By Any Other Name

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. It's just temporary, though. My mom's been sick for a while. I didn't want to miss… well, you know. I wanted to be around for her."

  "I get it," she said quietly. That was something Genna understood well. She felt the sting of the memory of her own mother constricting her chest. "So you're close to your family?"

  "I'm Italian," he said. "That's kind of the name of the game."

  She gazed at him, a small smile creeping up on her lips. A handsome Italian boy who understood family loyalty? This guy was the genetics jackpot. Her father was going to love him.

  An hour passed trapped in the stifling elevator before they finally heard any attempts to reach them. By then, they were both laying on the floor, diagonally across the elevator, her flat on her back while he lay beside her, his elbow propped up as he gazed at her. It was uncomfortable, but comforting. Unnerving, but not at all alarming. She could feel his eyes on her, surveying her intently, seeing right through her just as he had done the first time their eyes connected. She babbled on and on, distracting herself, talking about everything but nothing at all.

  It took a few more minutes for their help to find a way in. At that point, Genna was drenched with sweat, her clothes rolled up to indecent levels, dangerously close to saying to hell with it and just stripping right then, right there, and prancing around in her underwear.

  Matty climbed to his feet once the fire department unbolted the trap door in the ceiling, but she just lay there, staring up at the lights above her. The air was hazy, each breath burning her lungs. She would've killed for some water… maybe literally.

  "Come on," Matty said, extending his hand to her when a fireman started feeding a ladder in through from above. She took his hand, feeling his warm skin against hers as he helped her to her feet. She tried to quickly pull herself together, tugging at her clothes and fixing her hair before grabbing her shoes. Matty grabbed his sweater, using it to wipe the sweat dripping from his brow. His face gleamed under the lights.

  How the hell did he make sweating so sexy?

  They had them climb into the elevator shaft and across a ladder onto another elevator. They dropped down into that one, which took them straight down to the first floor. Genna breathed a heavy sigh of relief when those doors opened, a swell of fresh air reaching her. She stepped out, avoiding the curious gathering crowd of spectators as she hit up the nearest water fountain, before bolting straight for the front door. No sooner she stepped outside to the dreary afternoon, Matty joined her.

  "So, how about that drink? What do you say?"

  She looked down at herself, grimacing. If she thought she was having a bad hair day that morning, she couldn't even imagine what it looked like now. She wanted to go home, strip out of her mucky clothes, and fall straight into her comfy bed, never to resurface again. But there was another part of her, captivated and curious about this guy, that couldn't bear the thought of walking away from him already. If she did, chances were she'd never see him again.

  He stared at her, awaiting her answer.

  Fuck it. "Let's go."

  Smirking, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket as he started walking away. After slipping on her shoes, Genna followed him, ignoring the burning pain as they rubbed against her blisters. He turned the corner, heading to a nearby parking lot as he pressed a button on his keys. Across the lot, lights flashed on a sleek blood red Lotus Evora seconds before he pressed another button and it roared straight to life. Her footsteps faltered, eyes darting to him with shock. "That's yours? The Lotus?"

  "Why, you gonna steal it?"

  Genna approached the foreign sports car, running her hand along the glossy paint, hearing the engine as it practically purred. She'd never seen one in person. They were rare, barely street legal. He opened the passenger door for her and she paused there, trying to contain her grin. "I guess you'll see, won't you?"

  The leather stuck to the back of her sweaty thighs when she slid into the seat. Laughing, Matty shut the door and climbed in the driver's side. "Yeah, I guess I will."

  Air conditioning blasted her in the face, cooling her instantly and soothing the burn of her cheeks. Thumping bass of hip-hop spilled from the speakers, vibrating her seat and sending goose bumps dancing across her skin when Matty threw the car in gear. They sped away from the criminal court building, effortlessly weaving through the afternoon Manhattan traffic, every turn smooth and agile, as they seemed to just glide along the street. Genna wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him questions, wanted to know more, but she couldn't get any words to form. For the first time in her life, she felt utterly small. Not in the belittling way… no, she felt anything but depreciated. She was valued, and vulnerable, but oh so fragile, like she'd left her armor behind, completely powerless compared to the commanding creature beside her.

  If she were a delicate ice sculpture, this stunning man was a strong marble statue.

  He drove northwest through Soho, one of the few neighborhoods Genna was entirely unfamiliar with. Her family ran the other side of the city so she tended to stay in those areas whenever she came to Manhattan, rarely crossing the invisible boundaries, never venturing too far west. Before she could dwell on that, he slowed the car near a brick building on the corner of a block, making a sharp turn into an underground parking garage, engine raring as Matty pulled into the first spot labeled 'reserved'.

  Carefully, Genna climbed out, eyeing him peculiarly as he locked up the car. She ran her hand along the smooth red paint again. "I can't believe you drive a freaking Lotus Evora."

  "I'm surprised you've heard of it."

  "I'm surprised you own one," she said. "There are only a few hundred in America, if even that. They're rare."

  "I've never personally seen another."

  Genna glanced at him. "I never thought I'd see one. That was… wow." She ran her hand along the sleek paint again. Cars were her first love, arguably her only true love. Guys flaked on her left and right, but she'd never had a car disappoint her before. "That was totally better than sex."

  Matty laughed, stepping toward her, his gaze intense as he leaned close. "Something tells me you've been having sex with the wrong people, then."

  Before she could respond, Matty motioned for her to follow him as he turned and strolled out of the parking garage. She stayed in step with him, looking around when they approached the building. The grimy brick was crumbling, the sign on the front barely legible. The Place.

  She snorted. "The Place?"

  "Genius, huh?" he asked, pausing in front of the thick red door.

  "Either that, or it's the dumbest name ever. It doesn't even tell you what it is. Like, when someone says 'meet me at The Place', you don't know if you're going to a diner or some sort of underground cock fighting ring."

  He grabbed the door handle, laughing, and pulled it open for her to go in. A sport's bar, it turned out, surprisingly bright and airy. Tables and booths were scattered around the space while a long bar spanned the side, wooden stools lining it. The lighting felt natural, a soft white glow, while everything else was shades of tan. A few guys sat at the bar, drinking beer from mugs and studiously watching ESPN, only a couple of the tables occupied at this hour.

  Matty stepped in behind her, drawing the bartender's attention. The man, middle-aged with a sculpted goatee, grinned. "Matty-B! What's up?"

  "Not much," Matty said, loosely draping his arm over Genna's shoulder to pull her to the bar with him. "Just came for a drink."

  "What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

  Matty glanced at her inquisitively, but she just shrugged.

  "My usual, then," he ordered. "Two of them."

  The bartender's gaze shifted from Matty to Genna. "She looks a little young to be drinking."

  "And you're a little old to be checking her out," Matty responded casually. "So get our drinks, before I have to do something crazy to defend her honor."

  Instead of being offended, the bartender laughed. "Whatever you say. Two Ro
man Coke's coming right up."

  "We'll be at my table," Matty said, pulling her away from the bar. "Send some water, too."

  He led her to a booth in the far back corner of a separate room, where she slipped in across from him. It didn't take long for a waitress to bring their drinks. Genna gulped the water, parched, as Matty picked up his alcohol and swirled it around.

  "A Roman Coke," Genna mused. "What's that?"

  "It's rum and Coke. We just call it a Roman Coke around here."

  "Because you're Italian?"

  "And because when you get drunk enough, it all just slurs together anyway."

  "Ah." Genna picked hers up, motioning toward him with it. "So what are we drinking to?"

  "Today."

  "Today?"

  He nodded. "Right now, this moment. Let's drink to it."

  Smiling, she clinked her glass with his. "Today, then."

  They threw them back at the same time. The liquor hit Genna's taste buds and she grimaced, the vicious burn seeping down her throat and settling deep in her chest. "Ugh, is there even any Coke in this damn thing?"

  He laughed, setting his empty glass down. "Just a splash."

  "I couldn't tell."

  "That's because I prefer it that way," he responded. "Strong and rough, enough to leave a lingering ache. I like it to hurt just a bit."

  Oh good God. Those words sent a chill down Genna's spine, one she couldn't hide, as Matty waved for the waitress. Eyes never leaving Genna, he ordered another round of drinks.

  "Another?" she asked, picking up the water to take another sip, this one to soothe the sting in her chest. "You said one drink."

  A sly smile curved his lips. "I like to keep them coming."

  "Is that right?"

  "Absolutely." He stood, leaning across the table, his lips near her ear. "Maybe you'll let me show you later."

  She coughed on her water, her face turning bright red as the double meaning of his words struck her. Spinning around in her seat, she watched as he strode through the bar, straight toward a group of guys that had just walked in. They all greeted him warmly as he spoke quietly, mouth moving furiously as he shook his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his Blackberry, typing something into it.

  Genna turned away from them, nervously keeping her head down, when the waitress returned with their second drinks, just as strong as the first had been, barely any caramel color in the glass. Matty returned after a moment, slipping back into the booth across from her and wordlessly grabbing his glass.

  "Friends of yours?" she asked curiously, watching as the guys headed back outside, not even staying long enough to have a drink.

  "Something like that," he replied, relaxing back in his seat. "Friends of the family, anyway."

  The burn in Genna's chest sparked a tingle after she finished her second drink, a tingle that spread throughout her body, extending down her limbs as the liquor kept flowing to their table. She scarcely kept track after a while as Matty joked around, entertaining her with random stories of the people who wandered into the bar.

  The man who owned the butcher shop that Matty and his younger brother had stolen steaks from when they were just little kids, only to be forced to pay for them by their mother… after watching their father single-handedly eat every single one right in front of them as punishment.

  The grocer who used to give the kids quarters when they came in so they could get something from the little prize machines by the door.

  The guy who ran the ice cream truck for decades and used to slip them free popsicles when he came through their neighborhood.

  He spoke fondly of everyone as if they were as close as family, but it didn't escape Genna's notice that hardly anyone even acknowledged him. They looked around him but never at him. He seemed to fade into the background, as if they couldn't see him, which baffled her, because she couldn't keep her eyes off the guy. The more she drank, the more she was set on fire from the inside out, the tingle engulfing into flames.

  "Do you play?" he asked eventually, motioning toward some billiard tables in another separate nearby room.

  Pool.

  "Uh, no."

  He threw back his drink, downing the rest of it in one gulp. "Come on, I'll show you."

  She finished her drink hesitantly before joining him, the two heading straight to the only unoccupied table. She stood there, watching silently as he racked the balls for a game. After it was ready, he grabbed a cue stick and held it out to her. As soon as she took it, his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to him as his cologne washed over her. He turned her around, her back to his chest as his arms encircled her, grasping the cue stick.

  She couldn't help it.

  She shivered.

  Holy fuck. He was intoxicating.

  "Like this," he whispered, breath fanning against her cheek as he positioned her body, his hands overtop of hers. He aimed at the cue ball, striking it, sending it barreling down the table toward the others. The rest of the balls scattered, bouncing off the sides, a single red ball sliding right into a corner pocket.

  He was pretty good.

  "So now you aim for just the solid balls," he said, not letting go of her. He tugged her with him, positioning her once more, aiming for the cue ball again. He struck it, going for a solid blue ball, but it narrowly missed its mark, ricocheting back at them.

  Matty did it again and again, pulling her around with him, body flush against hers, until he successfully sunk over half of her balls that way.

  "You think you got it?" he asked. No, her head screamed, knowing if she said yes he would loosen his hold. And those tattooed arms? Christ, she never wanted them to let go of her. Her silent indecision made him chuckle. "Yeah, you got it."

  She did.

  Unfortunately.

  The moment he stepped back, her body mourned the loss of his warmth. He grabbed a cue stick for himself as he took his first turn, sinking two balls right away and only narrowly missing a third.

  Once it was Genna's turn, she aimed for the cue ball but barely grazed it at all. Her heart wasn't into playing a game, didn't really find it that interesting, but watching him?

  That she was into.

  He didn't take it easy on her. He didn't let her win. Despite her massive head start, he demolished her quickly, the black eight ball smoothly disappearing into a side pocket.

  Before he could say a word, Genna kicked off her heels and pointed her cue stick at him. "Set them up again."

  Games flew by, as did more drinks, the flirting and laughter growing as time wore on. Matty got worse, the games taking longer as Genna hardly even paid attention to where her balls were positioned.

  "I'll tell you what," he said as he set up their fifth game, a full glass of straight rum sitting on the edge of the table in front of him. Somehow, at some point, he had dropped the pretense of drinking Coke at all. "You manage to beat me at a game, and I'll give you anything you want."

  "Anything?"

  "Anything."

  "A hundred bucks?"

  "Sure."

  "Your watch?"

  He glanced at his wrist—a silver-colored Rolex, probably white gold. Genna had noticed it earlier. Considering he drove what he did, she had a sneaking suspicion it might actually be real. "Of course."

  "Your car?"

  "Genna, if you can beat me, I'll give you a hundred bucks, my watch, and the Lotus."

  Matty made a mistake... a big mistake. He had asked her if she played, and she didn't. Not often, anyway. It wasn't her thing. But that didn't mean she didn't know how to play. She had a brother, after all—a brother who regularly hustled around town for extra money.

  A brother who taught her everything he knew.

  "And if you win?" she asked. "Then what?"

  He smirked. "Then I get whatever I want."

  "Which is…?"

  "You'll have to wait and see."

  "Okay," she said. "Deal."

  He leaned his cue stick against the wall and gr
abbed his drink. "You can go first."

  Smirking, she lined up at the cue ball, striking it hard. A striped orange ball flew straight into the side pocket.

  "Lucky break."

  She cut her eyes at him. "That was skill, not luck."

  "Is that right?"

  "Yep."

  "Then go on," he said, his voice tinged with humor. "Show me more of your skill."

  He didn't have to tell her twice.

  Genna sunk three more balls back-to-back, catching his gaze when she struck a fourth. It hit the corner pocket at a slight angle, bouncing off instead.

  Matty gaped at her. Over half of her balls were gone. Had she not been tipsy, the game might have been over already.

  "Your turn," she said, stepping back.

  He set his drink down and grabbed his stick, eliminating four of his balls before narrowly missing the next. Genna knocked out another two, which he matched on his next turn, leaving them both with only one ball left.

  Genna sunk hers right off, casting Matty a look as she aimed for the eight ball. He appeared to be sweating. Panicked. "You hustled me."

  She shrugged a shoulder, hesitating, before shifting position slightly and hitting the cue ball. It breezed right past the black eight ball, striking his last solid ball instead. It slammed against the side, flying back toward her, right into the corner pocket.

  It ended her turn.

  Genna strolled over to the other side of the room, toward Matty, and put her cue stick away. Matty silently motioned toward a side pocket before hitting the eight ball into it.

  Game over.

  He turned to her, discarding his cue stick against the wall, his expression somber. "The little car thief almost stole my car, after all."

  "I did."

  "So why didn't you go through with it?"

  "Because there's something I wanted more than it."

  He stepped closer, the tips of his shoes flush against her painted toes as he gazed down at her. "And what's that?"

  "To know what you want from me."

  Wordlessly, his hands grasped her head, his large palms covering her warm cheeks, flushed from the alcohol. His touch was firm but gentle as he tilted her face up, cradling her like she was something precious, something he would never dare drop. He stared at her again, staring through her, like he could tell all of her secrets just by looking at her.