Celia

I’d worked as a bartender part time for the past two years at the Brass Lantern, a pub that many Harvard students frequented, and it was my pub of choice when I was off work. I knew the entire crew and got drinks at a discount, so of course, given my new status as impoverished non-trust fund baby, I had to watch my pennies.

Amy and I slid onto stools at the bar and faced Dean, the bartender working that night.

"Hey, Celia," he said and smiled at me and Amy. "What can I get for you?"

"Margarita," I said. "Make it a double."

"Make that two," Amy said and nodded to Dean.

"Whoa," he said. "You two mean business. What's up? First week of law school got you down already?"

I shook my head and watched while Dean poured my drink. When he placed it in front of me, I took a long gulp. "Graham's in ICU."

"Oh, man, that's rough," Dean said. "What the hell happened? Car accident?"

I took another sip. "Bad business deal."

Dean made an alarmed face. "Oooh, that's not good. What happened? I thought he was a wizard with money. Doesn't he have this really hot investment startup?"

"Yeah, but let's just say he made a few bad investments and got into trouble."

"Sucks," Dean said. "Will he be okay?"

"They're keeping him in ICU overnight and then he'll be admitted to the neurology ward to watch him for a few days. He's going to need a lot of rehab."

"Well, you give him my regards."

I nodded and Dean went back to pouring drinks.

I turned to Amy. "What they hell am I going to do?"

"Go to Hunter," she said. "Graham's right. He's got lots of money."

"He's got lots of hate on for us, too," I said.

Amy shrugged. "What other choice do you have? Spencer will freak when he learns that Graham lost your money."

I shook my head. "Hunter hates us."

"Hunter had the hots for you. That's what Graham said."

"Hunter's a manslut," I replied, remembering Hunter from before. "He never has the same woman twice and he's never alone. The man must have slept with hundreds of women in his time. I was nothing but another piece of ass to him. Fresh, young and willing."

Amy took a sip of her drink. "Go to him," she said and sucked on the slice of lime. "Ask him for the money. Otherwise, those loan sharks will come back for Graham. And maybe you, too."

I had to admit she was right.

"Hey, Dean," I said. Dean came right over. "Do you need any relief bartenders? I need a second job."

"You know we're always short," he said. "Go look at the schedule and put yourself down for a few more shifts. We have openings and I've been pulling double shifts so it'd be great if you're available."

I nodded. At least I'd be able to pay for a rain coat in case I became homeless but even with extra shifts at the bar, there was no way I could scrape together enough money to afford to stay in Kirkland House, let alone pay for Graham's debt.

I had no idea how I could manage two jobs and Harvard Law at the same time… If I couldn't convince Hunter to lend Graham the money for the loan shark, I'd have to go to Spencer and that would be a nightmare.

I'd avoid that at all costs if I could.

* * *

The next morning, I went to Mass General first thing to check on Graham. He was better, and had a clean CT so they were going to transfer him to the neurology ward to watch him for a few days as soon as his bed opened. He was still sick enough that he was taking some version of morphine, but he had passed the night successfully without any regression and so the doctor was optimistic he would be discharged from the neuro ward to a rehab ward in a few days.

I spent the morning watching him sleep in the ICU while they got his room on the neurology ward ready, drinking coffee and reading over a few journal articles I brought along on case law for my law class in the afternoon. I felt good enough about Graham's progress that I could leave him in the hospital and go to class. It was a huge relief because I didn't want to get behind, but at the same time, I wanted to be sure Graham was on the mend before I left him alone.

He woke up close to noon and blinked several times, like he was trying to remember where he was.

"Hey, big brother," I said and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "How are you? You've been sleeping all morning."

"Hey," he managed through his gritted teeth. "Sorry."

"No worries." I smiled and squeezed his hand. "That's what I'm here for."

"Did you call Mom?"

I shook my head. "I was a good girl and obeyed your order not to. We should probably wait until we figure out the loan shark thing before I call. She's on the cruise and I don't want her to feel like they have to fly back or anything. If you weren't getting better, I would have called though."

He moved his head slightly to indicate agreement.

"Did you call Hunter?"

I sighed. "Not yet." I felt bad that I didn't contact him but it was the very last thing I wanted to do in life. "He won't want to talk to me, Graham. You're being too optimistic that he'll be willing to help."

"He has money," Graham managed. "He'll help. Call him."

I frowned, not wanting to deal with this. Of course, I had to deal with this. Soon. That '7 Days' carved into Graham's chest was a clear message.

"I'll try," I said. "But I doubt he'll agree to speak to me, considering what happened."

It wasn't just that I'd been mean to him four years earlier. It was that Spencer caused their family irreparable harm. The kind of harm you couldn’t forgive.

Why would Hunter even consider speaking with me, let alone lending us the money we needed to pay back the loan shark?

"You really think Hunter will help you? After what Spencer did?"

"He will. Call him. Right away, Celia," he said, his voice full of urgency. "I'll be dead in less than a week if you don't."

"Do you really think they'll kill you? They'd never get any money from you if they do."

"They will," he said and his voice was starting to sound strained. I had to move closer to hear his voice. "They'll come after you for the insurance money. You're my beneficiary."

I sat back in my chair with a thud. "Oh, God. I never thought of that. Should I call police? Maybe they could protect us.”

“No, don’t bring the police into this. They think it’s just a mugging.”

“I really should call them,” I said, all my instincts telling me to trust the police.

“No. The mob will kill me, Celia, no matter what you do. They’ll get their money, one way or another. If I can't pay, killing me would solve their problems. Call Hunter. He'll help."

I could text Hunter if his cell was still the same. If he didn't answer, I could always go down to the gym and see if he was in the office. Worst case scenario? I'd have to go to the club he managed in person and confront him if he didn't answer my texts.

"Okay, but I hope you're right," I said, feeling sick to my stomach at the prospect of seeing Hunter again after everything that happened between us and our families.

But I loved my big brother. The reality of the situation with the loan shark was finally sinking in, now that I could see Graham would recover. I'd do anything to save his life.

"Please, Celia," Graham whispered through clenched teeth.

"I'll do it," I said and squeezed Graham's hand again. "I'll text him right away."

"Thank you," he replied and squeezed back. Then he went to sleep, as if the strain of talking about this was too much for him.

I didn’t blame him. I felt this sense of doom hanging over me as well. Usually, my first instinct would be to call Spencer and the police. Maybe Graham was right — the mob would get their money no matter what I did.

I never thought about how Graham's actions could hurt me personally, other than seeing Graham harmed. I never thought they'd kill him. Most of all, I never imagined that I'd become their next target and that killing Graham might be the easiest way for them to get their money back.

* * *

I went to my criminal law class in the afternoon, but was quiet and didn't offer any comments or ask any questions. I was distracted by my situation and what I had to do. My professor must have noticed it because he asked me to stay behind as we began filing out.

A balding man in his sixties with half-eye glasses that perched on the end of his nose, Professor Markham looked like a kindly grandfather but he was a slave driver when it came to class participation.

"Ms. Parker," he said in a slightly annoyed voice. He stood behind the huge desk at the front of the lecture hall and looked me over when I stood in front of him. "You were silent today. Not your usual MO. Didn't you read the material? You know I expect full participation in this class from every student."

"I'm sorry,'" I said and exhaled. "My brother's in ICU at Mass General. I guess I'm distracted. I did read the material, but I'm afraid it didn’t take."

He frowned. "Is he okay?"

I nodded. "He'll be discharged to a ward this afternoon, but he's got a bad concussion, broken bones, and internal injuries."

"Sorry to hear that. That’s totally understandable. Car accident?"

I shook my head. "Mugged."

"Don't worry about the class," he said and waved his hand in dismissal. "Take some time off if you need it. Just contact your profs and let them know you have a family emergency."

"Thanks," I said but I stopped before leaving.

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

He turned back and nodded. “Sure. Ask away.”

“Say the mafia was trying to collect on an outstanding debt. Say someone went to a loan shark for money and couldn’t pay the interest. Would you pay the debt and leave it at that, or would you go to the police? Could the police protect you?”

“That’s more than one question,” he said and smiled. “Is your brother in trouble?”

“No, I was just watching this old episode of Law and Order,” I said, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“Hypothetically, if the cops felt they could use your case to get someone big in the organized crime hierarchy, they might spend the money to protect witnesses. If it was some low-life thug? Not so much. They can’t afford to provide 24-hour protection for a witness unless it’s a federal case. In that case, if the person could pay off the debt, they would be better off. If not, go to the police and hope they take it up to a higher authority, like the FBI or DEA.”

“Thanks,” I said and smiled. “My stepfather is DA. I probably should have asked him, but I was curious.”

“Anytime,” he said. “You interested in criminal law?”

I nodded. “My dad was a prosecutor.”

“I knew him well,” Professor Markham said. “From your grades, you’re a chip off the old block.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I hope so.”

Finally, he turned back to his files. I left the lecture hall, glad that I had asked him. Maybe Graham was right. Maybe it was better — safer — to go to Hunter than the police.

I was also glad I had a good enough reputation that I got the benefit of the doubt from Markham. I didn’t plan on missing any more classes, but it was nice to know my profs would be understanding if I needed to.

I walked across campus to my dorm and when I got into my room, I sat down at my desk and looked at my cell, reluctant to contact Hunter, but resigned to doing so. I scanned my contacts and came upon Hunter's number. I remembered all our old texts and I regretted immensely that I'd broken it off when I did.

I called up his number and sent him a text. For all I knew, he had a new cell number and the text wouldn’t go through.

CELIA: Hunter, sorry to be contacting you, but I need to talk to you about Graham. Please reply or call me as soon as you get this.

I sent the text and waited to see if it went through. Sure enough, it did and so I waited, hoping he'd reply right away.

Nothing.

I opened my binder and started reading through my notes for my first class the next morning, but my mind was distracted, wondering when Hunter would reply.

An hour passed, with me checking my cell every few moments, but Hunter either didn't check his messages or he decided to ignore me.

I couldn’t blame him.

How he must hate me…

* * *

Amy came over later for supper and we went to the cafeteria. We got our food and sat at a table, munching down our tacos and drinks, surrounded by the other students at Kirkland House.

"So, did Hunter reply to your text?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I didn’t think he would. He must hate me. I'd hate me if I were him."

"He doesn't hate you," Amy said. "I'm sure if he knew what happened, he'd offer to help. You and Graham have known him forever, right? That has to count for something."

"You'd think," I said doubtfully. "But he didn't answer."

"What did you tell him?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. I just asked him to contact me and that I had something to talk to him about Graham."

"Tell him that Graham's in the hospital. He'll respond if you do that."

I nodded and took out my cell.

CELIA: Hunter, Graham's in the hospital. He was beaten up pretty badly. I need to talk to you about him. We need your help.

I showed Amy and she nodded. "He'll respond. He was Graham's best friend forever until Spencer butted in."

"Yeah, but can you forgive a family that's responsible for your brother's death? I don't think I could…"

"All you can do is try."

We ate the rest of our meal, with me worrying how I was going to get the money together. It was Hunter or Spencer.

Neither option was going to be easy…

* * *

I decided to go to the hospital that night and see how Graham was doing on the new ward. He had his own room and was sleeping peacefully when I showed up. I sat on the chair beside his bed and waited for him to wake up. The room was tiny, but it had a window and the light from the setting sun were warm on my face. I checked my cell for Hunter's response but there was none.

Finally, Graham woke up and smiled as best he could when he saw me.

I stood and bent over to kiss him on the cheek. "Hey, there," I said and smiled back. "How are you feeling? You look much better. Except for the double black eyes and broken nose and jaw wired shut and head wrapped in bandage."

He smiled, his eyes amused. He must be feeling better. "I'm good. Did you talk to Hunter?"

I sat back down. "I texted him twice but no response."

"Go to the gym and see him."

"I will," I said and took his hand. "You don't worry about this. I'll go after I leave here. He must be still mad about everything and decided to ignore my texts."

He nodded slightly in response. "Don't blame him."

"Neither do I."

We visited for a while before I broached the police. "Did the police talk to you about this? Did you tell them why you were beat up?"

"They came in when you were gone. I told them I was mugged."

"You didn’t tell them that you owned the loan shark money?"

He shook his head very slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Don't tell them anything about it. I could get into big trouble. Spencer will go nuts."

"But your life's in danger," I said in protest. "They might be able to protect you."

"No, Celia," Graham hissed through his teeth. "Don't talk to the police. Go to Hunter. He's the only one who can help me now."

I sat back in my chair, resigned to it. He was probably right. The police didn’t dole out money to victims of extortion or exorbitant interest rates on loan shark loans. In their minds, Graham would be just a victim of crime who brought it on himself. They'd be more interested in finding the loan shark than protecting Graham. I doubted they'd post a guard on the ward outside Graham's room, no matter what.

"I'll go to the gym on my way home," I said and that seemed to satisfy Graham. He closed his eyes, and so I talked about my classes and how the semester was going while he listened.

When it was time for me to leave, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek once more.

"Don't worry, big brother," I said softly. "I'll go to Hunter. Maybe if I get down on my knees, he'll help us out. It might make him feel good to see me grovel."

"I'm so sorry," Graham said, tears in his eyes. I had said it in a joking manner, but it must have hurt him. "I'm so sorry you're cleaning up my mess. I never meant any of this to happen…"

"Shh," I said and kissed his cheek once more. "I'll let you know how it goes. You get your sleep."

He nodded and I left him with his eyes closed, his head turned away from the door as if he couldn’t bear to look me in the eye.