By Any Other Name

  "It's not so bad," she said, shrugging. "I mean, it's not easy, but it's not like I'm doing manual labor. I'm just cooking."

  "And how's that working out?"

  "Terrible. Apparently, I'm a crappy cook."

  "Doesn't surprise me a bit," Dante said, casting her a playful smile. "I always said you'd make a good trophy wife."

  They went to dinner at a steakhouse in the Upper Eastside. Genna took off the ball cap and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make herself half-assed presentable before joining her brother inside the restaurant. He was at ease, lounged back in the booth, sipping from a glass of complimentary wine. As soon as Genna slid in across from him, the waiter turned to her. "Wine, miss?"

  She was about to say an emphatic "hell yeah!" when her brother cleared his throat, waving the waiter away. "She's only eighteen, man."

  Genna glared at Dante as the waiter strode away, taking her alcohol along with him. "That's foul."

  "You're my little sister," he said. "It's my job to look after you."

  Rolling her eyes, she drank the glass of ice water, waiting for the waiter to return. She ordered a steak and baked potato, and flirted her ass off, trying to convince the man to bring the wine back to no avail. Dante watched her with amusement, steadily drinking his own alcohol, rubbing it in.

  "So tell me," he said eventually. "How's your guy?"

  She tensed, fork mid-air, as her gaze darted across the table at her brother. "What guy?"

  "Mr. Eyes on Fire," he said. "What happened with that?"

  "I, uh… nothing," she muttered. "Nothing happened."

  "Dad said his name was Matthew or something? Matt… he called him Matty."

  She blinked a few times, avoiding his gaze. Not good. "Err, yeah. It was, uh… it wasn't what I thought it was."

  "Pity," he said. "But you know, if you want me to hook you up with Umberto—"

  "Oh my God," she said loudly, cutting him off. "If you even try, Dante, I swear, I will make your life a living hell."

  "Come on, why not?"

  "I'll go back to Jackson before I even entertain the idea of dating Umberto."

  "What's wrong with Umberto?"

  Before she could come back with a response and ask him what was right with Umberto, Dante's phone rang. Casually, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, casting her a contemplative look before answering it. "What's up, Dad?"

  Dante listened to their father quietly for a moment, eyes squarely on her. Genna stuck her tongue out at him when the waiter returned, once again filling his wine glass. Jerk. He stifled a laugh, his expression straightening out as he focused back on the call. "We're planning to move in this weekend… I don't think we'll get much resistance, you know, since it's Little Italy… yeah, Umberto's in on it with me, no big. We got it under control."

  Dante picked up his glass of wine, teasingly taking a sip and theatrically rolling his eyes back in his head like it was the greatest thing he'd ever tasted. Genna flung some of her potatoes at him, but Dante merely brushed them away, focusing back on the call.

  "Speaking of them, I thought I saw the oldest today… he's driving that sports car, you know, the fancy red one? Flashy fucker. How stupid can he be? Even Enzo knows how to fly under the radar, and he's about as dumb as they get."

  Genna tensed, staring at her brother.

  "Well, word on the street is Savina's sick. Yeah, cancer or something. She's being treated up at Presbyterian in Washington Heights… probably where he was heading when he drove through East Harlem, but you'd think he'd know better and stay west."

  Genna shifted food around her plate, her appetite long gone as she absorbed her brother's words.

  "Yeah, drove right by the community center… I don't know if they know that Genna's working there, but we might want to think about having some people watch it. You know, just in case."

  Her heart dropped into her stomach as her fork hit the plate, slipping from her fingers. Dante cast her a strange look.

  "I should probably go. Yeah, I'll keep you updated."

  He hung up, slipping the phone back away as he focused on his plate. "You'll be okay, you know. We'll keep you safe."

  "I, uh… I'm not scared." Not scared of what she should haven been scared of, anyway. "You don't have to look after me."

  Dante was quiet for a moment, cutting up his steak in silence, before merely dropping his silverware and giving up the pretense of eating. "You know, that day… the day…"

  "The day?"

  He nodded.

  The day Joseph Galante lost his life in an explosion.

  "What about it?" Genna asked. Dante rarely talked about it.

  "I almost died that day, Genna."

  "I know you did," she said quietly.

  "You know why I didn't?"

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  "Because I was too busy trying to look after you. I wasn't in that car with Joey because I was waiting for you. So, in a way, you saved my life. Watching you saved my life. I've been doing it since I was a kid, and I'm not going to stop doing it now."

  Sighing, Genna picked up her glass of water and sipped it, trying to drown out her feelings. Her stomach felt sour, a sense of bitter betrayal inside of her simmering. "You think Matteo Barsanti is trouble? That he's... bad?"

  Dante shrugged a shoulder casually. "He's a Barsanti, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, I guess he is," Genna muttered. "I saw a picture of him once, in our house."

  "I know," Dante said. "Dad told me."

  Genna eyed him peculiarly. "He did?"

  "Yeah," he replied. "He said you were snooping around Mom's stuff and found it."

  "Did he tell you he got pissed at me for it?"

  "He said he might've overreacted a bit."

  "I'd say! He grounded me on my birthday."

  "Yeah, well, he was upset. He doesn't like to be reminded that we used to get along with those people."

  "And Matteo and Joey… they were…?"

  "Friends, yeah," Dante said. "Best friends."

  "But then… that day happened."

  "Yeah," Dante confirmed. "The day."

  The day Roberto Barsanti killed his son's best friend.

  Dinner service had just started, the doors of the community center opening for the visitors to filter in. Genna stood at her place in the line, methodically and indifferently slapping pre-carved wedges of meat onto the plastic trays before pouring lumpy gravy overtop of it and sending it down the line. People ambled by, some speaking, most just silently moving along. Only a few minutes had passed when a vaguely familiar scent wafted around her, carrying across the barrier with a soft breeze.

  Without even looking up, a smile lightly touched her lips, her heart swelling with unbridled emotion.

  Fucking feelings.

  "What the hell is that?"

  Genna slowly glanced up, meeting Matty's gaze as he stopped right in front of her, deep in the middle of the line today. "Meatloaf."

  "That," he said, waving toward the tray, "is not meatloaf. I put up with the chili, and I suffered through the beef stew, but that? That's unnatural."

  "You should've been here yesterday," Genna said. "I made one hell of a pot of corn chowder."

  He visibly grimaced. "People actually ate it?"

  "Every last bite," Genna confirmed.

  "And they survived?"

  "Yep."

  He shook his head as he took a step back out of the line. "I'm sorry, Genna, but this is where I draw the line."

  Genna's brow furrowed. She slapped some meat on a tray, not wanting to hold up the line, and watched incredulously as Matty turned around and stormed right out the door, brushing past people waiting for dinner.

  The bastard left.

  The exhilaration she'd felt just a moment ago withered away. Sighing, she turned her focus back on the trays, continually dishing out the food and sending it on its way. It's for the best, she told herself. He need not be there, anyway. It wasn't safe.

  Frid
ay. The evening passed agonizingly slow. It was nearing seven o'clock, the food already all gone for the night. There would be no seconds for anyone. They'd hardly had enough for skimpy firsts. Genna started cleaning up when a throat cleared behind her. Turning around, her eyes widened when she came face-to-face with Matty again. "You're back."

  He nodded, hands in his pockets. He looked at ease.

  "Well, sorry for you, but the food's all gone," she said, motioning toward the empty pots and pans. "We ran out."

  "I didn't come here to eat."

  "Then why are you here?"

  "You know why," he said, stepping closer to the divider between them. "Go somewhere with me."

  She shook her head. "I don't know anywhere."

  "I do," he said.

  She eyed him warily. "I need some assurance."

  "You know the number for 911, don't you? Use it if you feel the need."

  "How do I know if I'll even have the chance?" she asked. "What if it's a trap?"

  "Give me a break. Do you seriously think I'd do that?"

  "I just--"

  "Listen to me," he said, cutting her off as he glanced around to ensure nobody was listening. "I get it. You didn't expect this, you didn't expect me to be who I am, but I didn't either, Genna. I didn't expect you to be one of them. But you are, and I am. It is what it is. I've done everything I can think of to get you to put some trust in me, so tell me... what else can I possibly do? What do you need me to do? Because I'll do it, whatever it is."

  "I don't know," she said quietly. "It's not you."

  "You don't trust my family," he said.

  "Yes."

  "I'm not going to let you get hurt," he said. "If you're afraid I'll call them, that I'll tell them where you are, then take my phone. Take it so I can't call anyone."

  He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and slipped it beneath the divider between them. Genna stared down at the white iPhone, slowly reaching for it as her brow furrowed. "I thought you had a Blackberry."

  "I do," he said. "It's my business phone. I'd give it to you, too, but it's in the glove box of the car."

  She picked up the phone, eyeing it momentarily. "Why do you need two phones?"

  "If you go with me, I'll tell you," he said. "Come on, what do you have to lose?"

  My life, she thought, but those words caught inside of her, blocked by the swell of her chest, refusing to come from her lips. No matter how much the well-trained voice of warning in the back of her head screamed it, she couldn't listen. She didn't believe it.

  Before she could respond, there was a commotion at the door. She looked that way, straight past Matty, and blinked rapidly when a bunch of guys in red and white uniforms strolled in, carrying boxes and boxes of pizza. She watched, stunned as they started setting them on all the tables in front of people. Shocked, her eyes widened as she slowly turned back to Matty. He hadn't moved, his gaze still on her, a smug smile tugging his lips. "You…"

  "Tell me something," he said. "Is it really me you're afraid of? Do you honestly think I'd ambush you? Because I assure you, there are much easier ways to get to you than this, if that's what I wanted."

  Her attention shifted back to the room, watching as the meatloaf was shoved aside, forgotten for the moment, discarded, as they dove into the freshly delivered food. There had to have been at least a hundred boxes, some still coming in. "Did you do this just to impress me?"

  "Does it impress you?" he countered. "Me buying dinner for everyone except for you?"

  She turned to him, slowly shaking her head. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but yes, she was damn impressed, mostly because never in her life had she thought a Barsanti would be capable of being so generous. Although, a part of her was unsurprised, as she gazed at Matty. Hadn't he been that way since the very moment they met? He'd bought her an abundance of drinks and followed it up with even more orgasms.

  The boy was a giver, for sure.

  "The place you know of," she hedged. "It's safe?"

  He nodded. "Completely neutral ground."

  Carefully, she untied her apron and pulled it off, tossing it aside. She gave him no answer, but based on the way his expression brightened, his shoulders relaxing, she knew he knew… she was conceding. Every bit of denial inside of her, every bit of resolve, had disintegrated as she admitted the truth to herself. He didn't scare her, not in the least.

  What scared her was the way she felt about him.

  Wordlessly, she strode through the community center with him right on her heels. Her breath hitched as she neared the door, feeling the palm of his hand press into the small of her back. They ducked right past the coordinator, too overwhelmed with the sudden anonymous donation of dinner to even notice their retreat or bid Genna goodbye. Her heart thumped wildly as she wrapped her arms around her chest, grateful night had fallen, hoping maybe the darkness would conceal her sins.

  "This way," Matty said, his breath tickling the back of her neck as he leaned down to whisper. She shivered when he shifted his body, blocking hers from sight as he led her up the block to a dark alley. As soon as she stepped around the corner, she spotted the front end of the Lotus, partially concealed. He pressed the button on his keys, unlocking it, the lights illuminating the space around them, before it roared to life.

  "Remote starter," Genna said, shaking her head.

  Matty walked around and opened the passenger door. "It's practical."

  "It's pretentious." She paused there, eyes vigilantly inspecting the busy neighborhood, before slipping inside.

  There was no second-guessing, no wavering, but Genna felt like she couldn't breathe as he sped from the neighborhood, tires squealing as the car weaved through traffic. He turned the radio down, the thumping bass barely a dull vibration, as he drove north through familiar terrain.

  "This is Galante territory," she said, surprised, when he headed for Washington Heights. Somehow, for some reason, she had expected him to take her in middle ground, somewhere along the invisible boundaries where nobody was quite sure who controlled what.

  He let out a laugh. "Your father doesn't own the GWB."

  She watched out the windshield as he sped through the streets, going straight for the George Washington Bridge leading out of Manhattan, out of New York. "You're taking me to Jersey?"

  "Yes."

  She tensed slightly, shifting around in her seat as the car merged into traffic on the bridge, heading west into New Jersey. She had detected it the first time she heard his voice, the subtle Jersey accent to his words. Was that where he'd been all those years when he disappeared from society? She knew her father worked closely with the crime family in New Jersey, the Brazzis, as did the Barsantis, but neither one wielded any control over there. Their rivalry stayed within New York. Neutral ground.

  Apparently he did know a place.

  As soon as they crossed into New Jersey, Matty headed south. Nearly an hour had passed before they approached a small suburban neighborhood, the cookie-cutter houses modest and uniform, the lawns perfectly manicured, sprinklers watering the grass in the darkness as subtle porch lights lit up the surrounding areas. It was quiet and still, most of the houses dim at nearly nine o'clock at night. He pulled the car into a cul-de-sac, swinging into the driveway of a white house on the very end. He hit a button in the car, the headlights shining upon a garage door as it slowly lifted. Once it was up, he pulled the Lotus in, out of sight, and hit the button once more for the door to close.

  Matty cut the engine but sat there, reaching over toward the glove box. He popped it open, pulling out the familiar Blackberry, and plopped it on her lap. Genna carefully picked it up, running her fingers along the scratched screen as he wordlessly got out of the car.

  The house was quaint, only one story with a small kitchen and two stuffy bedrooms. Matty flicked on the living room lights while Genna explored the rest of the place on her own, not waiting for an invitation. A subtle odor seemed to cling to everything, the air stale as dust wafted around, stirred up fr
om her movement. It was fully furnished with various shades of brown, homely yet sort of impersonal. Someone had lived in the house, certainly, but it wasn't what Genna would call anyone's 'home'.

  "Did you live here?" she asked hesitantly, swiping her hand along the smooth wooden countertop separating the kitchen from the living room, a bit of grime collecting on her fingertips.

  "Once upon a time," Matty said, lurking near the front door as he carefully watched her. "Figured it was easier to just relocate to New York for a while than to commute every day."

  "To see your mother?"

  "Yes," he confirmed, no wavering in his voice. "So I moved into the apartment above The Place with my brother."

  Her expression fell, shoulders tensing as those words struck her. "Enzo lives there, too?"

  "Yes."

  She shook her head, staring down at the plush tan carpet. How close she had gotten to being caught, to being ensnared by them. She hadn't just wandered into enemy territory… she'd walked straight onto their base, making herself at home in their nest, like she actually belonged there. And the worst part? The worst part was she'd almost felt like she had. She had felt secure. Her guard had been down, one of the most vulnerable moments of her life.

  She was lucky to have walked back out at all, much less completely unscathed.

  Physically, anyway. Emotionally was an entirely different story, the aftermath still constricting her insides and scarring her very being.

  Slowly, Matty strolled over toward her, coming up behind her. The back of his hand rubbed against the bare skin of her left forearm, caressing her, as his other hand swept her hair back over her shoulder, out of the way. Leaning down, he gently kissed her neck, sending chills through her body. "You don't have to be afraid."

  "I'm not," she said. Horrified was more like it as her eyes fluttered closed, the warm sensations flooding her. She cocked her head to the side, instinctively giving him more of herself. "Your brother… he really could've hurt me."

  His arm encircled her, pulling her back to him as his lips trailed down her neck toward her shoulder, leaving feather-light kisses. "He wouldn't."