"Nothing," I sighed, slamming my laptop shut. "It's like the guy doesn't exist. How are things on your end?"
I'd been trying to find Noah online, but every profile that popped up with his name turned out to be someone else. There was a baby's social media profile, some guy who worked in business, and a kid who played junior league ice hockey — but not a single result for the man I'd met the night before. It drove me crazy… more than it should. I never reacted this way to meeting guys, no matter how ridiculously handsome they were. And especially not after an objectively brief conversation that in itself hadn't been all that flirty. Had it? The night was a little blurry. Was that just because of the alcohol? I hadn't been drinking that much, right?
"Um, I'm sorry, I got distracted," Gabrielle said, and guiltily showed me her laptop screen. She was knee-deep in some angry comment thread about… what was this about? "Alpaca yoga," she admitted. "Apparently it's a very divisive activity."
I snorted. "Leave it to you to find the weirdest things online."
"This is nothing," she shrugged. "Wait till you see the report I worked on last week. I think it's airing on Wednesday." Gabrielle worked behind the scenes at the local TV station, and while not a whole lot of interesting things happened in our city, out of the three of us — her, our other best friend Rachel, and me — she usually had the best stories to tell.
I was glad she'd stayed over after the concert. That was in part because we always had the best lazy Sundays together, lounging on the couch, eating junk food and watching trashy reality TV, but also because if I'd been alone, I would've probably lain awake overthinking what had happened.
"Now," Gabrielle said decisively, "What have you found so far? There's got to be something."
I shook my head and opened my laptop again. "You'd think, right? It's the twenty-first century. Even the most private person in the world gets some hit on Google. But there's nothing," I sighed. "He's got to be using a fake name and lying about Luca being his brother."
"Maybe he's a spy. Like James Bond," Gabrielle chuckled. "He was suave enough for it."
Was he? He'd been gorgeous, sure (and then some), and I understood why Gabrielle thought so… but there had been some strange combination of utter confidence and discomfort in his behavior; small cracks in a smooth facade. He'd been charming, but not suave. That didn't mean he couldn't be a spy, though. Especially with that body... I smiled a little at the thought.
"But then why pretend you're related to a celebrity?" I retorted. "It makes no sense."
Gabrielle shrugged. "Well, what if it is true?"
"Then I would've found something, right?" I said stubbornly.
She leaned over to look at my screen. "Emma," she started emphatically, "search for Luca Chevalier."
"But I'm looking for Noah Chevalier."
"Yes, and add 'noah' to the end of the search string, obviously. God, Emma, are you sure you're an analyst?" she grinned.
I rolled my eyes. "I analyze municipal policy, Gab, not… crime scenes or whatever. It's not exactly detective work."
Her idea turned out to work: a Wikipedia article about Luca came up, a few tabloid articles alleging a new girlfriend, and a number of interviews. I clicked on the little button saying the search term 'noah' had to be included, and there it was.
Exclusive! Multitalented heartthrob Luca Chevalier of Louis XIV shares details about life before fame: a town too small for his larger-than-life personality, his many siblings, and the accident that led him to music in the first place
"Wait, go slower!" Gabrielle exclaimed when I scrolled past the introduction to the interview, looking for a mention of Noah — but I didn't care about Luca. Reading this article was just a means to an end.
Rosie: You've mentioned before that you have a large family, but you've always been secretive about them. Why is that?
Luca: "I've just been respectful of their wish for privacy. For example, my twin sister keeps to herself a lot. She's not on any social media, so readers, don't bother looking for her. And my little brother Noah, he's in the military. I think maybe he'd feel embarrassed if his subordinates knew who his brother is... I ran my mouth just now, didn't I?" (laughs)
Rosie: We can keep it off the record.
Luca: "No, I did promise you nothing was off the record. But…" (smiles cleverly) "Let's move on to the next question, before my brother has my head for telling you too much."
Rosie: Oof. That sounds like a good idea. So you said you formed your first band in your second year of high school…
Ah. Military. That explained the insane physique… right? I didn't know anyone in the military and I had no idea if all soldiers looked like that or not. Either way, it probably meant he had good fighting skills. Maybe he had been able to defend himself against all those men. They weren't nearly as big as he was, but they weren't small, either. I told myself that that was it, that was why I was trying to find him — I was just worried. There was no way that fight ended well for him.
"Wait." I sat up with a jolt. "We're so stupid!"
"Speak for yourself," Gabrielle said with a smile. "What?"
"The club! How did we not think of that?" I quickly went to their website. The club wasn't open today, but it looked like there was another concert on Monday night. "I could just call them tomorrow, see if they can tell me anything about the fight. I mean, he lost, so they'll have talked to him, right? They'll know if he's okay."
"And if he won?" Gabrielle asked, but she caught herself. Of course he hadn't… right? He couldn't have. It was impossible. "Okay, yeah. Go for it."
"Hey, Emma?"
"Huh?" I quickly looked up. I'd been staring at my computer screen for what felt like years.
"Did you see the email I sent you?" Sarah, my second-to-least favorite coworker, ticked her nails on my desk. "The one from thirty minutes ago?"
"Oh…" I clicked on my email program and saw that a flood of new messages had come in, including Sarah's. I'd 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. But that was because it was still early in the day, there probably wasn't even anyone there yet, there was no point in calling... I knew I was simply nervous, though.
"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 emails 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 email 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 him?
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 without taking too much damage himself. Even though I knew the former was much more likely, my gut feeling told me Noah had gotten two grown men in the hospital.
No way was Gabrielle going to tell the club I knew him. I didn't, anyway, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to be associated with any of this. I'd never witnessed a bar fight before. I was generally put off by outward aggression. I didn't even like action movies. And I hadn't had anything to do with this fight to begin with. What would be the point of letting them know we were there right before it started?
Barely five minutes later I was on the phone.
A young, feminine voice picked up. "Club Aurora, can I help you?"
"Oh, hi, I'm calling about the concert on Saturday. I mean, that fight afterwards. The one you emailed about?" I said, pacing back and forth along the pavement in front of my office.
"Were you there?" I heard the girl on the other end of the line cover the phone, then some chairs scraping.
"Um." Why had I called them again? I couldn't pretend I had anything to help them with, if I didn't want to tell them about Noah. I wanted them to tell me more. "My friend and I were nearby… We left before the actual fight broke out."
A man's voice jumped in from a little farther away."If you didn't see it, what's the reason for your call? Do you know the big guy? We're looking for his name."
Think fast, Em. "I'd never seen him before that night. What happened?"
"We're not sure," the girl said. I let out a relieved breath when she didn't push me about her colleague's question. "It all happened really fast. That's why we're looking for witnesses. He got jumped by a group of six, but before the bartender and bouncer could get there through the crowd, he'd knocked out two of them, broken someone's nose, dislocated a shoulder and then disappeared from the club."
Wow. Even taking Noah's size into account, this sounded improbable and like something way beyond military training. I halted my pacing and squinted into the early afternoon sunlight, unsure how to feel about this. On the one hand, I was glad that it wasn't Noah who was in the hospital… but on the other hand, what the hell? This sounded a little scary and a whole lot intimidating — and also, if I was completely honest with myself, deeply intriguing.
"Don't you have security cameras?" I asked.
"We do, normally," the man said, "but the system's been offline since Friday morning. I doubt we'll be able to get anything from the cameras. Could you let us know in case you or your friend hear anything?"
"Yeah, sure." We exchanged goodbyes and I hung up.
If I'd had any focus in the morning, I lost all of it after that phone call. I kept glancing at Gabrielle's unanswered texts, at the club's email that she'd forwarded, at the fading entrance stamp on the back of my hand. All of it had really happened. And even though my rational mind told me to stay the hell away from a mysterious man who managed to hold his own against six riled-up guys, there was a constant twist in my stomach that I knew wouldn't go away until I talked to him again.
But by now I'd exhausted all possible methods of finding Noah… all but one. There was still Luca. Luca, the world-famous singer. Luca, the man thousands of women dreamed about, if not millions. Luca, the guy who probably got tons of weird messages on social media every single day and who probably didn't even read any of them. It was a long shot, and a little embarrassing, but it was the only thing I could come up with. A true last resort.
I pulled up his social media profile, briefly gaped at his pictures (I would never pretend I was immune to his outrageously good looks), and hit Message. I typed, removed and rewrote my message at least seven times before I was satisfied enough to send it.
Hi Luca, this message isn't about you. I figured if I made that clear from the get-go, and my message differed from all his fan mail, maybe he'd actually open it. I met your brother Noah at your concert last Saturday. We talked before he got into this fight, maybe he remembers. I was wondering if he's okay. Thanks! Emma. PS: Your concert was awesome!
And so the waiting game began.
By the time Sunday rolled around, I didn't think I would hear from Luca anymore. I'd checked my inbox at least seven times an hour in the past six days and I had the sensation of my phone vibrating constantly when in reality it hardly ever did. I got annoyed at texts from my friends and my mom, wishing fervently that they were messages from someone else. But at this point Luca's inbox had probably been filled up with new messages, and mine had been buried somewhere deep below all the others, and I was never going to hear from him and I was definitely never going to see Noah again.
Why was I even so set on this? I had no reasonable explanation. Last week hadn't meant anything. It was only a conversation. Only a conversation that by now I'd replayed a thousand times in my mind.
My phone buzzed when I got off the bus late that afternoon on my way home from Rachel's house. I pulled it out of my pocket lightning-fast despite a rational expectation that it was probably nothing, my heart beating so hard I was sure it could pop out of my chest any second, and opened the notification.
Hi Emma! I'm glad you had a good time :) Noah is fine but he wants to talk to you. Can you give me your number? xo Luca
His message sounded so normal, like I was texting a friend or the barista from the coffee shop around the corner rather than Luca fucking Chevalier. I sent him my number before I had a chance to get nervous about it.
My heart kept thumping during my entire walk home from the bus stop and once I was in front of my apartment door, I couldn't help but fumble with the keys — dropping them to the floor when my phone buzzed again. But that couldn't be Noah, right? Barely ten minutes had passed. Maybe it was Luca, following up. No. It was Gabrielle, it had to be Gabrielle. Or Rachel, telling me I'd forgotten something at her place. Maybe my mom checking in to see how I was doing. Not Luca. Not Noah.
Once I finally managed to unlock the door, I ran inside, tossed my keys onto the counter and got out my phone with my coat still on. I inhaled once, twice, before looking at the notification.
Hi Emma, it's Noah. I gripped the phone more tightly for no reason at all. I'm happy you found me. Can I take you out for a drink tonight?