Luca Chevalier (born June 17, 1984) is a singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. He is best known as the lead singer of rock band Louis XIV…
I scrolled down to 'Early life.' Sure, some bits about his parents, his education, some family moves… then, I found his siblings. Wow, he had a lot of them – and he wasn't the only famous one. I quickly found out his half-sister Sophia was well known in academia and that he had an activist twin sister. Finally, I found the name I'd really been looking for.
…younger half-brother Noah, Royal Army captain…
That probably explained the insane physique. I wasn't sure, since I didn't know anyone in the military, and I had no idea if I should be impressed by that rank. He couldn't be much over thirty, if even that, I figured.
"What are you doing, Emma?"
I glanced at Gabrielle, next to me on the couch. She'd stayed over after the concert and had been reading a book, but now eyed my computer screen skeptically.
"Wikipedia? What do you expect to find there?" she asked, sounding sarcastic but smiling.
"It was worth a try," I replied stubbornly. "I haven't heard you come up with any better ideas."
She shrugged into the pillow she was practically buried into. "I don't know. You've already checked the list of attendees at the concert, right?"
"Yeah." I sighed, defeated. "But of course he wouldn't put it online. He was sort of secretive about how they're related."
"Can't you just e-mail ?" Gabrielle started to laugh. "I bet that's the address they'd use."
I lamely threw a small pillow at her face. "I can't deal with your jokes today, Gab, my head hurts too much."
Gabrielle pouted. "Lightweight. Can't wait to see you deal with the two-day hangovers."
I bit my lip. "It's not just that. I'm worried, you know… There's no way that ended well for him." I sat up. "Wait. I'm so stupid!"
"What?" Gabrielle frowned.
Of course. How could I not have thought of this before? "The fight. I could just call the club, see if they can tell me anything about that fight… I mean, if he lost, then surely they'd have talked to him?"
"And if he won, the police is next on your call list."
"Hey, Emma?"
"Huh?" I quickly looked up. I'd been staring at my computer screen for what felt like years.
"Did you see the e-mail I sent you?" Sarah, my second-to-least favorite coworker, ticked her nails on my desk. "The one from, what, thirty minutes ago?"
"Oh…" I clicked on my e-mail program and saw that a flood of new messages had come in, including Sarah's. I'd been zoned out, occasionally – fine, much more than occasionally – checking my phone for any updates, updates that I knew weren't coming because I hadn't actually called the club yet. I told myself that was because they probably weren't opened on Sundays and Mondays, but I knew I was simply nervous.
"So?" Sarah asked impatiently. "Can you send me that document, yes or no? I need it, like, yesterday."
"Yeah, fine. Sure. I'll send it right away." I started mentally dozing off as soon as Sarah turned on her heel and walked away, but snapped myself awake for just long enough to send Sarah the file that honestly didn't seem all that important.
Just as I finished reading all my new e-mails and was trying to decide what news site to read next, my phone buzzed. Gabrielle was texting me, firing one text after another in quick procession.
Just got an e-mail from the club talking about a big fight right after the Louis XIV concert!
They're looking for people who were there and might know people involved because apparently two guys are in the hospital
Something about insurance etc
Sounds like your guy has something to do with this?
Should I call them and say you know his name?
I didn't open the texts yet, just watched them come in on the locked screen. If two guys were in the hospital… then either Noah had somehow been able to fight off some guy, hard, and then been beaten up by the rest, or he had beaten up two of them all on his own. Even though I knew the former was much more likely, my gut feeling told me Noah had gotten two grown men in the hospital. I wasn't sure I wanted to be associated with that – so I needed to figure out what had happened before I'd let Gabrielle make that call.
Barely five minutes later I was on the phone.
"Club Aurora, can I help you?"
"Oh, hi, I'm calling about the concert on Saturday… I mean, that fight afterwards. The one you e-mailed about?"
"Were you there?" I heard the girl on the other end of the line cover the phone, then some chairs scraping.
"I um…" I quickly debated how much to tell them. "I was there right when it was about to start, but didn't see the actual fight. What happened?"
"We're not entirely sure. It happened really fast. That's why we need more people to tell us." The girl's voice seemed farther away now. I was pretty sure I was on speaker. "The big guy got jumped by six men, but before the bartender and bouncer could get there through the crowd, he'd thrown two on the ground, broken someone's nose, twisted an arm, punched the last two in the face and unconscious and disappeared from the club. Do you know anything about him?"
Wow. That sounded like a crazy action movie scene. I could imagine Noah easily overpowering one or two guys, but this… this sounded like something way beyond military training. Even so, it was impossible that he got out of there without a scratch. "Um, no… I'd never seen him before. Don't you have security cameras?"
"We do," a man's voice jumped in, "but the system isn't working properly. Had to happen today, of course. Could you let us know in case you hear anything else?"
"Yeah, sure." I hung up. There was no way Gabrielle was going to let them know we were in any way involved. If I was going to get information, and find out if he was somehow okay, I was going to do it on my own.
I still had one option left that I hadn't tried. It was a long shot and, in all honesty, a little embarrassing, but it was the best I could come up with at the moment. I would get to Noah through his brother Luca. Luca, the world-famous singer. Luca, the man thousands of girls dreamed about. Luca, the guy who probably got tons of weird messages on social media every day and who probably didn't even read them.
New Direct Message. I started typing, removing and rewriting the message at least seven times before I hit send.
Hi Luca, this message isn't about you. I figured I'd make that clear from the get-go – if my message differed from all his fan mail, maybe he'd actually open it.
I met your brother Noah at Club Aurora the other night (my name's Emma Sawyer, hopefully he remembers) and we talked before he got into this fight. I was wondering if he's okay. Thanks! Emma. PS: your concert was awesome!
And so the waiting game began.
It took almost a full week before I heard from Luca. Although I'd checked my inbox at least seven times an hour and had the sensation of my phone vibrating constantly when it really didn't, by the end of the fifth day I was sure I wouldn't get any reply. I didn't want to give up (and why was I even so set on this? I had no rational explanation) but I had no idea what other way to get in contact with Noah. All I had was a name and a couple of family members whose e-mail addresses I hadn't been able to find either.
On the sixth day, as I got off the bus, my phone buzzed with a new message.
Hi Emma! Glad you had a good time :) Noah is fine but he wants to talk to you. Could you give me your #?
The message sounded so normal – like I was texting with the barista from the coffee shop around the corner. I sent him my number before I could get a chance to get nervous about it.
PING! My phone buzzed again, this time with a new text message, while I was walking up the stairs to my apartment. My heart jumped – what was that about? – but I fumbled with my keys to open the door. It couldn't be Noah yet anyway. Barely five minutes had passed.
Once inside I dropped my keys on the counter and got my phone out of my pocket, lightning-fast. Hi Emma, it's Noah. I grabbed the phone tighter for no reason at all. Happy you found me. Can I take you for a drink tonight?