassing tingle between her legs before blushing and turning her head away. What the hell was wrong with her? She was acting like an inexperienced teenager.
"Just some financial issues, but everyone's got those you know..." The alcohol was really hitting her now. Her eyelids felt heavy and even the dim lights in the bar were starting to overwhelm her confused senses. She nearly fell out of her seat when a bright red cocktail was plunked abruptly in front of her face.
"Thank you Dante," Delilah purred at the barkeep. "You may leave us now, just us girls you know..." She snapped her fingers at the young man, and he obediently headed to the other side of the bar without a word. She turned back to the beautiful young woman who was fading fast.
"This is my treat sweetheart," she cooed as she moved her silky fingers up to Bulma's bare shoulder. "I hate to see a lovely flower such as yourself wither away in a hole like this."
"You... you don't have to, I'm.. I'm fine," Bulma stammered.
"Shush shush, I don't want to hear it," Delilah said matter-of-factly. "Now you take this sugar." All of a sudden, there was a gold card between the southern beauty's fingers. She placed the card beside Bulma as she whispered in her ear, "You get in contact with this boy of mine, he can set you up real good."
There was a sudden twirl of blonde hair as the woman left her seat and Delilah vanished as abruptly as she had appeared.
Bulma glanced at the golden card that almost seemed to repel the various liquids splashed on worn wooden counter. In black, bold letters appeared the name: "VEGETA".