Page 8 of Love at a 7-Eleven

I took a second to open the juice bottle and swallow the headache medicine.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm close to Marcus and his family. We go way back. I'm out here to support him, but I'm still working with other people. I'm here today to meet with another player."

I knew Marcus Reyes. There had been a fire in his California home a couple of months ago. It had been all over the news. Everyone had survived, but his son, Kevin, had been hospitalized with burns, and it had been a difficult ordeal for their family. Marcus was currently one of the Bears' superstars and highest-paid players, and I knew there was talk in the media about him coming back and settling in for the season. I didn't comment. I just took in what Caleb was saying.

"I wasn't working as a chaplain yet when I met Marcus. I had just started school at UCLA. That was seven or eight years ago, and we've been friends since. I work there as the chaplain for the football team now."

I nodded and took a step or two closer to him, and he motioned for me to have a seat at the table. I pulled out the chair. It felt surreal to sit next to this guy. Visually, he was quite distracting, but I was interested in hearing about his life. I couldn't believe he was a chaplain. I would have never guessed that by looking at him. I set my bag on the floor next to my feet, and leaned back in the chair, taking him in.

"How long are you staying here?" I asked.

"This time? A week. But I'll come back every so often during the season. Even in a normal season, I try to make it out to at least three or four of his games. I'm sure I'll be here a little more this year. I've been here before, but not without Marcus, so I didn't have a badge. The lady said I needed someone on staff to show me around. I’m making a video."

"His name's Bob. That's the guy I was just talking to before I came in here. He said he's got to take care of something before he meets with you, so it's going to be a few minutes."

He nodded. "Bonnie told me it would be fifteen minutes. I don't think I need him to show me around for my sake, but I understand it's probably protocol."

I took a sip of my juice and then smiled, taking in his appearance. I remembered him as Kai, the dangerous, tormented son of one of the show's most beloved characters. They were tribal warriors and I had most definitely seen him without his shirt on. That thought made me experience a feeling of nervous excitement. His face was insanely gorgeous to look at, and there I was remembering the muscles, too. I tried to seem natural, but I had to break eye contact lest I do something crazy like start oversharing again.

"What kind of video are you making?" I asked.

"Christian stuff. I answer Bible questions a lot, and debate some."

"Oh, so your chaplain work is what you make videos about? You're a full-time preacher? No more acting?"

He glanced up and my eyes met his when I asked that. He smiled at me. "The acting was an opportunity that came across my path. I can't say what I'd do if someone else came to me about a job. I'd probably act. But, no, I'm not looking for acting jobs. I do the videos full-time. I upload videos of me talking to people. I do a lot of work on college campuses, so the videos sort of intermingle with my chaplain stuff. But I go to other places, too. I'll make a video anywhere."

"So, you're a preacher but not at a church?"

He shrugged. "That's one way to put it. I don't work at a church. I never have, other than guest speaking. But, yeah, the videos are my main source of income. I consider the work I do with people first and foremost. The videos are a byproduct of the work I do in person. Look a skeptic or a hurting person in the eyes and talk about God—that's my calling. I have to keep that in perspective because the videos come out better when I approach it that way."

"You're such an interesting person," I said. "I thought you were an actor, and you haven't even mentioned that."

He laughed, and my heart felt like it actually skipped a beat. His white teeth flashed, and I had to look away and work to control my breathing.

"I was an engineer. That's what I studied in school. I had a full academic scholarship to go to UCLA. I had to be a nerd to do that. So that mentality sort of carried over to other things. I became a student of the Bible on my own time. The acting gig came after I already had a YouTube channel with a bunch of followers. The director wanted my look so much that he was willing to work with my acting. That part, I had to learn." He smiled again and shook his head. "It was a good experience, though, I’m glad I did it."

"You were really good in it. I never would have thought you weren't an actor."

"Thank you."

"Is it okay for me to ask what's the story with your tattoos, or if there is one?"

"No. It's not okay. I'd rather not talk about it." His face was serious, and my heart dropped, but in an instant, his face broke into a grin. "I’m messing with you. Yes, you can ask. I'll talk about them anytime. I don't mind you asking. What do you want to know?"

"Why'd you choose the tribal stuff? Are you from another country or something? Are they authentic?"

He laughed, and I could feel myself blushing. It had been an honest question, but I knew it didn't come out right.

"No, I'm from California. I grew up in L.A. I started getting tattooed when I was fifteen. My older brother was twenty-one at the time, and he learned on me. A lot of his earlier stuff is on my back and has been touched up. He was a good artist all along, though. He was drawing before he ever started tattooing. He drew on everything—furniture, clothes, tennis shoes."

Caleb paused and picked up his sleeve. I saw the shapes created by ink, but I also saw the shapes of his muscles.

"He came up with all these designs and the way it flows and everything. Some of it's been covered up and freshened up now that he knows what he's doing, but all this has been done by my big brother. I was his guinea pig, no doubt."

"At fifteen? In high school? What did your teachers think?"

He smiled. "They didn't care. It didn't matter. I grew up in a rough part of Los Angeles. My tattoos were the least of my teachers' worries." He had a sports drink in front of him, and he took a sip of it before continuing. "I didn't answer your question about whether or not they're authentic, though. The short of it is that I'm not sure. Do you want to hear more, or do you have somewhere to go?"

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