By Any Other Name (32 page)

Peace
.

It didn't happen often, not to the extent that settled over Manhattan that weekend. Both sides willfully retreated in an unspoken cease-fire, crossing back into their own territory, those invisible walls that divided the city locking back into place to keep the families apart, but the damage had already been done.

Their worlds were fractured by a misery that moments of strained peace couldn't begin to mend.

Nothing happened for days—no violence, no theft, no brutality. No blood spilled into the desolate streets. Dante's car was recovered not far from home, the driver's side door wide open and the keys still dangling in the ignition. There was no sign of him, the interior splattered with blood. Her phone had been found lying on the passenger floorboard, the front of it cracked from an apparent scuffle.

Genna wallowed, mourning, holed up in her house, not even stepping outside on the porch to face the sun. She didn't want to see it shining, didn't want to see the world continuing to turn. Days passed as a blur of hours... minutes... seconds...

She went through the motions, looking but not seeing, touching but not feeling. She was there, but she felt so far away.

"Are you okay?" Matty asked quietly over the phone one night, their communication the two weeks since Enzo’s death little more than a string of missed calls and text messages. She had so much to say to him, so much to tell him, to ask him, to beg of him, but their words were lost in a haze of grief.
Are you okay
? It was a question she'd asked him more than once, but it felt like a slap to the face when wielded in return.

Of course I'm fucking not okay.

"It doesn't feel real," she whispered, her voice strained. She lay on her bed in the darkness, her phone on the pillow beside her on speakerphone. His voice surrounded her, so close, yet too distant. If she closed her eyes, it almost…
almost
… felt like he was right there. "It's like, if I don't see it... how can it be real?"

No body, no funeral. Although Dante was presumed dead by the family, the assumption didn't offer any closure, didn't comfort her, when without
him
it just didn't feel real. There one minute and gone the next... but gone where?

Logically, she knew she would likely never know. Dante had warned her of that once before. It felt like a lifetime ago when they had stood in Little Italy and he warned her that if the Barsantis got ahold of one of them, there would be nothing left to identify.

"You know, I tried to go to Joey's funeral," Matty said. "I almost did. I got dressed and went downstairs and said I was going. I didn't ask... I
told
. My father forbid it, but I stood up to him."

"What stopped you?"

"He did, of course. Locked me in my bedroom until it was over. He said it wasn't safe, and he was right—it wasn't. It
still
isn't. It'll never be safe for me in this city. But still, to this day, I regret not going. Without closure, it's hard for a wound to heal."

"Will it?" she asked. "Will it get better? Will it ever
heal
?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I was only eight when I lost my best friend, and it hasn't healed yet."

"Yeah, well, I'm eighteen, and my best friend's gone now, and I don't think I'll ever be okay again."

"You'll be okay." Matty's voice was barely a whisper. "We both will be."

Genna closed her eyes, tears streaming from the corner of them and running down her cheeks. Wiping them away, she let out a shaky breath. Would they be okay? She so desperately wanted to believe that.

"Matty, there's something I need to tell you," she said, her voice shaking. "Something you should know."

"What is it?" Before she could respond, there was a shuffling on the line, and Matty cursed under his breath. "Hold that thought. My father's here."

Immediately, the phone beeped as Matty ended the call, silence overcoming her bedroom again. She continued to lay there, in no mood to move, in no mood to do
anything
. Time passed again, darkness falling over the room, before a chime rang out with a new message from Matty.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow…
Monday
. She knew they were planning to finally bury Enzo then, to put him to rest.

She replied right away.
What about it?

His answer was prompt.
Tomorrow we leave.

Genna stared at those words. He had promised her they'd go, that they'd leave and never look back. That they'd start over new somewhere. Matty told her he lived in the present, that he took things as they came, but somewhere along the line that had changed. He was preparing for the future now.

A future for them
together
.

Tomorrow
, she thought, closing her eyes again, her hands drifting to her stomach instinctively.
Just one more day and we're out of here
.

For the second time that summer, Matty found himself standing in the middle of the Catholic cemetery, in nearly the same exact spot both times—the Barsanti family plot.

Weeks ago it had been vacant, just a grassy knoll, perfectly kempt and waiting for the day it would be needed. But now a headstone stuck up from the ground, bearing the name Savina Brazzi-Barsanti, the grass just feet from it freshly disturbed as they said goodbye to yet another one.

Enzo
. Matty felt the void, the space beside his father where his brother had always stood now nothing but air, nobody daring to step foot there. Sighing, Matty kept his head down, hands clasped in front of him, until the final "Amen" was spoken from the grieving crowd.

Within seconds he was walking away, not bothering to stick around for the customary
'pay your respects to the family
' bullshit, and approached his cousin Gavin. Subtly, Gavin nodded in greeting, his voice quiet as he said, "I'll be in touch."

Matty returned the nod before he strolled through the cemetery, away from the crowd, off toward the other side where he had never ventured before.

It took him a while—ten, maybe fifteen minutes—before he caught sight of what he was looking for. The headstones were worn, having been here for years… one more faded than the other.

Joseph Galante

Below his name, below the too short dates spanning his life bore the words '
forever young'
. He was buried beside his mother, her headstone larger to someday accommodate Primo on the same marble marker. His name was there, etched in the stone, his day of death left blank.

The callous bastard was still breathing.

Around them were empty plots Matty suspected were reserved for the other Galante children, but neither would ever be buried there. Dante, because he had vanished, and Genna, because Matty was getting her the hell out of there. She wouldn't be around to see the end of it, to see the bitter conclusion of the long-standing rivalry.

Neither
of them would be there.

Because Matty knew, deep down inside, that it wasn't over. They were merely standing in the eye of the hurricane… and it only stayed calm for so long.

"Soon."

The gruff voice behind Matty made the hair at the nape of his neck bristle. He hadn't heard his father approach. Slowly turning his head, he eyed the man. "Soon?"

"Soon that headstone will have a date," Roberto said, glaring at the worn marble displaying Primo's name. "And then I'll finally be satisfied."

"Will you?" Matty asked quietly, turning away from his father. "Will you really be
satisfied
?"

Instead of being offended by the question, Roberto let out a light laugh, slapping his son on the back before roughly squeezing his shoulder. "As satisfied as a man like me can be."

Not satisfied at all.

Roberto let go of him and took a step away. "You coming back to the house?"

"No, I have some things to take care of," Matty said.

"Family business?" Roberto asked.

"Yes," Matty said quietly. "Family."

Nodding, Roberto walked away without saying another word. Matty stood there for a few minutes longer before glancing at his watch. Six o'clock. He was picking Genna up a little after nine, after her father went to sleep.

That gave him three hours.

Strolling back through the trail of headstones, he headed toward his Lotus parked along the road, pressing the button a few feet away to unlock the doors and start the engine. As soon as he was inside, he sped away, giving only a brief glance back at the cemetery.

He drove to The Place, ordering a Roman Coke from the bartender and taking a seat at his usual table out of pure habit. He sat there, staring at the empty seat across from him as he nursed his drink, trying to gather the courage to go upstairs. Enzo's things were scattered all over the apartment, exactly where he had left them, and Matty didn't have the heart to face it.

When his drink was finished, he ordered another.

And another.

And another.

Time faded away, darkness falling outside before his phone chimed with a message from a familiar number.
Meet me at Casato.

Matty stood back up and strolled through The Place as he glanced at his watch again. It was already pushing eight. Instead of going upstairs, instead of packing his things like he had planned, he merely walked away. He had just enough time to swing by Little Italy before claiming his girl and getting the hell out of Manhattan, the hell out of New York, the hell away from the Galantes, and the Barsantis, and everything.

"Not working tonight?" the bartender asked when he strolled toward the door.

"No," Matty said.
Not working ever again
.

He drove to Little Italy, parking the Lotus in a spot just past his destination. He strolled toward Casato, his hands in his pockets, his head down. The café was quiet at this hour as they were closing up for the night. Matty stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling. Johnny wasn't working tonight, a young woman behind the counter casting him a curious look. "We're closing in five minutes."

"Yeah, I'm just looking for somebody," Matty said. "Gavin Amaro?"

As if on cue, the door to the kitchen swung open and Gavin stepped out, his attention on his phone as he dialed a number. He brought it to his ear but hesitated when he looked up, his expression brightening. He laughed as he ended his call and slipped his phone back away. "I was just calling you."

"Here I am," Matty said.

Gavin turned toward the girl working. "You can go ahead and leave. I'll finish closing up."

She said her thanks and jetted out the door. Once she was gone, Gavin pulled a manila envelope from his suit coat and slapped it down on the nearest table. "Everything you asked for—two brand new identities, totally legit, complete with birth certificates and driver's licenses."

"And the person you got it from…?"

"No problem," Gavin said. "Called in a favor out of Chicago. He'll never utter a word about it."

"Ah." Matty picked it up, clutching the envelope tightly. "Thanks."