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“No,” Vegeta declared.
“Please? I need this. One dinner, that’s it. I’m positive he’ll sign the contract; he’s so close. I just need one last show of good faith to… push him over the edge.”
Vegeta snorted. For the last three months, Bulma had talked about nothing but her proposed deal with GeeCom. They had developed some sort of neural network that Bulma desperately wanted to get her hands on. It seemed she would do anything to secure the patent, including begging the Price of All Saiyans to put on ‘real clothes’ and suffer through what would no doubt be a interminable dinner with GeeCom’s CEO and his wife.
“Why must I be there? What possible relevance could my presence have on your business dealings?”
“Because he’s one of those earnest, family-values types. Only wants to do business with what he calls ‘real folks’. I need him to like me. I’ve already sat through five luncheons, played three rounds of golf and had cocktails with his wife. Now they want to meet you.”
“If you want this software so badly why not just take it?”
“Oh, I will,” said Bulma, her face serious, if not a touch maniacal, “I’m going to take it and make millions with it. Mega-millions. That fool Jensen has no idea what he’s got. He thinks he’s invented a fun little program to name paint colors… And I’m gonna take it, and I’m gonna show him what a real scientist can do!”
He had to admit, she was beautiful in her intensity.
“So, you wish to talk a man out of his life’s work, simply so you can make more profit when you’re already the wealthiest woman on this mud ball?”
“…Yes.”
Vegeta smirked. “Woman, you are devious.”
“Not tonight, I’m not. Tonight, I’m just a sweet, charming lady with a sweet, charming husband.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I cannot condone duplicitousness.”
“Ugh, who let you read a dictionary?” She sighed, “Look, what if I told you one of the things I want to do with this neural network is revamp the Gravity Chamber? I could make it so the computer doesn’t just record your activity, it analyzes it, finds your weaknesses and feeds that info back into the bots, ten—no—a hundred times better than it does now! It could learn you, just like a real opponent.”
“And all I must do is eat dinner in their presence?”
Bulma nodded. Vegeta considered this for a moment. Well, half a moment. The other half, he waited out just to make her squirm.
“…All right.”
“Yes!”
“But I’m not wearing that pink shirt.”
Roland and Gina Jensen were approximately four hundred times more annoying than Bulma had led him to believe. Humans, in the absolute worst sense of the word: jovial, jabbering, and without the faintest sense of how the universe really worked. The sort of people who would have gleefully believed Mr. Satan defeated Cell with a single karate chop. Not that they’d followed any of that news in the first place, of course. The meal had barely begun and already Vegeta was considering blasting a hole in the ceiling and flying home.
“So tell us about yourself, Mr. Briefs,” Roland bellowed.
“My name is Vegeta.”
“Vegeta?” said Gina, “What an interesting name. Are you Portuguese or something?”
“I am Saiyan.”
“Saiyan? Really? How interesting. Only… don’t they call it Thailand now?”
“No.”
Roland laughed the hearty laugh of a man who shouldn’t have started drinking before the appetizers arrived.
“You’re a man of few words, eh? Just like me,” he said, slapping Vegeta on the shoulder. The fool—he would never know how close he was to death in this moment. “If only my wife could learn a little quiet stoicism, eh, Gina?”
“Oh, Roland,” Gina replied with a roll of her eyes. She cast a bemused glance at Bulma, “Like I can ever get a word in edgewise.”
Bulma gave an utterly unconvincing laugh, which Gina accepted without hesitation. What tiresome people. He wondered how Bulma could have possibly sat through five meals with this oaf. This must have been one hell of a neural network.
“Say, you’ve got quite a bicep there,” Roland continued, giving Vegeta’s arm a squeeze. Inches from death, millimeters. “You must be a bodybuilder, eh?”
“Actually,” Bulma started before Vegeta had the chance to speak, “Vegeta is… a… professional fighter.”
She gave him a look across the table, which said: This is our story and you’d better stick to it.
“Wow,” said Gina, impressed enough to stop eating her salad, “a professional fighter, really? Like, mixed martial arts?”
“Basically.”
“Wow.”
The Jensens both gave a sagacious nod. Vegeta stared down at his plate. The restaurant had the indignity to call this The Largest Steak in West City.
“Tell me, how did you two meet?”
“I murdered her boyfriend while trying to destroy the Earth.”
“Ho ho! This guy, am I right?” chuckled Roland, elbowing Vegeta in the ribs.
“That’s not actually how we met,” said Bulma.
“No, we actually met on the distant planet Namek, when you foiled my plans to obtain immortality from a giant dragon.”
Roland clutched his sides and guffawed. “Stop! Stop! You’re cracking me up!”
“So,” Gina asked, turning to Bulma, “how did you really?”
“Mutual friends.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Gina declared with a smile.
“Gina and I met on a cruise. Darnedest thing. There we were in the buffet line, you see, and wouldn’t you know it, we both reach for the last bowl of red jello! Pow! Instant chemistry. Some people are just like that, you know?”
Vegeta grunted.
“You know what I think,” Bulma started, fishing through her handbag, “I think it’s time we got down to business. I brought the agreement along with me, Mr. Jensen—”
“Roland, please. Mr. Jensen is my father!”
“Yeah, right. Roland. Anyway, if you’ll just take a look at this. You’ll see on the third page, here, my lawyers added that stipulation about weapons development…”
“I just don’t like the idea of anything GeeCom made being used for destructive purposes, you know,” Roland said conspiratorially to Vegeta.
“Definitely not,” Gina agreed.
“Yeah, well, that’s in here now,” Bulma continued, “And I think you’ll find the final sum much more to your liking, as well. So if you’ll just… put the ol’… good ol’… signature-rooney on there… Here’s my pen.”
Humiliating.
Roland sighed and dropped the pen onto the table. “Well, you know, Bulma, I’ll be honest with you, I still don’t know about this. I don’t know if the GCNN is the best thing GeeCom’s ever done, but you obviously see quite a bit of value in it, to go through all this. Maybe it’s not something I should give up.”
“What?” Bulma asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes, you know, maybe instead of Capsule Corp acquiring my program, we should really be talking about licensing. But let’s not get into all that now. Say, how’s about the two of you join us for a game of tennis next weekend?”
Across the table, Vegeta felt Bulma practically vibrate with rage. Her fists clenched the white table cloth roughly enough to send the glassware rattling. Roland Jensen looked smugly pleased with himself.
“Listen here, you sniveling worm,” Vegeta growled, grabbing Roland by the shirtfront and dragging him halfway onto the table. “No more free lunches and stupid games on the company’s dime. You’re going to sign this agreement and you’re going to sign it now. And not just because you’re greedy. And not just because you’re too stupid to know what to do with this network of yours. But because that woman is the most intelligent person this side of the universe and she has wasted enough time kowtowing to your pathetic demands.”
There was a moment of stunned silence throughout the whole restaurant. Bulma kicked Vegeta in the shin under the table. When Vegeta released Roland, the man slumped back into his chair, steak sauce dripping down the front of his shirt. Sheepishly, Roland picked up the pen and, looking between Vegeta and Bulma, broke into a fit of laughter. Gina giggled along nervously.
“Damn,” said Roland, turning to the final page of the agreement, “That’s one hell of a husband you’ve got there, Mrs. Briefs. I like a man who plays it straight to the point. Here’s the agreement. W-what do you say we take a rain check on that tennis game?”
“Yes,” said Vegeta, smiling, “let’s.”
Neither of them spoke until they were more than halfway home. Bulma was still brimming with anger. Her grip on the steering wheel was impressive and, to a lesser man, probably terrifying. Vegeta folded his arms against his chest and watched the city roll by the window.
“Such an idiot,” Bulma said at last.
“Hmph. Hard to believe that fool could invent anything useful.”
“Not him. Me.”
Vegeta turned to look at her. Her blue eyes were watering, her breath changing to the short hiccups that preceded tears. Bulma held her composure by a thread until they were back at the compound. Then, she shut off the engine and dissolved into sobs against the dashboard. After so many years on Earth, Vegeta ought to have learned what to do with crying, but he really hadn’t.
“You’re hardly an idiot,” he pointed out.
“Yes I am. You’re totally right… Jensen was just taking me for a ride. All those lunches. All those drinks. All those stupid games of stupid golf. Ugh. I feel so… so… stupid.”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me when I said you were the most intelligent person this side of the universe.”
Bulma smiled at that, just a little. She wiped her eyes with the hem of her dress. “I heard you. I just don’t believe you right now, that’s all.”
“You are. And you are far too magnificent to cater to anyone who thinks checkered suits are an acceptable fashion choice.”
That earned him a laugh—the first genuine laugh of the evening. She kissed him and laid her head against his shoulder. Outside the hovercar, crickets and cicadas were vying for dominance over the summer nocturne.
“Thank you.”
“Mm.”
“And thank you for yelling at him—because if you hadn’t grabbed him first, I probably would’ve slugged him myself.”
Vegeta snorted.
“But don’t make a habit of it, okay? The last thing I need is bad publicity saying I threaten my clients into signing things.”
“So long as I never have to do whatever ‘tennis’ is.”
“Deal,” she patted his thigh, “Now let’s go inside. You can help me out of my dress and tell me more about how I’m the smartest woman in the universe.”
“This side of the universe.”
“Oh, after you see what I’m wearing under here, you’ll say the whole universe.”
“Vulgar woman,” Vegeta declared.
“You know it.”