Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Change Of Heart ❯ A Pushy Reporter ( Chapter 25 )

Pan sat down on her bed, feeling like an absolute failure. Why did her life seem to be crumbling under her? She thought that getting away from home would do her good, and it had, but now things were changing, and depression was setting in.

The tabby cat jumped on her bed, and she shoved it off with a swipe, not in the mood for its perky attitude. Lying down on her stomach, her head wresting on her arms, she tried her hardest not to let the tears fall that threatened to.

To no avail, they still poured, and she found her shoulders shaking with the effort. The tabby cat jumped on the bed once more, but this time she didn't notice-or care for that matter.

Tears streaming down her cheeks and over her arms, she cried her heart out for everything that had hurt her lately. She cried for Trunks, for leaving home, for missing home, for giving up her job with Degraid, for the bet, and her recent failures.

A tap came to her door, and Pan silenced herself, waiting. The doorknob turned, and Pan held her breath, imagining Mary Kate on the other side, not wanting to interrupt anything.

But it wasn't Mary Kate. Katie walked into the room, a bag of potato chips in one hand, and a curious expression on her face. Pan realized her breath was still being held captive, and she let it out.

"What's wrong, Panny?" Katie asked, sitting down next to her. Pan shook her head, wiping away tears, but still Katie wasn't disrupted. "Pan, you know you can tell me. Spill it." And then Pan spilt it. All of it. From Trunks, to the bet, to her papers that weren't printing, to her philosophy club that was crumbling around her, to her French group that hated her as president, to her writers club idea that was bashed, to her homesickness, to every single little thing that wasn't working. Pan felt the failure, and everything else that had been bothering her lately rose to the top as usual.

"Panny," Katie said when Pan had finished, tears streaming down her cheeks again. "you're not a failure." Pan didn't seem convinced, and Katie continued. "Just because no one else appreciates the work you put into all your clubs, just because everyone's too lazy to help, or agree that starting this or that would be great, just because people aren't ambitious, or understanding, or care that you have feelings, just because of that, you're going to let your life stop?" She exclaimed, and Pan's eyebrows rose. "Pan, the world is filled with unhappy people, and you're not one of them. You're ambitious, smart, creative, and full of life. There is no way your ideas and dreams are going to be put on hold because of every sorry-butt person out there who gives you crap."

Katie put her hands on her hips roughly and stood up. "Pan, you do whatever you want, whatever you think is good, and make all those people regret the day that they didn't become a part of it. When you're running a book award organization, or being this or that, running all of this and all of that, they are going to regret the day they didn't join your writing club, or didn't help you out in the French club. Because Pan," She said, gaining volume. "you're going to be famous, you're going to move mountains, and they'll be eating your dust."

Pan had to hand it to her; Katie was good enough to be a motivational speaker. Nodding, Pan realized her tears were dried, replaced with determination. Pan would go out there tomorrow and knock `em dead, she just knew she would. And she would make everyone in that stupid school regret the day they didn't agree with Pan Son.

The next day Pan awoke with vigor, ready to take on the day. She had decided to get up earlier to have more time to get ready, and she did admit she looked a lot better than usual. She went into the kitchen and fed the cats for Lynda, and she sat down and made herself waffles, cream of wheat, and she poured herself a nice glass of milk, instead of the traditional cold cereal and a glass of water to wash it down.

She was surprised and delighted to know that she had time to curl up on the couch and read the morning newspaper, and she relished all the interesting articles. Even one on Capsule Corporations new venture with Degraid Advertising, Vixen Entertainment.

Many mock the idea that a technology corporation and an advertising firm will come together and create an entertainment-based company, but they ate their hats this morning when Vixen Entertainment announced something coming.

Trunks Brief's, new president of Capsule Corporations, announced at a press conference concerning Vixen Entertainment (VE), that VE would be releasing its own advanced line of home entertainment equipment, including flat-panel television screens, surround sound speakers, DVD players, and CD players, all featuring the mysterious AvSS. AvSS stands for "Advanced Sound and Sight", and Capsule Corporation has been hiding the secret weapon for several-test-heavy-years.

We can only imagine the income that the new AvSS items will bring in; showing that Vixen Entertainment does indeed have a future in the vastly populated Entertainment universe, and a position on top, as well. What else can we expect from Capsule Corporations?

But this is not all. Trunks Brief's, while holding the spot for Most Eligible Bachelor, also holds another record breaking spot in an important culture. The culture of business, wealth, and power. Trunks Brief's was noted in Forbes magazine this month for being the wealthiest man under 21, ever. Plus he holds a coveted spot on the cover of Forbes magazine for the December-year sum-up-issue.

Pan closed the paper. Yes, Trunks was running things wonderfully back at home. And even though that article threatened to, it did not bring down her good attitude for the day. Setting it down on the kitchen island, she glanced at her watch and grabbed her bookbag, heading out the door and to school.

"Well, well, well." Goten said, looking over the December issue of Forbes. Trunks shook it off, looking at his data-pad screen. "The richest man over 21…ever." He emphasized the last word and smirked. "Most eligible bachelor, Vixen Entertainment going to thrive...yes, Trunks, you are on the world's map." He sat down the magazine and looked over at his best friend.

"And why didn't you invite me when you got interviewed?" Goten asked jokingly. "When did you get it for that matter?" He asked on a serious note. Trunks typed a few more words and then leaned back in his chair.

"I was interviewed during my lunch hour about a week-two weeks, ago. They didn't even tell me exactly what it was for. I thought it was solely for Vixen, but apparently not."

"Apparently." Goten said to himself. "Do you know what?" He asked, standing. "It's surreal to go to a grocery store and see pictures of your best friend grinning on the cover of teen magazines. And then to also see him on Forbee's and all at the same time."

"It's Forbes." Trunks pointed out, smiling, typing on his keyboard once again. "Did you know that?"

"Yes, but I was curious to see if you were listening." He folded his arms. "Anyway, can't you break away for a bit and grab a bite to eat with me?" He pleaded, and Trunks looked over the work that still needed done on his desk. Biting his lip he finally agreed and the two left out the door.

An hour later they returned, and Claire followed them both anxiously into Trunks office. She had a folder in her arms, and she looked as if she might hop on one foot and then the other.

"Yes, Claire?" Trunks asked, and she handed him the folder. He looked it over, going through the multiple papers, than looked at her again.

"Another press conference, this time with even more people present. Representatives also from Asia this time, plus Europe again." He nodded, wondering why Claire was so antsy about just a press conference.

"Just schedule it between Conner Degraid's and my schedules. You know the drill." Still she stood there, and Trunks looked at her questioningly.

"Sir," She continued. "There's a reporter to see you." This was it. "A Miss Summers. With the White Sun." She explained.

"Right now?" He questioned, setting down his folder of papers. She nodded, and he sighed. "Ok, I'm going to walk Goten out, after I leave have her come in and I'll see her when I get back." Claire nodded, walking out of the room.

"Walking me out? But this is only our first date." Goten joked, walking out the door with Trunks.

"Shut up." Trunks said, shutting the door behind them, and pointing towards the stairs rather than the elevator.

After walking Goten out Trunks walked back up the stairs, not in the mood to talk to a stuffy reporter who wanted to discuss the particulars of his venture-didn't these people know enough already?

However, when he entered his office the reporter was far form what he expected. Long, blonde hair that curled just barely on the ends, softly cascading around her shoulders, penetrating violet eyes, a pale lavender suit with a glittering single button on the front, white, strappy shoes, and a hem line halfway up her thigh was what Trunks saw. A far cry from the old, just graying woman he expected. No, this woman couldn't be barely older than her, if she was even that.

She was looking through the folder that Claire had brought him only moments ago, and she slapped it shut when he walked in. Gracefully setting it down on the table she stood up and extended her hand.

"Mr. Briefs?" She asked, and Trunks was shocked it wasn't deep and barely croaking. But then again, he was still shocked she wasn't over thirty-five.

"Yes." He said quietly, appearing wary, as he shook her hand back. "And you are?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Miss Summers." She said with a smile. "I hope it isn't inconvenient for you now." She said quickly, and he shook his head, sitting down opposite her and motioning for her to do the same.

"No, not at all. What can I help you with?" She smiled broader, revealing glistening white teeth.

"I was just hoping for an interview." She explained, and he smiled. She took a tape recorder out from her purse and rewound it. "You don't mind?" She asked, referring to the recorder. He shook his head, used to lazy reporters whose handwriting was as bad as doctors.

It stopped with a click and she cleared her throat, pressing record.

It started with the usual questions, the business, what plans he has, what expectations. Then, still usual, being the most eligible bachelor, what was he looking for in a woman, what qualities did he value, was he seeing anyone, was he really seeing anyone, all the usual.

He answered with rehearsed ease until she turned the tape recorder off and slid it back into her purse. Looking him straight in the eye, she leant forward on the coffee table, her suit falling loosely off one shoulder.

"Now, Mr. Briefs, you can be honest with me. What kind of things tire you in this sort of job?" He swallowed, as her eyes drooped seductively.

"Um, well, nothing really. Sure it can get tiring, what job doesn't have its stress? But really, there isn't a news story on that." She nodded, listening.

"How do you like to unwind after a long, stressful day?" She asked, and he bit his lip, not wanting to answer `watch TV and eat ice-cream'.

"I like to read, a lot in fact. I watch some TV, news mostly, what else is on?" She grinned. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Do you long for that girl that rubs your neck, massages your shoulder after a long day?" She questioned, her voice deepening, the pace slowing. She leaned forward even more, now looking up drastically.

He swallowed once more, standing up. Her eyes followed him, her head doing the same, though just barely. He walked over to his desk and folded his arms, leaning against it. She tilted her head to the side, tossing silky hair over one shoulder.

"I am happy with my circumstances right now. Although if I do find that girl I won't hesitate going after her." He smiled, not helping the thought of Pan, and she stood up, walking nearer to him.

She casually strode up next to him, an eyebrow raised. She brought a hand up to his shoulder and rested it there, tossing hair over her shoulder casually. He felt the hairs stick up on the back of his neck, and his body was urging him to jump to the other side of the room. However he was a gentleman, and embarrassing her wouldn't be gentlemanly.

She brought her other hand, her left, up to his arm and gazed up at him, and gentleman or not, he began the escape route. However he didn't have enough time.

"Perhaps you'll change your mind." She said, smirking.

She brought her lips up to his and leant her head back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Instinctively his hands touched her waist, although not out of pleasure. She leant her head to one side and grabbed his face delicately. He had tightened his grip and began to push away when his office door opened, revealing Conner Degraid striding in.

"Tru-" He stopped speech and looked at the situation. Trunks finished his push and shoved her away, leaving her back against the desk, her hands gripping it securely.

"Conner, this isn't-" Trunks began, and Conner folded his arms, papers in hand, nodding.

"I believe you." Conner said, and Miss Summers looked down. "She was in my office…two days ago." Trunks looked at her with disbelief, and she pushed hair behind her ear, eyes still on the floor.

Conner picked up her bag and held it out, and she walked over and snatched it, still not looking up.

"Wait!" Trunks called, and she looked up at him as he walked over. Picking up her purse and digging through it, he pulled out the tape recorder. It was still running. Apparently she had only appeared to have turned it off when she did. She also had the record volume up to maximum; obviously not wanting to miss anything while is was deep in her purse.

Slamming it on the table, it did stop-actually, more than stop. Opening the tape deck, he slid the cassette out of place and crumpled it in his fist. Her jaw dropped, but Trunks didn't pay attention. He threw the remnants of the cassette in the trashcan and handed her back the busted recorder.

"Please don't come back." He said quietly, almost sadly. She took it silently and without a word stepped out of the room. Trunks sighed and sat down, Conner by his side. He turned to face his pushy-reporter veteran friend and drew up a corner of his mouth.

"So, what exactly happened in your experience?" Trunks asked, and Conner sighed a storyteller sigh, folding his arms and leaning back.

"Just about the same probably. Comes in, interviews normal questions, turns off the recorder, walks over and sits on my lap, and attempts to make out with me." Trunks rolled his eyes. "I stood up and she tumbled to the ground, then I realized the recorder was rolling. She had forgotten to put it in her purse."

"Then I'm safe to say she's not with the White Sun?" Trunks found it hard to believe one of the largest newspapers in the world would hire the girl to do this interview. Conner chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Not at all. She's with the Expounder." Trunks' brows shot up, and Conner nodded. "It's good you didn't kiss back." Conner said, then smiled genuinely to himself. "But then again, you have someone else on your mind." Trunks smiled to himself sadly.

He may have her on his mind, but he'd never have her. The realization was an awful feeling, and it brought back haunting memories of her kiss, her eyes, and the flowing hair that always smelled so wonderful.