of people?"
"Occasionally," he replied. "Usually we have enough that some of them come back for seconds, though."
Her brow furrowed. "I've never seen anyone come back for seconds."
"That's because you're gone by the time that happens," he said. "Dinner shift ends at seven, officially, but we don't make anyone leave. Some of these people are still here come ten o'clock, eating until the food runs out. We let nothing go to waste, and for most of them, this is the only meal they'll get today."
That stunned her. She glanced around, taking in their faces. Most of them smiled as a wave of chatter rolled through the room. They didn't have a fraction of what she had in life, yet they looked more satisfied than she ever was.
She didn't think of herself as a self-centered person, but she felt extremely greedy then.
"You can go now," the coordinator said. "It's seven."
"No, I'd like to stay," she said, glancing at him. "If that's okay."
He smiled. "Absolutely. You're welcome to stay as long as you want."
There wasn't a lot of leftover food tonight, but enough that a few dozen were able to come back for second helpings—mostly parents, getting it for their children. It was civil and polite, no one fighting over who got extra or walking away angry. They seemed to be just grateful for whatever they were given.
It was after ten o'clock when she finally left the community center, where she promptly discovered her brother standing out front, leaning back against his car parked along the curb, his arms crossed over his chest. Her brow furrowed as she approached him. "Dante? Everything okay?"
"Dad sent me to check on you. You didn't come home for dinner so he got worried."
"How long have you been here?"
"An hour or so."
"Why didn't you come in?"
"I did," he replied. "I walked in, was gonna ask when you left, but I saw you were still working. Figured I'd let you do your thing and wait here for you."
"You didn't have to wait," she said. Dante just stared at her. Yes, he did have to wait. Their father sent him for her, and there was no way he could have gone back home alone.
"Come on," he said, opening the passenger side door, and motioning inside. "Let's go home. I'm starving."
The thirty-floor luxury building stood on a street corner on Sixth Avenue in the Chelsea neighborhood, housing sixty vast condominiums, each one still vacant. Construction was just wrapping up, tenants expected to start moving in within a matter of weeks. Lights shined on the outside of the building, reflecting off of the expansive windows and illuminating the small trailer still parked on the lot.
A dim light shined within the trailer as electricity hummed from a generator connected to it. Matty pulled his Lotus straight up to the front of the new building, parking in the space designed for valet drop off. He locked his car doors and set off straight for the trailer, tapping lightly on the door when he approached it.
It only took a moment before it was pulled open a crack, suspicious eyes peering out at him. Confusion played on the guy's face momentarily before a smile split his hard exterior. He yanked the door open the rest of the way and stood there, grinning.
Gavin Amaro.
"Well, well, well," Gavin said, "if it isn't the one and only Matty-B."
The Amaros, along with the Genevas and the Calabreses, rounded out the five crime families that controlled New York's underworld. While they tried to maintain neutrality, the Amaro family was widely considered the Barsantis greatest ally due to the fact that they were practically family.
Practically being key. Roberto Barsanti and Johnny Amaro shared no blood, but their children did. The men had married sisters, Savina and Lena Brazzi from the family that controlled most of New Jersey. While that wasn't enough to officially unify the families, it did give Matty someone on the outside that he could turn to. Gavin wasn't only his cousin, but he was also a mentor, and even someone he would call a close
"Occasionally," he replied. "Usually we have enough that some of them come back for seconds, though."
Her brow furrowed. "I've never seen anyone come back for seconds."
"That's because you're gone by the time that happens," he said. "Dinner shift ends at seven, officially, but we don't make anyone leave. Some of these people are still here come ten o'clock, eating until the food runs out. We let nothing go to waste, and for most of them, this is the only meal they'll get today."
That stunned her. She glanced around, taking in their faces. Most of them smiled as a wave of chatter rolled through the room. They didn't have a fraction of what she had in life, yet they looked more satisfied than she ever was.
She didn't think of herself as a self-centered person, but she felt extremely greedy then.
"You can go now," the coordinator said. "It's seven."
"No, I'd like to stay," she said, glancing at him. "If that's okay."
He smiled. "Absolutely. You're welcome to stay as long as you want."
There wasn't a lot of leftover food tonight, but enough that a few dozen were able to come back for second helpings—mostly parents, getting it for their children. It was civil and polite, no one fighting over who got extra or walking away angry. They seemed to be just grateful for whatever they were given.
It was after ten o'clock when she finally left the community center, where she promptly discovered her brother standing out front, leaning back against his car parked along the curb, his arms crossed over his chest. Her brow furrowed as she approached him. "Dante? Everything okay?"
"Dad sent me to check on you. You didn't come home for dinner so he got worried."
"How long have you been here?"
"An hour or so."
"Why didn't you come in?"
"I did," he replied. "I walked in, was gonna ask when you left, but I saw you were still working. Figured I'd let you do your thing and wait here for you."
"You didn't have to wait," she said. Dante just stared at her. Yes, he did have to wait. Their father sent him for her, and there was no way he could have gone back home alone.
"Come on," he said, opening the passenger side door, and motioning inside. "Let's go home. I'm starving."
The thirty-floor luxury building stood on a street corner on Sixth Avenue in the Chelsea neighborhood, housing sixty vast condominiums, each one still vacant. Construction was just wrapping up, tenants expected to start moving in within a matter of weeks. Lights shined on the outside of the building, reflecting off of the expansive windows and illuminating the small trailer still parked on the lot.
A dim light shined within the trailer as electricity hummed from a generator connected to it. Matty pulled his Lotus straight up to the front of the new building, parking in the space designed for valet drop off. He locked his car doors and set off straight for the trailer, tapping lightly on the door when he approached it.
It only took a moment before it was pulled open a crack, suspicious eyes peering out at him. Confusion played on the guy's face momentarily before a smile split his hard exterior. He yanked the door open the rest of the way and stood there, grinning.
Gavin Amaro.
"Well, well, well," Gavin said, "if it isn't the one and only Matty-B."
The Amaros, along with the Genevas and the Calabreses, rounded out the five crime families that controlled New York's underworld. While they tried to maintain neutrality, the Amaro family was widely considered the Barsantis greatest ally due to the fact that they were practically family.
Practically being key. Roberto Barsanti and Johnny Amaro shared no blood, but their children did. The men had married sisters, Savina and Lena Brazzi from the family that controlled most of New Jersey. While that wasn't enough to officially unify the families, it did give Matty someone on the outside that he could turn to. Gavin wasn't only his cousin, but he was also a mentor, and even someone he would call a close
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