Ohhhh man, 400+ hits, I never thought I'd see the day...Chapter 15, whoooooo! This is the longest story I have ever written. My second longest story was less than 10 chapters but I'm really proud of myself for picking a plot that I could drag out a little bit and not get uninterested in writing it. Thank you supporters!
I don't mean to nag but if you've read THIS far (which obviously means you enjoy reading this story) and haven't reviewed at least once, shame on you! You know who you are...
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Chapter 15: Little Sanchez's Initiation
(Vercetti Estate: 9:14pm)
I nervously checked my watch and paced back and forth on the porch. This was one of the very rare times that I had left Moda unsupervised (sort of) and yeah, I was a little worried. Not exactly shittin' bricks, gravel stones, maybe but not bricks. The third time I looked up, she pulled up in front of the stairs, running over a gang member by accident. She calmy turned off the ignition and jumped out the car.
"Sorry man, I didn't mean to..." she said, helping up the gang member who wasn't hurt that bad. "S'ok..." he strained, clutching his abdomen.
"Moda! Where the hell have you been! I was worried sick--" I shouted but she interrupted me.
"Shhhhhhhhh! He's asleep!" she said, pointing to Claude.
"Well...wake him up! Go and get dressed, kid. We got a date at the cafe...And show some Cuban spirit!" I yelled after her as she went into the house. I walked over to the car. In the passenger seat sat Claude who was huddled up in the reclined seat with his arms crossed. I slammed my fists down on the steering wheel's horn.
His eyes shot open and he jumped up a little.
"Sleeping on the job?" I frowned. He groaned. "So whaddaya think, Speed..." His eyes darted from side to side as if he didn't know what I was talking about.
"About the girl, ya prick!" I shouted. He rolled his eyes and looked the other way.
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I was enjoying a little nap on the drive back home when I was awakened by a horn blast and Tommy's yelling.
"Do you find her attractive, Claude?" he asked. 'Yeah.' I thought but shook my head 'no'.
"Do you like her hair, Claude?" he asked. 'A lot, and it smells good, too.' I thought but shook my head 'no', still looking the other way.
"Do you like her ass, Claude? Is it to biiiiig for your taste?" he asked with a little anger in his voice. I hesitated but shook my head 'no' anyway.
"Yeah right...ya little bastard. I'm tellin' ya, don't mess with her! She's not like the girls YOU date or screw around with." he said as if he actually knew anything about me. 'God, Tommy! Get off my dick!' I thought and shot him a glance.
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I was on to that little pissant of a nephew of mine...Hmmph...He reminds me so much of myself. He kills, drives like a maniac, runs from the police...just like me and nothing like his father. I stared hard at him. Why am I so hard on him? Because I don't like the little fucker, that's why. But then, who else is even close to perfect for this assignment?
"Well, I'm gonna go change. You don't have anything red, or white?" I asked. He shook his head 'no'. I sighed and went into the house.
About an hour later, I met up with the kids outside. Claude was shooting pigeons, real not clay, with his Colt 45 and Moda was resting on the hood of her car. Again, she had on another, somewhat provacative outfit...
I could tell she had flat-ironed her hair (don't ask how I know), because it was straighter than usual and she had a red headband wrapped around her head but under her bangs. She wore a tight-fitting shirt with ripped sleeves, obviously making it a tank, that had the Cuban gang logo on it. She wore some light blue denim shorts which had stopped just below her buttcheeks and had small fringes, she also wore some black Doc-Marten boots like those Goth kids wear...Except they were tall and stopped just below her knee. I on the other hand, had my Cuban Gang gear on as well from the Little Havana clothing store.
"Geez, kid! We're just going to the cafe'!" I said.
"What?" she asked. "What's wrong with my outfit today?"
"Sorry, I just didn't know that you were planning to kill some Haitians on the way over..." she rolled her eyes. "Let's go. You too, Claude..." I said and got into the driver's seat of the Cuban Hermes. I started the car to see the kids still standing outside.
"What're you waiting for, get in!" I said. "Or are you two planning to walk all the way to Little Havana?"
"Uh...that's a two-passenger car..." Moda pointed out.
"Shit!" I cursed. "Well, Claude's just gonna hafta ride in the trunk." I said and shifted the car into gear. Moda smacked her lips.
"Quit playin'! He can't ride in the trunk! He and I will just have to...lap up!" she said.
"Alright...but he's gonna sit on YOUR lap..." Both of them rolled their eyes and crammed into the car.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(about a half hour hater)
Tommy drove a little slower than usual so as not to damage the Hermes. On special nights at the cafe', Umberto requested to him that he show "Cuban Spirit" by dressing as a Cuban Gang member and driving a Cuban Gang car. Because Tommy despised dressing up, especially in the Cuban Gang clothes he finds to be foolish and didn't want to be the only one ''looking like a jackass'', he had forced Moda to dress the same. Even though he had never expected this.
Tommy parked the car and got out.
"Hey! A little help here!" Yelled Moda who was writhing under Claude's lap. Poor Claude just sighed and groaned with his head smushed at an angle against the roof of the car. Tommy came over to the passenger side, opened the door and pulled Claude out the car by his forearm, literally throwing him onto the concrete sidewalk in front of the cafe'. He helped Moda out the car, gently grasping her hand and lifting her from the car. Claude scowled and got up.
Tommy attempted to turn the doorknob on the...door but found it was locked.
"Imarchese! We're closed! Hasta manana!" shouted a husky Cuban voice. (A/N: "go away!" or "scram!")
"It's us, Umberto...lemme in!" Tommy shouted, banging on the window rather loudly.
"Heyyyyy! It's mi hermano!" Umberto said, unlocking the door and opening it then locking it behind him and shutting the blinds. He greeted Tommy with open arms as he and the "kids" walked inside. "Glad to see you showing the good ol' Cuban spirit!" he laughed.
"Uh...hello?" Moda said, peeking behind Vercetti's shoulder.
"Ay, chica! Es me sobrina bonita, eh? Give your uncle a big ol' hug!" (A/N: "beautiful niece" for those of you who don' t know) he said, crushing Moda's ribs in a bear hug.
"Ack! L-libereme!" (A/N: "let me go!") Moda strained and Umberto released her, following an apology. Umberto pushed Moda aside and saw Claude, leaning against the wall, staring at a poster on it.
"Hey, you the boy?" he asked. Claude stood silent and gave him a puzzled look. "You the boy? Yeah, I think so...Tommy? He the boy?" Umberto shouted at Tommy who was talking to Umberto's father and six Cuban Gang members in the booths.
"Yeah, he the boy..." Tommy shouted back.
"Listen, you keep a really good ojo on my sobrina..." he whispered to Claude then raised his voice "I mean, we all love our little Sanchez, am I right!" he shouted. All of the Cubans in the room shouted in agreement, holding up their drinks.
" 'Little Sanchez?' " Tommy questioned.
"Yeah, they gave me a nickname because I'm always riding on a Sanchez bike when I'm in the neighboorhood." Moda explained which made perfect sense. She loved the Sanchez bike. It wasn't as fast or as dangerous as the PCJ 600, nor was the seating so uncomfortable like on a Freeway or an Angel. She also liked it because she could pop wheelies on it without falling off and it could with stand going over rough terrain such as dirt and rocks. She especially preferred the red ones. Umberto walked over to Tommy and started talking to him leaving Moda alone. She saw Claude sitting by himself, staring out the window. She sat in his booth.
"Did you want something to eat?" she asked. He nodded and picked up the menu in front of him. After studying it for a minute, he realized that Spanish was definitely not his best subject and gave up. 'That's right...they did run out of English menus...' Moda thought. She got up and walked over to the bar and conversed with the waiter. She then sat back down at the booth.
"I ordered a plate of quesadillas. The order is big so we can share it." Moda said. (silence) "So..."
After Umberto finished telling Tommy about how he "killed" a Haitain, he and Tommy both turned their attention to Claude and Moda as they ate their meal or as how Moda was eating most of it. "Hmm...are you sure you can trust him to watch her? He's pretty hermoso..." (A/N: "handsome")
"Yeah, I guess..." Tommy sighed.
Back at Moda and Claude's table, Claude stared quizically at the pizza-like Hispanic dish that was placed in front of them. He looked up at Moda who was stuffing her face. Moda caught his stare.
"Fry' it, it's good!" she said with her mouth full of chicken and cheese. He stabbed a slice of the quesadilla with a fork and slowly put it in his house--I mean, mouth. He bit into it and chewed. 'Not bad...' he thought and continued to eat. Moda on the other hand decided it'd be polite not to take the last three slices so she just sat back, watching little Claude eat the meal that was so unfamiliar to him. He looked up at her then stopped eating.
"What's the matter?" she asked. Claude took the napkin his silverware was resting on and folded a corner of it. He reached over and dabbed Moda's mouth and cheeks clean of the sour cream and salsa that was on it. (A/N: awwwwwwwwww!) 'It was bothering me...' he thought and looked away. Moda blinked a few times, blushed and looked the other direction...directly into the eyes of Tommy who was watching the whole time. She shrugged her shoulders at him.
"Everybody, listen..." Tommy said over the many voices that were conversing at one time. "C'mon, people..." he said again but people were still talking. He stood up, took the a glass from the table and smashed it on the vynil floor tiles, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. The clashing sound silenced the whole cafe. Everyone closed their mouths and focused their attention on Tommy.
"Now that I have your attention...Assholes..." Tommy spoke calmly. "I've asembled you all here, to make an anouncement...One that will change my life forever..." Everyone hooted and lifted their beer bottles and soda cans. He pointed to Moda and gave her the 'come here' finger. She got up and stood next to Tommy. He put his arm around his shoulder and waved his free hand (holding a beer can) around to shush everyone.
"Kid, as...fruity...as this may sound coming from me, Tommy Vercetti..." he started. Moda giggled when he said "fruity". "Hangin' with you this week has been damn fun! But, I want more than fun from you..." He said and knelt down. Moda's eyes widened and she stepped back.
"Kid...I mean, Moda...I really like you, I trust you, I wanna spoil and provide for you, I wanna protect you." he took her hand. 'Oh shit!' Moda thought ''...and show you the ropes so when my time comes, my legacy will still go on..." Moda now had a confused look on her face. "I've felt a hollow void within my being for some time now and teaching you what I know has made that void half full..." he continued. "And plus, only someone this good-looking can be a Vercetti, right?" he asked aloud. The audience was hesitant to clap but there was scattered applause and agreement.
"Will you do me the honor of carrying on the Vercetti name by..." he reached into his pants pocket.
The whole room was silent. Umberto and his father were near tears, the Gang members were...well, they were drunk but still attentive, and even Claude was looking with curious eyes and mouth agape.
"...being my daughter?" Tommy pulled out a packet of paper which had been folded up into a small square to conceal in his jeans and a pen from behind his headband. Moda felt tears coming to her eyes. She covered her nose and mouth with her hands.
"I-I...+sniff, I don' know what to say..." she sniffled.
"Say you'll be my kid, kid..." Vercetti said. "These are adoption papers. Sign them and I'll be your official guardian." he handed Moda the pen.
'Ohhhhhhhhhh...I get it now...' Claude thought.
Moda studied the papers but soon after signed them. She hugged Tommy and cried with her chubby face buried in his chest.
"Ole'!" said the Cubans who toasted their drinks to one another. Some hugged, some, feeling unusually emotional, even shed a tear or two. "Salud!" (A/N: "cheers!" or "bless you" when there's a sneeze)
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Note that I said "end chapter" not "end story". I want to announce that I'm gonna continue this fic as another...story/volume because I don't want so many chapters in one place but best believe, I'll still be writing this! Thank you supporters!
Oh and aren't quesadilla delicious! They are also really easy to make! All you need are tortillas, chicken, cheese, some seasoning and your choice of fixin's but anyways, stay tuned for "Vercetti's Pet The Sequel: Daughter Of The Don". Or just "Daughter Of The Don" for short but you get the point.