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"No, no, Hunter was there at the time," Spencer said, like he relished the fact. "He’s on leave from the Marines for a couple of weeks."
I covered my mouth in shock. "He was there?" I said, turning to Spencer, scarcely able to process it. "He saw Sean being shot?"
Spencer shrugged. "So was Conor. The whole damn family saw it. I would have liked the FBI to take them all in, but they only had incriminating evidence on Donny's involvement with the Romanov family. He was a nice catch, though." Spencer stood there, his hands on his hips, like he had scored some huge victory. "The whole lot of them could be shot, for all I care. Sean worked for the Romanov family, breaking arms and legs. I showed you the evidence."
"He's a human being," I protested, disgusted that Spencer was so callous. "He was a human being," I said, correcting myself. Sean was dead…
"He’s one less thug to deal with," Spencer scoffed. "He was a low-life thug, Celia. He broke people's bones when they failed to pay their protection money or loan shark interest."
"I can't believe he's dead," I said, my eyes filling with tears. I turned back to the television and watched stock footage of the gym, the old façade of the building with the original sign, reminiscent of another era. Early twentieth-century architecture. A newer sign had been placed beneath it featuring a muscle-bound boxer with his dukes up.
"Deader than a doornail," Spencer said, his hands on his hips, watching the television coverage. He glanced at me and saw my tears. "What are you all teary about? Sean Saint worked for the Russian mafia. You know that. My God, has everything I've shown you and told you about that family been a total waste of time?"
I didn’t say anything more. Instead I sat and stared at the television screen, wiping my eyes while I listened to the talking heads go on about organized crime in Boston and how the Saint family was at the center of an investigation into their ties to the Romanov family.
I knew it all. Spencer had shown me information over the past couple of years on the Saints and their ties to the mob in Boston and New York. It made me thankful that Hunter had pulled himself out of the family business and joined the Marines. It made up for losing him as a friend, as a lover. Hunter was smart. He was good. He didn’t want
to be part of the family's business precisely because he knew he'd get pulled in.
I hoped this didn't change things.
I wanted to call Hunter up and say how sorry I was to hear about Sean's death. How horrible for him to see Sean shot, to have to make the decision to take him off life support.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold.
"You're going to have to face facts. If you want to follow my footsteps and be a prosecutor, you have to let your head guide you, not your heart," Spencer said, giving me a disapproving scowl.
I didn't respond. As far as I was concerned, Spencer was out of my life. I only showed up now and then to see my mother. Spencer tried to talk to me when I was there, prodding me to see how I was doing, what my grades were (great, thankyouverymuch) and whether I was seeing anyone at the time (nothankyouverymuch). I usually planned my visits for a time when he'd be at work so I wouldn't have to bump into him. For some reason, he was off work that day so I couldn't avoid him, but I decided I'd only stick around to say hi to mom and then leave.
"Aren't you staying for some tea?" she asked when I pulled on my sweater, planning to leave as quickly as possible. "We usually have a nice cup of tea when you come over."
"Not today," I said and grabbed my bag from the sofa. "I have things to do. I just popped by to check on how you're doing."
I bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She seemed upset but I had no interest in staying and putting up with Spencer's nastiness and gloating over Donny Saint’s arrest and Sean’s death. I needed to talk to Graham and see what he knew, if he even knew anything. He and Hunter had never been friends again after that weekend when Hunter and I got together.
I slipped on my shoes and felt Spencer's disapproval from across the room. I opened the door but turned back to catch my mom's eye.
"I'll come back another day," I said.
She nodded. "Soon, " she said. "I miss you. You've been so busy lately and we barely see you here for a meal or visit."
She knew I didn’t get along well with Spencer, but always held out hope that I'd come by and eat a meal with them. I never said much to her about him, but she must have known I planned to come by when he was out on purpose.
I took a bus back to the dorm, my mind totally occupied with thoughts of Hunter and of Sean's death, a pang of regret in my heart that everything had gone so wrong with Hunter and our family. Between Hunter and Graham. Most of all, between Hunter and me.
When we first got together, I had been ecstatic. Then, Spencer had intervened—once again—and ruined things. He forced both Graham and me to cut Hunter out of our lives.
How Hunter must hate us all.
I arrived back at my dorm room and threw my bag on the tiny two-seater sofa and myself on my bed. I lay there for an hour, numb, wild images passing through my mind of the FBI arriving at Saints Gym and arresting Donny Spencer, Sean trying to protect him and being shot, Hunter kneeling beside his body…
It was horrifying.
I clicked on the television and watched the news for a while, but then my cell dinged. I removed it from my bag and read the message from Amy.
AMY: OMG Celia!!! Did you watch the news? Sean Saint is dead…
I texted back, biting my cheek to stop my tears from starting once more.
