Jay's Loelife Ch. 12

They know exactly who we are. The big Americans with money.

Scott sets a bucket of beers in the middle of the table. He opens one and hands it to Seamus then one for himself while Will and I open our own.

"Mike stopped by the office."

Will, Scott, and I pause mid drink and look at each other. This isn't good. Mike is Seamus's ex-husband's best friend and business confidant. He's also the guy that's been stealing right out from under Seamus's nose. Our friend has suspected it for years, but it wasn't until Matt confirmed it last winter that Seamus knew for sure. Since then, Mike's been fired and prosecution is gathering evidence for a conviction.

"It's fine, I guess," Seamus lies. "He's Mike and...he lashed out because he got caught and doesn't think he did anything wrong. He felt he took what was owed to him. It doesn't help that Kelly's parents are backing him. They've always hated me."

"They hated that you stood between them and their son's small fortune," I correct. Kelly was a fucking asshole and it was clear where he got it from. His parents. "I'm confused though. I just can't see Mike causing this kind of reaction from you. It's not like you didn't see this coming. We suspected he may find you."

Seamus spins his beer. "Matt and I hit a rough patch. He's struggling to find his footing with Aidan. I think he blames me. Aidan's been clingy toward me lately. I felt like Matt was pushing me away so he could feel better. I kind of lashed out and..." he shakes his head. "Matt stormed out. I tried to find him to apologize but I think Aidan took my phone. I couldn't find them before I left. He was never at his apartment or work or anywhere. I even swung through on the way to the airport. I don't know what I'll come home to--if I get to come home to anything."

I squeeze his shoulder. "Hey, Brother. You won't find nothing when you get home. You'll find him waiting for you. I'm sure he's just as broken up about this as you."

"I don't know."

"I do," I tell him. He looks full of doubt. The dumbass. "Trust me on this. He'll be there waiting for you."

"And if you're wrong?"

I shake my head. "I won't be. I'm never wrong about this stuff."

"Just like you weren't wrong about Loren?"

I grin. "Just like Loren. It wasn't easy, but I knew he'd come around, just like Matt will. Have faith my friend. Have faith."

Scott studies Seamus, gauging his mood. I know what he's after and it makes me laugh.

"What?" he asks.

"Seamus is fine. You can use your phone now."

Scott smiles, happy to reconnect with the world. "Let's take a groupie and so we have something fun to post."

We take several outside the cantina on the old brick patio overlooking the water. I embrace my inner livingtheloelife and I upload my favorite groupie along with a few others we've taken since arriving. Then I step away from the group and call Loren. After a week, I'm eager to hear his voice.

I pace the worn deck and wait for the call to connect. It goes to voicemail. I call two more times just in case. Maybe he's trying to call me at the same time.

After the third attempt, my phone dings.

Loren: Miss you

Loren: On the road. Call me when you get service

Loren: Looks like service for me is spotty. Text me and we'll figure out a time

Me: Facetime me when you have a minute. I'm be available for a few hours

I call one last time, just in case. When I get his voicemail, I end the call and head back to the group.

The guys are gathered around Scott, watching something on his phone with rapt attention. I sit down and notice they're all looking at me with worried expressions.

"How's he doing?" "That was brutal, tell me he's okay," and "Holy shit." Are all said in rapid fire succession.

"I--" I stare at them for a moment, trying to figure out what they're talking about. "What?"

"Loren!" they say in unison. They realize I really don't know what they're talking about.

"Dude..." Scott says cautiously. He slowly slides his phone from the table and into his pocket. "Loren was rock climbing--"

I put my hand out. "Give me the phone."

He shakes his head. "I don't think that's a good idea--"

I get up and force his hand until he hands it over. Once I have it, I hold it out. "Unlock it." Scott does so with much reluctance. "Instagram?"

He nods.

There's nothing on Loren's account. Not a single clip or video. The last post was three days ago. It's a picture of him and two guys in climbing gear with their soon-to-be conquest in the background. "Who's account?"

"Ummm." Scott can't remember whose account he was watching. I tilt the phone and let him navigate. He scrolls for a second, then stops. "This guy, yourclimbingfriend. I only follow him because Loren has tagged him a bunch of stuff."

Yourclimbingfriend's story is so long that the dashes have become dots. There must be close to one hundred clips. I tap through the clips until I see Loren.

Everything's okay. They're laughing and unpacking their stuff. Tap. Tap. Tap. They're on the rock. Four of them. Loren's in the middle of the group. The camera is focused on him a lot. He's laughing and joking with the others. They reach what I think looks like a death ledge. It's practically horizontal. Two guys climb ahead. Then Loren. He's really quite good. Every muscle he has flexes as he maneuvers across the rock.

As much as I want to watch him, I tap through. Then it happens. Loren's body is turned at a weird angle as he tries to reach a new hold. The guy above him loses his footing. He falls, his rope catches and swings until he collides into Loren. Loren bounces off the rock, spinning so fast he looks like a rag doll flying around. His line hooks with the guy that fell, whipping him like a slingshot into the rock.

I cover my mouth as the other climber rappels to his side. The video is a little chaotic. It's hard to see clearly, but Loren's face is definitely bleeding and something is wrong with his arm.

"What the fuck--" I say as I stare in disbelief.

The audio is muffled at best but Loren's trying to save. "I'm fine," he says. Then he moves wrong and his face goes white.

"Just let them help you, you dumbfuck. Fuck! I told you rock-climbing was fucking dangerous you goddamn motherfucker," I growl at the phone. I'm so fucking pissed.

And scared.

I tap through a bunch of the video because I can't stomach the whole thing. It looks like the guy who fell is okay. Loren is not. The climber at Loren's aid clips himself to Loren and helps him rappel down. The video picks back up when they're on the ground. Loren's wrapped in a blanket and they're loading him into the passenger seat of his van. Then the van's taking off. I quickly click through the rest of the story but it's just yourclimbingfriend and I don't care about him. I care about Loren.

I take a deep breath. Loren got fucked up and I don't know how he is or where he's at.

"I'm leaving on the next flight. I need to get to Loren."

The guys are super understanding. The rest of the night is pretty solemn, though. Try as I might, I can't focus on anything. My mind is in Washington, or...wherever Loren's at.

I call David and ask if he can arrange transportation. While he does that, I reach out to Marcus. At one point he had Isaac's phone number. I call Isaac and leave a voicemail to call me or David. Then I wait. We stay at the cantina until the wee hours of the morning, too afraid to miss anything. When they finally drag me out, I still haven't heard from Loren but I know he's on his way back to Washington. David texts me, he's managed to book a flight for late morning.

I don't sleep. I pack my shit and wait, helplessly.

This is why I asked Loren not to rock-climb. It's too dangerous. He could've died. He knew exactly where I stood but convinced me it was safe. Safer than my own job. Now look.