High Rollers

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters. Thanks

I so debated about leaving the last chapter the way it was or to add more to it. Now though I think it was better to end it that way.

"Yamcha is asleep. I figured I'd hear your offer and tell him."

Vegeta had been surprised at her arrival, alone. He was also pleased that she dressed for him. Though he hoped she'd be receptive, he was prepared to place a wager between them both. He didn't want a companion, wife, or another woman clinging to him for a payday. He just wanted to play a game.

"I see. Maybe we should do this in the morning, when your fiancé is present."

Bulma took care to be calm, but a distinct hardness in her eyes and a touch of annoyance in her voice revealed her inner conflict to him. "Why? He ain't the boss of me."

For Vegeta, the prolonged anticipation of sealing the deal with this beauty chipped away at his cool. But he kept to himself, wanting to prolong the moment. The idea he had was a stroke of genius. It formed when he saw Yamcha lay claim her at the craps table. To him and his world they were polar opposites in every way or were they? His old saying from his father came back to him: everyone had a price. So why not have a little fun testing theirs.

"Yes, I doubt any man is." His voice, though deep, was crisp and clear. "May I ask where you're from?"

"East City."

"Where in East City?"

"A place you wouldn't know." She said think of her home. They were working but poor people for the most part. Only some were rich like Yamcha's family.

"Try me."

"Mountain Lake. Population just 1500 and counting. We got five girls in town pregnant." She said with a sweet smile.

"Aww. It's sweet in East City, isn't it?"

Bulma glanced up into his eyes. His gaze rolled over hers, appraised her value lazily. His gaze stopped at her bosom nicely raised at the front of her dress. She shifted uncomfortably.

"So what is it." She asked looking back down at her dress. She cleared her throat and collected herself. "Something in the hotel? You want us to play some game, do some reality thing or something? I saw one of those traveling channels in my spare time that all these casinos have lotteries and stuff. Is it like that?"

"No Bulma. Not quite. Though the five million dollars I offered earlier at dinner is very real."

"Ummm, what!"

"Five million dollars. For you and Yamcha. That is if you accept my offer. Heck, I'll even sweeten the deal with whatever little project you are working on for the convention in Seattle. That is in two weeks right. I think I heard your fiancé mention it at dinner if memory serves me correct, right?"

Bulma did know whether or not to be happy with his request or angry. She really didn't know the full offer. But how did he know about the convention, she looked at Mr Ouji again to figure out who he knew. She knew that some rich buyers came to convention to help their companies and their new financiers by using their products.

Or they became silent partners. Who did Vegeta Ouji know there for him to be so bold as to mention it now. He didn't seem the type to care much about a convention. She wanted to know that and more.

For his part Vegeta just looked her over again. The very air around her seemed charged with that spitfire spirit of hers. Vegeta leaned in and over the scent of his extinguished cigar. He caught a whiff of that sweet East City scent of hers that lingered on his palate. He didn't come across many like Bulma, though he knew many visited his casinos. He had to be careful not to scare her away.

"I believe everyone has a price. I believe that for a price you can have anything you want." Vegeta withdrew to make sure she was watching him.

"Right now, I want you. One day, one night, you and I. I figure out what project you bring to the table for the convention. And I make you five million dollars richer so that you can continue your projects. I dunno maybe help your family, he looked at her with a keen eye, or maybe use it all for yourself and Yamcha."

Bulma pressed away, as far away as her booth seat would allow.

"Me?" She blinked and refocused her gaze. Stunned her voice failed her. She was by no means blind to his attraction. Her curiosity, as well as he vanity, had been aroused in the face of it. But was he crazy? Five million dollars just to be with him? Did he mean…?"

"You, Bulma. I propose that you make your destiny with a little help from me."

"You mean sleep with you."

"Among other things, you know the project I want to see."

"Who do you know at that convention. Why do you want to help me with that?"

"Let's just say that my sister's family runs the convention with my brother-in-law every year. This year though a major person died and she is taking more responsibility. I could help you as well as make you richer." He was serious about that. He never really involved himself much in the conventions due to his brother-in-law's half-brother and their rivalry. But if the project is good he could pass the information around.

"I don't understand this. Why would you offer me five million dollars to sleep with you? To cheat on Yamcha?"

"That is not my intent. In fact, I've already transferred five million dollars to your fiancé's casino account. The banker will meet with you in the morning to finalize the draft. I fully want him to know and agree to my deal. It would have to be agreed upon by you both."

There was this arrogance about him that made her want to slap him. But the smoldering flame in his eyes held her still. This attraction they shared was bigger than hers and Yamcha. She could admit it, she had something strong with the man next to her. It was all dangerous. But five million dollars could make a wise man foolish, plus he could get her product seen by some of the biggest financiers. Which could launch her into so much wealth.

The fact that this billionaire had chosen her above all the other women who practically threw themselves at him. Could she do this. Would Yamcha even allow it? And what would Vegeta Ouji put her through if she agreed.

"I have to know what this is really about. I mean, what is this really about?"

Vegeta stopped twirling his coin. His expression stilled and grew serious. "Someone once told me that love trumps all. I say bullshit. Greed is the wildcard. What do you think? Is it better to live poor on principle or rich on your terms?"

He chuckled softly. "You're beautiful, smart, and strong, Bulma, but a thousand-dollar coin won't bring you your dreams. Sure you'll get married, get a job and so will Yamcha. You'll make a couple of babies and maybe end up back in East City, all while thinking of the one chance you had in your grasp to change it all. We all have choices to make. Life's a gamble. I'm willing to gamble with five million—" His eyes again dropped to her breast and he moistened his lips. "—to indulge my desires. Will you do the same?

"I won't cheat…I mean…I don't know what you think, but I'm not that girl."

"Sleep on it. You're not married yet. Remember the deal is that you both agree. And if you're going to do something like I propose, the time is now don't you think?"

"I think you're some rich jerk that thinks that he can buy people."

Vegeta nodded. "Prove me wrong. Turn me down. My offer expires this time tomorrow. The funds will be removed from Mr. Amari's account. I can't wait to hear what you decide." He said smirking at her.

Shocked into silence, she watched him ease out of the booth and drop the coin in his pocket. He cast another sideways glance as if he wanted to say more. But the dazed look she had made him think better of it. He tipped his head to her and strolled out. Bulma stared at his half-finished whiskey glass, wondering what just happened.

Yamcha rolled over, and then stretched under the cool sheets. He blinked and looked over at the un-slept side of the bed. He jumped up quickly looking around until he saw Bulma sitting on the edge of the chair with her dark purple dress she wore when she wanted to impress people. Wait who did she want to impress. She looked up at him with exhaustion over her entire body.

"What is it?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Close the curtain. Come here."

"No Yamcha. You have to get dressed."

"Huh?"

"We have to talk." She said. "Before the banker gets here."

"What do we have to talk about? Bulma what's wrong?"

"That depends, babe. On what I have to tell you and how you take it." She smiled, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Yamcha turned back to the bed, looking for his pants on the floor. Bulma crossed her arms in a protective manner.

"Good news, babe. We're going too rich."

For a minute, a brief one Yamcha thought he will still sleeping. A double blink of his eyes and a shake of his head brought him fully awake. "We're rich?" Yamcha leaned forward with his elbow on his knees, his feet resting on the blue carpet. "What do you mean, babe?"

"Just rich. That's what I mean. Rich."

Bulma's hair was smoothed back into a neat ponytail and though her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Yamcha found her beauty exceptional. His Bulma. He worshipped her. His mom had asked him once what made the girl so special in his eyes. He simply replied, "She just is." He noticed the way she was twisting her engagement ring, curling and uncurling it her toes on the navy blue carpet. Something was wrong.

"Is this a joke? Why are you dressed up? Did you go downstairs and win some money?"

Bulma's mouth parted to speak, and then she stalled. She dropped her eyes shyly. His Bulma never did that. Now Yamcha knew something was wrong.

"Come here, babe." He extended his hand to her. When she hesitated Yamcha frowned. Then she changed her mind and came to him. She took his hand and sat on his lap. Yamcha pressed his lips to her shoulder. From a questioning brow, he peered up at her. "Now tell me what you did."

"I didn't do anything. It was Mr. Ouji."

That name was like nails to a chalkboard. To say Yamcha was sick of the rich bastard that made him question himself would be an understatement. Yamcha didn't want to compare himself to the man but he found himself doing it a lot.

His main thought, 'Was I like him in Mountain Lake.' He was rich even if mother cut him off. Before Bulma he was rich and impressive, with Bulma he was poor. It chipped away from his pride.

The last thing he wanted to do on the day they were to be married was to fight. He'd treated her selfishly last night. His first thought when he woke was of how he was going to make it up to her. He wanted his girl to have the best. So what if she enjoyed the treat of this hotel. He'd needed to let go of his jealous habit, and put Vegeta Ouji out of his mind. Now she brought him up, again. He looked at her again and suddenly the dress made sense. Had she met him again while he was asleep?

He drew back. "Where were you? The truth, Bulma."

She rose from his lap and turned away. She couldn't look at him, so much shame surrounded her.

"BULMA!"

"Let me explain…"

She gauged his reaction to what she was about to say next. Her words she chose carefully. "I was taking a bath at the time when he called. He said he had an offer. I tried to wake you up but you were in a deep sleep."

"Bullshit"

"Yamcha, please let me…" She stopped when he held his hand up to her face.

He shot up, snatching his pants from the ground and put them on. The Amari men didn't take kindly to three things: their cars, their money, or their woman. Before Yamcha's father died he fought off a man who was just 'visiting' his mother. Back at home no-one would do this with her. No one touched her.

Bulma remembered when they broke up once for two months. The longest two months of her life. The one man who tried to court her at that time was Bojack Cash a cousin to one of the rich socialites of Mountain Lake who was passing through. Yamcha found out about the courtship and kicked his ass from one sandy block of Mountain Lake to the other.

"You fucking him behind my back?"

"N-N-Noooo…"

"Then tell me why would you meet with another man, that asshole!"

"Cause he has five millions dollars and big connections to the convention that we are going to, that's why!"

Stunned. Yamcha's mouth gaped. His eyes bulged as he stammered for a reply. "Five million dollars?"

"And my project Yamcha. But yes five million dollars." She said slightly pissed that Yamcha was only thinking of the money. Not the projects or what they could bring. The reason why they were on the road they were on. But Bulma decided to ignore her feelings on her project for a moment.

"It's already been delivered—no wired to your account for you. Here, at the casino. The banker will be here any minute for us to sign the papers."

"Why? Why would he do that?"

"Yeah that's what I wanted to talk to you about. So he had this offer and if we accept it then we are rich. See he thinks that true love can't win. But I know it does. Our love wins. We win. Look at how far we've come Yamcha. Our love is special," She reasoned. Yamcha watched her approach as if seeing her for the first time. He was baffled she could tell she had to keep trying to reason with him. Say something to him to make him understand her.

"He says if I…we um. Well I have to hang out with him and…um, for a day. Then he will give us the money.

"Hang out for a day. Like fuck him." Yamcha spelled it out.

"No, and yes he wants me to hang out with him for a day. To see if we can survive apart, I guess. Test us if you will. If we pass the test, the money is ours."

"He propositioned you?"

His choice of words caused her breath to hitch in her throat. "Yamcha..."

"He wants you to whore yourself to him for five million dollars and your fucking project."

"No! It's not like that!"

"The hell it isn't. He practically gave you the money here so what am I your pimp?"

Bulma froze at that statement. She shook her head wildly she wanted to say something but nothing came out. He stood then paced full of rage. But did he even know her. This was a chance of a lifetime. Five million dollars and a chance to be the best this year at the convention. She knew it was a long shot but she also hadn't imagined his reaction to this would hurt so much. Really though what was it to consider.

"Would you calm down and listen."

"Listen to what, Bulma? You explain to me how you'd rather sleep with a stranger for five million dollars and that damn project than to be my wife?"

"No!" She reached for him but he slapped her hand away. She stepped closer, desperate, eyes pleading. Her bottom lip quivered. "No. it's our chance. Don't you see babe? It's our turn to have what we talked about."

"What you talked about!" He pointed and accusatory finger at her. The spark of hope she had was gone.

"Yeah what I talked about because I don't have it like you Yamcha or your mother who is so jealous of my mom that she kept my family from the riches we deserve. At every convention because she knew the owner and hated my family that much. Odd jobs and my sister helping with her book sells are all we have. But you are right it's all about me."

"Bulma…babe."

"One day out of our lives won't change the lifetime we have together. I don't want him. I love you, only you." She said touching him on the chest and he snatched her up by the wrist.

"Shut up about it! Don't say another word!" He shouted in her face. In all the years she knew him, he'd never threatened her. Not once. "I don't care if it's 20 minutes or 20 days, I would never sell you to a man. Do you understand? Do you know what that makes you? What it makes me?"

"It makes us poor," she said weakly. "Dirt poor. It makes us dirt poor. Like my parents. Struggling for the rest of our lives. Yamcha, please…please listen to me. Stop and think about it. It's five million dollars."

He let her go. Her wrist burned from his manhandling. She stepped back from him when the knock at the door came. He smirked and turned away.

"Yamcha, no!"

But it was too late. Yamcha was at the door in a flash, yelling, and flinging it open like a madman. "Get the fuck away from here or I'll break your necks!" He shoved at the guy with the hair sticking out in the air almost like the fucking owner. The man pushed back then stopped allowing the man to vent. If Goku heard the same thing happened to him and his girl Chi-Chi, he surmised he would be as ballistic as Mr. Amari.

There was a tall bald man with a mustache in back of the first man holding Yamcha back. Bulma dragged Yamcha back with all of her might while looking at the second man who winked at her. It was as they expected all of this. Did Vegeta make these types of deals all the time?

"Can you come back? We need an hour, or maybe more. Please Vegeta said we had the day." She rushed the words out in a hushed tone. Closing the door halfway, she checked behind her for her angry fiancé. He had walked off into the back of the suite. Bulma could hear things being tossed in their bags out of their closet.

Returning her attention to the men, she locked eyes with the tall one last time. He stared back at her now with such intensity, she frowned. He gave her a salute and left. The other man with the wild hair looked familiar but she couldn't place him, he followed the bald guy.

Relieved, she closed the door slowly, then dragged in a breath of courage before walking back inside to face Yamcha. She returned to find him packing their bags.

"What are doing?"

"We're leaving. Now!"

"NO!"

Yamcha's hand froze on the zipper of the case he was attempting to zip. He glared dark-brown orbs of fire at her. His lips were pale and stretched into a thin angry line. "No?"

"No. You aren't thinking this through. You're angry."

"You saying you will do it without me? That you'd leave me for him?"

"No. I couldn't if I wanted to. The deal is that we both agree. I'm saying that before we pass on five million dollars and a chance for my inventions to be known across the world that you think about it. We really have to be sure on this Yamcha. I can't do this by myself. I can't live poor anymore. You can go home be forgiven and have your riches but me…I don't want to be poor for the rest of my life. I don't want to be passed up either."

"What's wrong with being poor. You act like we eat out of garbage cans. Back home we had family and love. We had each other."

"I had nothing, you aren't poor. And it was you going to the Z bar every weekend and Wednesday nights. Getting drunk, racing, cars with Oolong and me babysitting the town's kids to make ends meet. When your mother cut you off we couldn't afford anything not even a trailer."

His expression flushed as if he had been hit in the gut. "I'll provide for you, Bulma. Give me a chance." He said meekly.

"I know you will. I know you will work yourself to the bone to give me everything I want and need. I know it." She wanted to touch him but decided against it. He had dreams just like her. Why couldn't they have them come true now.

"I'm just saying. That's all I don't think that you should have too. I think you should open that sports bar. We could go straight to Seattle and you can rub all of this in your mom's face. We can have the house on the beach, ours. We can do whatever we want. Don't you see this our chance we talked about? This is a minor test. Can we love each other enough to sacrifice? To really sacrifice for it."

Yamcha sat down on the bed. His broad shoulders sagged. His weepy eyes were glazed over in anger, frustration, and torment. She saw him thinking on it. That was an improvement. At least he wasn't railing against it.

"Hey," She put her chin to the bend of his shoulder and rubbed his back. "I don't think he even think he wants to sleep with me. It's a game to him. I think it's a test of what we'll do. He's too arrogant. He thinks we are some country bumpkins that will get scared and run. We aren't that. Are we babe? We can turn this."

"I don't know if I can live with it, Bulma."

"We can do it and leave. We don't even look back. We just go back home and get married in my Grandad's church. We can do it up babe, our way. And he's put it in your name, so—"

"Don't sell me Bulma we aren't in Seattle yet. I'm clear on how far you'll go to not be poor with me." He snatched away. He put his hands in his hair as he walked from the bed. "I love you. I left my family for you. I'll do anything for you…but this…this…" He looked around for his shirt and put it on.

"Where are you going?" A suffocating sensation settled in her throat at the sight of him leaving.

"I have to get out of here. To think."

"Yamcha. They are coming back in an hour. We have to—"

"I said I'm going out." He snatched up his keys and left. A deep unaccustomed pain settled in her chest at him leaving. She went too far. She didn't mean to push him this far, she just wanted to make their lives better and not go back home. Bulma rose to plead her case to see the door close in her face. She wanted to go online and speak to Chi-Chi but stopped herself.

She didn't want any of this to get out. For the first time, she started to consider the shame she would bring herself and her town. What she wanted to agree too—if they did it –and she prayed they would—no one could ever find out where the money came from. All they would know is that it was won in Vegas, North City.

Vegeta Ouji was a powerful man. He really had no desire for her. She could flirt with him and maybe a little kissing. She wouldn't have to necessarily do the deed. That's it! She'd find Mr. Ouji and clarify. If sex could be removed from the bargain, Yamcha would agree. She just had to convince Vegeta too.

Vegeta tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk. Nappa Gowan was an old friend and his most trusted attorney. He used to have Kakarot as a trusted friend however he betrayed him for a woman he couldn't even mention to this day. So Nappa became his right hand and Kakarot or Goku as he like to be called was his left hand.

Nappa stood towering over him and Kakarot at six-feet-four inches and always dressed in a black and brown suit. A dark fedora rode his head with the front tipped forward. It covered his brow and cast his eyes in a shadow. Kakarot appeared with the banker at his side. Vegeta checked the time. He wasn't expecting them this soon. He figured the Amari couple would stall him out.

"Is it done?" He asked as he took a sip of his whiskey, hey it's five-o-clock somewhere.

"No. The boyfriend won't agree to it. She asked for a little more time."

Vegeta nodded. "Interesting."

Nappa quirked a brow. The banker knew his queue and left the room. Goku stayed around he hated leaving Nappa alone with Vegeta. To this day he felt like Nappa set him up with one of Vegeta's exes but he couldn't prove it. And since Nappa couldn't make him go away he stood smirking at the man just to irritate him. Nappa put his briefcase down and glared at Kakarot, then looked at Vegeta.

"What is this about, Vegeta?"

"What do you mean?"

"You drag me here last night for this damn deal that's what I mean. Are you just bored, or just heartless? Maybe planning a trip with your sister is in order…something Vegeta."

Vegeta just stared at him.

"They're kids. How old is the girl like 15? What do you expect from them when you dangle five million dollars in front of their face?"

"For them to grow up. See life for what it is. Make a choice. We all had to make them, Nappa. Get our hands dirty in some way."

"Not true."

"Well then my friend they can prove me wrong, can't they? Turn down the money, and return to that little country land, Mountain Lake. Makes no difference to me." He shrugged, bringing his chair back up.

"I've seen you in action over the years, Kakarot too, friend. This one makes no sense. You're the one with bachelorhood stamped on your forehead. Why play this game with this one? You can have anyone."

Vegeta removed his coin, the only other thing that meant something to him. He rubbed the metal between his fingers. Its gold sparkled in his dimly lit office. Nappa took a seat, but Vegeta barely noticed. He considered love and all it didn't mean to him.

"It's not a game. You saw the woman. She's quite something, this…Bulma." He eyes lifted to drive the point home.

Nappa shook his head. "Fine. We have more pressing matters to attend to…Kakarot included. The gaming commissioner is suddenly under investigation. That could spell trouble for you."

"I have many enemies I wonder who could have tipped them off this time."

"Whoever it is I'll find out, Vegeta." Goku said determined. He walked out leaving them in the room to talk more about the 'upcoming' trouble.

"Indeed, Nappa."

The casino racket was mind-numbing. Yamcha headed for the doors, hands shoved deep in his pockets and his cap pulled low down on his head. He beat a path for some normalcy, a place where 'winning' didn't mean everything and losing didn't make you less of a man. A wall of heat greeted him; the cool comfort of the Saiyan Tower had gone.

But it didn't matter. Even in the humid summer outdoors, he felt a sense of relief. Yamcha breathed deep, welcoming the hot air into his lungs. From under the shade of cap, he peered at the faces he passed. They all had starry-eyed look Bulma had. It was the same hunger as they hurried to or from a casino with pamphlets in their hands and coins in their pockets. Fool's gold is what it is.

Shaking his head, he walked with no plotted course. He just walked. That bastard offered a million dollars to take his girl? That's what it boiled down to. How could he compete with that now? At home he had millions he could help his girl do anything. But now he was a fish out of water.

Unable to compete with the man name Vegeta Ouji. He could start by find Vegeta Ouji and pounding the fool to sleep, snatching Bulma from his clutches, and going home. There he could control her. In Mountain Lake he was king. Here he was just some broke down hick from the Mountain.

But Bulma would never forgive him. She'd always blame him, and he'd lose her. He was sure of it. Stopping, he looked up to see he was at another popular casino. The crowd moving in and out its doors was large enough to disappear into. Yamcha did just that, found a bar, took a seat and ordered. When he reached in his pocket, he felt the wad of bills tied to a rubber band. It was the secret stash, the money Bulma didn't know he kept to get them to their dream. He pulled one out.

"Twenty," said the bartender. The man leaned against the bar, resting on his hands, eyeing him curiously. Yamcha peeled off a bill and gave it to him, then a tip.

"Where are you from?" Monaka asked.

"Nowhere," Yamcha said. He returned to the bitter chill of his beer, downing half the bottle with a single swig.

Monaka smirked, "Ah I've been there before."

Yamcha's eyes lifted. This was his fourth. And it was his last. He was sure of that. He lowered the frosted bottle, and his eyes went to the game on the screen. He was looking but not looking.

"You lose big?" The man asked, cutting into his thoughts.

Yamcha frowned. "I could. I could lose big."

"Name's Monaka."

"Yamcha."

"Yamcha, I've seen many come sit in that seat and drink the same beer. I can usually read them. Like I can read you right now."

Yamcha's eyes dropped to the moisture rolling down the brown glass of the bottle. It dripped to a ring on the hotel napkin. "Well don't read me. It's not your business, friend." His request came out so hollow.

"Too late. You got a neon sign over your head. It's a woman. Right? Your woman?"

The question caught him off guard and he looked at the pink humanoid man. He drew in a deep breath the slowly exhaled. "Yeah it is."

"She's running from the altar?" He asked.

"Not exactly." Yamcha shifted. Now uncomfortable at the man's insight and how he almost knew everything about it. But he needed to speak to someone else about his current situation. Maybe he could get him to see that he was right, maybe give him some hope. "How far would you go to make the woman you love happy."

Monaka gave him a snide smile that widened. His teeth were stark white, sparkling against his pink skin. Yamcha wasn't really into to dudes, no way, but he figured that someone could dig this guy.

"Depends on the woman. Certain women require certain things. You really have to be careful what you decided to sign up for."

"And if you could give her dreams. The one thing she wants the most in the world, even though you know it will cost you. Could you do it?"

"As opposed to what exactly?" Monaka asked, shaking the martini and then filling the glass. He dropped an olive into the drink then delivered the drink to the man sitting on the other side of Yamcha.

Yamcha twirled the neck of his beer bottle. I rolled over the damp napkin in a semi-circle. "As opposed to her later resenting you and then losing her. I guess."

"Well, my friend, if her dream is outside of what you can afford to give, you'll lose her anyway."

"I couldn't take that. I love her."

"Then, friend. Do what it takes to keep her. I've had that one, the one I couldn't let go of. So I get it. Word of advice man, be prepared."

"Prepared?"

"You in Vegas baby. All that glitters isn't gold."

End of Chapter.