Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Any Woman, Anytime, Anywhere... ❯ Chapter Ten ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: A lot of people/ studios own DBZ/GT, and Akira Toriyama, I'm not one of them.

AN: This is the Veggie chapter that I promised. DEDICATED TO ALL THE VEGETA LOVERS OUT THERE!!!!!!

Btw: LUCY (thank you soooo much for clarifying this!!!!) reminded me something about how I said Bulma was 2 months pregnant, but she just slept with Vegeta two days ago…hehe…it was all MY mistake, no you didn't miss anything. Um…letz just assume that since this in an AU, they FEEL pregnant real fast. Cuz I noe in our world morning sickness doesn't come till a few weeks in. so…I guess she FELT 2 months pregnant…but was only a few days…heheh, does that clear things up, I hope so. Cuz I felt so guilty when she noticed my MAJOR mistake. THANK YOU SOOOO much tho!!!!!

Chapter Ten:

"Flight from Kennedy Airport, to Los Angeles, California is now boarding at Gate 12, I repeat, boarding has begun for the American Airlines flight to Los Angeles in Gate 12." came a pleasant femine voice over the airport PA system. Vegeta looked around in amazement, while listening to his blasting MP3 player. He had never seen so much commotion in one area. There were harried people rushing around, comrades yelling at one another, a cheerful Japanese family greeting their Japanese-American relatives as they met up at the exit gate. Vegeta gazed uncomfortably around. It had been hard enough to get past customs. He had to run through the metal-detector three times, before finally taking off his belt. At least he had remembered to obtain a tourist visa for one year from the American Embassay in Japan, otherwise he would've been ultimately screwed. He saw a poor couple, who knew virtually no English trying to get past the customs agent. Thankfully, Vegeta had faithfully learned English throughout his high school years, and with the exception of a slight accented lilt to his gruff voice, he had a perfect grasp of the language.

He looked around trying to figure out what to do, and silently gripped the small white box, which contained his capsules, even harder. He had studied American culture, particularly New Yorkers, on the plane ride. What was it they said they rode around in. Oh yes, taxis. But Vegeta wasn't an idiot. He had enough problem with the um…road rage in Japan, and he wasn't going to risk it here, he'd rather fly. So fly he did.

Vegeta flew around for awhile until he reached Columbia University. He walked into the main building right by the entrance and approached the bored receptionist.

"Where is the admission's building?" he demanded, glowering at the blonde.

"Oh!" she tittered. "We're not accepting admission right now-"

"I don't give a damn, I just need to see the dean of admissions," Vegeta growled evenly.

"All right, geez, don't get your panties in a bunch. Um…let's see, just go outside and follow the path that brought you in here, take it around this building, and there should be a sign telling you what direction to go just behind this building." Vegeta nodded once, and walked out into the sunshine. He strolled through the campus like he owned it. Every now and then, girls (and some guys too!) cast him some suggestive glances. He ignored them, with the one-track mind that he has, and continued his pursuit in search for the admissions building. He finally found it and walked up to one of the people behind a desk.

"Who am I supposed to see? I am a transfer student from Japan." He said.

"Oh…" the guy murmured, quavering under Vegeta's hard stare. "Um..what was that again? I'm Jim by the way."

"Transfer. Japan." Vegeta said shortly, quickly getting angered. "Um…yeah. I can help you arrange what you need. What's your name?"

"Vegeta Ouji."

"How do you spell that, please?" the young man asked. Instead of going through the hassle, Vegeta just pulled out his acceptance envelope. He skimmed it over, and handed it back to Vegeta.

"Vegeta…Vegeta…" he murmured. "Nope, sorry, you don't seem to be registered."

"What?! There must be some sort of mistake."

"Uh…let me double check." He whimpered, typing a few more commands into the computer. "Oh wait! There's a listing for Vegeta Ouji on the waiting list."

"Yes," Vegeta growled, tapping his fingers impatiently. "I received an acceptance letter earlier this week."

"Can I see it?" Jim asked meekly. Vegeta handed it to him, and he skimmed it. "Well, everything seems to be in order. Um…do you have the finances for this transfer here? Because occasionally we do get students who have received the letter, but something happened with the money, and they can't get in."

"I have a scholarship," Vegeta muttered, pulling that out.

"Oh wait, you don't have the bursar's seal on it." Jim said listlessly, pointing at the paper.

"What?"

"Yeah, you need to go to the bursar and get their stamp on your scholarship to officialize it or something. They want to make sure there's no forgery."

"You must be joking!" Vegeta roared. "I don't give a damn what you have to do, get me into this goddamn school right now!"

"I-I-I'm very sorry, sir, but I can't do that. You can't go to the school unless you have the proper papers. The proper papers include the acceptance letter, the financial report or confirmation with the bursar's seal, and-"

"FINE!" Vegeta yelled. "Where the hell is this…bursar…? I will find him and give you your damn seal."

"Uh…just to the right of this building." Vegeta 'hmphed' and left the building. The whole entire time muttering something about 'damn American schools', and incompetent fools.

**************

"What do you mean that the bursar isn't in?!" Vegeta bellowed.

"He's not in right now, sir," the nasally assistant said in a peevish voice. "Now, maybe you could come back later-" he never finished his sentence as Vegeta plowed a fist right into his face. He fell to the floor, into the pleasant world of the unconscious.

Vegeta stalked back into the main admissions building and approached the same, cowering man that he had conversed with earlier. "The fucking bursar wasn't in."

"Oh."

"I want you to get me into this school no matter what."

"All right," he sighed. "I'm not sure if I can do this, but I'm pretty sure that if you got the acceptance letter, and have a scholarship, then you should have a room." He clicked into the school's main directory and began searching. "Hmm….you don't seem to be in here."

"What?" Vegeta cried. "You'd better check that again if you value your life, peon."

"Yo! Who you calling a 'peon'?" he exclaimed, but turned back to the computer. "Nope, sorry. You don't seem to have a room. But if you have all your papers, I'm pretty sure I can get you one by tomorrow. If you just give them all to me, I'll go photocopy them, and contact you tomorrow." Vegeta silently handed over the papers that he had. Jim shuffled through them, he nodded. "Yup, everything seems-" he cut off as he rifled through the papers one more time. "Wait a second. Where's your confirmation letter?"

"What confirmation letter?"

Jim sighed as if he was talking to a dense four year-old. "When you replied to our letter, you would receive a confirmation letter. That's one of the most important things. It confirms that you have been reserved room and board."

"I had to reply to your letter?" Vegeta was beginning to sound as naïve as Kakarot.

"Yes," Jim answered obediently. "Otherwise if would be assumed that you decided not to come after all."

"This must be some sort of horrid joke. DO YOU HEAR ME KAMI!!!! YOU'RE NOT FUNNY!!!!!!!!!!" Vegeta yelled at the top of his lungs, looking upward. Jim looked on as if he was watching a schizophrenic.

"I'm really sorry about this Vegeta. But don't worry. You're still on the waiting list. And since I feel so bad, I'll even pull a few strings and get you to the top. Maybe in a few semesters you can come." Jim assured in a would-be cheerful voice.

Vegeta obviously thought differently of this situation, and punched Jim, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Vegeta left the premises, and began to wander aimlessly through the city.

*****************

By the time Vegeta had left the school, it was almost seven o'clock. When his stomach started grumbling, Vegeta assumed that it was time to get some food. Unfortunately, all he had was some 100 zeni bills, nothing that would suffice him in America. Desperate, he stopped at the first bank he saw.

"Do you do international exchanges?" he demanded, stepping up to a weary-looking teller.

"International rates are over there." She said, point at a booth on the far side of the room. Vegeta stalked over there. There was no one behind the desk, but there was a small bell. Impatient, hungry, and just flat-out pissed, he slammed his fist through the bell, smashing through the oak desk, and causing everyone in the room to look up.

"WHAT?!?" Vegeta growled, his voice affecting that 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-now,' sound. The employees quickly resumed their typing, and a harried man walked out of the back office, talking hurriedly into a cell phone.

"No…no, I told you, I can't meet with Mr. Mizumi today. Have him call my secretary. I don't care if we lose a very important customer, I still have that deal I need to seal with Fleet(national bank)." He hung up the phone with an impatient look, it seemed as though his headache was reaching the immense proportions of Vegeta's.

"Yes sir," he asked in smooth manner, the stressed face melting away into an oily, used-car salesman type smile. "How may I help you today? Perhaps I can interest you in our new platinum credit card?"

"I don't need a damned credit card, I need money!" Vegeta snarled.

"Oh yes, sir. Am I correct in assuming that you don't have American currency, then?" his oily façade fading, but his voice still remained in that peevish, icky tone.

"Yes, I have Japanese zeni."

"Oh, well, how much do you have then come on, I don't have all day." The bankperson's fake cover going away completely. Vegeta handed over his bank statement which he had gotten printed out just before he left for the airport. He currently had $3,012 zeni in his bank account, after the cost for his tickets.

"Ah…" the manager's look took on a look of barely-veiled disappointment. "Well, you know the current exchange rate is about 100 zeni to an American dollar…"

"Yes, I know. I have about thirty American dollars. I don't give a shit, just give me the goddamn money." Vegeta growled in a lower, more dangerous tone.

"Okay." The manager said, raising his eyebrows at the diminutive man's threatening demeanor. "I'll have to extract this, please wait a moment." He clicked some things into the computer, and transferred the money out of Vegeta's account, into American currency, and printed it out again.

"Now, do you want to put that in a debit card, or something?" the manager asked desperately one last time. Vegeta sharply shook his head.

"Just give me the cash and I'll be on my way." The manager reluctantly handed Vegeta the three tens. Acting as if those bills were his best friend in the entire world. Vegeta snatched the money, the bank report, and left the building without another word.

***************

Thirty dollars, thirty fucking dollars! Vegeta's mind chanted over and over as he glumly walked down the congested sidewalks of Manhattan (I apologize if Columbia U is nowhere near Manhattan, and let's assume that he flew around aimlessly and ended up in NYC). After the ordeal with the teller, and realizing that he was probably the equivalent of a sniveling beggar, Vegeta had lost his appetite, and was now figuring out something to do. He couldn't get a decent hotel, and despite his surroundings, Vegeta couldn't find a cheap one either. In Japan, three thousand zeni could last you awhile. He didn't know that the exchange rate was so high. If he had, he would've deposited more money in his account, instead of blowing it on video games (yes, in this fic, Vegeta likes video games, especially the action-packed, killing ones).

It was already midnight by the time Vegeta had gathered his senses and arrived at the gates of Central Park. Not knowing what he was doing, he walked into the park, and started looking for something, anything. Vegeta walked straight through the park, and to the other side of the city. It was a completely different scene here. Yes, Vegeta had stumbled onto the club scene.

Vegeta walked through the dimly lit street, basking in the familiar techno beat, and the occasional glimpse of a strobe light, or laser. A sign outside a window caught his eye. 'Help Wanted, inquire within.' It read. Intrigued, Vegeta walked into the club, called Aqua Underground.

Inside, he easily weaved through the dancing figures, and approached the bartender.

"Hey, where's the manager? I wanna ask her about the job." Vegeta said loudly to the bartender.

"Kathy's in there," he indicated with a nod of his head, to the door behind the counter. "Here," the bartender lifted up the edge of the counter and Vegeta walked through. He reached the designated door, and sauntered in.

Inside, 'Kathy' was talking on the phone. She was dressed in modern, but chic clothes. Black hip-huggers, and a Tommy tube top. Her brown hair had blond streaks and was piled on top of her head with elegant wisps framing her face. She turned around and saw Vegeta there.

"Yes?" she asked, pursing her lips in an annoying manner. "If it's about Lou at the door, I know. He's been caught drunk twice. I'll get rid of him as soon as possible."

"No," Vegeta shook his head. "You had a help wanted sign on you door. I need a job."

"Oh!" Kathy's eyes lit up. "Really? Well I'm Kathy…"

"Vegeta."

"Pleased to meet you," she laughed. "Sorry about that earlier comment. Lou's our current bouncer at the door, but he keeps on sneaking inside for drinks, and he leaves his post, comes back drunk as anything, and he's a big guy. And when big guys get drunk…they get mean too…" Vegeta just nodded.

"But enough of my babble," she waved. "What about you?"

"I need a job, that should be sufficent enough." Vegeta replied curtly.

"Ah…the strong silent type." Kathy twirled a strand on her finger silently. "You'd be a great bouncer. I've been looking for a replacement for ages. Thank god you came by. I lost several very good customers last week because of Lou." Vegeta raised an eyebrow, strange how she referred to 'clubgoers' as customers. But then again, running a club was a very prominent business.

"So, do I get the job or not?" he grunted.

"Well, I don't know. Are you familiar with the club scene?"

"I have been to clubs, and I know what a bouncer does, if that is what you mean."

"That's precisely what I mean. All right…Vegeta…you're on trial."

"Trial?" Vegeta asked.

"You don't think I'd hire you just like that?" Kathy giggled, and snapped her fingers to show what she meant. "I mean, no offense or anything, because you do seem competent enough, it's just…I'm a people person…and I'm in a people business. If the people like you, you stay. If they don't, you don't. Simple as that." Vegeta nodded briskly. "But I think that settles it. Here's an application I need you to fill out. When your done, come find me, I'll be around somewhere on the second floor, attending to our VIP guests, and we'll arrange a timetable. Okay?" Vegeta nodded again. "Oh, and one last thing," Kathy turned around before she left. "Where are you from? Your accent is cute."

"Japan." Vegeta grunted his attention already turning towards the application.

Kathy lowered her eyes. "You're not an…illegal…immigrant are you?" she asked, obviously afraid of the answer. Vegeta ignored her. "I thought so, well, just make sure you obtain a green card before your visa expires, otherwise I'm going to have to fire you, no matter what. Club administration rules." Vegeta nodded, picking up his pen. Kathy sighed, and closed the door behind her.

***************

AN: and thatz it!!!! So, Veggie's a bouncer huh? Tell me what you think of that idea in your review…oh, and if you did read my lil 'chappie' update…well, some magical way, I beat the writer's block, and…my friend called me up and encouraged me to update, and to screw the accuracy to Columbia University thing. So, in case you didn't notice, I didn't mention a single one of their, buildings/streets. Therefore, I wasn't accurate. but thatz okay. Anywayz, don't forget to REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!! Or just email me at xangeliz91487x@yahoo.com.

~ciao mah pplz!