By Any Other Name (21 page)

"Then why is
she
here?"

"Because I know what ours is capable of, too. I was fucked from
both
sides, Enzo, but maybe you forgot that. I can't blame her any more than I can blame you. Less, even, considering she has nothing to do with her father's dealings, but you?" Matty scoffed. "You're so far in the shit I'm surprised you don't stink."

He did, Genna thought. His cologne made her nose twitch.

The brothers stared at each other, locked in a mutual irate glare, the air around them as silent as a graveyard. Genna remained still, her heart racing so hard she would be surprised if they couldn't hear it. She could, thump-thump-thumping away in her strained chest, echoing in her ears.

Enzo broke first, a fact that surprised Genna. He let out an exaggerated groan as he looked away, shaking his head. "You're playing with fire, Matty."

"Let me worry about that," Matty said, his hold on her loosening as he relaxed. He kept her close to him, never letting go, but she felt like she could finally breathe again at the casual tone of his voice. "If I get burned, I get burned."

"You'll get burned, alright," Enzo muttered, strolling right past them and plopping down on the couch. Matty spun them around to face him. "Pops finds out, he might burn you himself."

"He won't find out," Matty said. "Right?"

Enzo raised his hands defensively. "I'm certainly not going to tell him, if that's what you're worried about. But I don't see how you can keep it from him."

"He hasn't found out yet," Matty said. "And if he does, we'll deal with it then."

"When," Enzo corrected him. "When he finds out. Because he will. It's only a matter of time. And her father? When
he
finds out? That cold bastard is going to have your head chopped off. Probably display it on his fucking mantle like a trophy."

Genna's voice was meek as she instinctively spoke out. "He wouldn't."

Both boys laughed dryly as Enzo cast her an incredulous look. He clearly didn't like her.
At all
.

"He wouldn't," she said again, more insistent as she glared at him. "He's, well… he's not—"

"Don't," Matty said, the lips near her ear as he spoke the single word, brusque and firm, startling her into silence. "Just… don't."

"Nah, let her talk," Enzo said, his expression softening with amusement as he lounged back on the couch, stretching his arms out as he regarded her. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell us all about Primo and what he would or wouldn't do."

Genna tensed at those words.

Letting go of her, Matty sighed, slipping his arms from her grasp. He left her standing there, coldness washing through her without the comfort of his embrace. She remained in spot, stoic, as he strode toward the open kitchen. Without speaking, he grabbed a bottle of liquor, drinking straight from the bottle when he returned. He held it out to Genna, who took it without even looking, the bitter burn of alcohol scorching her throat.

She couldn't fight off the shudder.

"Genna, this is Enzo," Matty said, taking the bottle back from her and pointing it at his brother. "Enzo, this is Genna."

Neither one said anything. No warm greetings. No 'nice to meet you'.
Nothing
. Genna glowered at him for a moment before turning to Matty. "I've met him now."

Matty nodded. "And?"

"And he's even more of an asshole than I thought."

Matty just stared at her, but Enzo, surprisingly, burst into laughter, the animated sound drawing Genna's attention to him. He looked genuinely entertained by her assessment as he reached out, motioning for Matty to give him the bottle of liquor. Grasping it, he took a swig, trying to contain his amusement. "The feeling is mutual, sweetheart."

Genna grimaced at his condescending tone. That was the
second
time he'd called her that. "I'm not your sweetheart."

"I've got some other names I could call you, if you'd rather."

"What, like Medusa?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "Ice Princess?"

Enzo's eyes flickered to Matty before focusing on her again. "I was thinking more like
bitch
, but whatever tickles your fancy, sweetheart."

Before she could bite back, Matty wrapped an arm around her again, tugging her toward him. "I should get you home."

"Don’t leave on my account," Enzo said, standing up and thrusting the bottle of liquor right at Matty's chest as he strode toward the door. "Like I said, I just dropped in to say hey. I have work to do."

Matty sighed when Enzo left, the door slamming behind him. Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss on Genna's neck. "I'm sorry about him."

He was apologizing for his brother. A Barsanti, apologizing because another Barsanti was doing typical Barsanti things? Genna nearly laughed, but the reality of the situation kept her amusement at bay. "He took it all cooler than I expected."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Genna mumbled, leaning her head to the side as he kissed up toward her jawline. "Hell of a lot better than Dante would take it."

Enzo sat in the passenger seat of the Lotus, scowling as he stared out the side window, watching the darkness whiz by. Matty sped through the Manhattan streets, heading southeast toward Little Italy. His skin felt too tight for his body, itching as if stretched too far, discomfort crawling across his flesh.

Enzo hadn't spoken to him in days. The strain, annoying at first, had grown concerning, to the point where Matty could physically feel it pressing upon him.

"You get all of last week's payments collected?" Matty asked, attempting conversation. The silence was too damn much.

"Don't I always by now?" Enzo asked, his tone clipped. He still didn't look at him. "I'll pay you when we get done today."

"I'm not concerned about the money."

"Then why are you asking about it?"

It was a great question, one that Matty couldn't answer.
Because you won't talk to me
sounded really fucking petulant, and he figured Enzo was being childish enough for the both of them. Strained silence infiltrated the car as he continued on, driving over to Mulberry Street. He swung his car in along the curb, parking in front of the old music store. Before he could even cut the engine, Enzo had opened the door and stepped out.

Turning off the car, Matty sighed and joined his brother on the sidewalk. He had resisted... and resisted... and resisted some more... but it was inevitable that he would eventually end up here, dragged into one of his father's many schemes.

Extortion.

Little Italy was notorious for being volatile, a fact that Roberto Barsanti decided to capitalize on. For a hundred dollars a week, he offered protection to the local businesses—an offer most of them were too terrified to refuse. It wasn't a new scheme, but they had never skirted in such a gray area with it, tiptoeing around the unwritten rules and pushing invisible boundaries, advancing on territory that had never quite been claimed.

But the Barsanti family wanted it.

Enzo, always first to step up, agreed to set it all in motion, but Matty couldn't just sit back while his brother took all the risk. So stupidly, he volunteered to play chaperone, a fact he was regretting as he stood there. The neighborhood was far from threatening, but this was outside of their box.

Sooner or later, he knew it would come back to haunt them.

Wordlessly he followed Enzo around the neighborhood, standing back silently while his brother did his thing. People hardly even looked at Matty, much less acknowledged him, a fact he had grown used to. Most had figured out who he was, but the unknowns terrified them. His absence had turned him into a legend of sorts, a scary bedtime story about the boy who may or may not be dead.

After a while he slipped away while Enzo chatted with an old friend. Matty made his way to
Casato
, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped inside the cafe. Instantly the man behind the counter looked up, grinning when he spotted him. "Matteo!"

"Uncle Johnny," he said, nodding in greeting.

Johnny propped himself up on his walking cane as he gazed at him. "What can I get for you, kid?"

"Nothing," he said. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by."

Johnny Amaro still oversaw business at his family's old cafe, despite being the head of the notorious and wealthy Amaro crime family. It was a matter of pride, he'd always told Matty. Of having something legitimate that had been built with hard work.

"Come, sit, eat something," Johnny insisted. "It's been too long."

Matty obliged and sat at a table, drinking espresso and picking apart a muffin. Enzo appeared a little while later, greeting their uncle coolly before motioning toward the door. "I'm done, so we can go."

Standing up, Matty tried to pay but Johnny refused his money, instead waving him away. "Don't be a stranger."

"I won't."

They walked out, and Enzo shot him daggers as soon as they were back on the street. "You're awfully friendly with the Amaros."

Matty's brow furrowed. "They're our family."

"Barely," Enzo said. "Besides, you know, when it comes to
family
, blood doesn't matter as much as loyalty."

Matty ignored that, his head down as they strolled around the block, heading to where the Lotus was parked.

As soon as they turned the corner, Enzo's footsteps faltered and he cursed under his breath. "Fuck."

Matty glanced at him peculiarly, seeing the look of hatred on his face. He followed his brother's gaze, his stomach dropping. Down the street, lurking in front of the music store, were two guys, the nearby streetlight illuminating their shadowy figures and giving Matty flashes of one of their faces.

Dante Galante stood dead center of the sidewalk, blocking their path, his hands casually in his pockets, posture relaxed as he chatted with a guy in front of him. The other was short, five-feet-nothing with the build of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

Enzo hardly balked, his footsteps picking back up as he strolled down the street right toward them.

"Well, well, well," Enzo drawled. "If it isn't the scum of the streets, clogging the sidewalk and being about as useless as a Galante is known for being."

Dante's shoulders stiffened but he kept his stance nonchalant. "Barsanti."

Matty skirted around them, stepping off the curb as he headed for the Lotus, but Enzo strode forward, right toward the men. He stepped between them, purposely walking slow, brushing against Dante as he glared at him, his expression imploring the boy to react. Dante maintained his stance, not backing down, feet cemented to the sidewalk.

Shaking his head, Enzo laughed bitterly under his breath as he stepped toward the car. Slowly, Dante turned around to watch, eyes narrowed at Enzo before drifting along the Lotus. His gaze caught Matty's after a moment. "Nice car."

Matty hesitated. A compliment? "Thanks."

"A Lotus, huh? What is it, an Elise?"

"Evora."

"Lotus Evora," Dante said. "Can't be too many of them around, huh? Thought I saw one in East Harlem one afternoon. Looked damn near identical to yours."

Shit
. He knew he had seen him—Genna had confirmed it—but he had hoped it never went beyond that. He had tried to avoid lingering in the area since.

Before Matty could think of some response that didn't make him look so damn guilty or defensive, Enzo chimed in. "You accusing my brother of something, Galante?"

"Of course not," Dante said. "I'm just saying..."

"I know what you're saying," Enzo said. "And you can stop right where you started with that shit."

"Yeah, well, just remember," Dante quipped. "You stay on your side and we'll stay on ours."

"I don't need you to tell me what to do," Enzo said. "There isn't a damn thing we want in East Harlem."

Dante said nothing, but his suspicious expression told Matty he didn't believe that.
His sister
was in East Harlem, and that clearly worried Dante.

"We got better things to do than deal with you," Enzo muttered, turning away from Dante to get in the car. "Come on, Matty. Let's get the hell out of here."

Matty started to get in the car when Dante's voice rang out again, calling his name. "Matty."

He glanced at Dante, raising his eyebrows curiously. "What?"

"That's what they call you?" Dante asked. "
Matty
?"

Something about his tone stalled Matty from answering, but Enzo was quick to chime in. "That's his fucking name, isn't it?"

Dante ignored the hostile question, his eyes focused straight on Matty. "Just remember what we said here… stay out of our territory and away from what's ours. Ain't nothing there for you.
At all
."

Matty didn't acknowledge the statement, getting right in the car and starting it up, revving the engine and speeding away from the curb before Enzo could even put his seatbelt on. Matty could feel his brother's gaze on him as he drove toward Soho, the judgment like daggers piercing through him.

"Never thought you'd do it, Matteo."

He glanced at his brother cautiously, knowing he was uncharacteristically furious. "Do what?"

"Be the one to catch pussy blindness," Enzo said, shaking his head. "Guess she fucked the common sense right out of you. Is it
that
good, brother?"

"En?"

"What?"

"I'm still not talking to you about my sex life."

"Yeah, well, you ought to," Enzo muttered, "considering I'm probably going to get fucked by all of this, too."

Genna leaned against the counter in the kitchen, watching the frozen dinner as it spun in circles on the tray in the microwave, the time on the clock steadily counting down.

Thirty seconds.

Twenty-nine.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-seven.

Ugh, hurry the fuck up already.

"What are you doing?"

Genna glanced toward the doorway, seeing her brother standing there, staring at her incredulously. He was freshly showered and dressed impeccably in all black from head-to-toe.
Someone has plans tonight…

"Trying to kill myself by overdosing on radiation," she said, motioning toward the microwave just as it beeped.
About damn time
. Five minutes felt like an eternity with your stomach growling. "Seriously, what does it
look
like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're making food," Dante replied. "Genevieve Galante, in the kitchen, cooking something. One of these things just doesn't belong here."

She rolled her eyes, popping open the microwave door and pulling the container out—Salisbury steak, gravy, mashed potatoes, and corn. "It's a microwave meal thingy. I'd hardly call it cooking."

"Well, I'd still call it a miracle."

Genna removed the sheet of plastic from the flimsy white tray and grabbed a fork to poke at the food. She cut off a piece of meat and popped it in her mouth.

"Is it good?" Dante asked, expression laced with morbid amusement as he watched her struggle to chew.

"About as good as that shit I served everyone yesterday at the soup kitchen," she said.
Mystery Meatloaf
.

"So why are you eating it?"

"Because I'm hungry," she said, taking another bite. "Because Dad's off God-knows-where, so there's no dinner tonight, so a bitch has gotta eat
something
."

Dante laughed, shaking his head. "You should come with me tonight."

Genna took a bite of corn. It had no taste at all, like she was chewing little yellow rubbery bits. "Where?"

"Out," he said, shrugging. "It's Saturday night."

She gazed at her brother skeptically, slowly taking a bite of potatoes and grimacing at the thin, grainy texture.
Gross
. Swallowing, she waved her fork at him. "This isn't, like,
work
, is it? You're not saying that because you wanna go out but Dad ordered you to stick around and watch me instead?"

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "I'm off-duty."