Author's Note: A story for 'Yamcha Week' ^_^ These few scenes were originally meant for a longer fic, but I didn't want to miss the deadline, so I wrote them up on their own. I actually think they work better this way. Constructive criticism always welcome!
Disclaimer: Yamcha, Bulma and DB/Z all belong to the dude whose name I can't spell. Suffice it to say, that's not me. The song lyrics, however, are mine. You can find the lyrics in chapter two, in unbroken sequence.
Timeline: Between DB and DBZ.
Mistakes
"Yamcha?!"
I saw the trust in your eyes
shimmer, and fade, and die
and I realize
you never understood.
"B-Bulma?" Yamcha stared at the blue-haired woman standing in the entrance to the restaurant. Her hands were frozen in the process of taking off her coat. She stared at him, wide-eyed with shock. A majority of his own surprise came from the fact that he hadn't been expecting to see anyone he knew.
Bulma's shock, though, was caused by something else completely. Yamcha watched as her face hardened by degrees, until her eyes glittered like ice chips. He cringed in anticipation of her scream.
Condemned without a trial
a criminal before the judge
and all the while
I pleaded with you.
But she didn't scream. She didn't even growl in anger. She simply turned on her heel and left.
"Bulma? Bulma! Wait!" Yamcha dashed out onto the sidewalk, not caring that he was drawing curious stares from strangers. "It's not what you think!"
Bulma didn't look back or hesitate. Or even acknowledge that she heard. She kept going until she reached her car and jumped in. The engine kicked up a cloud of street litter as she sped away.
Yamcha was about to hail a taxi when a gentle hand grasped his shoulder. "Let her go, Yamcha."
Yamcha looked over his shoulder. A petite blonde woman, with her hand resting lightly on him, gazed at him understandingly. "She needs to cool down I think."
"I'm not so sure, Becky."
Don't throw me out
Don't throw me away
Forget about
what you saw that day
I may look
I may roam
But in my book
you are my home
*Rrrrring rrrrring* *Click* "Bulma Briefs here."
It wasn't what you thought
it's a lie in your mind
and it is not
that I don't care.
"Bulma, please don't hang up, ok?" Yamcha pleaded. It was probably the hundredth time he had called her in the past two days. He wouldn't be surprised if it was hundredth he heard that damn dial tone. But he wasn't going to give up. He let out a small sigh of relief when she didn't disconnect right away.
"What do you want, Yamcha?" Bulma asked, her voice hard.
Fortune smiled on me
gave me something new
and now I see
it was hard to control.
"Bulma, please, it wasn't what it looked like," Yamcha explained, rushing his words a bit. "She was just an associate, that's all. I swear! Come on, you've gotta believe me!"
"Why should I?" Bulma shot back. "What about that brunette last month? Or the redhead before that, huh?" Her voice dripped sarcasm, "They were just 'associates' too?"
Yamcha blinked, then blushed. His grip on the phone increased a bit. "Bulma, come on, I explained those already. They kept following me around the fitness club! Besides that, they really seemed to want to meet me. They're nice girls, but they never meant anything more than friends to me. I haven't seen them since."
Bulma snorted.
Yamcha sighed again, this time in desperation. Those women had been fine as companions to talk to and fun to be with, but as soon as they learned he wasn't interested in them romantically, they had headed out for better prospects. "Please Bulma, she works for the Titans. You know, the baseball team? She's an executive, we were discussing contracts and stuff. It was business. I was going to surprise you with the news later."
Bulma made a slightly interested "Mmm..." but still didn't speak.
"Come one," Yamcha said, his voice sounding a bit more hopeful. "Becky gave me some tickets for a concert tonight. If we hurry, we might..."
"Becky!?" Bulma screeched the name. Yamcha pulled the receiver away from his ear, but a strange ringing had already been set off. Bulma continued shouting, "Becky! So, she's just a business associate and you call her by her first name!? How dare you try to trick me, you lecherous desert bandit!!"
"Bulma!" cried Yamcha.
"Why don't you take your 'business associate' instead and leave me alone!"
Bulma slammed the receiver down. A steady, buzzing monotone filled Yamcha's ear. He stood there a moment, not moving at all. Then suddenly, with a savage growl, he slammed his own phone down. "Fine," he yelled at the device, "If that's what you want! I will!"
Don't throw me out
Don't throw me away
Forget about
what you saw that day
I may look
I may roam
But in my book
you are my home
*Rrrrring rrrrring* *Click* "Titans Baseball Team, how may I help you?"
I needed you there
by my side, to help me, teach me
and show me where
I went so wrong.
"Um...hi. Could I speak with Becky Haffer, please?" Yamcha asked. He lay spread-eagle on his bed, a hand hanging over the edge. He stared at the ceiling, watching the fading pink and gold of the sunset there.
"Just a moment, please," the secretary said in a polite, slightly nasal voice.
Yamcha could hear the line click over, then three short rings.
"Hello, Vice President Haffer."
But you turned away
now I'm lost, unguided
and let me say
it's lonely but I'll make do.
"Ah, hey Becky, it's Yamcha," Yamcha said in greeting. He continued to stare at the ceiling, the tiles now stained a greenish lavender. 'It's getting pretty dark' he thought idly.
"Oh, Yamcha!" Becky's voice brightened considerably. "I'm so glad you called! What can I do for you?"
"Um...well..," Yamcha stuttered. He swallowed and tried again. "Look, it seems Bulma can't make it to the concert and I was wondering..."
"You want me to go?" Becky interrupted, excited. "Oh Yamcha, I'd love to! I just have a few tiny things to finish up here, why don't I pick you up at your apartment in an hour? Ok?"
"Sounds great," Yamcha replied in a monotone.
"Great, see you then! Bye!"
The line disconnected and the annoying dial tone was back. Yamcha stretched his hand over toward the phone base. He let the receiver slide from his hand. It made a *clunk* as it hit the floor, missing the cradle by a foot.
Don't throw me out
Don't throw me away
Forget about
what you saw that day
I may look
I may roam
But in my book
you are my home
Bulma stood in the shadow of a tree. She watched, angry, hurt and humiliated, as a couple made their way into the concert hall. She swiped at the salty tears on her face. She turned and rushed to the parking lot, breaking right through a group of well-dressed young people.
Several of the youths stared as the woman wearing short-sleeved shirt and denim skirt ran past.
Now I have no home...
No home.....
~~~~~~~~~~
Author's PS: The name Becky Haffer was taken from a transcript of an early DBZ ep. I can't remember the ep title, but the transcript is on the "MSTing of DBZ" website.