A/N:

Yes! I'm back, people! I still browse the system, but have been too busy/lazy, uh..."lazily busy" if you will, to write...Or feel like writing. But anyway, every time I browse, I read the reviews that this story (and Vercetti's Pet) received over the past few years (it was published in 2006, remember?), and with each reading, I become more and more inspired to finish it. That's right, YOU, the valuable readers, are what keep me focused on at least finishing this volume and moving on to the Three-quel (you read correctly! I did say "three-quel," meaning there'll be even more)! But I promise, I'm not gonna short-change you this time by jumping into another volume without stretching this one out a little further. But ANYWAY, while I do intend to finish this story most definitely, you all should know by now that I'm terribly sporadic with the updates. I could post chapters anywhere between one day to many months apart. That's another terrible habit sigh So enjoy! And it's a pleasure to write for you again!

Recap: Ferrari and Andy both have the same "thing" in store for Moda, but have gone about different angles to put their plan in motion. Ferrari goes through Tommy and fails, while Andy goes through Moda and seems to have succeeded so far by trying to convince Moda that she wasn't officially adopted after all. Moda, heartbroken after realizing the truth, does some intense thinking. Who can she trust at this point?

Chapter 14: Wolves

"Really?" Ferrari asked, her lushious cherry lips gradually curling into a sly smirk. "What makes you say that?"

"I told her that Boss Man's been against her the entire time. I ain't think she'd buy it, but she did! Can you believe that?!" Andy squealed with excitement.

"What do you mean 'against her?'" Ferrari asked, her evil grin had flat-lined.

"I mean, I told her that the adoption papers she and Tommy signed were bogus, then the kid has a breakdown-"

"Adoption?" Ferrari interrupted with another question "What the hell does that mean?!"

"Oh, you didn't know? She's adopted!" Andy told Ferrari who had a shocked and surprised expression on her face. Andy sighed, sarcastically reminiscing.

"I remember when the poor thing just strolled in here. Girl, she was the most pathetic thing I've seen in a while...And working in a joint like this, I should be used to pathetic shit! She couldn'ta looked more pitiful if she had a broken arm!" she laughed.

"So, this chick..." Ferrari spoke, only slightly recovering from shock "...what, she just fell on his doorstep in a basket wrapped in a blanket or something?" she said, giggling slightly.

"Oh she fell alright. More like out of the sky, literally. You remember!" Andy replied, with her arms folded in front of her on the bar counter. "But pretty much the same scenario you're probably thinking of."

"The sky? Pfft! I'll figure that out later..." Ferrari scoffed. "Heh. So now Tommy's treating her like some kinda 'fallen angel?'"

"Damn, bitch! Is there anything you need to discuss that's not in the form of a question? You need to keep up with the news, girl!" Andy shouted, walking away from their secluded corner to take customer orders.

Meanwhile...

Moda, again upset for probably the hundredth time within the past few days, assumed her natural "I'm sad or pissed, so I'm sleeping" position in the passenger's seat of the car. This time, Tommy didn't bother to question or counsel. I mean, how much can one console a person after the sudden loss of their parents, and at such a young age? Then again, it's not like the accident happened yesterday, so crying about it won't change the fact that the dead is well, dead. He wondered if there was possibly another thing grinder her gears that she decided against bringing up, but brushed off the feeling. Women. He thought. But, he left her alone for the duration of the car ride, however, still occasionally sneaking glances at his ebony-skinned daughter, searching for any signs in her body language that could hopefully tell him something more.

Hurt, confused, viciously angry and upset were only a few adjectives that described how Moda felt. Tommy...Why would Andy lie to me? I mean, what could she gain out of this? And what was the most confusing was that she was unsure whether or not to place all of the blame on him, or herself. The thought of her possibly being duped by Andy and Ferrari had never crossed her mind; that's just how confused she was. But, until she found out more, she decided to play along with Tommy as if she weren't hip to his scheme. She would also have to act normally, as if she wasn't disturbed. If she were confronted, she would lie so that Tommy would have no choice but to oblige her request not to pry.

Finally returning to the mansion after another eerily awkward and silent car ride, it was time for the "family" to retire and start a new day, hopefully on the right foot as always. But not even a few seconds sooner than Tommy had parked the car, Moda had already exited the vehicle and was making her way up the stairs. But being in such a rush had caused her to lose balance, and one of her shoes, thus making her fall. Unfortunately, Tommy wasn't fast enough to prevent her tender, cocoa skin from being acquainted with the concrete. Now with her inner-frustration boiling over the edge, Moda didn't even bother to pick herself up from off the ground. Defeated, she broke out in a fit of tears.

"Why?!" she wailed "Why did this crap happen to me?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Tommy said, rushing over and kneeling down "Moda, talk to me!"

Still sobbing almost uncontrollably, Moda refused to raise her head. This discouraged Tommy some, but he would be damned if he showed it. He had one hell of a night himself, and lost what almost was and it stung him too. He just didn't see any reason to cry about it. After a few minutes, they still hadn't gotten anywhere. Fed up, Tommy decided to show some "tough love."

"Alright kid," he said firmly with an authoritative tone. "Listen, this has been fun and all, but it's almost 3 am. Go to bed."

Moda looked up at him, her face smudged with cosmetics, nose and cheeks flushed with a bruised shade of red. She narrowed her brows at Tommy until they were almost touching in the middle. She didn't need to use words in this situation to say "Fuck you," her face made it perfectly clear. This infuriated Tommy even more.

"You know what? I'm starting to get tired of this crap every night! Fucking sick, and fucking tired!!" He yelled, raising up from the stairs. "I'm fucking sick and tired of you bursting out into tears every goddamn night, like some emotional time bomb! Then there's never anything I can do about it! What the hell?!

"If you haven't noticed by now, as much as youse' been cryin', your parents are still dead!" he continued to yell, his face also turning red. "They died, they're dead, and they'll always be dead, so get over it! God, you act like you're the only one in the world who's lost their folks to some tragic accident! I can't do nothin' about that, youse' can't do nothin' about that, nobody but the big man himself can ever do a damn fucking thing about that!"

Ironically, all of Tommy's yelling and screaming had the exact opposite effect on Moda. She smiled at the irony inside. But Tommy was still grilling her down, so she still had a role to play. But hey, if her role is to act completely oblivious to Tommy's true intentions, she'd have play it off with more than just blind anger. Heh, I'm so on to you...She thought. This thought caused her to only slightly force a smile to creep up on her lips. However, Tommy, having marched back down the stairs away from her, tightly clenching his coarse, dark hair between his fingers, was still on a roll.

"Il mio dio!" Tommy muttered in Italian, "Come risolvo questo?" (A/N: "My God! How do I solve this?")

It was a wonder how Claude managed to continue sleeping through this, that is if he wasn't already awake.

Poor Claude. He could drive professionally and at high speeds, he could shoot a pigeon square between the eyes from several yards away, he could even do moderately complicated math at the blink of an eye when he felt like it. But one thing Claude couldn't do, was get a full-night's sleep.

He hadn't done much after father and daughter had left. He walked around the house, familiarizing himself with its layout, he snooped in Moda's room for the hell of it, and entertained himself with some pornography he found in the desk of Tommy's office, but nothing special. What could he do? He had no friends, and his family (with the exception of Moda) barely tolerated him.

The keys to every last vehicle (including Moda's red Sanchez) were hidden, and damn good at that. All of Tommy's weapons were hidden as well, and Claude didn't want to waste bullets just trying to kill time (A/N: no pun intended). But when he was finally bored enough to realize he was exhausted, and finally decided to do something about it, he was interrupted by more crying and yelling! Goddamn it!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tommy cursed himself mentally, stepping into his office and slamming the heavy doors shut.

TBC...

Sorry it's so short! I had just written another story in another Game column and figured it would be unfair to still now work on this one! Thanks for your support, and I'm also trying to think of more dialouge for Tommy, I've been neglecting him lately. But I'll write again (and hopefully a longer chapter), and publish when I can.