By Any Other Name (22 page)

"So it's guilt and not obligation."

"More like pity." Dante laughed at her when she forced down another mouthful of food. "Come on, I'll even buy you dinner."

Genna dropped her fork and shoved the tray of food aside before starting toward her brother. "I'll get changed."

"You look fine," he said, grabbing her arm to stop her when she tried to scoot past him.

Glancing down, she sighed—oversized gray shirt falling off her shoulder, ripped jeans, and a pair of black flats was certainly not going-out-on-Saturday-night
fine
in her world. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

Dante veered her straight out the door. Genna shrugged it off, climbing in the passenger seat of his car. She was only going for the food, anyway. She pulled her hair back, trying to tame the wild mess that she wasn't sure she had even brushed, as her brother set off toward Manhattan. "Where are we going? Wait... can we go to that steakhouse again? Oh, no, how about the café down in Little Italy?"

"Negative," he said as he headed south. "We're going to a sport’s bar tonight."

Her brow furrowed. "The Place?"

The words were from her lips, resonating in the air of the car before she had enough sense to restrain them or even realize what she was saying. She tensed when Dante cast her a curious look.
Shit
.

"What place?"

"The place you always go to," she said, trying to backtrack. "You know, whenever you go out. Your usual place."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Genna blew out a breath, turning to look out the window. Maybe it was a genius name, after all. She said nothing else as they drove through the city, to a place riding the border between Little Italy and Nolita. Dante parked his car in an underground garage and led her into the bar from a back entrance. It looked similar to The Place but not quite as upscale, the interior worn and lighting dim. People packed the area, chatting and laughing, drinks covering tables as music blasted from speakers positioned in the corners. Above the sound of the rock song, Genna heard balls cracking from a game of pool in the back.

Dante headed straight to a booth and motioned for a waiter, who abandoned the customer he was helping to immediately attend to her brother. Genna involuntarily smiled at that, thinking of Matty. It was how they had treated him at The Place.

"Get me a beer—a Heineken," he said. "And get my sister a Coke."

"Just Coke?"

"Rum," Genna chimed in. "Rum and Coke."

"Rum and Coke, just without the liquor." Dante's voice had a hard edge to it, to stress his point. "You hear me?"

The waiter nodded. "Just Coke."

"Oh, and you got a menu?" Dante asked. "She's hungry."

"Absolutely." The waiter grabbed a menu, handing it over to Dante, before setting off to get their drinks.

Genna settled into the booth as she glanced at the menu, scanning through it for something to eat. The waiter returned with their drinks and stood there, patiently waiting to take their order.

"I'll have a burger," Dante said. "Rare, with everything on it."

"I'll have the same," Genna said, shrugging as she closed her menu. "Except I want mine actually cooked."

It didn't take long for their food to arrive, a few minutes at most. Genna scowled, picking the onions and pickles off of her burger, before diving in. Dante drank his beer as he ate before pushing his plate aside and motioning toward the back of the place. "You mind if I go hit a few balls?"

She shook her head. "Go ahead."

Dante smirked, tapping his fist against the table as he stood up to walk away. Genna finished her food in silence. She could see the pool tables from where she was sitting and watched as her brother slapped some money down on the nearest table.
Hustling
. Laughing, she glanced down at her plate and grabbed a fry, popping it in her mouth as she looked back up. Her expression fell instantly and she paused chewing, caught off guard when someone slipped into the booth across from her, blocking her view of the game.

He was no one she knew personally, although his face struck her as familiar, like she
should
know him from somewhere. Regardless, his sudden presence, uninvited at her table, made her hair bristle. She took stock of his chiseled jaw and clean-cut face… classically handsome, not the rough and tumble type, but his eyes told a deeper story. They were the color of steel, accentuated by his stark gray suit.

"Excuse me," she said defensively as she sat back in the booth, instinctively moving away from him. "But I was just trying to—"

"Genevieve, right?" He raised his eyebrows as he cut her off. "Genevieve Galante?"

That silenced her mid-thought. He knew her name. Her expression hardened as she stared at him, her thoughts already turning defensive.
Who the fuck
? "Depends on who's asking."

"You can call me Gavin."

"I'd rather not call you at all," she said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I was trying to eat."

He held his hands up. "Don't let me stop you."

She expected him to get up, to get a clue, but instead he remained in spot and motioned for the waiter. The man hesitantly approached, seeming surprised to see them sitting together.

I'm just as fucking surprised, buddy.

"Get me my usual," Gavin said. "And get Miss Galante a refill of whatever she's drinking."

"Rum and Coke," Genna muttered, picking up her glass as she laughed dryly. "Sans rum."

"Roman Coke," Gavin ordered, surprising Genna when he used that name. "
With
the rum this time."

"But…" The waiter slowly shook his head. "Mr. Galante said not to."

"Well,
I
say give the girl some rum," Gavin argued. "So I guess what you do now depends on what outcome scares you more."

The waiter seemed torn, genuinely frightened, as he backed away from the table. Genna's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she gazed at the guy sitting across from her. "Gavin, you said? Do you have a last name?"

He nodded. "Amaro."

Amaro
. Now that name she knew. The waiter's fearful expression made sense now. She relaxed back in the booth, waiting silently until their drinks were brought to them. She took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness of the liquor. It was
strong
.

"Nice to know I haven't lost my touch," Gavin said, noticing her expression.

"Well, thanks for the drink," she said, motioning toward him with the glass. "But really, I'm here with my brother, and I'm not so sure he'll be happy to see you talking to me, so you might want to… you know…"

"Go away?" he guessed.

Bingo
.

"Your brother won't mind," Gavin said. "Besides, we're just talking."

"What do
we
have to talk about?"

Gavin picked up his drink and took a sip, not answering for a moment, his eyes leaving hers to scan the bar around them. "I'm surprised to see you here, Genevieve."

"Genna," she corrected him, "with a G."

"Genna with a G," he echoed. "Like I said, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought The Place in Soho was more your scene."

Panic bubbled up inside of Genna. His voice was nonchalant, but there was a deeper meaning in those words that twisted her stomach in knots. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" he asked, meeting her eyes again.

"No," she said. "Not at all."

He leaned across the table closer to her. "Liar."

Genna sat still, her gaze darting over Gavin's shoulder to where her brother played pool, oblivious to her visitor. She turned back to Gavin, trying to swallow back the alarm. "Look, I don't know what you want from me, but if you think you can intimidate me—"

Before she could finish, Gavin cut her off with an amused laugh. "You think I'm trying to threaten you?"

"I don't know what you're trying to do."

"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. Heartbroken. 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.