Earlier: Connections are made over the series of upsetting events. Vegeta learns what happened to Bulla, exploding with rage. Bulma and Ambrose also have angry axes to grind.

After the prior day's shakeup, Vegeta, Bulma, Bulla and Tarble visited the cemetery on Sunday to lay flowers on Cricket's grave. A highway patrol car, parked on a hilltop, overlooked miles of painstakingly manicured land tracts speckled with plant vases, American flags and other memorabilia that families and friends placed near the headstones of the deceased.

The driver of a black stretch Cadillac with tinted windows had positioned the vehicle next to a knobby tree and a few busy squirrels. Bulla said the tree had "character," kicking off much-needed laughter from everyone. Walking arm-in-arm, Bulma and Bulla left the Rutledge brothers alone to reflect.

Given Vegeta's lingering side-effects from the medicine and headache, Tarble kept a careful watch over his brother's fitness. Vegeta had been on his knees for some time.

"I'm as healthy as a thoroughbred," Vegeta said, rearranging the flowers. "You can tone down the surveillance."

Tarble adjusted the belt buckle on his jeans. "Bulma ain't here to nag you, big brother, so I'm all you've got. But 'll agree your workouts continue to do wonders."

"Hn. Nothing is stopping you from improving your practice, Tarble. All of my routines are sitting in your inbox, fearing the next virus that your antique computer will get."

Vegeta rubbed his neck, shakily attempting to rise on one knee. Tarble grabbed his brother's arm to keep Vegeta from falling forward.

Ashamed, Vegeta repaid the rescue with a fuming scowl. "I told you to stop worrying! I'm just dizzy, all right! It will wear off!"

Tarble's grip stiffened. "Look here, boy, and listen good. Snarl, bark, curse at, and tear into me all you want. You think I give a shit? You really think I give a shit, Vegeta?! I spoke my mind yesterday. That will continue, so fix that mulish attitude and accept that you're worth the attention, because you are."

Vegeta snorted, allowing his brother to help him stand. "Did you just call me boy?"

"No, Vegeta. I just called you Hello Kitty."

Vegeta thumped his brother's head, confirming their quarrel's end. "I could do worse than whacking that thick skull of yours. Don't test me."

"Let's go find the ladies," Tarble replied with a grin as they neared the car. "They're probably at the bubbling fountain."

Vegeta's pace slowed as Tarble proceeded ahead. "I'll do my best—for you and myself."

Ambrose was officially back on the job. Despite Bulma's schedule, she remained hawkish about him. Not even Krillin knew the lively chief of staff's substance-abuse treatment. Ambrose obediently attended a confidential group made up of people on the low and high scale of alcoholism, and personally met with a therapist. Some of his new companions urged him to leave his job, suggesting the high-stakes, high-pressure environment would keep him attracted to drinking. Ambrose refused, explaining that he had promises and duties to fulfill. Bulma's temper recovered from the stunt with her medical records, but Ambrose still seethed, as well as Vegeta.

Ambrose caught wind that Rutger Kamen, a nationally known jack-of-all trades, unprincipled political-demolition consultant had likely been hired to stir the pot negatively against Bulma earlier than expected, suggesting that the governor's theory had legs. Kamen loved prancing through pandemonium - often created by him - and dressed the part. His more sardonic critics likened his style to comic-book villains, with his tailor-made seersucker or colorful classic-fit suits, fancy gold-plated walking canes, and a treasure trove of men's hats.

Kamen arrived in town unannounced to further survey the partisan landscape. He had a couple of meetings planned, but the big spenders with influence definitely weren't in Jeff City. Rallying more discontents from across the state – everyday people - and unifying them against Bulma was his top priority. The spenders wanted Bulma out as she sought more reforms to the tax system and financing schemes that kept cities and smaller towns exposed to corruption by local officials and businessmen.

At sixty-six years old, Kamen had decades of success at playing people against each other, promoting conspiracies, and orchestrating bribes. He never seemed to get caught on that last one. He toned down his appearance on this visit, though, and planned to see a so-called "old friend." But first, he had to send roses to his wife. Those he ordered the prior day by phone. The next day, he took a leisurely, self-directed tour through Black Orchid, finding the owner where he expected. Vegeta was inspecting the merchandise out in the back. A pretty teenager carrying a shoulder bag, undoubtedly the man's daughter, and another worker were absorbed in a lively conversation.

"Hey, Mr. Rutledge, what's half price out here today?"

"Bucky, boy, put on your damn glasses and you'll see the signs! There are no women out here for you to flirt with right now, and I wouldn't help with that anyway!"

"You don't have to be so mean," the young man said. "I'm trying to pick out items for my aunt."

Vegeta removed his work gloves, rising to face the young man. "You haven't begun to see mean from me yet. Be your own man - and find glasses that fit you better. How old are you now? Twenty-two? Confidence helps with finding a mate if that's what you want. Hurry and get what you want over there, and have the cashier take an extra five percent off the charge. Most of this inventory must go soon."

Vegeta grouchily shooed him out. He gave at least three "be your own man" lectures weekly. It especially saddened him to see younger ones who desperately wanted someone to affirm and believe in them. Bucky didn't fit that description, but he looked up to Vegeta all the same.

"Thanks, Mr. Rutledge! I appreciate it, and I'll take your advice."

Vegeta appeared pensive and slightly weary. Rutger Kamen took stock of this, now familiarized with the man's reputation for crankiness and reserve, but also thoughtfulness and occasional mischief-making. Kamen judged that the double dirty trick aimed at an important target had some success. He could further intensify his focus on Vegeta, but a main contact warned him to ease up more on Bulla. Still, Kamen had ice in his veins for declared opponents. The game had begun, and Bulla was no preschooler. The teenager also appeared to be resilient, an attribute Kamen liked in girls and women, Bulma included. Yet he was being paid handsomely to take down the governor. Neutralizing Antonia's father (Kamen liked her first name) would kill two birds with one stone – figurately, of course.

Planning murders wasn't Kamen's style. Indirect advice to those who had no reluctance about killing better suited his mindset. He also believed Bulma and her chief adviser underestimated just how much those in the opposing party wanted most of the state back under their control – even the goody-goody bipartisan-minded politicians who liked Bulma but opposed some of her philosophies.

"You need some help, daddy?"

"Nope."

"I see a few things I could help with. You're tired."

Vegeta disapproved of his daughter's lack of discretion, but at least the area wasn't full of customers. "Of course I am," he said, lowering his voice, "but other employees can handle that work over there. You have lots of studying to do. If you're bent on hanging out here, then go where you can focus on that."

Bulla, who looked hurt, nodded obediently. "OK."

All the while, Vegeta had been closely watching the meandering out-of-towner as much as Kamen had casually observed him. Vegeta wanted Bulla gone mainly for that reason. He could soothe her lightly bruised feelings later. Kamen being Kamen, he wanted to speak with Vegeta to get the truest sense of the man. But then a hammer came crashing through his plans as Josh Marley sauntered outside, carrying a semi-full wicker basket.

Kamen knew curse words three languages, and all blasted through his mind. He moved to an aisle closer to the door, picking up a few objects. Josh just rebelliously pissed all over Kamen's sage advice to personally steer clear of the Rutledge family for now, allowing the professional tricksters to do more work. If he provoked Vegeta, Marley risked a fight that could be abysmal. Kamen wanted nothing to do with that up close, so he left to pay for his items. Josh bumped into him, faking an accident, and apologized.

Frustrated, Kamen told him be more careful next time. Vegeta's brawny arms folded with an air of intimidation as Josh strutted in front of them. Bulla smiled – not because she wanted to – but to buy more time to think. Her dad's "don't fuck with me" meter had radioactive properties, which were off the charts these days. Though the adults didn't share their speculation with her, she assumed Marley had to be on their master list of those who could have been involved with the packages they received.

"How goes it?" Marley asked with a pleasant smile. "You're the owner, Mr. Rutledge, am I correct? I believe this is the first time we've met in person."

Vegeta didn't answer quickly. "Yes, and I believe it is the first time."

"Your store is impressive. I can see why shoppers – even our good old boys from around these parts - come from everywhere to buy goods from you."

"Well now, Mr. Marley, I don't call them good old boys. Not all would probably take kindly to that. If they define themselves as such, then that's up to them. When they're in my store, they're my customers looking for good service. Respect my rules in here, and you'll be served properly."

Marley nodded. "Oh yes, yes. Can't argue with you there. And who is this lovely young lady?"

"I'm Bulla. Nice to meet you, lieutenant governor." She stuck out her hand, which Marley covered with both of his, partially bending over.

"Wonderful to meet you, Bulla!" Marley said. "With that kind of energy, I'm sure your dad would be thrilled to have you run his business someday. Maybe you'll own more than one store."

Vegeta eyed Bulla, angered by her continuing disobedience. "Antonia, run along now as I asked earlier," he said placidly. Mentally, he was nowhere near placid. Using his daughter's first name unmistakably warned her to stop. Worse, Marley's grasp on Bulla's hand lasted longer than her father believed it should have.

Josh didn't stop there, pulling Bulla in closer. Her comeliness, despite her age, attracted him. Marley's eyes could soften on cue to charm women and young girls. Even Bulla, who knew she was playing with fire, found the man's attentive gaze mesmerizing. Josh smiled, pleased that the girl thought him alluring. Bulla felt a chill, distressed by her reaction and Josh's skillful manipulation. Indeed, he was dangerous. She recalled a historical talk Ambrose gave one day at the city's main library about political corruption. She loved his storytelling, but point by point, he outlined characteristics of "the pros" and "wannabes." Not all were sociopaths, but those who fit that description often did the most damage.

Vegeta roughly stepped between them. "Antonia, get going."

Bulla lifted her shoulder pack, slipping a peck onto her dad's cheek. "I love you." Vegeta's stern glance confirmed that she couldn't sweet talk herself out of a lecture later.

Both men watched as she ran inside. With two phone swipes, Vegeta secretly shut off the video cameras and locked the back door's right side, as Marley was right-handed. The voice recorder stayed on.

"Come near my child like that again, and I'll break both your hands. I'm willing to risk the misdemeanor charge in court."

"Tsk, tsk," Marley said, wagging a mocking finger. "Now, how would that look? Do you really want to be the governor's violent prince consort? Think about the endless 'bad boy' stories about other political families. I'm sure you don't want to join that rogues' gallery. Besides, Antonia was only being friendly."

"Actually, she wasn't," Vegeta said, tending to a standup row of plants. "She habitually tries to protect me, especially when I'm cross."

"I'm not here to completely upset you, Vegeta. I'm also wired extensively in case you try to injure me."

Vegeta laughed, clapping louder and louder. Josh's smug grin slumped a notch as the noise increased. He looked around, wondering if others were watching, but they were alone.

"Nervous?" Vegeta asked. "You should be, pretty boy. Marley, you're here of your own volition to provoke me, and yet you didn't show up for a fair fight - because you know I'd stomp your oily ass from here to Chicago. And what makes you believe I'm not recording? Remove and shut off those pricey surveillance gadgets, and I'll do the same. Prove you're not the chicken-shit bully that we know you are."

Marley understood now why Bulma – and Ambrose, even more so - ensured that neither crossed paths. Vegeta was the real deal. Josh couldn't directly win a battle of smarts, wills or fists with this man. The ploy Kamen's contacts carried out didn't appear to have damaged Vegeta extensively despite the rock-solid information they had about the man's mental health and background, as well as Cricket's. Josh hated retreating, but as Kamen advised, he should have left Vegeta alone. They had plenty of tactics to damage Bulma's credibility. Like others, Marley believed the romance would crumble along with it.

Marley's lips moved from side to side. "Well, I guess I'll pay for these items."

"They're all on clearance anyway, you cheap dick," Vegeta said frigidly. "Just take them and get the hell out."

Marley rushed out as a startled Nappa opened the unlocked door from inside. Vegeta's stygian stillness alarmed him. If Nappa didn't trust in Vegeta's morality, he sensed Marley would soon be a dead man, and the boss wasn't hiding the appearance of it. Ever since Vegeta returned after time off from work, Nappa had sensed subtle changes in the man's personality. Why was Marley so interested and blatant about angering Vegeta? Even for a brash politician, this behavior seemed abnormal.

Vegeta quaffed from a water bottle. "What can I do for you, Nappa?"

"Uh, how about we order some pizzas to reward everyone for their hard work while you were gone? I'm sure Bulla would love some too."

"Go ahead."

"What kind would you like?"

Vegeta removed his apron, pressing on his temples. "I'll pass. After the pizzas arrive, Bulla and I will go home. She likes sausage and mushroom with extra cheese."

"Donna made some great soup I brought today, too. Take it with you. Looks like you're getting a headache."

"Yeah, I am," Vegeta said, unlocking the other door. :"Sounds like a good idea about the soup."

"I'll have Charlie check your tires and engine in the garage before you leave. Maybe you should let Bulla drive, now that she has her learner's permit."

Vegeta slowly walked beside him. "Nappa, I know you mean well, but we've had this talk. I handle myself just fine. With that much hubris, I can't see how Marley will beat Bulma at anything. The more his antics piss her off, the more determined she becomes."

"I'm not concerned about the election as much, Vegeta."

"I said drop it, Nappa!" Vegeta snapped back. "I don't want to hear another word about it. Understand? Not another word! Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next week."

Vegeta didn't appear to be handling himself just fine, but Nappa accepted that he could only do so much. "Yes, sir."

Vegeta entered his office, stiffly closing the door. Bulla looked up from a novel in her hands, not expecting this to be an auspicious moment.

"Just what the hell were you doing with Marley?"

Bulla held his disapproving gaze, not yielding an inch. "I wanted to see if he was behind it all."

Vegeta crossed his arms, resting on the door. "Oh, so you're a detective now - or maybe a sorceress? OK then, so what's your judgment?"

Bulla noticed her father's ashen face and restrained discomfort. Had to be another headache. "Are you feeling all right, daddy?"

"Answer my question, Bulla!"

Bulma dropped her book on the table. "Yes, I think he was, but I'm not afraid of him! He's a fraud! Why can't you and Bulma just talk with me? How are you investigating? You think I don't know how nasty people are during campaigns? You've always been straight with me, daddy. You and Bulma are marrying after all. I can handle this!"

"Bulla, you cried for hours after Tarble told me what happened."

"You were upset too! I cried because I…I…miss granny and worry about you. You're my best friend."

"I'm your father and your friend – but your father first. All we have are assumptions. Others are paid to investigate this behavior – and stop it – without involving certain family members. Since you know how nasty campaigns are, then you also should understand that not every stray dog should be chased."

Vegeta's eyes closed as the searing pain increased. He sat down, compressing the skin on the left side of his forehead. The phone ringing next to Bulla felt like a mallet.

Bulla kept her voice low. "Hi, Nappa. Yeah, pizza sounds awesome. Can you send it to our house, please? Just tell them to bake it later. Thanks. I'm comfortable with driving. Yes, I'll make him eat Donna's soup."

Vegeta didn't feel like walking upstairs when they arrived at home, so he laid down in the guest room. Eating would make him vomit, which he told Bulla, who brought his pain medicine. She felt sad about not having her father's company while she studied, but she wanted him to feel better the next day.

She used his phone to reach Bulma. All calls between them were scrambled to prevent eavesdropping.

"Hi, sweetie."

"Are you busy, Bulma?"

"I'm always busy. Talk to me. I need a breather. Why are you using Vegeta's phone?"

"He's sick. Can't eat either."

"Another headache?"

"Yeah."

Bulma pushed a tattered notebook into her carry bag. "Any ideas about what triggered it?"

Bulla paused.

"Bulla?"

"Josh Marley was in the store today. I introduced myself to see what he was really like in person. I don't think daddy liked how Marley responded."

Bulma felt blood rush through her limbs and fingers. "Was Josh impolite?"

"No, he was courteous. I think my father didn't want him being too friendly with me. He sent me away. I don't know what they talked about afterward. Daddy and I argued later until his headache got worse."

Bulma broke several pencils to temper her wrath. "What are you feeling, hon? Your father will be OK. Focus on yourself for a few minutes."

"I'm angry, Bulma! I think Marley was involved with what happened. I'm mad that everyone has gone quiet on me, including you. I got that damn package. I saw all those terrible things that could either be true or not about my grandmother! I told Tarble because I knew he could handle it better at first. But I felt like I betrayed my father. It hurts so much. Then daddy leaves like a bat out of hell to see about Alejandra and doesn't tell you or me the whole story until later. What's that about?!

"He wants me to have contact with mom that I don't want. I'm sick of it. You are the best thing that's come into his life, but I don't know what's happening. The three of us have had such a good time together before he proposed, even with him still being sad over granny. But everything is turned upside down now, and I told him I'll be OK if things get nastier with your campaign."

Bulma drew jagged scratch marks in red ink all over a newspaper. "I'm not indifferent to how hard it's been on you, Bulla. I'm glad you trust me enough to share this. I'm no psychologist, but here's what I know. Your father endured serious trauma before leaving home. For everything he's done right in his life, negative voices sneak in, saying otherwise. Unless you've had the experience, that can be difficult to understand. Proposing to me was a huge step, bringing up all sorts of unnerving feelings for him.

"Vegeta has worked diligently to create an extremely orderly life, as well as a safe one for you. Trauma influences some of that behavior too. Now, he could be wrong about Alejandra. I can't decide on that, but he said you were brutally honest about your desires. He heard you, sweetheart."

Bulla squeezed the phone, wishing she could hug Bulma. "Thanks for listening."

"Anytime. Do you wish to talk more?"

"No, I have studying to do, and I need to check on my father. You know those pills keep him zonked out. I'm not sure if he'll work tomorrow."

"Call me as soon as you hear Vegeta moving around, before your school bus arrives tomorrow."

"I doubt he'll be awake, but I'll call if he is."

"Thanks, hon."

Bulma didn't fret yet, but Vegeta often saw his daughter off to school a couple days a week. Tarble's paid watchmen still monitored Bulla's comings and goings, providing some reassurance of her safety. Bulma brushed the thought aside, but even without knowing every detail, Marley's stunt at the shop seemed more like a jealous schoolboy checking out the competition.

Around ten a.m., Vegeta heard stirring in the kitchen. Grabbing his robe, he stared through bedroom door's peephole. (Every door had one.) After hearing Bulma's voice on the phone, his head pressed on the door. She was sitting on a sofa facing the open-air kitchen. "I gotta go" ended her chat as he opened the fridge, pouring orange juice.

"You can't drop every duty on your schedule each time I don't feel well."

"How about starting with good morning before the lecture bell chimes, professor?"

"Tell me one good thing about it, besides seeing an attractive invader on my sofa."

"How's your head feel, darlin?"

"I'm all right, Bulma. The pills leave me sleepy, but the pain dulls."

"So you're not working today, I take it."

"I can wake up long enough to leave a message for someone and brush my teeth."

"I have a feeling they notice that you're not yourself, Vegeta. We should get you in to see a neurologist. You need your blood pressure checked too."

Vegeta sat down the counter. "For what? To be told which ten types of headaches I could have? That private doctor Tarble called gave me what I needed."

"Yes, and that physician said the medicine is a bridge treatment until you see a specialist. It's time for that, Vegeta, just so we're sure it's not anything worse."

"Bulma, why are we debating? Stress is the obvious source. I've had these headaches before, years ago. They will eventually go away."

"Maybe you should take more time off then."

Vegeta set his glass down. "That's an impractical proposition."

"Marley triggered this," Bulma spat. "The gall of that man. I'm so ready to break his neck."

The corner of Vegeta's mouth curved upward. "You and Bulla must have spoken a long time. You haven't heard the half of it."

"Vegeta, please."

"Bulma, look, everything I'm going through now physically and emotionally has been a long time coming. You know that. We discussed it when I proposed to you and have since then. None of this is your fault. And please drop 'triggered' from your vocabulary. Makes me sound like I'm about to jump off a bridge."

"Maybe you need more time."

Vegeta frowned. "I don't need more time for anything if you're implying that we should wait to marry. We're nowhere near the eye of the hurricane with filthy fuckers like Marley. I'm with you all the way. I also have to keep a promise to my little brother."

"And that is?"

"Counseling. We're…doing it together."

Bulma covered her mouth. "Oh Vegeta."

Vegeta opened his arms halfway. Bulma hopped up, embracing him. Heavy kissing launched after a few minutes. Bulma unknotted Vegeta's robe, warming up to warm him up. His yearning to go further, however, didn't align with his body's demand for more rest, which showed in more than one way.

Vegeta sighed heavily. "Let's postpone this until I'm not seeing double of you, bumblebee. Don't get me wrong. Two breasts on both sides are delicious to look at."

Bulma laughed, but Vegeta's jocularity didn't make her feel better. She brought food to the bedroom, leaving him with a forehead kiss. The mental clutter of afternoon meeting plans returned as she locked the front door.

Later that day, Marley glumly subjected himself to a call with his father, Rutger Kamen, and an adviser-financier named Catherine, whom he hadn't met directly. The woman, who had a rotten cough, wished to remain visibly anonymous and distorted her voice, but Josh liked her ruthlessness as much as the money Kamen assured him that she had.

Catherine read him the riot act about disobeying Rutger's orders. "Do that again, jackass, and you won't get another penny from me and several others! Your father already warned you, Josh. I'll gladly throw my money behind dark-horse candidates to ruin the campaigns of your supporters in the legislature."

"You don't have that much sway, Catherine," Josh replied impassively. "You give great advice and all, but your investment in these efforts almost borders on overly emotional. You don't sound healthy either."

"That's because I'm not," Catherine snarled. "I'd like to see the fruits of my pecuniary labor before I die."

Rutger cleared his throat. "Settle down, everyone. The lovebirds will be permanently broken up in due course, I promise you. Bulma will be severely weakened by that blow, but probably not stubbed out. Ambrose is the other pillar we must topple. I take him on alone – and as Catherine said earlier, Josh, find another distraction. Maybe some stray cats to frighten would serve your need to torment others."

Josh sipped his gin and tonic, reflecting on Vegeta. Why would such an intelligent, capable man choose to be average? Yet two beauties deeply loved him.

Some guys have all the luck.