By Any Other Name

"I'm just trying to see what my cousin sees in you."

  Shock washed through her as she gaped at him. Cousin? Before she could think of something to say, Gavin stood up and started walking away, heading straight back toward the pool tables. Genna snatched up her drink, gulping the rest of it down. Dear God, give me strength to bust this motherfucker in the face if he doesn't keep his mouth closed.

  "Galante," Gavin hollered, his voice loud enough that Genna heard it over the music. She jumped to her feet and quickly started that way, her heart hammering in her chest. What was he doing? What the hell was wrong with him? Was he trying to start a fight?

  Dante looked up from his game of pool, meeting Gavin's gaze. "Amaro."

  "You stealing money from these fools again?" Gavin asked.

  Dante stood up straight, leaning his cue stick against the wall as he motioned for his opponent to take his turn. Slowly, he stepped toward Gavin as he shrugged. "Not my fault they're stupid enough to play me."

  Gavin went straight for Dante. Genna gasped, her footsteps faltering when instead of throwing punches they grasped hands and did some sort of brutish boy-hug, fists pounding backs as both laughed, greeting one another like old friends.

  What the hell?

  "You'd think they'd learn by now," Gavin said.

  "Yeah, well, I hope they never do," Dante said, grabbing his stick again to take his next turn.

  Smirking, Gavin leaned against the far wall, his eyes shifting to Genna. She glared at him as she approached, finding no amusement as he winked playfully. Ugh, the smug bastard was definitely related to Matty. They both instinctively knew how to push her buttons.

  Dante took notice of her presence and pointed at her. "Gavin, this is my little sister, Genna. Genna, this is Gavin Amaro, Johnny's son."

  "Nice to meet you, Miss Galante," Gavin said politely, smirking. "I've heard a lot about you."

  She said nothing in response to that, looking between him and Dante. "So you two are, what… friends?"

  Dante shrugged. "You could say that."

  Shaking her head, giving up on making sense of it, she strolled over and plopped down in a chair at a small table near where Gavin lingered.

  Dante continued playing games, paying her no mind, as Gavin eventually took a seat across from her. He never once mentioned Matty's name, breathing not a word of what he knew, but she could see the knowing look in his eyes as he subtly teased her. Drinks flowed to their table, and Genna slowly grew intoxicated, the alcohol loosening her muscles and easing her tension. Dante strolled over between turns to chat, his pockets stuffed full of cash.

  A few hours and just as many drinks later, Gavin stood up. "I should probably head home."

  Dante leaned his cue stick against the wall, finishing a game, and glanced at his watch. "We ought to get going, too."

  Gavin offered Genna his hand. She took it, wobbling when he yanked her to her feet. Before she could pull away from him, he brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back of it, his gaze lingering on the watch she still wore, the one she'd hustled right off of Matty's wrist. "I think I might just see it, Genna with a G."

  She stared at him, surprised, as he greeted her brother once more before strolling away. Dante took a few steps toward her, pausing beside her. "What's he seeing?"

  "Uh…" She looked at her brother, seeing his eyebrows rose curiously. "A movie. I told him, you know, he should see this movie, and I guess he might."

  "What movie?"

  "Oceans 11." Jesus Christ. She cursed herself the moment she said it. Really, Genna? "And 12, too."

  "He's never seen them?"

  "No," she said quickly.

  "And you have?"

  "Yeah, sure… Julia Roberts is in them."

  "And that's why you told him to watch them?"

  She scoffed. "No. I told him to watch them because, you know, there's robberies in them, and since he's a…" She shook her head. She was a terrible liar when under the influence. "Whatever he is."

  Dante stared at her, disbelieving. Genna was afraid to elaborate, knowing she was only digging herself in deeper. After a moment, her brother sighed. "Look, I respect Gavin. Despite the fact that he's close to those people, he's never given me reason to hate him. And I'm just asking you, Genna… I'm begging you… don't give me reason to hate him."

  "Why would I do that?"

  "You wouldn't intentionally, but I know how you are with guys. And while I like him, I'm not gonna like him touching my little sister."

  "You think I... that we... me and him?" She scowled. "Seriously?"

  "I'm just saying, don't start seeing him."

  "Trust me," she said. "You do not have to worry about that."

  The air in the house was frigid, angrily nipping at Matty's lungs as he took a deep breath. A chill crept up his spine when he stepped inside, not bothering to knock on the front door. They'd know he was there.

  Subdued natural light streamed through the windows as dusk approached, the rooms dim and shrouded in shadows. Matty's back tingled uncomfortably as the hair at the nape of his neck bristled. Nothing was quite as aloof and unwelcoming as the Barsanti house without the sound of his mother's laughter. In fact, at that moment, the absence of it struck him hard. There was nothing peaceful about this silence.

  It savagely screamed at him.

  Soundlessly, Matty made his way upstairs, hearing shuffling and hushed voices from his father's study, the door wide open. Matty paused in the hallway right outside, glancing in at his brother and father standing around a wooden table. Weapons covered every inch of the surface—from the simplest .22 caliber pistols to the most high-tech assault rifles made by man.

  Enzo clutched a 9MM revolver, studiously checking to make sure it was loaded. He glanced toward the doorway, doing a slight double take when he caught sight of Matty lurking there, but as expected, their father wasn't caught off guard in the least.

  "Matteo," Roberto said, his firm voice as icy as the house. His back was to Matty as he ran his hand along an AK-47. He didn't even turn to look at him.

  "Dad."

  Enzo glanced between the two of them and blew out a deep breath as he slipped the gun into his waistband. He nodded once at their father, sending a wordless message Matty remained in the dark about, before striding from the room.

  "She's resting," Roberto said quietly.

  "Comfortably?"

  "For now."

  "What did the doctor say?"

  "Same thing he always says," Roberto replied. Hard to tell; no way to know. "Doesn't matter, though, because I know. I don't need a doctor to say it. I can tell. It won't be long now."

  Matty's chest tightened at those words. His lungs protested every intake of air. Roberto dropped his head low, letting out a sorrowful sigh.

  Although he wasn't sure what to say, Matty felt the need to say something. Something, anything, to clear the air between them, to diffuse some of the frosty tension, to warm the house just a bit for his mother as she neared the end.

  He didn't have the chance, though. The moment of understanding, the moment of mutual dread, faded away when Roberto opened his mouth again, grounding Matty back into their reality.

  "Do you carry a gun, Matteo?"

  "You know I don't."

  Roberto nodded, finally turning to face him, his expression nothing more than a blank mask chiseled on his face. "After tonight, son, you might want to start."

  The man strode out, leaving Matty there alone to listen to his heavy descent along the stairs, each footfall like a kick in the gut. There was nothing more dangerous in the world than a man with no foundation. Matty's mother was the cement that held them together. Without her, they were nothing more than fractured bricks and mortar, fragmented, giving the darkness easy access to sneak in as they fell to pieces.

  And although Roberto looked as strong and sturdy as steel, Matty knew the loss they were about to suffer would be strong enough to bend even the toughest metal.

  His eyes scanned the
guns along the table briefly before he turned around and walked out of the study, quietly making his way further down the hall to the master bedroom. He lightly tapped on the door with his knuckles, merely out of respect, not in the least expecting a response, before stepping inside. His mother was fast asleep, a peaceful look on her face, her chest rattling with each breath she took.

  Sighing, Matty sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He remained there for a minute or so, listening to the sound of her breathing, before pulling his phone from his pocket.

  He texted Genna. Things aren't looking good for my mother.

  She replied right away. I'm so sorry. Do you need anything?

  Did he need anything? He needed it all to be a dream, a vicious nightmare he could wake up from. I need you to tell me she'll be okay.

  A lump formed in his throat even typing those words, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. It was wishful thinking, the same mindset he'd sustained when he was just a child, refusing to believe someone he loved was actually gone forever. There was no way, he'd said. It was a joke, a cruel joke, a lie, the worst lie ever told. People didn't die. Not the people he loved, anyway.

  Her response, once more, came instantly. She'll be okay, Matty. She will. She might not be with you anymore, you might not see her, but she'll be okay. I promise you that.

  "So fucking unfair," he muttered to himself, typing a response to her as a tear broke through the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek. He brushed it away just as the bed shifted around him. Glancing over, he saw his mother stirring, her eyes drifting open to look at him.

  A soft, sleepy smile curved her lips. "Hey, Sugar Cube."

  Her voice was so frail. The ache in his chest deepened. "Hey, Mom."

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Just a few minutes."

  "You should've woken me."

  He scoffed. "You need your rest."

  "I'll get plenty of rest soon enough," she said quietly, shifting around in the bed to get a better look at him. "I'm tired, Matty. So, so tired."

  "I know, Mom." His voice cracked, despite his best effort to keep it steady.

  She raised her arm toward him as he shifted around to face her, her fingertips brushing his cheek. "So handsome."

  Her hand started to drop when he caught it, grasping hold of it and gripping gently as he held it in his lap. "That's because I came from someone as beautiful as you."

  Her smile grew. "You keep that charm for that girl of yours."

  "I will."

  "You need to cherish her, to keep her safe," she continued. "If you get anything from your father, if you learn anything from him, I hope it's that. He was a good provider, a good protector, even if the way he went about it sometimes…"

  "Not now, Mom," Matty said quietly, squeezing her hand. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now.

  "Then when?" she asked, her voice earnest. "Now's all I have, Matty, and I want you to understand."

  "Understand what?"

  "That sometimes we do things that we regret, out of grief, out of anger, and it destroys people we love," she said. "Don't make that same mistake."

  "I won't."

  "And keep that girl safe."

  Before Matty could respond, a throat cleared from the doorway before Roberto said, "what girl would that be?"

  Glancing behind him, Matty eyed his father as the man strolled into the room, his footsteps heavy. He hadn't heard him come upstairs. He had intentionally snuck up on them. Enzo was with him, lurking in the doorway, hesitating before coming closer.

  "Eavesdropping, Bobby?" Savina asked, eyeing her husband, her expression softening as she pulled her hand from Matty's to reach out once more. Roberto approached, grasping her hand, and leaned down to softly kiss her.

  "Just merely overheard," he said. "Purely accidental."

  "Yeah, yeah," she said. "And if you must know, I meant Matty's girl, much like I'm your girl."

  "Ah." Roberto glanced between them curiously. "Keep her safe from what?"

  "Life," she responded, hesitating before adding, "death."

  "Impossible," Roberto said. "It's like swimming against a current. You fight, and fight, and fight, but you'll only get so far before it takes you under."

  "But usually, it's the fighting that drags you down," she countered, her voice stronger now. "Sometimes it's better to just go with the flow."

  Roberto stared at her for a moment, offering no retort.

  "End it," she continued. "Please, Bobby. For me. For all of us. End this nonsense."

  The feud. The fighting. The war with the Galantes. Matty had never heard his mother outright confront his father about it, had never heard her ask him such a thing, and based on Roberto's expression, his mask slipping as surprise shined through, she likely never had. She never asked for much at all, now that Matty thought of it.

  Roberto let out a weary sigh as he raised her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Consider it ended."

  The smile gracing her lips at that moment was radiant. She pulled her hand away from her husband, shifting position in bed to sit up, despite the protests from all three men for her to stay resting. Brushing them off, she patted the bed on both sides of her, asking them to sit.

  Matty scooted toward the end of the bed, resting against the footboard, as Enzo and his father took spots right beside her. They chatted, relaxing, the world outside fading away, nothing else mattering in that moment except for her. She laughed at something Enzo said, some story he told, the sound washing through Matty and warming the air around him. He felt that laughter, felt it deep in his chest as it surrounded his heart, squeezing to the point it felt like it might burst. He smiled, tears once more swimming in his eyes, as he reveled in the sensation, the sound of her happiness.

  Oh, how he wished it had been for him, but he would take it, nonetheless.

  Minutes faded to hours, but in the grand scheme of things, it was no time at all. It wasn't enough. It never would've been enough. They could've sat there for days, weeks, months, and it never would have been enough time for any of them.

  Sleep took her, despite her best attempts to stay awake, and not long after, death took her, too, despite her heart's determination to keep beating. Everything slowed, her last breath coming out gentle and shaky, as Matty watched her chest rise and fall for the very last time.

  Nobody said anything for a moment. They didn't move; they hardly even breathed themselves. Eventually, Roberto let go of her hand and stood, backing away from the bed, his eyes still on his wife as he made the sign of the cross and bowed his head, uttering a quiet prayer. Afterward, he glanced between his sons, his gaze settling on Enzo. "I want you and the Civello brothers on Dante. Watch his every move; find his vulnerabilities. That sister of his, too. You're not going to get close to Primo, and I can't touch him, but his kids… that's how you get to him."

  Matty's stomach dropped. Enzo's gaze shifted to him for a fraction of a second, as if worried about his reaction, before nodding and standing up. "Yes, sir."

  "After the funeral," Roberto said, his gaze shifting back to his wife, "we strike."

  Enzo stalked out, his head down. Roberto turned to leave as Matty watched him incredulously. "You said it was ended. The feud… you told her you would end it."

  "I did, and I will." Roberto stalled briefly, right beside Matty, to stare him straight in the eyes. "It'll all be over soon."

  After he was alone, Matty stood up from the end of the bed and straightened his clothes, once more fighting back tears. He took the few steps toward his mother, gently brushing her hair from her face, before pressing his lips to her forehead.

  The after. He hadn't wanted to think about it before, life without his mother, but Genna had been right. He couldn't avoid it. It was all there was now.

  Pulling his phone out again, he sent a text. She's gone.

  Unsurprisingly, the response was almost instant. How are you?

  How was he? Numb. Shocked. Heartbrok
en. If he were being truthful, he was downright fucking terrified. But instead of telling her that, he texted her one mere word… the one that seemed to linger most at that moment.

  Alone.

  Genna stood on the bottom of the stairs, staring at the lone word on the screen of her phone. Alone. It stalled her, her response slower than usual as she tried to think of something to say to him. What would make him feel better? Nothing.

  You might feel lonely, Matty, but you'll never be alone.

  As soon as she hit send, the front door opened and voices carried through the foyer. Glancing over, on edge, she saw her brother walk in, talking to someone right behind him. As soon as Dante stepped out of the way, Genna caught a glimpse of the face.

  Ugh. Umberto Ricci.

  "Hey, sis," Dante said, motioning toward his friend. "You remember Bert?"

  Bert? Who the fuck willingly called themselves Bert? "Sure," she mumbled, turning her ringer to vibrate and slipping her phone in her pocket. "Bert and Ernie."

  Dante laughed, nudging his friend. It didn't escape Genna's notice that Umberto's tanned cheeks flushed.

  "Nice to see you again, Genevieve," he said quietly. "You look as beautiful as ever."

  Her father stepped out of his office then, striding their direction. Primo faltered in the foyer, a grin lighting his face when he saw them standing there together.

  "Umberto, I'm grateful you could join us for dinner," Primo said, greeting him warmly, shaking his hand firmly as he grasped his shoulder with his other hand.

  "Thank you for the invitation," Umberto said. "It's an honor."

  Genna scowled, watching as the two of them headed toward the dining room, her eyes narrowing at her brother as he lingered behind. Before she could even get out a scathing word, Dante held his hands up defensively. "Don't blame me. I was just as surprised as you."

  This was the last thing she needed tonight. Groaning, she stepped off the steps and walked into the dining room. Only the usual place settings were put out, the normal five that adorned the table every night. Umberto took the one furthest from Primo—Genna's usual seat—and pulled out the chair beside it for her. She froze there, staring at the chair… her mother's chair.