Chapter 3
I walked at a good clip in the hallway, and the man at the table turned to face me the instant I rushed into the lounge. He glanced up at me, and our eyes locked as I stopped walking.
It was him.
The guy from 7-Eleven.
Malu Kai.
He was the person sitting at a table in the Chicago Bears coaches' lounge.
I was confused, and his face broke into a smile. "Whoa, wow. It's you. Lila, right?" He stood.
He was such a presence in the room that I forgot to breathe. I took a step to the side and stood up straight. I stuck out my hand to shake his.
He smiled as he took my hand in his, and I could have just melted.
"You said you had a big meeting. Is this the place? Do you work here?"
"Oh, no, I… I did have a little short meeting thing just now with one of the… I'm finished with it, though. It was fine and good and everything went great, good and everything. I was just going to take… I was getting juice."
Even as I finished my sentence, I knew I was in the middle of babbling again. There I was getting a second chance at meeting him, and I couldn't form sentences again. I was normally a confident person, but this guy was so cool that I felt uncool by comparison.
I broke eye contact with him after I spoke. I shook my head and gave him a self-deprecating grin as I turned away and headed toward the refrigerator without another word. Juice? I had ended with juice? There was a coffee station near the refrigerator, and I thought about making myself a cup.
I still had the headache medicine wrapped in a tissue in one hand. I knew a cold drink would be the most convenient thing to grab, so I went to the fridge. I needed to relax, and I stood in front of the open fridge pretending that I was concentrating on my choice.
"I should have figured out you had on Bears colors at the gas station. I like it."
"Oh, yeah, thank you." I turned to him with a little smile before facing the other way again. "Are you a chaplain?"
"Yes. I'm not the Bears' chaplain, but I'm a chaplain—I'm here in that capacity. I’m also a friend of one of the players, and I'm here with his family while he's readjusting to life back in Chicago."
I was happy he told me so much because it gave me time to catch my breath and gather my wits. I was now invested in what he was saying instead of being so concerned about the impression I was making.
"Are you friends with Marcus?" I asked.
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?"
I wasn't expecting him to say that, and I had to think about the question for a second. "I'd like to hear more," I said. "I don't need to leave."
"It's a Filipino design, mostly. I've heard it looks like Samoan or Maori work as well. I think my brother sort of mixed the styles. It's a real possibility that one of those cultures does apply to me, too, but I'm not sure. I never met my dad. It applies to my brother, though. Drake's my half-brother—different dads. His dad was Filipino. Drake had a picture of him and he had a bunch of tattoos like this. I'm sure that's what gave him the idea to start drawing this stuff. I’m not sure what race I am. My mom said she thought my dad was Korean, but she wasn't sure. I met my aunt one time, my mom's sister. She said she thought my dad was from Hawaii, which would make these pretty valid. But Mom wasn't sure. I have three siblings, and she was more certain about the other dads than mine. My mom is white, American with blonde hair, but my brothers and sister are all mixed like me. She had a certain type."
"Single with four kids?"
"Yeah, but she was in and out of trouble. Then she officially left when I was a teenager. Drake took care of us, and I had a job to help with the younger two. She's back in our lives now, but that didn't happen until way later. Drake was twenty when she left, so he did what he had to do to keep us together. I think he and I both romanticized our dads. We weren't in the best situation with our mom, so it was easy to make up scenarios about how great our dads were. He drew pictures of these designs all the time before he started tattooing. That's why he's so good at it."
"What's Drake doing now?"
"He tattoos full-time now. He's good. Really booked up."
"Is he still out in Los Angeles?"
"Yes, he has a house and studio there, but he travels a third of the year, working all over the world. He tattoos famous people."
"That's amazing… look what happened… you're both making it so good."
"That's just God. We could have easily been thieves. There's an old phrase that rabbis would say… fathers either teach their children a trade or teach them to be thieves. We certainly weren't taught a trade. It's only God's grace that we're on good paths, making honest livings."
He took another sip of his drink and I did the same thing.
He smiled and said, "Drake was in the series with me as an extra. He's in there several times during my season. He also helped production with the temporary stencils on the actors who didn't have tattoos."
"I bet I've seen your brother before. I really liked that show." I thought for a few seconds about his life. "Is he a Christian? Drake, I mean."
Caleb did a double take as if my question took him by surprise. He flashed a smile "Yes, he is. As of just last year, which is amazing. I was pumped about that. My sister's the only one in my family who's not. I mean, my mom struggles, too. I don't know where she is. God is good, though. My brother, Diego, has a kid, so I can see that making her softer. I'm an uncle now, and so is Drake. We want to be there for Diego. I have good people in my life. I’m very thankful."
He paused with a little smile and it felt like the end of what he was saying. I sat on the edge of my chair, ready to stand. I took a deep breath and smiled at him. I hated to leave, but I knew Bob would be ready for him soon.
"You might honestly be the most interesting person I have ever met, and that's saying a lot because I've met a lot of people in my life. It's Caleb, right? What's your last name? I'm going to have to look up your channel."
"Caldwell, and yes, if you need to get going, then I guess it was nice meeting you."