<I can't believe this>

I growled, literally. It echoed in my throat,

<How in Orion's name could she have done that.>

My cheeks were hot, I didn't know if it was from embarrassment, anger, or my hormones were acting up. If it was the later, I'd scream. Simply put. I don't know why, but ever since I was little, Trunks and I were little, we had this thing. Emotions were weak. Where that came from I have no idea to this day. Probably never will. We did grow out of it. Well, he did, I still get mad at myself when I can't control MY emotions. I could care less if someone burst out crying. I've gotten used to it, with my mother the way she is. I have to leave the room when she gets too bad. Not that I'm not sympathetic, anything too high-pitched kills my ears. If I stayed in the same room with her when she does that, I'd probably be deaf by now. I guess that's why I cringe when my grandmother talks. Her voice is too high.

<Ah yes, childhood is gone and has been replaced by this shaz>

I tore through the hallways. I needed to get out of the house.

<This house is too freaking big. You can't get to the door fast enough>

I let out a his as my frustration grew. I walked fast, my shoes making a `clunk' sound as they made contact this the floor.

<What's wrong with me?>

It was a question I asked often but never got an answer to. I picked up speed suddenly feeling Clausterphobic.

I walked past my mom's lab. I had no intention of speaking to anyone and my mind was focused on one thing; getting out.

My time ran out as the door opened.

<SHAZ!>

I growled lost as I spun around. I didn't want to see anyone. Was that too much to ask?

Mom, Bulma, stood there, her lab coat gone. Her silky blue hair was in a bowl cut, making her look slimmer. She wore a tan colored business suit, narrow shaped, tan heels to go along.

<Shaz, she's going to CC on conference. And she's gonna take me with her>

My flesh grew hot with anger. I despised conference meetings. The clients were either mobsters, enterprise companies' macho headstrong representatives, small business owners, or some other poor fools. If they were the first two or later, they'd either hit on me, or mom.

<Another reason I hate people>

"Are those the clothes we went shopping for?" she asked with a sickening sweet smile.

<Oh joy, the classic suck-up first routine>

I stared at my mom cautiously.

"What do you want?" I had a hint of exasperation my tone, but other than that I had a monotone. I narrowed my eyes to try and get my point across to her that I didn't want to go anywhere but away from people. Or go where there they were extremely few.

<Let's get this over with so that I can leave.>

"Well, since you brought it up. I have a conference to go to and it's with Smart Enterprises," said the blue haired beauty.

<Great. She can be such an airhead>

My eyes widened as what she just said sunk in. Smart Enterprise's head representative, Zander Flare, was a complete neer. The freak had tried to hit on mom several times. Only difference between him and others, was he went far enough to molest her. Do to business matters, Mom didn't file any charges, and was assured that it wouldn't happen again. He had other ideas though, the dude's still at it.

<Trunks said he'd kill him if he ever did it again. Too bad he doesn't know what goes on>

Mom's smile and eyes had taken on a look of pleading.

<It's probably good he doesn't know. No need for a dead body>

"Now baby, you know I'd take Trunks with me, but, well" she trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"When is it?" I growled, burning inwardly with renewed rage.

<Since when did I become possessive?>

My mother brightened, "Well if we leave now we'll be there on time."

<Oh joy, the freeway>

"Let's go", I said with my usual tone, trying to show her I wasn't going to do anything to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride was peaceful. I drove while mom put some things together. Either that or she was checking to make sure everything was there and in order.

<Has to keep her reputation for being orderly. Though I think she goes a little too far sometimes. Especially when she had that `brilliant' idea with making everything in the restrooms in alphabetical order>

I looked over at her shuffling papers, which was getting on my nerves.

<Maybe it's good for her>

I ran my tongue over my teeth in annoyance.

<You're talking to yourself, you do know that?>

Not wanting to go insane, I sped up as I entered the freeway.

<Let's see what drivers I can piss off today>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I pulled the car into the executive parking lot. Mom finished shoving a few papers into an over filled folder. She smiled at me, and then got out of the car, grabbing her purse on the way. Rolling my eyes at her attempt to cover up her nervousness, I opened the door and exited with the same amount of grace.

I walked up to her as she began straightening her suit. Pulling her nylons up a little, then reaching into her purse. Breathing out with some impatience, I turned around, and using the automatic device on the keys, I locked the car up. Turning back, I continued to watch her mess with her hair.

"Maybe I shouldn't of cut it," she murmured under her breath, though I heard it.

I watched in annoyance as she reached into her purse and retrieved a small make-up case. She fiddled around with it a little. Trying to balance her briefcase, purse, mirror and the small case.

2Bally, hon, uh" her face contorted in frustration.

Taking the compact from her, I opened it and looked at the contents. Small, square sized, tin containers of different colored eye shadow took up about ¾ of the roof. Light pink, medium brown, and peach blushes took up the other ¼. At the bottom, two-inch long eyeliners took up half the space. Ranging from white, to black. Small, inch long lipsticks took up the other portion. A variety of colors allowing you to mix. And last, in the center, a tiny sharpener lay.

"Isn't it cute" said Bulma, I got it out of a magazine.

Looking up at her, I put together the color scheme she had been going for.

"Mom" I started in a monotone, cocking my head slightly to the side. She put her full attention on me, like what I had to say was a situation of life and death.

"The suit doesn't go with your hair."

Her face fell. I walked over to the car, unlocked it, opened the door, and leaned in. I pulled out my small, black leather backpack that I had grabbed before we left. Pulling out a small spray bottle, I read the contents. Having grabbed the right one, I walked over to her, leaving the door open. She looked at me curiously.

"What's that?" she asked.

Reaching into her purse, I took out her baby-sized comb.

"Temporary highlighting hair-dye" I mumbled and took off the cap.

"WHAT!?" she shouted.

I cringed as my ears started ringing. The echoing of the parking lot not helping.

"I'm lightening your hair so it goes with your outfit." I growled, the pain in my ears slightly subsiding.

"Oh" she murmured, "Why didn't your say that before?"

Snorting in irritation, I began spraying her hair. Combing it too. After about a minute or two, I was happy with the results. I stepped back to look her over. Her hair was now highlighted a creamy white. It made the blue look lighter, so it didn't clash with her tan suit. I walked back over to the car as she looked at herself in the mirror. I got in, put the can back in my backpack and grabbed her case that I had set on the seat.

"Hey, maybe I'll make this permanent" she announced. I heard her giggle. Getting out of the car, I growled at her sudden case of blonde syndrome. Walking over to her and opening the case, I took out the white eyeliner and leaned toward her face. She closed her eyes automatically as I began to put an even line close to her eyelashes.

"Hey" she said in a high-pitched voice.

 
I cringed again and then finished with both her eyes. Taking my thumb, I blended it in with her skin. I stepped back and looked her over. Satisfied, I put the lid back on and looked through the case again, hoping to find a gloss in there. Finding none, I handed the case back to her than walked back toward the car. Taking my backpack, I pulled out a simple glossed colored lipstick. Taking it with me, I shut the door and locked it up. I walked back over to her and applied a thin coat to her lips. Stepping back, I put it back in my bag, closed my backpack up, and then swung it around my shoulder. She opened her mirror eagerly, turned her head from side to side, and giggled girlishly.

"Let's go." I mumble, holding out the case.

Smiling, she takes it, puts them both in her purse, and then walks toward the elevator. I follow her, now pissed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We stop in front of the conference door. I had lost whatever patience I had left. The walk up here had been irritating. Everyone said their hellos, the male employees flocked around my mother. None of them came near me thanks to my trademark death glare.

I brought my hands to my temples. I felt a headache coming on.

<Now I know why Trunks hates his job. Too many idiots>

I focus my attention on my mother. She did a last few checks on herself and opened the doors. The bright lights hit me suddenly, making my head pound.

<Why don't they make it this bright in the hallway>

I growl and walk in after her. Quickly, I scan the room. It was huge. Polished wood covered everything. Up against one of the long walls was a glass fish tank running along it. In the middle of the room, a long, wide table made of cherry wood stood. Leather black cushioned chairs strewn around it.

"Mr. Flare" came my mother's pleasant voice.

My attention snapped back into focus. One man sat at the long table. He was handsome, probably in his early 30's. Unruly chestnut brown hair covered his scalp. Light brown eyes drunk up my mothers figure. A silk black suit clung to his muscular body.

<I doubt he even heard her>

I growl, letting my ki spike at what I know he's thinking.