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A/N: I promised myself that this would be a long chapter cuz I haven't written any real long ones since chapter one.

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Chapter 5: No Slutty Crap

"Do we have to go out tonight? I don't wanna…" Moda whined.

"Yeah, I see you're feelin' crappy so I'm taking you to a fun place today."

"But I just wanna go go to bed…" she complained.

"I said go and change, missy!" Tommy yelled, sick of her whining. To his surprise, her eyes didn't water, and she didn't yell back. She only rolled her eyes, huffed a little, and stomped into the house to her room to change.

"Hey I'm gettin' the hang of this parentin' thing…" Tommy said to himself. Feeling proud, he stood tall.

"Tommy Vercetti…Drug baron, homicidal maniac, businessman, father…Kinda brings a tear to my eye." He smiled, wiping a fake tear from his face. He turned around and Claude was standing right there, wide-eyed, and biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from cracking up. Tommy, embarrassed, stared back at him and frowned.

" 'The fuck you lookin' at?" He sneered and went into the house to change his shirt. Claude shrugged his shoulders and decided to wait on the porch and maybe shoot some more pigeons.

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Outside the House

(about half an hour later)

Suprisingly, Tommy was the last one to get changed and out the house. Claude was still shooting innocent pigeons and Moda was sitting on the hood of the Infernus she drove today. Feeling crappy, she had just changed into a plain white t-shirt and tied the back of into a knot so it wouldn't look so big.

With that she wore some baggy, wrinkly navy blue shell pants (A/N: aka "swish pants") with zippers at the bottom and some plain, white tennis shoes. On her head, she wore a navy-blue head-scarf wrapped around it. Tommy did somewhat approve of this but still had something to say.

"Well, for once you don't look 70s…" He started. "So, do ya plan to do a drive-by on some Bloods on the way over, kid?" She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look up.

"Ehh…I didn't care. As soon as we get back, I'm going to bed anyway. I feel like shit…" she cursed. Tommy gave her the evil eye. "I mean…crap."

Moda had looked up at Tommy then did a double-take. He was wearing the exact same thing he wore when they had first met.

"This outfit look familiar, kid?" he asked.

Seeing the golf get-up brought back recent but fond memories of their acquaintance. She remembered feeling timid, shy, and most definitely intimidated by Tommy. She also thought about how comfortable she felt around him now that he had given her a home and adopted her. This brought her mood up a little.

"So I take it we are going…"

"Golfing!" Tommy shouted with a hint of joy in his voice. He then took out a golf club he had hidden behind his back. It was the same one and still had a little bit of blood on it. "Vercetti style…"

"Ewwwww!" she exclaimed. "It's been almost two weeks and you never bothered to wipe that thing!" Tommy looked at the club.

"… … …Nope." He finally said. "Now get in the Sentinel, kid. We gotta get there while it's still crowded with those uppity, tight-ass golf pricks." Moda didn't understand what he meant but figured she'd find out eventually and got into the passenger seat of the car. Tommy revved the engine which had finally caught Claude's attention. He rushed to the car, yanked the door open and jumped in right before Tommy sped off.

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Jocksports, Vice Point

(about 2:00pm)

Tommy, Moda and Claude walked into the sport-clothing store. Tommy, apparently not caring where he was, or about drawing unwanted attention to himself, yelled for assistance.

"Hey! Somebody help me find some clothes in here!" he shouted very loudly, attracting stares from the other customers, which had embarrassed his daughter. Moda. She noticed something she had overlooked for a while. Tommy had a faint but definitely noticeable Italian Mob accent. She made a mental note to ask about that later.

"Excuse me!" shouted a voice from the back of the store, which was growing closer with each step. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to l—" stopped in his tracks after getting a good look at his loud and unruly customer, the salesperson quickly switched his tone of voice. "—et me assist you in your sporting fashion needs!" He smiled. Moda stood in amazement.

He was tall…very tall, six feet at the least. He towered over all three of them, especially Claude. He had whispy white hair with a bit of it combed over the top of his head, a bald spot. He had a large, bumped, pointy nose and thin pink lips. His aging skin was tight but still showed faint frown lines, laugh lines and crows feet on his face. He was wearing a simple, white, crisp shirt under a Kelly green sweater vest and was wearing poopie-brown corduroy pants.

"Yeah, I thought so, prick. Now help me find some clothes." Tommy demanded.

"For you, sir?" the salesperson asked.

"No…" he grabbed Moda by the arm and pulled her into plain sight. "For her."

"Of course, Mr. Vercetti. What sport are shopping for today?" he asked. A million questions were going through his mind right now but not only it wasn't his place or business to inquire about "her", but he still had a wife, family. and grandkids to come home to. Therefore, he decided it'd be in his best interest not to ask personal questions.

"Golf." He replied.

"Oh yes, come with me…My name is Greg by the way." He said, smiling again. He walked towards the back of the store with his guests trailing behind. As they followed him, Moda pulled Tommy close and whispered.

"Wait, you're buying me clothes after you told me to change!"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you can't just waltz into Leaf Links as is. You gotta be uniform!" he said.

"Well, why should YOU care? Don't you own it?"

"I wish. I've tried to buy it but their trying to butt-fuck me on the prices…"

"Then…why did you make me change!" she said, whispering harshly.

"I just like messin' with ya." He smirked. This pissed off Moda a bit.

They finally approached a wall in the store with a sign hanging on it that said "golf" in big, bold letters. On the wall and on racks in the small section were golf shoes, golf pants, skirts, sweater bests and of course, novelty bobble-head dolls of golf celebrities. 'Yuck…' Moda thought.

"Anything in particular, miss?" Greg asked her. Moda stepped forward.

"Um, yes. I just want something that's cute." She said.

"Yeah, and no slutty crap." Vercetti spoke up.

"I have just the thing…" said Greg.

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The shopping went on for about forty-five minutes. It would've taken longer if there was a larger selection of course but Moda was obliged to choose from what was laid in front of her and quickly because Tommy wanted to get to the course before it was empty.

Moda, who was changing into tenth attempt to look cute at golf, had finally stepped out for everyone to see.

She had on a cerulean blue plaid skirt that came above the knee but below mid-thigh, and a baby-blue sweater vest with a white, short-sleeved, collared shirt underneath. On her head was a small beret-like golf cap that was the same plaid as the skirt and had a baby-blue poofball on it. She had removed her headscard and styled her hair into a low, side ponytail so that it could fit under the hat.

On her legs were baggy, knee-high socks (A/N: like Japanese school-girl "loose socks" but not as baggy) and on her feet were golf cleats which were actually black, shiny, patent-leather, penny loafers with a three-inch heel (A/N: like Catholic-school-girl shoes.). She was pleased with how she looked in the outfit and twirled around in front of the mirror.

"I'll take it!" she said happily.

'Damn..." Claude thought, looking Moda up and down. He quickly suppressed any incriminating thoughts he had when he remembered that they were somewhat related.

"Oh no you won't! Hey Dave, what's with the hooker-shoes!" Vercetti raved.

"Oh, those are a special, custom-made model or our ladies' golf cleats. They have become so amazingly popular, we always keep a limited amount in stock." Greg explained.

"Well you can't have 'em…" said Tommy.

"Why-eeeeee! They're not that bad! Look, you can barely see the hell under my socks!" she argued.

"Nope…" Tommy stood with his arms crossed as if his decision was really final with Moda.

Seeing as how argumentative force wasn't going to guarantee her the shoes, she tried a trick that had often worked with her real parents. She widened her eyes a little, batted her long-with-lots-of-mascara eyelashes at Tommy and poked out her lower lip ever-so-slightly.

"Please…" she pleaded softly.

'Oh hell, I can't believe this…' Tommy thought while staring into her deep, black eyes. 'She's doing the old' sad-soulful-eyes trick!' Mentally straining to resist her sad and pitiful look, he actually gave in. He sighed heavily.

"ALRIGHT…you can have the shoes…" he said.

"Yay! She exclaimed and hugged her father.

End Chapter

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Awww, that was just adorable wasn't it? That trick worked for me a few times. Especially on weak-minded boys.