Chapter Seven: Unforgiven
A/N: Hey! First off, I wanna say thanx to everyone that reviewed, it's really motivating... especially my girl Amythyst! ^_^ And I'm gonna leave a few notes here for people... you know who you are.
ATTENTION: THESE NOTES ARE TO SOME PEOPLE THAT REVIEWED. IF YOU LEFT AN "IMFORMATIVE" REVIEW, PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING... THANX! ^_^
V.J: Hey, dude! I wanna say thanks for all of the support u've given me for the story... but about your reviews - if you've noticed, the author thingy says "Valerie G. 2" on it, when the old one used to say just plain "Valerie G." This is b*cuz my FF.net stuff got screwed, and I wanted to re-upload the story so that people could read it... i know that no one is supposed to upload any story twice for any reason, but hey, I e-mailed the FF.net staff not once, not twice, but thrice - and hey, they're the ones that ignored me, so what was I supposed to do? Your other reviews are still on the old story... u can still see them if u'd like.
Adli Hey, wassup? I wanna say thanx for giving the name of the opera dude (^_^) to me. I'm sorry to any Pavarotti fans I may have offended. But now, I'm one fact smarter! ^_^
:-) Hey, you! ^_^ You didn't leave an e-mail address, just the smily face, so that's forever your name now. ^_^ But I wanted to say that you were completely right about the author notes breaking the flow off the story... and i'll try not to put so many in there unless it's absolutely necessary for you to know something that i can't mention directly in the story. That was a really great review... and thanks for saying that the story line was original! I've never heard that b4. And sorry for over-emphasizing the story so far... upon mentioning it, i read it over and realized that i did. A lot. Thanx for pointing it out to me! ^_^ But... by the by.... the first few lines of this story don't count! ^_^;;;;;;;;;;
Now, onto the story!
WARNING: This chapter has a whole lotta Bulma! ^_^
"Lemme get this straight, he decided to stay here?"
"Yep."
"He wouldn't rather come back home with us?"
"Nope."
"He's that attached to them?"
"Yep."
"And you're just going to stand back and-"
"Yep."
"But you could just dra-"
"No."
"But you'll b-"
"No."
"It's not a good chance that His Majesty'll forgive thi-"
"I don't care. He doesn't forgive most things, really."
"You're mental."
"Maybe. I have taken quite a few blows to the head...."
Dryphus scowled and slumped back into the cold, metal chair, crossing her arms and legs simultaneously. She'd been sitting there for the last hour, trying to convince Clarice to change her mind about the entire "Vegeta" situation, but Clarice had rejected the idea completely.
"I really don't understand why you got so damn submissive all of the sudden. You even opposed the King's idea of purging Triggany, yet you accept that idiot's plan to stay on this dirt clod-"
"This planet isn't a dirt clod. A bit corrupt, yes, but not a dirt clod. And besides, Triggany was a beautiful planet, it didn't deserve to be purged."
"Yeah, Triggany was nice... and so was Serctro," said Dryphus, her eyes half-lidded and a strange grin appearing on her face as she reminisced about the Triggany native whom she'd had a wild sexual escapade with. "I think I'm going to give him a visit before we get home...."
Clarice shook her head and was about to start the ship's ignition when Dryphus grabbed her wrist.
She looked at Dryphus to see that she had a pleading look on her face.
"What is it?"
"Can we go shopping one more time? Please?"
"Dryphus, we barely have the time-"
"Please?"
"No, we have to get back-"
"PLEASE???"
Clarice stared at Dryphus for a moment, a look of horror on her face.
"You've gone mad."
"No, I haven't," said Dryphus, looking slightly hurt. "But you know that there aren't that many malls on Vejitasei, and the few we have are only because I talked my daddy into having them built-"
"Dry, I hardly think that we have time to fool around! You've already kept me here over a week more than I planned, and you know that General Bealtue is going to ask why I've stayed so long on one planet-"
"Please? There are malls all over the place on this planet. And I can tell that you do like to go shopping to, you seemed to like the other outfit I bought you. And besides, what the hell can that old man do? he's an idiot."
Clarice frowned slightly, thinking. They didn't have time to play... but ever since she was young, she'd taken a liking to human clothing.
"Well, I will admit, it is a nice change, but-"
"Then let's go!" cried Dryphus, tightening her grip on Clarice's wrist and dragging her off of the ship, Clarice struggling half-heartedly behind her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Bulma yawned as she slowed the car to a stop, the street light going from yellow to red. It was a week after the "incident", and now she understood why Trunks couldn't wake up in the morning. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before (she'd spent most of it crying) and now she felt as if she go out cold.
Yawning again, she looked at her watch to check the time.
9:47 a.m.
Who cares if I'm late? she thought, driving forward as the light turned it's bright, lime-green color. I don't work there anymore anyway. I'm only helping out.
It was slightly true - she was going to help Trunks with his work, since he was slightly behind on it ("slightly behind" by Bulma's standards being only two months ahead of schedule), but her true purpose was to keep her mind off of... him.
Turning into the executive parking lot, Bulma yawned again, turning off the ignition and stepping out onto the pavement.
Grabbing her deep blue, leather brief-case, she re-encapsulated the car and walked briskly to the glass doors, their gold colored borders gleaming in the morning sunlight. The red-and-black uniformed doormen grinned at her, pulling the doors open and stepping aside to let her in.
She smiled back at them, hoping that none of the sadness she was feeling showed.
Reaching the elevator, she jabbed the "up" button, waiting for it with some type of unknown impatience.
It (finally, in her opinion) reached the ground floor, a small beeping sound emitting as the gold-plated doors slid open.
Stepping inside, she tapped her foot hurriedly, suddenly becoming more impatient. No... she wasn't impatient because the elevator was moving slowly (in actuality, it was very fast), but... she suddenly wished that it was the end of the day. She had a strange feeling of anticipation for the evening to come.... but why?
'Biting her lip in confusion, she stepped off of the elevator as the doors slid open once again.
'Maybe I'm getting lazy and just don't wanna work,' she thought bemusedly, smiling.
She walked into her temporary office (which was next to Trunks') and set her briefcase down on her desk. She opened it, taking out a few folders, though her mind really wasn't on what she was doing.
She turned and looked out the large, glass wall, which served as a window that looked out on the large city.
Sighing, she walked over to the window, and slowly, almost hesitantly, she placed her hand against the window. She slowly leaned into it, and let her forehead press against the cold surface. She sighed, causing a large cloud of steam to coat the glass.
She smiled as she saw a cute, and ostensibly happy couple sitting at an outdoor table at the cafe across the street from Capsule Corps.' main building, feeding each other ice cream.
She sighed again and closed her eyes, sleepiness over-taking her again. She yawned and let her body relax, her muscles loosening, the sounds of the city street below her lulling her....
~*~*~*~DREAM SEQUENCE~*~*~*~
"You're wrong, Bulma."
"Huh?"
"You're making a huge mistake."
"Who's there? What're you talking about?"
"It's my fault. I'm sorry."
Bulma looked around, confused. She was still in her office, but it was nighttime, the city lights shining and twinkling below.
She was sitting against the window, her cheek and forehead pressed against it.
'I must've fallen asleep,' she thought, standing up. But who's voice was that? It sounded like a woman's... she had an accent, but Bulma couldn't register which one she'd heard.
"You're wrong," echoed the voice again. "Don't blame him. It's not his fault. It's mine."
"Who?" cried Bulma, becoming frustrated. "What am I wrong about?"
"He needs you back, Bulma."
Bulma sucked her teeth, becoming frustrated. "This is just another dream, isn't it?" she cried, a scowl covering her lips.
Her question was almost immediately answered; the office melted away, leaving her in a world of blackness.
She turned, looking around, fear slowly beginning to crawl through her.
She suddenly gasped, but clenched her teeth as anger shot through her like a bolt of lightning; there she was. The woman from her dream, the one who'd kissed Vegeta. But confusion began to overtake her anger as she watched the woman - she looked saddened by something, her expression one of guilt.
"It's my fault," she whispered, a pleading look in her eyes. "He needs you back."
The woman suddenly shoved her hand into her pocket and took out a capsule, holding it out in front of her. She pressed the small button at the top, and the next thing Bulma heard was a loud "POOF!", smoke spreading around the never-ending blackness.
After a moment, the smoke faded, and Bulma gasped, though she wasn't exactly sure what she was looking at; all she was sure was that the woman was now holding something large and purple, about the size of a basketball or a beach-ball, and it was emitting a strange glow, about the same purple color.
The woman held the object out to her, as though offering it to her...
~*~*~*~END DREAM SEQUENCE~*~*~*~
Bulma awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding wildly.
She blinked and looked around, but sighed with relief as she realized that she was still in her office, though now she was lying on the green leather couch adjacent to her desk, a small blanket over her.
Slowly lifting herself off of the couch, she stretched, then looked at her watch.
12:56
'Oh Kami,', she thought, disbelief flowing through her. That dream seemed like less than five minutes, how could she have been asleep for three hours?
Frowning in confusion, she walked over to her desk and sat down, burying her face in her hands.
"Get a grip," she commanded herself aloud, sighing with frustration.
"You'd better get a grip on those papers, or they'll fall off your desk," said an amused voice from across the room.
Bulma looked up to see Trunks standing at the door of the office, his hands in his pockets.
She looked at the corners of the desk, where a large pile of folders was sitting, hanging dangerously over the edge.
Suddenly they slid off of the edge, and Bulma made a grab for them, but Trunks'd already made it across the room and aughtthe apaers before they had a chance to hit the floor. He smiled and handed them to her, though the smile faded only after a few moments.
"So you finally woke up, huh?" he said, a small amount of amusement lingering in his voice. "I found you asleep against the window and put you on the couch over there."
"Thanks," she said quietly before yawning, her hand over her mouth. "Was I really asleep for three hours?"
"Yeah," said Trunks, sitting on the couch. "Maybe you should go home... if you don't get some rest, I think you'll be out cold by this afternoon."
"No, I'm okay," she said, getting up and walking over to a filing cabinet. "I.... I just need to..."
"Get a grip," finished Trunks.
"Yeah, exactly," said Bulma, unlocking the cabinet and sorting the folders. "So what's wrong with you? You look really awful."
'Look who's talking,' thought Trunks, a scowl appearing on his face, masking his grief. 'You've looked depressed since Dad left...'
"I have a meeting in a few minutes," he replied aloud this time, leaning back in to couch.
"Oh? With who?" asked Bulma, turning to him, looking confused. "I didn't hear about any meeting."
"Helga Kramer," sighed Trunks, looking almost afraid. "She's the Director of Operations at the Capsule Corps. Branch in Bulgaria."
"Really? What does she want to talk to you about?" asked Bulma, rummaging through another draw, looking for a paper clip.
Trunks sighed and closed his eyes, one hand massaging his temples. "I decided to put a quota on the shipment of Capsules to Bulgaria because sales were dropping and she's upset by it, apparently."
"Well if sales were going down, shouldn't you have put a quota on it?" asked Bulma, looking confused.
"Exactly," sighed Trunks, standing and walking slowly towards the door. "But I guess that she doesn't think they've gone down enough... she's gonna be here any minute," he said, looking tired. "I'll see ya later, okay?"
"Sure," smiled Bulma, gasping as she found an entire box of paper clips.
Trunks shook his head and walked out, closing the door gently behind him.
*
Trunks walked back into his office, nodding to his secretary in greeting as she smiled at him. He was beginning to understand where he'd gotten his stubbornness from - Bulma'd displayed nothing but her stubborn personality whenever he, Bra, or anyone else had tried to convince her to reconsider the angry verdict she'd made a week before, but she'd done nothing except rebuff the suggestion.
But he knew what was going on - Nazomi'd given him a call the night before, and though he found her story quite unbelievable in the beginning, he was willing to accept anything else to be true rather than the hideous tale of his father's unfaithfulness.
He finally reached his desk and plopped down in his chair rather heavily, causing the chair to roll backward several feet before stopping.
Laughing softly through his nose, he moved the chair back up to the desk and put his feet up on the shiny, redwood surface, putting his hands behind his head.
He closed his eyes and slowly began to drift off, becoming less and less aware of his surroundings.
'Might as well get a nap in before she gets here,' thought Trunks with a small smile.
But his moment of peace was short-lived as his secretary's voice shattered his sleep state, informing his that Helga Kramer had arrived.
"Send her in," sighed Trunks, pressing the intercom button and sliding his feet off of the desk.
A few moments later, a large, roundish woman walked in wearing a black business suit, the black skirt stopping just below her knees, walked in. Her hair was in an elegant bun, and her thick neck was surrounded in large, shining pearls. Her wrists were surrounded in gold bracelets, her fingers adorned with opal rings; and completing her outfit was a simple, yet beautiful pair of gold earrings with large, black pearls in the middle.
"Ah, hello, Mister Briefs," said the woman, a grim frown on her face as she walked over to his desk, her black high-heeled shoes clicking across the hard-wood floor.
When she reached the desk, she held out her hand stiffly, an expectant look on her face.
"How haff you been?" she asked, in her low, booming voice as Trunks shook her hand.
"I've been better," he said truthfully, smiling politely.
"Ve need to talk," she said curtly, letting go of his hand and putting her hands behind her back.
Trunks nodded. "I understand," he said, sitting down and motioning for her to be seated in the chair before his desk.
'Oi,' thought Trunks, sighing silently. 'This is going to be a long day...'
*
Piccolo dodged Vegeta's blast easily, turning in time to round-house Vegeta right in the back.
'This is too easy,' though Piccolo, a smirk on his face as he charged up a ki blast, ignoring the pain in his fractured arm. 'I don't think he's been keeping up on his training...'
Vegeta spun around, ready to charge up a ki blast, only to see Piccolo crouching with his arms to his right side, a blindingly white ball of light spinning rapidly between his hands.
Piccolo fired the blast to discover that it was welcomed by thin air - and he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back as Vegeta kicked him to the ground.
Grinning, glad that there was more of a challenge now, Piccolo powered up and kicked his legs upward, causing him to fly back into a standing position.
He turned to face Vegeta, both of them crouched in ready positions.
Neither of them moved; they just waited for the other to start the next bout.
One minutes passed.... two minutes.... they just stood there, staring each other down, trying to intimidate their opponent... and suddenly, they both launched themselves at each other and attacked furiously, as though it would mean life for the victor and death for the loser.
Vegeta attempted to punch Piccolo in the stomach, but in vain; Piccolo teleported behind him and elbowed him viciously in the back of his neck. Vegeta began to fall forward, but caught himself and flipped over in a one-armed cart-wheel, landing on one leg and successfully managing to kick his green adversary in the face with the other leg.
Piccolo, surprised by the attack, stumbled backward. Breathing heavily, he wiped the thick, black Nemekian blood away from his lip with the back of his hand.
Without warning, he charged forward and speared Vegeta, his elbow colliding brutally with Vegeta's stomach.
"Beat him, Dad!"
"No, Dad, you can beat him!"
Both Vegeta and `Piccolo turned to the door of the gravity room to see Nazomi and Bra standing there, cheering them on.
Vegeta, who was especially surprised (he'd expected Bra to have agreed with her mother and be angry at him), suddenly asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Mom said it's almost time for dinner," answered Nazomi, smiling. "But Vegeta, if you keep swearing like that, Mom's gonna smack you with her spatula again."
Piccolo laughed softly at the memory of his enraged wife, who'd hit Vegeta with a large, heavy metal spatula when he'd eaten everything at the table before anyone even had a chance to sit down.
He got up and walked slowly over to the control panel of the gravity room and turned the gravity down until the pressure in the air was completely back to normal.
"Whoa... You'd better put a splint on your arm or something," said Nazomi, walking a few feet into the room and staring at Piccolo's arm, which looked as if it were hanging, there, numb and useless.. "Or Mom's gonna freak."
Piccolo "hmphed" and walked slowly out the door, holding his elbow in one hand and rotating his wrist.
Nazomi smiled back at Bra and Vegeta and walked out of the gravity room after her father, humming.
Bra laughed and turned to Vegeta, her hands behind her back.
"So!" she cried, grinning.
Vegeta stared at her, confused.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to yell at you or anything... Nazomi told me what happened," explained Bra, smiling.
"She did?" mumbled Vegeta, massaging his aching shoulder.
"Uh huh," said Bra, nodding. "But... is it true that that lady threatened to kill you but you fought her anyway to stay here?"
"What?" snapped Vegeta, looking horrified. "I never said that."
"That's what Nazomi said," said Bra, shrugging. "She probably wanted to spice up the story or something."
Vegeta, with an angry scowl and got up to go after Nazomi, but Bra caught his arm, laughing hysterically.
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding," she cried, her face turning red from laughter. "She didn't say it, I made it up..."
"Very funny," spat Vegeta, snatching his arm away from her.
"Sorry," she said, still laughing as she followed him through the large yard to the house. "Have a sense of humor for once, Dad-"
"Well I'm sorry if I'm not exactly in a laughing mood," snapped Vegeta, scowling.
"I know, I'm sorry," said Bra, her laughter silencing as she spotted a vein throbbing in his forehead.
Still scowling, Vegeta continued walking up to the large estate, Bra walking slowly in his wake; but instead of following Vegeta into the dining room, she changed directions and went up the wide staircase to Nazomi's room.
Vegeta continued walking and entered the large dining room, the large chandelier that hung from he ceiling shining brightly.
He let himself drop into one of the fancy, wooden chairs, the white cushions on the seat, back, and arm rests abating beneath him.
Mercy sat adjacent to him, chewing slowly, her gaze scaling the prisms in the chandelier. Piccolo sat across from her, his eyes half-lidded. He let himself sink into the chair, stifling a yawn. He still didn't eat much, but Mercy'd convinced him to at least eat light foods, and he occasionally ate things like salad or tofu.
One of the butlers, a white napkin folded over his left forearm, placed a large plate of food in front of him, smiling cheerfully.
"Monsieur," he said respectfully. *"Monsieur is French for sir or man. (Pronounced "Mur-see-ur" really fast).* He then turned and walked away, the tails of his overcoat flowing behind him.
Vegeta looked over the long table to see that there were many more platters and dishes than there were the last night; obviously they'd learned from their experience with him the night before to add more food to the meal.
Vegeta jabbed at the large steak in his plate with the fork and tore a large chunk out of it with his sharp teeth, obviously still angry. He chewed slowly, thinking.
"You could 'ave cleaned yourself up before you came ze table," commented Mercy, staring at Vegeta, a slight grimace on her face.
"Maybe if the food was better, I'd bother to clean up for it," replied Vegeta sarcastically, though he knew that her statement had plenty of merit to it - he was still sweaty and bloody from his spar with Piccolo, his clothes torn. Piccolo had obviously taken a shower and changed his clothes, because all that was left of the battle was a group of bruises on his arm and a few cuts here and there - and instead of his purple and blue gi, he was wearing a white T-shirt and black jeans.
And Vegeta would never admit it, but the food actually was quite good.
"I am not forcing you to eat it," said Mercy, putting down her own fork, her expression becoming slightly annoyed.
"Well maybe I-"
"Ahem," said a butler loudly, interrupting Vegeta's counter, "Mademoiselle Mercy, you have a phone call. It is Lord Gustave."
Mercy's face suddenly broke out into a large grin, an excited glint in her hazel brown eyes. She excused herself from the table, rushing out of the open double-doors.
Glad that she was finally gone, Vegeta began shoveling food into his mouth (she would've screamed at him about his manners if he'd done it in front of her).
Still chewing, his mind wandered to his home... Vejitasei. What was going on over there? Was it any different from it's previous existence?
He "hmphed", shaking it from his thoughts. It was gone now... it wasn't part of his life anymore.
'Forget about it,' he thought.
"What's on your mind?"
Vegeta looked up to see Piccolo sitting with his hands folded in his lap, his eyes closed and his head bowed downward; he'd been trying to meditate, but had stopped when he'd felt the sudden disturbance in Vegeta's conscience.
Vegeta "hmphed" again, grimacing.
"None of your business," he spat, scowling.
Piccolo smirked knowingly, shaking his head from side to side slowly. He knew something big was up... but he wasn't sure what.
Scowling even more deeply, Vegeta got up from the table, despite his growling stomach. He walked into the living room and let himself fall onto one of the white couches. He sighed; he couldn't have stayed in the kitchen with Piccolo, or he would've pried and pried into Vegeta's mind until he found the truth... which was something Vegeta didn't want.
He grabbed the remote of the big-screen T.V., turning it on and going channel surfing.
"But Nazomi, you have to take me to the mall, I wanna see if I can find another one of those tube-tops-"
"I'm sorry, but I promised Lon-Lon I'd go to the meeting with him-"
"It's a meeting, Nazomi, you said it yourself, it's gonna be boring-!"
"Which is why he wants me to go with him Bra," sighed Nazomi exasperatedly, throwing on a brown leather trench-coat that reached the backs of her knees. "He needs someone to go with him to keep him company-"
"He can find someone else," whimpered Bra, becoming desperate. "But Trunks and Mom are at work, Pan doesn't like shopping, Marron went to the movies with Uubu and Goten, Krillin, Goku, and Gohan went to a football game, and I'm pretty sure that Dad isn't in the mood to take me anywhere right now-"
"Damn," cried Nazomi, a bewildered smile on her face, "You just know everyone's schedule, huh?"
"Well.... I kinda checked with them before I came here..."
"Why do you want me to go so badly, anyway?" asked Nazomi, checking her makeup in a large, oval-shaped mirror that hung on the wall beside her. "Ask my Dad to go, he wouldn't mind it-"
"But I need someone that has a fashion sense to come with me, Nazomi-"
"My Daddy has a fashion sense!" countered Nazomi, looking horrified at Bra's accusation. "Just last week, he bought this really cute 'Sean John' T-shirt-"
Vegeta cleared his throat loudly, glaring at the two of them.
"Sorry, Daddy," said Bra timidly, looking apologetic.
"Vegeta, you have to take Bra to the mall," said Nazomi suddenly, putting her hair into a loose ponytail.
"What?!" cried both Bra and Vegeta simultaneously, looking appalled.
"You heard her," said Nazomi, checking her watch. "She needs someone with a fashion sense, and I'm pretty sure you have... well, some type of sense. Just make sure whatever your wearing looks good on you."
Vegeta looked down at the polished, hard wood floor, cocking his eyebrow at the faint, barely visible reflection that looked back up at him.
He did feel a bit guilty about yelling at Bra before...
"Ah, it's okay," said Bra, shrugging. "I doubt I'll find another one anyway."
"Yeah, I'm sorry," said Nazomi, patting her shoulder.
"Hold it."
Bra and Nazomi looked up to see Vegeta standing, a stern look on his face.
"I'll go."
"Oh Yay! Yay! Yay!" cried Nazomi, jumping up and down and clapping her hands together. "See? I told you-"
She cut herself off and stopped jumping when Vegeta glared at her, looking irritated.
"Well... you should go get dressed, then," said Nazomi, smiling. She searched the red purse that hung over her shoulder for her car keys, then curse under her breath.
"Oh, not again," she groaned, grimacing as she dumped everything out of her purse onto the glass coffee table, trying to find the mysterious keys.
"What's wrong?" asked Bra, looking confused as Vegeta walked by her, heading for the wide stairs to get dressed.
"My car keys pulled their disappearing act again," snarled Nazomi, looking more than ever like her father as frustration surged through her.
Bra giggled and plopped down onto the couch beside Nazomi, looking around.
She let her eyes wander down to her hands, then shifted her gaze as something caught her eye.
It looked like a small, glass model of the earth, a small, silver chain connecting to it where the North Pole would have been.
Curiosity over powering her, Bra, reached over and pulled the min-Earth out of Nazomi's pocket, Nazomi barely even noticing.
She looked over the key chain and smiled as she noticed a large key that said in small letters, Jeep across it.
"Uh, Nazomi?"
"Not now, Bra-"
"But-"
"Not now-"
"I found your keys."
Nazomi turned to look at her, looking confused, then her face broke out into a large smile as Bra handed her the keys.
"Thanks!" cried Nazomi, hugging Bra before standing up and grabbing her purse. "Where'd you find them?"
"They were in your pocket."
Nazomi paused for a moment, then sucked her teeth, shaking her head and cursing herself quietly.
"Thanks," sighed Nazomi again, shoving everything back into her purse carelessly.
Standing up straight, she swung the strap of the purse over
her shoulder and was about to say goodbye to
Bra when she saw Vegeta, standing at the bottom of the staircase.
Nazomi gave a low whistle. "Lookin' good," she cried, grinning.
Bra turned and saw Vegeta standing with an expectant look on his face, donned in a pair of (slightly tight) blue jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and a brown jacket, the sleeves of it rolled up so that they were just below his elbows.
"You look good, man," repeated Nazomi, grinning. "But you know, there's something missing..."
She suddenly began searching through her purse again, then her face broke out into an even bigger grin when she took out a pair of black aviator sunglasses.
"Put these on," she said, handing them to Vegeta.
Looking skeptical (and slightly annoyed), He put the glasses on and looked back up, scowling deeply.
"Wow!" cried Bra. "Dad, you do have a sense of style... but you still have much to learn."
"You know, I have a cowboy hat that would go perfect with that outfit-"
"No," said Vegeta, glaring threateningly.
"Alright, alright.... well look, you guys have a great time, okay? I gotta meek Lonnie for the meeting. See ya later."
"Bye!" shouted Bra as Nazomi walked out the oak front doors, humming.
"Alright! Let's go!" cried Bra, grabbing Vegeta's hand and dragging him toward the door. "If wee don't get there before the mall closes-"
"I get the idea," snapped Vegeta, following her out the door.
Wow.
So that's the end of chapter seven.
Yes, it did suck.
I'm sorry.
I just tried to finish it more quickly so that people wouldn't be mad @ me.
I'll try to be more efficient in the future.
So, what'll happen in the next chapter? Will Bulma ever find out the truth? How? Will Bra find that tube top she wanted? Who was the "strange blonde girl" that the clerk had mentioned bought it? (Yes, I did say that, it's in an earlier chapter.) Who was the "Lord Gustave" person that wanted to speak to Mercy? What was the purple thing that Clarice was giving to Bulma? (I bet I know who can figure that out... ::cough cough:: AMY! ::cough cough::)
Why am I asking so many questions that I already know the answer to? ^_^
If you think you can figure out what the purple thing is, or just for the hell of it, please review! ^_^
P.S. To any of my peeps out there, please forgive me if I haven't e-mailed you, but my computer's screwin' around with me again and the net isn't working. In fact, I'm uploading this chapter from a school computer. Hey, what they don't know can't hurt me. ^_^ But Amythyst, if you're reading this, please send an e-mail to Hanshin and send Komadori-chan MD a shoutout for me. She's an author, so you'll be able to find her e-mail address.
And to K-chan, I'm really sorry for putting your e-address out there like that. ^_^;;;
But I've blabbed on and on enough. I'll shut up. Review!