Music of the Night

Chapter: 7
Subtitle: Taming the Shrew
Author: Trixie-chan
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z.
Author's Note: All right, next chapter is out in a timely manner! Unfortunately, I have not started the next chapter (when I posted chapter 6, I had already started chapter 7). What that means is that it probably won't be out as quickly, but you never know. Basically I work on the story on Tuesdays and two out of three Fridays at bowling as I don't have time during the day (at work) or at night (as I am preoccupied by World of Warcraft like a dork).

Anyway, I hope this chapter fulfills. :)

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Five Years Later

The new engineer, Brian, sauntered into the room, casting her sidelong leers with a smug, confident smirk. He called out to the group of coworkers he was headed for; obviously showing that he was a well-known, well-liked guy despite his "newbie" status.

She rolled her eyes. Those arrogant bastards always made it a game, initiation, or just a plain goal to catch her eye and "tame the shrew," one of many phrases that they used.

Her shining blue hair whipped around as she lost her patience with the "Stallions of Capsule Corp" and bellowed at them to get their lazy asses back to work.

She hated when she had to take her turn at overseeing this floor...

Bulma was quite used to, after five years, the various names and phrases they had concocted for and about her: Bulma the Blue-Haired Bitch (which, she had to admit, was a nice alliteration), the Shrew, and the Blue Ball Breaker (also shortened to B-cubed and B-three), to name a few. She actually relished them a little. She had a legacy. She had respect—because even though they had names for her, they knew that she was where she was because she was a genius. She also had a little bit of fear, and the feeling of power that brought was slightly intoxicating. All of this was better than being considered someone they could take advantage of—everyone knew that wasn't possible.

Every snot-nosed newbie that wandered their way in fresh out of graduate school thought that they were God's gift to science and women. And each and every one of them thought that they were exactly what was needed to melt the Ice Queen's heart—or at least get into her pants. Those children didn't stand a chance. Most of them were actually older than her, and she had been at their intelligence level ten years prior. They were ants—peons. She could pay for better at the local brothel.

She sighed and retreated from the edge of the balcony to the desk in the center of the room. Lowering herself onto the plush chair, she resigned herself to doing paperwork that, regrettably, needed to be done. The monotony of tedious paperwork made her want to throw the comfy chair out the window. She would rather be dabbling with her side projects, her inventions, or the machines in general. She would almost rather be down on the floor with the peons and actually working on things—almost. She was never a busy work sort of person.

As it often did—and probably was the reason it had piled up so—her mind began to wander. When was the last time she had gotten laid? It had to have been at least a couple of months... She had no delusions that she was going to remain chaste as a Mormon teen, because once the floodgates are opened, they don't close easily. She had, at the beginning of her "change," a few boyfriends, but after each and every one of them failed to live up to her expectations in all senses of the word, she had given up on attaching emotions or effort into the men she saw. Every once in a while she would have a one-night stand, and sometimes she might be with a guy for a month or so before she couldn't stand him anymore. Not that she considered herself a slut nor acted in any such manor, but she had her needs that she felt needed to be met.

Being who she was, she had no trouble finding men that wouldn't contest her in any way. In the bedroom—and in most any situation—she was in control. Nine times out of then, she was on top or in some other position of power. As for the rest of the times, she made it a position of power. The men didn't care; they got to bed Bulma Briefs. At least that's what they thought. Bulma Briefs was bedding them. Not that it really made any difference to them.

She hated reminiscing because when she did it always brought her back to...

Her phone rang. Trixie was calling.

Trixie had accomplished all that she had dreamed. Not too long after... well, five years ago, she had gained a role on a new PrimeTime premier that became an instant hit. From there, she vaulted quickly into movies and within the first year-and-a-half had completed her first film that was a box office smash. Following that, she had succeeded in attaining her second dream: she was offered a recording contract which shot her career even higher. Through Trixie, though, Bulma had been kept abreast of the goings on of the one person she tried the hardest to forget.

Vegeta.

She had learned of his success in Japan and the growth of his fan base. He continued to have a sizable fan base in the US—especially from the Japan fan girls. Bulma also found out that since learning the language of his new country, he had even come out with some Japanese CDs, further bolstering his success. She tried to pretend that she felt nothing, but deep down she was proud of him. Part of her wanted to be there to personally cheer him on. She tended to squash those feelings the second she noticed them.

Needless to say, when Trixie informed her that Vegeta had completed his final live tour in Japan and was returning to the states to do a final US tour last year, she was shaken. What did this mean? Was he going to try to come back into her life? Should she be trying the same?

"Hey Trix," she said picking up the phone.

"Turn on your TV to channel 61," Trixie said in response.

Bulma picked up the remote and did as Trixie instructed. As the channel flipped to 61, her breath caught in her throat. There was Vegeta, just how she remembered him. Well, for the most part at least. His hair was not spiked quite as high as it used to be; although, it had the same characteristic shape and spike. His face... God, it was just as beautiful as before, but there was something more hard about it; something so incredibly different than five years ago that she questioned if something traumatizing had happened to him in Japan. Something had changed in him.

Then again, she wasn't the same woman she had been five years ago either.

The sound wasn't even on. She had no idea what was being said nor what the topic even was. She was frustrated that she couldn't look away from his smoldering eyes, his full lips mouthing incoherent sentences...

"Bulma?" Trixie questioned breaking Bulma out of her trance. She quickly looked away from the screen.

"Ya, what's up?" she replied, trying desperately to pretend that she hadn't just been sucked into the television.

"Oh don't act like you didn't just clam up and stare at him for the past minute," Trixie said. Bulma could even hear the smirk in her voice. The woman knew her too well. Had she really been entranced for that long? She just sighed into the receiver.

"What about it?"

"Oh nothing," Trixie cooed. "You busy Friday?"

"No," Bulma replied after some thought.

"Good. I got us backstage passes to his show here on Friday."

Bulma choked on the water she had just taken a sip of. "What the fuck, Trixie?!" she screamed into the phone after regaining her speaking ability. She didn't care that the peons could probably hear her.

"Oh calm down, Bulma! They were given to me by my agent. Come on, don't be a buzz kill. We can reminisce about old times," Trixie reasoned.

"And what if Chris is there? Are you sure your husband will be all right with you hanging around your ex that you were so deeply in love with, if he's there?" Bulma mocked, knowing full well that Trixie had never been in love with Chris, but she had sure thought she was.

Trixie made a nonchalant sound. "He's okay with me making out with actors on screen because he knows that I love him and that they mean nothing. I've been over Chris since the day we split. Nothing is happening there. You're going. End of discussion."

Bulma sighed again into the receiver. "You're evil."

"I know," Trixie stated with a pleased ring to her voice. "See you on Friday—I'll pick you up. Bye!"

"Bye..." Bulma hung up and set her head on the table on top of her arms. Why didn't I just say no? Why couldn't I? She lifted up her head and gazed at the television screen. Vegeta was still there... Magnificent. She was once again transfixed. She could stare at him forever, it seemed.

"Umm... Miss Briefs...?" came a timid voice from the top of the stairs. She tore her eyes away and glared daggers at the worker who had arrived—both cursing herself for losing who knows how much time staring at him and praising everything that she had schooled her face into her usual steely exterior before the kid noticed (she hoped).

"What?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. She saw the man flinch. It almost made her smile.

"Umm... we uh... we need your help with the generator down there... The new one we're building... We can't get it to start..." he stammered out meekly. Bulma's eye twitched as she noticed his gaze flicker toward the television. Where Vegeta's face still was, large as life. That she had been staring at...

Not good.

"Hey, Bambi," she spat. The analogy was a good one—he looked like a deer in headlights. "Get down there and tell the rest of your incompetent posse that I'll be down to fix whatever mess was created in ten minutes. Now scram!"

He bolted down the stairs as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him. Once he was out of sight, Bulma closed her eyes and cursed. This was going to get around. She was going to lose her edge and her authority.

Dammit Vegeta... Once again, you are ruining me...

- End Chapter 7 -

That's it for Bulma's return. Next chapter should be Vegeta's and possibly the concert. Haven't decided yet. Actually, this chapter was supposed to be both of their returns, but I thought that it was pretty long and this would be a good place to end. Let me know what you think!

- Amber (Trixie-chan)