Last time:
I am a liar.
I have lied to him, to everyone.
And I love him.
He's staring at me again, across the room, his eyes darting back to his project when I look up. He must have been doing it for a while, but I only noticed after I realized I was almost falling asleep on my stool. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately. Living with another person can take its toll on you; and Yamcha is a horrible snorer.
"Do you want something?" I ask and he glared at me. I glare back. I don't think I'll ever understand why my father hired him. I still remember the day he came in for his interview. I hadn't seen him since high school graduation—I thought I would never have to see him again—and then one day he's in the lobby in a suit with a briefcase and I know he's here for a job.
That was four years ago and he's still here, still taking up space and making my life a living hell. Luckily he's been keeping his distance as of late. I suppose a few weeks back when I exploded at him could be the reason. Whatever the reason I'm thankful for the silence. Only the gentle hum of computers and machinery in the background; the beautiful music of my lab.
"I was waiting for you to fall over on your project and get a shard of metal imbedded in your forehead," he sneered, hardening his glare. We've been enemies, so to speak, since grade school. Why he wanted a job here I'll never know. He knows its my father's company and that I work here; the only conclusion I can come up with is that he followed me here simply to pester me. I will never be free of him. "Too bad. Maybe next time."
"You're not going to get under my skin so you can stop right now. I'm too tired to consider a word you say. You work on your shit, I work on mine. There's no need to bring words into this."
"I don't—"
"Oh good," came my father's voice as he walked briskly into the lab. He was carrying a manila envelope; a new project. And he was smiling. After four years he still couldn't see the plain-as-day hatred his two best technicians/engineers had for each other, "you're both here."
"What's up dad? New stuff?"
"Well," he said, his smiling broadening, "I've been working on this baby for a long time now." He tapped the envelope for emphasis. "I could never get the math to add up and then, just last night, it hit me. I don't have time to work on it myself, so I figured that the two of you could—"
"Two of us?" I must have heard wrong. "I don't see why either one of us couldn't work on it independently."
"It's complicated, Bulma dear. And I would feel a lot more comfortable if I had you both on the project. There's a narrow deadline on this one."
I sigh loud enough for him to notice my annoyance.
"How long?"
"Four months."
"Excuse me? I didn't hear you correctly. I thought you just said four months, as in sixteen weeks, as in overtime and late nights and missed sleep. Surely I heard wrong."
"Bulma please," he sighed, "I wouldn't ask unless it was a last resort. Everyone else is already working on projects with deadlines."
"I'm working on things too you know."
"Things that can be set aside. This cannot. It's my only chance to get it patented. It's now or never."
"Fine," I agree with a huff. The patent office was very strict and I understood that. I only wished there were some other way around it. "But I don't see why I can't work with 17. He's not doing anything right now."
"Yesterday I gave him a deadlined project."
"Father!"
"It was before I figured out this project," he said defensively. "Please try and make the best of this dear." He set the envelope on my workstation and walked out of the lab without another word.
"Well this should be fun." He was right behind me; I could feel his breath on my neck.
"Don't make this difficult for me," I snap, tearing open the envelope. Instantly I see why he needed two engineers for the project, and I know, without a doubt, that this will land us in the lab twice as long as we already were.
Good-bye sleep.
"Lighten up," he chuckled cynically. "You'll ruin my good mood."
"Do me a favor, huh?"
"What?" he laughed.
"Shut the hell up Vegeta."
As soon as the clock struck noon I bolted from my basement lab to the restaurant on the third floor. Chi-Chi and 18 were already there. They were executives; they had all sorts of free time. Goku and Krillin never had lunch with us; they were always at this meeting or visiting that client. Marketers work almost as much as the technicians. 17 always ate lunch in the lab; he didn't like stopping in the middle of something and so he took to bringing a bag lunch. And Yamcha, my lovely snoring boyfriend, sometimes made it to lunch, but nine times out of ten it was just us girls, which was just fine with me. Yamcha worked as a field researcher. He took a lot of trips across the country and around the world. He left this morning for The Netherlands; I'll count the days of peaceful nights' sleep.
"You're here early," Chi-Chi remarked as I took a seat. "Vegeta being more of a pain than usual?"
"You won't believe what my brainless father did to me."
"Ow," 18 laughed. "It already sounds awful when you say it like that."
"He put me on a project with Vegeta and the deadline is in four months."
"Four months!" they balked in unison. Around here, deadlines of six to eight months are considered pushing it. Four months is unspeakable, unheard of. And from the look of the schematics, it would have taken one of the lesser engineers over a year to complete. Oh well, at least it will give me something to keep busy. By the time I get home at night I'll be too tired to take into account Yamcha's incessant snoring.
"Is he crazy?" Chi-Chi asked in all seriousness. "Has he finally snapped?"
"I was wondering the same thing myself," I sigh, glancing over the menu in front of me. Suddenly food doesn't sound so good. "But supposedly me and Vegeta are the only ones who he thinks can pull it off."
"What about 17?" 18 asked.
"He just got a new deadlined project."
"Well it could be worse."
I glare heatedly at her.
"How could it possibly get worse?" I say through my teeth.
"It could be longer than four months. Who knows," she shrugs, "maybe you and him will learn to tolerate each other and we can all hang out together instead of having to have separate gatherings. I mean, really, its like high school."
My glare sharpens and I imagine pinching her head off. How dare she! Me? Get along with him! Uh!
"Don't look at my like that Bulma Briefs." Now she's the one that sounds annoyed. Yes, I know. I know! It is completely high school drama that I have dug myself into, but I can't help it. I'm not the only party involved. Vegeta is as much to blame as I am. All through high school he was the one, nine times out of ten, who was the antagonizer. I had moved on and forgotten about him after graduation. I didn't even recognize him when I saw him come in for the interview. That is, until he opened his mouth.
I don't think I'll ever understand how a man who is so good looking and has all the opportunity in the world could be so cold and harsh. Granted, I don't know squat about his life and background—and I don't intend to find out—but still, no one is that heartless.
"It's just he knows how I feel about him," I say after 18's face softens. "I know it's a last resort, but he could have at least come to me in private first."
"You're just miffed because Vegeta saw you have a temper tantrum with your father," Chi-Chi laughed. And she was right. That was the main reason I was angry with my father. I understood the need for the both of us on the project and the reason for the deadline. But to not come to me first? It was like a slap in the face. "Well," she said, lifting her menu, "what looks good for lunch?"
18 followed suit.
I simply stared off, knowing that I would only be able to stomach some tea with all the anger boiling in my gut.
"Vegeta?" I call out as I re-enter the lab after lunch.
No answer.
That's weird. Usually he's back before me from lunch hour. Oh well, there's no need to go running around looking for him. He knows we have to go over the schematics before leaving today, and possibly get a little bit started.
"Hey B." I look up and smile. Its 17, covered in grease, his long black hair pulled back into a slack ponytail. I used to have the biggest crush on him in high school; Chi-Chi is the only person who ever knew that. But, as soon as he came out of the closet junior year, I stopped dreaming. Not that Yamcha wasn't fulfilling, but no matter who you're with you always fantasize about other men. In 17's case he was.
"Hey," I say. "Nice smudge," I laugh, pointing to his face. "Fashion statement?"
"Funny," he said, and before I could stop him he had me in a great bear hug, getting grease and oil all over my white lab coat. And then, to make matters worse, he gave me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. And to think, today was supposed to be a clean day.
"Thanks," I mutter when he finally lets go. "I felt left out."
"I could see that."
"So, what's this big new project my dad has you working on? Are you remodeling jet fuel injectors?"
"Ow, you're sharp today. Did Vegeta start early?"
"Don't even get me started about him today."
"Yeah," he sighed, "I heard."
"Already?"
"I am friends with him, you know."
"Oh…Right…" I grab the schematics off my workbench and hand them to him. "Take a look at what he wants us to do." He flipped through the first few sheets, his eyes widening slightly. Yes 17, it is what it looks like.
"Damn, B. What's he thinking? It's like asking you to build an entire plane in two weeks. Impossible."
"I know," I grumble, taking the papers back. "That's what I said. But if he thinks it can be done then I have no choice but to give it my best. The only good thing about working with Vegeta is that he knows what he's doing. I just wish my dad hadn't given you a deadlined project yesterday, otherwise we could have done this."
"No offense," he laughed, "but I'm glad Briefs gave me the project. Yours looks like migraine material. No thank you."
"You know just what to say to brighten my mood, smartass."
"Come on." He grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of his lab station. "I'll show you what your old man has me working on. Plus, I have a little present for me."
"A present? What the hell for?" I've never been good with accepting gifts or taking compliments. I do what I do and if its good I know it, no need for praise. Presents are especially, well, useless to me. All I want or need is in my lab and I'm rich enough to get anything I want. I don't mean to be snobbish; I'm only stating the truth. I have a lot of money. I can't stand it when people hear my name and think, "She's a snob," because the truth is I'm a very optimistic and social person. Sometimes I get into funks and bad moods, but mostly I'm happy and I love talking to people, sharing ideas.
Anyway, back to this present business.
"It's not my birthday, and even if it was—"
"Oh stop," he said, handing me a small cardboard box. "I made it on my lunch hour after I heard about your project. I knew you'd be mad so I wanted to cheer you up."
"This better be Vegeta's heart," I say cynically. He ignores my comment and I open the box. "I—17, what is it?"
"It's your lab buddy," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "See here." He takes the object from me and presses the little blue button on what I guess is the bottom. Instantly, from the fist-sized metallic ball, springs eight spindly legs. It's a spider. "There's a speaker and a receiver on it. I uploaded all the data from your computer and mind into it so that you can have conversations with it. It also doubles as a speakerphone slash radio."
"I love you 17." I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek roughly. "How do you know me so well? It's great."
"I just—"
"Getting awfully cozy aren't we?"
I stiffen in 17's arms. It's Vegeta; I tighten my hold instinctively.
"I knew the gay thing was only a cover up," he laughs, his hand coming down on 17's shoulder. I don't look at him. The nerve! "Nice catch. A bit pesky, but such a nice—"
"That's enough Vegeta." I spin around on him, jabbing my finger hard into his chest, hoping that it hurts. Where is a branding iron when you need one? "We have work to do. Come on."
I leave 17 bewildered at his workstation and trudge over to mine, collecting the schematics and my notepad, and I head over to Vegeta's section of the lab. It's surprisingly neat; not what I expected. And it hits me, all of a sudden, that, in four years, I have never completely seen where he works. I don't even know which projects are his.
"Look over these and give me your assessment of things."
"And what about yours?"
"I already have my ideas about it, but since we are supposed to work together I figured you should have a say too."
"Well, well, well. Being friendly. What a change. I knew I should have bought a tape-recorder."
"Can it and look at the blueprints."
Flashback:
"I'm going to kill you!" I scream, my hands out in front of me, fingers curled in like claws. If it's the last thing I do I will make him pay. He has hurt me for the last time!
"Don't touch me woman!"
Woman? No, no, no. That's not going to work at all.
My hands go around his neck and I squeeze as hard as I can. To my surprise, and utter delight, he cannot get free and I take him to the ground. His face quickly changing from regular to red to blue.
"Bulma!"
18 is on my back in seconds, pulling at me. Vegeta is her friend too, as much as I hate it, and she doesn't want to see him dead, unfortunately. But she is unsuccessful as well. I am just too angry to let anyone get in my way.
In the end, it takes 17, 18, and Goku to pull me off their friend. He scrambles away, gasping for breath and muttering curses and insults under his breath.
"You'll regret that, woman," he sneers, climbing to his feet.
"No Vegeta," I retort. "You will regret it. You'll regret every bad thing you've ever done to me someday! You'll see! And when that day comes don't you even dare ask me for forgiveness!"
"Forgiveness! Ha! Keep dreaming onna."
End Flashback:
That was the last time I saw Vegeta; our graduation day. And, as I think back on it, I'm still angry that my friends stopped me. I don't regret my actions in any way. Oh to have him pay for his indiscretions. If only there were some way, some foolproof thing I could do that would make him see his errors and beg for forgiveness, forgiveness that I will never grant.
Chapter 2:) I know it's not too much, but it's a start. A lot of fighting, but its only chapter two and I'm still setting things up. I swear that three will have a lot more. Three will be the beginning of their overtime together. Ooo! I wonder what could happen:P
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Next time: Late night in the lab…Hmm…
