a/n: I don’t know if anyone hasn’t picked up on this, but this story has no end in sight. It was mostly just a filler while I figured out what to do after my first story. If I’m ever inspired to write more on this one I will, but for the most part, don’t count on it getting updated very often. So, to certain people who say they won’t read any other of my stories until this one is done, well, it won’t be done, I’m pretty sure, until The Exchange is done and I try to figure what to do THEN. Probably in that case I’ll end up with another knock off (can you say Before The Exchange???) and this story will be officially done.

Sorry this one’s short. I was slightly... pressured to get out a new chapter... Hope you like!

Before the Ghost: Gemma Manete

Eleven Month Prior

Gemma had moved to her current home in New Jersey a few years ago. She came from Pennsylvania originally, and still tried her hardest to keep in touch with her old friends back home. This didn’t always quite work out.

She was best at keeping tabs with her one friend, Gabby, who had been her best friend in Pennsylvania. The two usually emailed each other back and forth several times a week. They talked on the phone at least a few times a month.

One of these times had rolled around. They weren’t usually planned, but would spontaneously happen when one of them would say they had a story to tell but couldn’t write it out in an email and that they would just call the other.

And Gabby typed this out with a feeling of accomplishment. She hadn’t heard Gemma’s voice in a very long time. Since it was right after school, Gabby figured soon enough Gemma would check her email, see that she should expect a phone call around 8, and write back happily.

Perhaps the news Gabby planned to deliver was less than brightening. But that didn’t make it any less important that she call. She wondered if maybe she was just finding an excuse. What she had to say could have easily been typed out, the conversation carried through a confusing-as-hell network of wires and connections and geeks who actually understood the internet.

But Gabby decided it had been too long, and wanted to hear Gemma’s immediate reaction rather than give her a chance to creatively think through what to say before hitting the ‘Send’ button.

O

“Okay, what is it?” Gemma asked, unable, as usual, to wait very long to find out what Gabby had to tell her.

“Well, I’ve been thinking, and I found out why I thought your new town, city, whatever sucks.”

“Gab, we agreed, it’s because I live here instead of there.”

“Well then, I’ve thought of another reason to dislike it so much.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Simple. You’re in a rich area with lots of big houses in New Jersey. Clearly your family has moved you smack into the middle of a Mafia neighborhood.”

Gemma paused, unsure of whether or not Gabby was serious. After a few seconds, she busted out laughing. “A Mafia neighborhood?”

“Well it’s not that unreasonable.”

“Gabby, yes it is! I’ve never seen any sketchy Italian guys walking around, no cars suspiciously parked, no gunshots, no–”

“Hey, that last one doesn’t count. They’re not going to be shooting people up on the block right down the street from their Don.”

“Whatever. And absolutely no signs of FBI surveillance, and if you oh-so-perceptively realized this from another state, I would think the government or some local cops would notice a thing or two.”

“Just saying, it seems entirely possible.”

“Not really. I mean, it is possible, but I wouldn’t call it probable.”

“Yeah, people like you don’t get that kind of exciting and interesting life. You don’t deserve to have a Mafia operating from your neighbor’s basement.”

“Boy, sucks that I missed out on that one,” Gemma replied sarcastically.

“Please, you’d be fascinated.”

“Not really. I’d rather know that I could go through my life normally, raised in the calm suburbs. You know, rather than worry about getting caught in the crossfire.”

“If I were there we’d be fascinated and spy on them and 'accidentally' get pulled into the whole thing and would forever be remembered as Mafiosas. Admit it. That would be cool.”

“Right Gabby. Right.”

O

Gemma was now thinking about what Gabby had said. Of course it got her thinking! She thought about her neighbors, and the idea of them being in the Mafia. Any direction you went, she couldn’t think of anyone in her immediate area being mob quality, be it the El Salvadorean family that didn’t speak much English but had two really annoying dogs that barked at you when you were on your own deck next door, or the Ukranian family with the son that was her brother’s friend behind them.

No. It wasn’t possible that there was Mafia in their town.

Didn’t they, like, buy out several houses and put up their own when the need arose? No where in her neighborhood was like that at all. That didn’t happen anymore, this wasn’t the nineteen twenties, for God’s sake.

Gemma put it behind her. There was no Mafia in her neighborhood.