"What story?"
"The story of whatever my father did to you."
"Not tonight," he muttered. "I have plans for you, so I ought to keep trash talking about your family to a minimum."
"Plans, huh?"
He nodded as the waiter approached with wine and wordlessly poured a bit in both of their glasses before setting the bottle right on the table for them. Matty smirked as the man strode away. "How's that saying go? Wine you, dine you, sixty-nine you?"
Genna flushed at the husky notes in his voice, the gritty sound seeming to glide along her skin and make her hair bristle as she let out a shaky breath, unable to contain the grin that glossed her lips. "Is that right?"
"Unless, of course, you're not planning on coming out of that dress later," he said, his gaze burning through her once again, like he was drinking in her soul.
"Well, uh," she said, glancing down at herself. "I like this dress. I might wanna keep it on."
"Huh." Matty looked away from her, his gaze going back to his menu. "In that case, order something cheap."
Gasping, Genna thrust her leg out under the table to kick him when he laughed. Before she could think of something witty to say, or something to say at all, the waiter approached their table again. "Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?"
"I'm ready," Matty said, closing his menu again and folding his hands on top of the table. "Genna?"
"I, uh…" She hadn't even looked at hers yet, and with the way Matty flustered her with just a simple stare, she wasn't sure she would ever get around to looking at it. And the way he breathed her name, emphasizing the 'a' at the end, the slight Jersey twinge in his voice accentuating it, nearly made her toes curl. "I'll just have the…" She peeked down at the menu, naming the first thing she saw. "…Classic sirloin. Well done."
"What size?" the waiter asked, jotting it down.
"Uh… ten," she said, closing her menu. "The ten-inch one."
Before it was even entirely from her lips, Matty let out a sharp bark of strangled laughter he'd clearly struggled to contain. The waiter stood motionless, his surprised gaze flickering to her briefly, before he shook his head and finally jotted something down.
"What?" Genna asked, glancing at Matty curiously. What the hell was so funny?
"Ten inches, huh?" Matty picked up his glass and motioned toward her with it. "Maybe we could've skipped the wine-ing portion of the plan. You might already be good to go."
That cracked the waiter's serious façade as he chuckled. Genna opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about but froze when it struck her: the ten-inch one. Mortified, she covered her face. Oh, God.
The waiter cleared his throat. "And for you, sir?"
"I'll have the same," Matty said, taking her menu from her and handing both back to the waiter. "The ten-ounce steak, though."
"I'll have it right out to you."
The waiter couldn't seem to scurry away fast enough. As soon as he was out of earshot, Genna groaned and dropped her head to the table, knowing her face was bright red. "I can't believe I said that."
"I can."
Lifting her head back up, she narrowed her eyes at him, seeing his lips twitching from amusement as he took a sip from the glass of wine. She watched his throat muscles when he swallowed, oddly aroused at the bob of his Adam's apple, and nearly missed the painful grimace that contorted his face when he set his glass back down.
"What's wrong?" she asked, picking up her own glass and taking a sip, savoring the bitter tang on her tongue. "You can drink rum straight, no problem, but a little wine is too much for you?"
"It's disgusting."
"Oh, quit bitching and drink it."
Matty raised an eyebrow at her when she spoke. "You sound just like my mother."
Genna balked at that. His mother? "You're comparing me to a Barsanti?"
"Technically, she's a Brazzi. And need I remind you, I'm—"
"You're a Barsanti," she said. "Well aware, thanks."
"Besides, my mother's not like the rest of them. Or I guess I should say the rest of us. She's different. She always has been. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have ever gone back to the city."
"And afterward?" Genna asked hesitantly. "When she's, well… you know… what then? You'll leave again?"
Matty gazed at her for a moment. "Haven't thought about it."
"You haven't?" How could he have not thought about it?
He shook his head. "I don't like to think about things in terms of after, Genna."
"But that's all there is," she said. "The after. Every moment is just the aftermath of whatever came before it. I mean, hell, even time is measured by the after. Afternoon. A quarter after."
"Not always," he said. "Sometimes it's a quarter 'till."
She narrowed her eyes at him. Smartass. "Whatever, I'm just saying…"
"I know what you're saying," he said. "But still, when it comes to my mother? I don't like to think about the after."
Sighing, Genna sipped her wine and lounged back in the chair. "I know how you feel, you know. I mean, I don't know exactly how you feel, but I get it. My mom…"
"I know," he said quietly.
"You know?"
"Of course," he said. "That surprises you?"
"Well, considering your family had nothing to do with that… or, well, at least I don't think…" She shot him a playful look of suspicion that made him grin. "I didn't know if you'd know…"
"My mother told me about it when it happened," he explained. "Said she died in a car accident."
"Yeah," she muttered. "My dad hates me driving because of it. He watched her drive away one afternoon and she just never came back, and I guess he's afraid of the same thing happening to me. Took me forever to convince him to let me get a license, and even still, every chance he gets, he makes it so I can't drive. He's always forcing Dante to chauffer me around."
"He doesn't try to drive you himself?"
"No. He hasn't driven since… well…" Since Joey died from the car bomb attached to his car. "Let's just say I can't remember a time when he did drive."
Matty nodded, his gaze shifting from hers as he glanced to his glass of abandoned wine. He nudged it out of the way, away from him. She knew, watching his expression softening, that he knew what she was talking about. "Let's talk about something else. We're always talking about our families, and well, frankly, the last thing I want to think about tonight is what awaits us tomorrow. I'd rather think about tonight… and you… and making sure you get all ten-inches you asked for."
She snorted with laughter, taking another drink of her wine, the atmosphere instantly lightened again. As if on cue, the waiter appeared then with their food, sliding their plates on the table in front of them.
"Can I get some steak sauce?" Genna asked, glancing around the table, noticing there was none.
"Yeah," Matty said, grabbing his knife and pointing at her steak. "Nothing worse than taking in ten inches dry, huh? The wetter, the better, they say."
She glared at him when the waiter laughed and set off to grab some steak sauce. "Funny."
Matty shrugged. "I thought it was."
Playful innuendos slipped out left and right over dinner as they ate and laughed, the banter flowing freely between the two of them. The alcohol relaxed Genna as it simmered in her bloodstream, loosening her taut muscles. The air in the restaurant grew stifling after a while, warm and crowded with conversation from the tables surrounding them, the endless chatter occasionally intruding in their stolen moment of peace. Matty sighed eventually and stood up. "Let's get out of here."
She looked around for their waiter. She hadn't seen him in a while. "Did you pay the check already?"
She couldn't even recall the check even coming.
"They'll bill me," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Come on."
"Are you sure?"
"They've done it before."
Shrugging it off, Genna took his hand and stood up, putting up
no argument as he led her from the restaurant, out into the warm, quiet night.
They drove through town, straight to the small white suburban house Matty had taken her to before. Genna strolled inside, pausing in the living room as Matty flicked on the light and tore off his sweater, tossing it on the couch. He shoved the sleeves of his gray button-down up to his elbows as he approached.
"You really do look beautiful tonight, Genna," he said quietly, pausing in front of her. Softly, he pushed some hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, the back of his hand brushing against her flushed cheek. "Shall I compare thee to a… uh… whatever the hell Shakespeare compares thee to."
Smiling, Genna draped her arms around his neck. "A summer's day, but I'm more like a winter storm."
"Ice princess," he joked, softly kissing her as he gripped her hips. "You feel warm to me."
"Maybe you're just cold, too."
"Might be," he said. "But I don't think you're made of ice. You're like a volcano, Genna. You've been dormant all this time, all that passion building up and brewing right under the surface, just waiting for the right tremor to cause the explosion." He kissed her again, his hand drifting down her leg and slipping beneath her dress. "And I think I got just the shockwave to set you off, princess."
Genna shivered when his hand slid between her thighs, her breath hitching when his fingertips grazed along the edges of her lacy thong. "I changed my mind."
"About?"
"I think I wanna take the dress off."
"Nope. The dress stays on… and the shoes, too, while we're at it."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"
He smirked, pulling his hand away as he took a step back, his gaze slowly, methodically, raking down her body. When he reached her toes, his gaze trailed back up to her eyes. "Definitely."
Genna let out a surprised yelp when he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the bedroom. She followed him, light-headed as she swayed a bit, whether from the wine simmering in her bloodstream or the looks he cast her, she wasn't sure. As soon as they were in the bedroom, Matty pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, his hands once more on her hips as he led her to the bed. Slowly, he laid her down and hovered over top of her, breaking from her mouth to kiss down her jawline, his lips finding her neck. He kissed and caressed her skin, licking and sucking, leaving small red splotches along the way.
Matty trailed kisses down her clothed chest, teasingly biting at the red lacy fabric as he slid her thong off, his hand lightly stroking her inner thigh. Genna arched her back, tingles coating her body and a rush of pleasure washing over her when she felt his teeth nipping the flesh shielded by her dress. Her hands found his hair, running through the dark locks as he moved down even further, along her stomach, until he settled between her parted thighs.
Gripping her hips, Matty locked her in place on the bed and trailed wet kisses up her inner thighs before reaching her aching center. The moment Genna felt his mouth on her flesh, his tongue gently, teasingly grazing her clit, she sucked in a sharp breath that left her body as a shaky cry of pleasure. "Oh, fuck..."
She was a goner.
Matty took her to the brink quickly, easily, with nothing but a gentle touch and a wordless tongue. He played her body like an instrument, plucking her strings and stroking her keys, leaving her a quivering mess yet again.
Crying out, she gripped his hair tightly, fisting the locks, as her thighs clamped around his head. Her heels dug into his back, wrinkling his shirt, dirtying the fabric with the soles of her shoes.
Orgasm rocked her like an earthquake, curling her toes and sending her heart racing. When the pleasure faded, she loosened her hold on Matty, softly running her fingers through his hair when he shifted his body to look at her.
"So?" he said, arching an eyebrow in question as he hovered over her again.
"So," she whispered, "I think you might've graduated summa cum laude." She cracked a smile. "Get it? Cum laude?"
Matty laughed, shaking his head as he kissed her quickly. "That was a terrible joke."
She shrugged. She thought it was pretty funny. "Matty?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I take the dress off now?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
Hours later they lay together, sweaty and tangled in the rumpled sheets. Genna had no sense of time—could've been minutes or hours, but it felt as if the world had stopped as she lay in his arms.
Heavy darkness permeated the air. Midnight?
"We should probably go soon," she said.
"You're right," he said, although he made no move to get up or even let go of her.
A few minutes passed before she mumbled, "My family's probably expecting me."
"Yeah," he said, softly kissing the top of her head. "Mine, too."
A wild ruckus surrounded The Place, the racket only growing louder when Matty opened the outside door to head up to his apartment. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and sighed exasperatedly, the soles of his feet vibrating to the rhythm of guitar riffs.
Just great. Enzo was home… and obviously not alone.
Trudging upstairs, his feet heavy from exhaustion, Matty opened the door and stepped inside. Music blasted him, the classic rock so loud he cringed. Bodies packed the living room—three guys and three girls. Enzo sat on the couch with a girl on his lap. Beside them was another girl—a young girl—her face caked in make-up. AquaNet and Crayola from The Place, Matty recognized.
Carl and Roy Civello, two Barsanti street soldiers, brothers with a reputation for being all brawn and no brains, flanked Enzo, while the last girl sat on the floor, huddled over the coffee table, snorting lines of something. She tilted her head back, her eyes closed in euphoria, her skin damn near as ghostly white as the powder she inhaled.
Unbelievable.
Matty shut the door behind him, the movement drawing their attention. Enzo glanced over, his face lighting up with a grin. "Matty-B! What's up?"
"Nothing," Matty muttered, not loud enough for his brother to even hear as he tossed his sweater down on one of the stools surrounding the small bar near the kitchen and walked over to the stereo. He turned the music down, low enough that he could think, ignoring the protests from the girls. "I could hear that shit from the street. You're lucky nobody called the cops."
Enzo scoffed, holding his fist out for his brother to bump it. "Who's gonna call the cops on me?"
"Somebody who doesn't know any better," Carl said, laughing, as he draped his arm over Crayola's shoulder.
Matty didn't entertain that with a response, instead walking into the kitchen for a drink. He glanced around, spotting a nearly empty bottle of rum on the counter, and grabbed a shot glass to pour himself a shot. He tossed it back, grimacing at the hot, bitter liquid as it scorched his throat. He stood there against the counter, his eyes closed, as he let the burn settle into his chest.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and poured another shot when Enzo strolled it. "Looking good tonight, bro."
Matty cast him a quick look, seeing his brother sizing him up.
"Hot date?" Enzo asked, grabbing the bottle of rum and pouring himself a shot. He clinked his glass with Matty's before they both tossed them back. The second shot was smoother, numbing Matty's chest just enough to fill the sudden void he felt… the void from having to drop Genna off at home and drive away, unsure of when he would get the chance to see her again.
"You could say that," he replied.
"Same girl?"
"Yeah," he said. "Same one."
"You ever gonna bring her around?"
Matty shook his head. "Probably not."
"Why?" Enzo pressed. "Afraid I'll steal her? Because I won't. Well, you know… depends on how hot she is."
Matty laughed dryly at that. "You couldn't steal her from me if you tried."
"Wanna bet?"
"I'll pass." Matty set his shot glass down and stepped away from the counter. "I'm going to bed."
"But it's still early."
&nbs
p; "It's three o'clock in the morning."
"Exactly," Enzo said. "The sun doesn't come up for another few hours."
Matty punched his brother lightly in the shoulder as he passed him, heading for his bedroom. "Goodnight, En."
"You'd think getting some pussy finally would loosen you up," Enzo hollered after him, "and not wind your ass up even tighter!"
Matty flashed him his middle finger before ducking into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Kicking off his shoes, he plopped down on his bed on his back and stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the continual commotion in the living room.
"Your brother's kind of got a stick up his ass, doesn't he?" one of the girls asked, her voice a loud drunken slur. "Geez."
"Don't talk about my brother," Enzo said.
"But—"
"You heard me," Enzo said, a hard edge to his voice. "He deserves respect, and if you can't respect him, then you can get the hell out."
"Come on, En," Carl said. "Even you just said he was wound tight."
"Yeah, well, he's my brother," Enzo said. "It's my job to give him shit. But you? Fuck, especially you, Carl… you know better. You don't talk about a Barsanti."
"Yeah, you're right," Carl muttered. "Sorry."
"What did he do?" one of the girls asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You said he deserves respect," she responded. "What did he do to deserve it?"
"It doesn't matter what he did," Enzo replied. "He didn't have to do anything. It's who he is and what he's been through. It's about what he's had done to him."
"And what's that?"
"You know what?" Enzo raised his voice, a tinge of anger sparking the words that surprised Matty. "How about we call it a night?"
The girls protested, once more, but Enzo brushed them off, quickly clearing the apartment as he practically forced them out the front door. He slammed the door after they were gone, the vibration so intense it rattled the walls and echoed through the apartment. Matty considered getting up again, considered going to talk to his brother, but instead he just lay there, Enzo's words running through his mind.
It's about what he's had done to him.
Matty tried not to dwell on it, but this was twice in one night it had been brought up, thrust front and center in his mind, the evasive whispering of the day his perfect world had deteriorated around him. A long time had passed since then—over sixteen years—but he still remembered it clearly… remembered the confusion, and the terror… remembered the heartbreak, and the anger… remembered the misery.