By Any Other Name

  Dante pulled out his own seat and hesitated, seeming to sense her dilemma, and started to speak out when Primo cleared his throat. "It's fine, Genevieve. Take the seat."

  No. No. No. She shook her head instinctively, catching Dante's eye. He motioned toward the chair, his expression urging her not to make a big deal about it. Frowning, she slid into the chair, on edge even more now.

  It felt all wrong.

  Her skin crawled through the prayer as Umberto clutched her hand tightly, his palm sweaty. Nervous. Genna yanked her hand back away, wiping it on the leg of her pants under the table as the men immediately dove into dinner. Genna's stomach protested even the smell of the lasagna. Her appetite had been missing since the very first text Matty sent her that day.

  As her thoughts drifted back to him, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Carefully, she glanced around the table, making sure the others were preoccupied before sliding it out and concealing it in her lap, seeing a new message from Matty.

  Is there any way I can see you?

  The question sent her insides into total anarchy, her stomach clenching as her heart skipped a much-needed beat, making her momentarily dizzy. She stared at the question, her mind working fast, trying to think of a way to make it happen, when her father cleared his throat. "Put the phone away, Genevieve."

  She cut her eyes at him, seeing he was watching her with disapproval. "Sorry," she mumbled, slipping the phone back in her pocket as she picked up her fork and stabbed at her food.

  This was going to be one of the longest hours of her life.

  "So how's the volunteer work going, Genevieve?" Umberto asked, reaching for conversation.

  She took a small bite, so to give the illusion of eating. "Volunteer work?"

  "Your father said you've been volunteering at the soup kitchen this summer," he clarified. "Such a wonderful thing you're doing there, you know, helping people who need help. What made do wanna do it?"

  "My desire to stay out of jail," she said. "A jumpsuit would do nothing for my figure, not to mention the color orange washes me out."

  Umberto's brow furrowed, not understanding, as Dante let out a laugh. "It's not so much volunteer work as it is community service."

  "Ah." Umberto nodded, seeming to understand. "Point taken."

  "Although, it's not so bad," she said, shrugging. "Could always be worse."

  Primo hummed contemplatively. "Where'd you learn to look on the bright side of things?"

  From a Barsanti boy. Instead of answering, she merely shrugged.

  Again and again, as dinner wore on, they'd try to veer conversation toward her, and she'd deflect the best she could, having no interest in participating, all the while her phone continually vibrated with messages. The urge to read them nagged at her with every soft buzz, her leg bouncing under the table with anticipation for nine o'clock.

  Dinner was always over then. He wouldn't keep her any later than that, right?

  Oh God, he would.

  A few minutes after nine, and Primo showed no sign of being ready to dismiss them. Genna was about to make up an excuse to slip away when an abrupt ringing shattered the air, silencing everyone.

  The emergency line.

  Primo instantly grabbed the phone, answering it with a brusque, "Talk."

  Strained seconds passed as Primo listened on the line, finally ending the call without saying another word. He put it back away and picked up his fork to resume eating. He didn't appear distressed, a fact that relieved a bit of Genna's tension.

  "So," Primo said after a moment. "Savina Barsanti is dead."

  Genna froze. She knew it, had known it before any of them, but having her father announce it so casually, so coolly, was like a kick to her gut. Dante said not a word, not even looking up from his plate of food, as Umberto let out a low whistle. "Tough break. Always heard she was a good lady, you know, relatively speaking."

  Roberto scoffed. "The only good Barsanti is a dead Barsanti."

  The only good Barsanti is a dead Barsanti. How many times had Genna heard her father say that? How many times had she believed it? The thought made her sick. A good woman was dead. A woman who had warmly welcomed Genna into her home.

  She wasn't her last name.

  Technically, she was a Brazzi, anyway.

  The urge to say that was on the tip of her tongue, but her father continuing silenced her.

  "We have the party this weekend, Friday night." An initiation party, Genna knew, although she scarcely got details. It had been planned long ago. "After that, we'll make our move."

  "Our move?" Dante asked.

  "Yeah, I think it's time we settle this once and for all," he replied. "And now that Matteo's back in town, it's the perfect opportunity to end them all."

  Genna dropped her fork when he said that, giving up the façade of eating, the clanking metal drawing her father's attention right to her seat.

  "Can I be excused?" she asked, pushing her chair back to stand up without even awaiting his response. She felt like she was going to puke. She needed out of that room.

  "Sure," he said, waving her away. "You probably shouldn't be around to hear this, anyway."

  Genna walked out, turning the corner, her footsteps faltering in contemplation. She stepped to the side in the darkened foyer, leaning back against the wall near the dining room door, her heart beating erratically as she pulled out her phone, retrieving her messages.

  Even just for a minute.

  I just need to see you for a minute.

  I don't want to be alone right now.

  After that were two missed calls and one more message.

  Please.

  The word made her heart ache. It came over thirty minutes ago.

  "How are we going to do it?" Dante asked in the dining room, his voice low. "Got a plan?"

  "Not yet," Primo said. "But I'll come up with one."

  Sighing, Genna pushed away from the wall and started upstairs, dialing Matty's number as she went. Two calls went straight to voicemail, followed by three texts to him that went unanswered.

  Where are you?

  I'm so sorry.

  I'll try to get away.

  She paced around her room, her mind racing, unable to relax or get her stomach to stop churning. She was at it for so long her legs grew tired, her head pounding as she worked herself into a panic. Eventually, she heard the taletell sound of her brother's car starting up outside and speeding away from the house as he rode off to do God knows what in the streets of Manhattan. Genna crept out into the hallway then, listening at the top of the stairs as her father shuffled around the house, dismissing the staff before settling into his office and shutting the door.

  When she heard the lock click into place, she knew he would be in there all night, preoccupied.

  Mind racing, frantic, she hardly gave it a second thought. She slid on a pair of shoes and put her phone in her pocket before quietly tiptoeing downstairs. She slipped out the back door, knowing from experience it was easier to escape undetected that way.

  As soon as she was outside, she was gone, hailing a cab the second she encountered one. The cabbie looked at her in the rearview mirror, raising his eyebrows curiously. "Where to?"

  "The Place," she said. "It's a bar. Do you know it?"

  "Absolutely."

  Thirty minutes later, she climbed out of the back of the cab, tossing the man a wad of money and telling him to keep the change. She glanced around the neighborhood cautiously, keeping her head down, as she ducked right by the bar and through the second door beside it.

  As soon as she stepped inside, she caught sight of someone on the stairs, a pair of eyes meeting hers right away.

  Enzo.

  Wrong Barsanti.

  He paused, halfway down the steps, and blinked a few times as if caught off guard by her presence. Genna just stood there, frozen, her heart racing as she stared up at him. She wasn't sure what to say, or what to do. He stared at her, judgment clouding his expression.

&nbsp
; "Well, well," he said after a moment, slowly descending the steps toward her. "Caught yet again on the wrong side of the tracks."

  "I, uh…" She willed her voice to stay steady. "I'm just looking for Matty."

  Enzo stopped when he reached the bottom of the steps a few feet from her, so close Genna could smell his cologne. It made her head swim, her stomach churning harder than ever before. He stared at her, not even a fraction of the warmth coming from him that she felt from Matty.

  "Tell me something, sweetheart," he said, his voice dropping low. "What is it really you're doing with my brother?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "What kind of games are you playing?" he asked. "What are you trying to get out of Matty?"

  "Nothing," she said. "I'm not playing any games."

  "Bullshit," he spat, taking an abrupt step toward her, the sudden movement making her balk. They stood toe-to-toe, so close Genna could see how bloodshot his eyes were, unshed tears swimming around the edges. Warning signs went off in her head, but there was little she could do at that point. He was unstable. Edgy. Grieving. "You might have swayed my brother, seduced my brother, but you'll never convince me. I know your kind, Galante."

  "But you don't know me," she said, mentally cursing the quake in her voice. "And besides, I didn't even know he was… that he's…"

  "Well, he is," Enzo said, seeming to know exactly where she was going with that. "He's one of us, and you're one of them, and this game you're playing is over. Time's up, sweetheart."

  Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means you have no business being here, and if you know what's good for you, you'll never come here again."

  "I'm here for Matty."

  "I heard you the first time," he said. "But Matty's not here, and you shouldn't be either."

  Before Genna could respond, the door behind her started to open, unfamiliar male voices echoing through. She started to turn around when Enzo snatched a hold of her, throwing her against the wall into the darkened shadows. The air left her lungs in a whoosh, knocking the breath from her, as he shot her a stern look and held his hand out, wordlessly warning her to stay right there. She watched, stunned, as Enzo stepped into the doorway and blocked whoever was trying to come in.

  "Hey, fellas," Enzo said, his voice casual. "I was just heading out."

  "Your father told us to swing by," one of the guys replied. "Said we needed to come up with a plan for dealing with Galante's kids."

  "Now's not the time," Enzo said. "I'll meet you in The Place in, say, an hour? We'll talk about it then."

  Enzo stood there, continually blocking the doorway, until the guys conceded and walked away. Once they were gone, he turned back to her, his expression furious. "You Galantes certainly live up to your reputation… stupid as fuck."

  "What are you up to?" she asked, her voice strained. "What was that about me and my brother?"

  Enzo said nothing as he turned away from her, glancing out into the street, before grabbing her arm. "You need to get the hell out of here. Now."

  She wanted to protest, wanted to fight as he roughly pulled her out of the stairwell and into the street, but words were lost on her momentarily. He kept a painful grip on her as he hurried past The Place, toward the underground parking garage Matty always parked in. The red Lotus was nowhere to be seen, but Enzo pulled her toward a black Mercedes right beside the vacant spot.

  "Get in," he demanded, opening the passenger door.

  "What gives you the right to order me around?"

  He glared at her. "Just get in the fucking car, Galante."

  She hesitated naturally, frightened by what following his orders might mean, but a car abruptly swinging into the parking garage set her in motion. This was still enemy territory, and while the man glaring at her was undoubtedly dangerous, Matty had assured her he at least wouldn’t harm her.

  Besides, he had just protected her, hadn’t he?

  She slid into the cool leather seat, her heart racing, and flinched when Enzo slammed the door. She hoped she wasn’t making a grave mistake.

  "Where are you taking me?" she asked as soon as he got in beside her and started the car.

  Enzo didn't answer right away, waiting until he was out of the parking garage and into traffic to address her. "I'm taking you home."

  For some reason, that answer surprised her. "Home?"

  "Yes, home, where you belong," he said. "It's not safe for you here, especially now."

  "Why would you...?" She trailed off, stunned. "I don't understand why you'd do that for me, why you just shielded me back there. You hate me."

  "I do," he admitted, not at all apologetic about that. "More than you even know. I hate everything about you, everything you stand for. I hate even having to breathe the same fucking air as you."

  "Then why?"

  "Because my brother doesn't." He cut his eyes angrily at her. "I don't trust you, I have no use for you, but for some godforsaken reason Matty says he does. And, well, we lost a lot tonight. I don't think he would take well to losing you on top of it. One death's enough to deal with."

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Don't thank me," he said sharply. "Thank my brother. If not for him, I would have killed you the second I saw your face. And fuck if I still don’t wish I could."

  From the tone of his voice, she believed those words.

  They said nothing else as Enzo sped through the streets, the car never even slowing as he crossed into her father's territory. Not an ounce of fear showed in his expression, no apprehension. He must venture over there a lot, she thought.

  That fact unnerved her. She always felt safe there, as naive as it may have been. These streets were theirs. Nothing could happen to her, nobody would ever dare touch her. But clearly, she’d banked too much on those invisible boundaries, acting as if they were bulletproof walls, physically repelling them from breeching the neighborhood. She had crossed the boundaries so easily, so carelessly… what made her think someone like Enzo Barsanti wouldn’t be brazen enough to do the same?

  He drove straight toward her house, just like Matty had, not needing any directions. He stopped a block over, though, swinging his car into a small alley and putting it in park. “I’m not going any closer, so you’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.”

  She glanced at him, oddly having the urge to thank him again, but she swallowed back her gratitude, as bitter as it may have been. Her 'thank you' would never be met with a 'you're welcome'. “Where is Matty?”

  Enzo glared at her. “Your guess is as good as mine. Probably better than mine.”

  “You don’t know?” she asked hesitantly. “I came there tonight because he said he wanted to see me, that he needed to see me.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me, but no, I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head as he laughed bitterly under his breath. “You ever seen my brother upset?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s just say I might not be the scariest Barsanti on the streets tonight.”

  Matty? Scary? Hardly. “He’s always so calm.”

  “He is,” he agreed. “But it’s the calm ones you gotta worry about.” Enzo reached over past her, grabbing the handle and thrusting the door open. “Now get out of my car before I change my mind and decide to kill you anyway.”

  He didn’t have to tell her again. Genna climbed out, unable to stop the words “thank you” from escaping her lips that time. As she slammed the door closed, she heard Enzo groan with annoyance, shouting out, "you're not fucking welcome." He threw the car in reverse as she stood there, swinging it out of the alley and speeding away.

  Genna ran the block home, breathing heavily by the time she reached the house. She snuck back inside, doing her best to not make a sound as she headed for the stairs, but someone startled her when she reached the second floor.

  “Where have you been?”

  Genna jumped, grasping her chest when Dante stepped out of his bedroom. “Downstairs.”

 
“And before that?”

  “Outside.”

  “Where?”

  “Why?”

  Dante’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he stepped toward her, circling her like a vulture. “Why do you smell like cheap cologne?”

  “Why are you sniffing me?”

  A smile cracked Dante’s expression. “Why are you answering my questions with questions?”

  “Why are you even questioning me?”

  He seemed to have no response to that, merely shrugging a shoulder. Genna stood there, waiting for him to say something else, but she turned to head into her room when he remained silent.

  “Hey, wait,” he said, catching her arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “About?”

  “Everything,” he said. “Tonight, you know... Bert... what Dad tried to do. He just wants you to be with someone he can trust you with… someone that can keep you safe. Especially now."

  Especially now. Those were the same words Enzo had used. Hearing them made her stomach drop. A storm was brewing, and she had a terrible feeling it was going to get ugly. "I don't need Bert to keep me safe. I have zero interest in him."

  "I know you don't," he said, eyeing her peculiarly. "I'm just curious who you do have interest in."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Come on, Genna. I taught you everything you know. I know you better than anybody. Who is it?"

  "It's, uh… nobody."

  "Who were you with tonight?"

  "Nobody."

  "It's not Gavin, right?"

  "What? Of course not!"

  "Is it Jackson again?" Dante pressed.

  "No."

  "You can tell me, Genna," he said seriously. "I know Dad doesn't want you seeing him anymore, and I can't say I don't agree. I don't think he deserves even a second of your time, but I'm not going to rat you out. I never would. Just… tell me you're seeing Jackson again."

  There was something in his voice, the pleading tone when he asked her to tell him, which suggested to Genna that he truly wanted to hear her say that. "Why?"

  "Because you're seeing somebody," he replied. "Sneaking around, coming home smelling like cologne, being evasive… last week you had a hickey near your collarbone—don't think I didn't notice that. You're lucky Dad didn't spot it. So the point is there's someone, and I just… just tell me it's Jackson you're seeing and I'll leave you alone, but…"