First, I'd like to apologize for the ridiculously short chapter (and malfunction of italic HTML tags)
last time but I promise there will be less of those. Not too stuck in a rut but let's just see how this goes, eh? And I would also like to point out that my school library has BLOCKED this website! Can we say "OMG WTF?!" I mean, come on! I was probably the only one in the whole of the school accessing the site! Damn, that sucks because now I'll have to write outside of school meaning less chapters/longer intervals of waiting for you guys.
Oh, and thanks for the reviews everyone! Wait, could I take a minute to say how awesome it is to be a freelance writer? Or more like, how awesome it is that such a website exists where you could write stories as you pleased and get practice. Hell, no wonder I've been acing my English class all year, hmmm? However, I am aware that I am not the best at placing commas or using semi-colons and that I may find the use of ellipses ("…") a little TOO convenient. I also think I have a habit of being a little TOO descriptive of details. But oh well, I guess that also makes my work easy to distinguish from others.
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Chapter 13: Recruit
Little did she know, Moda had already been caught red-handed in this whole mess but she had managed to get rid of Kyra and make it back home...only to have hit a pedestrian.
"Uhhnn…" the poor brunette groaned, after landing backside-down on the concrete.
"Holy shit! I'm so sorry!" Moda said, kneeling over Claude and lifting his head into her arms.
Claude rubbed his head, his large brown eyes fluttering open to see the female that was cooing over him. His pupils shrank when he realized he was facing a dark-skinned girl with braids, dressed in a Haitian gang t-shirt. He instantly rose to his feet and pulled a pocketknife from his jeans pocket.
"Hold up!" Moda yelled, almost screaming, "Don't you know who I am?!"
He narrowed his eyes at her and pushed a button on the knife, making the blade emerge from the handle with a click. Moda started sweating. He must not ever feel safe…She had no idea whether to be amazed that her disguise was that convincing, or question Claude's common sense, as she wasn't that difficult to identify to those who knew her.
"It's me!" She said, smiling and doing a catwalk turn. Claude cocked his head to the side and took a good look at her…then the blade of the knife returned inside the handle.
"I know, this getup is pretty damn good, isn't it? But wait, why are you outside?" she asked. Claude looked over at the house and put his arms behind his head.
"Don't tell me that…"
And the whole of Starfish Island shook in tremor with the sound of an angry, booming voice. Seagulls instantly took flight, departing from the house.
"MOOOOOOO-DAAAAAAAA…!"
"Aw, hell." she said flatly.
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In the mansion, the three sat in Tommy's office. Moda was recovering from another shock after her disguise had almost gotten her killed again. Tommy was nervously pacing back and forth behind his desk, while the kids were watching from their chairs. Moda was trying to get a good look at his face to read it, but it didn't take a genius to identify his most common displayed emotion…anger.
"C-can, I just ask ya somethin', kid?" he said, poking his forehead with his pointer and middle fingers.
"Um…" Moda said, almost inaudible.
Tommy had walked from behind the desk to the front of it. He sat on the edge of his desk, and leaned his head in to Moda's face. She could smell cigarette smoke on his breath, he was that close. He raised his hand to Moda's forehead as she stared straight into his eyes. She thought he was going to punch or slap her across the face, but what he did was almost as painful. He used his big, hairy, Italian fingers to flick her dead in the middle of her forehead, leaving a big, red mark right where his fingernail landed.
"OWWWW!!" she shouted in pain, her hands instantly shielding her forehead.
"What in God's name were you doing down there, huh?!" he exclaimed, the sudden volume change in his voice making the kids flinch in their chairs.
"I…ah, needed to-" she started
"And you! Why weren't you with her?!" he interrupted, pointing at Claude.
"He was sle-"
"And where the fuck is my goddamn money?!"
"Well, I ain't get to-"
"Shut up, I don't wanna hear it!" he turned around, throwing his hands in the air.
The room fell silent. Tommy plopped down in his chair and swiveled it to face the window. Moda glanced at Claude, then at Tommy's chair. She took a deep breath and stood up.
"I just needed to do some laundry, for Chrissakes! It ain't like I can't take care of myself! So, I gave Claude the day off!" If you're such a big-shot, how come there ain't but one Laundromat in the whole of this damn city?! She said, of course keeping that last line to herself.
"Leave." He said, still facing the window.
"What…?" she asked, fear striking her heart.
"Claude, tell the little runt to get the fuck outta here!"
She grimaced. He made that request as if Claude wasn't presently sitting right beside her. Moda and Claude exchanged glances and he got up and left the room.
"Shut the door." He said softly. She did so.
Tommy swiveled his desk back around to face Moda as he heard Claude's footsteps travel down the stairs. When he heard his feet reach the lobby floor, he rose from his chair and stood in front of Moda. She looked up at him with wide bewildered eyes, brushing lose strands of hair from her face. His hand rose again. She shut her eyes, anticipating what was coming next. What she thought again was going to be a slap, was the tips of his fingers gently gliding across her cheek. Her eyes flashed open and she looked up at him again.
"Makeup, kid?" he smiled, rubbing the foundation from her face between his fingers. She nodded.
"Oh! I was so worried about ya, kid!" he shouted, pulling her into a hug and squeezing her to death. "I really thought some terrible shit happened to you!"
"I'm…fine." She sighed, tears welling in her eyes.
"Now…don't you ever do that again! Jesus!"
"I'm sorry." She said, almost bursting out into a crying fit. "…I forgot to collect the ends."
"Ah, it's alright. Tell you what, we will give that little bastard the rest of the day off and we'll go collect the money together." He released her and smiled.
"O-okay." Moda whispered, wiping her nose.
"But first, change those fucking clothes. They smell like Haitian."
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Later that evening…
It was another uncomfortably hot summer night in Florida. The sky was clear, with not a star in sight, and the air was humid and thick. The sun was preparing for another full night's sleep as it retreated into the horizon of the ocean.
Moda had changed her costume at Tommy's request. He was also impressed (and mentally noted) at how a little makeup and a change of hair and clothes could almost change her identity entirely. She decided to dress a little special for a reason. She put on the same shorts she had worn while partying with the Cubans (now that they were clean), a form-fitting hot pink long-sleeved shirt, and some flat neon-purple patent shoes. She unraveled the braids (which had automatically crimped her hair) and left it as is. She then slipped on some earrings and plastic bracelets and met Tommy outside. Tommy stared at her, looking up and down then shook his head.
"You know what, back at home, I was never this into fashion!" she smiled.
"Hmmm, whatever." He said, getting into the car. He'd seen her in more revealing outfits so he let her have this one for free.
Tommy was riding shotgun in the car he had custom-made for his baby girl, fiddling with the dials on the radio. After spending the rest of the afternoon collecting money from the businesses, there was only one more stop they needed to make.
"Hey, hey, hey! Passengers don't get to DJ!" Moda complained as Tommy kept skipping over her favorite stations. Eventually, he settled on VCPR.
"Ugh, I hate this station." She muttered.
"Why?! It's hilarious!" Tommy laughed. Moda stared at him, surprised that he was capable of being amused by something that wasn't violent in any way. Well, violence starts with a "V". She thought.
"So Jonathan, have you been donating to any children's funds? You know statistics show that five to ten thousand children will die each year from child abuse." Said Michelle. (A/N: note that this isn't in the VCPR script, I just made it up)
"I sure haven't Michelle. The children have never done anything for me, so I simply just don't see the point." Said Jonathan Freeloader.. Tommy was cracking up. Moda stomped her foot on the brakes and the car came to a halt. Tommy hit his head on the dashboard.
"Fuck, kid!"
"Seatbelts save lives, it's a fact." She said, stepping out of the car and shutting the door. She walked into the Pole Position with Tommy right on her heels.
Immediately, all eyes were on Moda. Even some of the dancers stopped what they were doing to gawk at Tommy's "new squeeze", according to the rumors. She scanned the inside of the club for Andy. Spotting her, she quickly ran off to the bar while Tommy went to locate Ferrari.
"Ferrari" he called. She was across the room, laughing and stroking the face of a fat greasy biker. She looked up, responding to her name and quickly scurried over in her 4 and 1/2 inch heels to see Tommy.
"Hi daddy!" she cooed into his ear, slinging her elegant arms around his neck.
"Where's the money?" he asked, already growing irritated.
"Oh, it's right here." She said, seductively licking her lips and removing a wad of hundreds from her bra and placing it in his hand. He snatched it, cringing at the disgusting warmth of the money. "Um, daddy?"
"What?" he asked, his frustration showing in his tone.
"Could we step into the office for a minute? I, ah…Need to have a word with you." She said, twirling her platinum blonde hair in her fingers.
"Fine, but make it quick…The smoke in here is bad for the kid's lungs!"
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…Meanwhile, Moda was sitting on her favorite barstool, talking it up with Andy.
"Really? You have a bodyguard?" she asked, pouring Moda a cup of Sprite.
"Yep. I also have a custom-made Comet and everything"
she smiled.
"Damn, you must really be popular on the street to be making that kind of money! You're even wearing less clothing!" Andy laughed.
"…What?" Moda asked. Taking a sip of her drink.
"I mean, you must being going from trick-to-trick! Nobody around here has ever made that much money in such a short amount of time!"
"I don't understand."
"I mean, you got the job right?"
"Job? As what?"
"A prostitute, of course! What else would Tommy be making you do if you're working for him!"
"I'm…not a prostitute!" she said, almost raising her voice.
"You're not? So when do you start here?"
"…huh?"
"What th--, then where'd you get all this nice shit you runnin' your mouth about?"
"What? He buys that stuff for me!" She said, laughing. Andy stared at her in disbelief.
"You mean to tell me that Tommy went out and got you all of this stuff…"
"Yes."
"…And hasn't asked you to work for him yet? I mean, it's been almost three months since you got here."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Moda asked with a scowl. Andy just sighed and shook her head.
"What, you think you the very first broad to fall out of the sky and into Tommy's mansion? Take a look around you!"
"I don't…What the hell are you saying?!"
"What I'm saying is that eventually, you'll end up like one of the poor, soulless females in this club or one of those bitches parading the streets. That sparkle you got in your eyes will fade and be replaced with dollar signs once Tommy gets you working for him.
Every other month or so, there's another one with no money, no hope and no place to go..."
Andy continued to speak while Moda listened intently,
sniffling on occasion.
"And the qualified ones are referred to Tommy. After they're whoring or shakin' their ass for about six months, they come to a point in their life when they either want out, or call this place 'home'...Don't look at me like that, I'm sure whoever gave you that card knows exactly what I'm talking about." Andy said, placing an acrylic-finger-nailed hand on her shoulder.
"But…He said it 'wasn't decent' for me to work for him." Moda's eyes were starting to water.
"Honey, it'll only be a matter of time before you turn a proper age. He's just waiting a bit so by the time you have your next birthday, you'll have blossomed into a woman."
"….But, he adopted me! I signed the papers!" she cried some, almost raising her voice.
"Girlie, haven't you ever been taught to read the fine print? That's just some kind of consent form. I don't know exactly what's on it, I ain't no lawyer. Basically you kinda signed your adolescence away, sweetie." Andy said, turning away to wipe the counter behind her while Moda turned away from Andy to wipe her tears.
"…Away." She whispered under her breath.
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Ferrari slowly strutted into the hallway of the club, leading Tommy behind her by the hand as if he was in no way familiar with the club's layout. Once inside the office, Tommy slammed the door behind him and plopped down in the chair at his desk. Ferrari took a seat in a chair in front of the desk.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Well…" she started, batting her eyes and sucking her teeth like a teeny-bopper. "…Some of the girls and I have been talking..."
"You bitches are always talking, what else is new?" He interjected, not caring if he offended Ferrari.
"We want her."
"Want who?" he asked.
"Her!" she pointed to the wall, trying to indicate that she was speaking of Moda.
"The kid?"
"Yes, your girlfriend. We want her to work with us."
"No."
"Why the hell not?" she asked, careful to watch her tone of voice. "She's adorable! She's got the height of a super-model and her baby face will bring in a lot of money, Tommy. Those sick pedo bastards will love her!"
Tommy just stared at her with his elbows on the desk, his hands folded with his chin resting on top of them. He exhaled, feeling his eyebrow twitch some. He showed no emotion and waited to hear more of Ferrari's bullshit.
"I mean, it's been a while since we've such a tender employee. I know you remember Red, hmm?"
"Yes, I do remember Red." He said thoughtfully.
"Really, I'm sure you're done having fun with Moe-duh so you can just toss her in this…strip-pit."
"No."
Ferrari stared at Tommy in disbelief, amazed that after 10 minutes, she still hadn't gotten his approval.
"I don't understand…It's not like she's your blood, I mean, why in the hell is she so special all of a sudden?"
"Hm." Tommy said, shifting his elbows on the desk. "You have a point, she doesn't have a single damn iota of my blood pumping through her veins..."
"So…" Ferrari grinned, anticipating a "yes".
"But hell no, you can't have my daughter."
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End Chapter
How was that? I thought it was quite lengthy! Is anyone else starting to make connections? I'm trying to get a lot of shit popping off in the story so keep your eyes peeled for even the teeniest of details and slip-ups…that is, if you want to spoil the rest of the novel. Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy!
(PS) Those of you who haven't put an alert on this story yet might want to do so because I publish chapters at rather…sporadic intervals as you may already know. Thanks.