Life For Rent

Chapter 2 : Building

Author's Notes :

- Made up The Bean Pole and Le Bon Choix (the good choice). So if there are restaurants out there with that name, I mean no infringement.

Callen stepped outside of the NCIS: LA headquarters and smiled up at the sun's rays. It was late Monday afternoon, some would be tempted to call it early evening, but as far as Callen was concerned, if the sun was still up it was still afternoon. They had closed another case today… but they were still too late to save everyone. That's what Callen hated the most.

He sighed as he made his way to his assigned car, a blue '07 Impala. He'd yet to drive it since Hetty had given him the keys. Sam liked to drive and so Callen liked to let him drive. He slid into the drivers seat and ran his hands gently over the wheel before sliding the keys into the ignition and turning them. The engine roared to life and Callen buckled his safety belt and shut the door. He briefly adjusted the mirrors before glancing behind him and backing out.

It wasn't long before he was on the road; windows down and the California air hitting his face. The sun was setting quickly and by the time he reached his destination it would probably be fully set with the moon in its place. Callen was heading towards a small coffee shop that a foster family of his had once taken him to. He'd been allowed to get one thing and it had tasted so good to Callen that he vowed to come back if he ever got a job. Since then, every time he came back he still ordered the same thing.

The moon was out and shining as the last of the sun's rays disappeared into the ocean when Callen arrived at The Bean Pole. He parked his car in the tiny parking lot and got out, heading for the door. His car honked twice as he set the alarm. Callen easily pulled the door open and stepped into the small coffee shop. The smell of coffee permeated the room. Callen automatically took in all the people in there; two behind the counter and he recognized both, four college aged kids around a small table, two hippies at another, a business man at a third. This left one table and Callen grinned, perfect.

"Hey, G." The petite blond at the register greeted him. She was 25, a grad student at UCLA and a vegetarian. She'd also been working there for almost 7 years.

"Hey, Jessica. How's the college life?" He asked, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

She smiled as she typed in his order. "Oh you know, G, slow. You'd think it'd be easier to get a degree."

"You already have a degree." He said, handing over a five.

"Two, actually." Jessica corrected easily, accepting the bill. "But a third never hurt anyone." She offered back his change and Callen stuck it in the tip jar.

"My contribution to the third degree."

She grinned. "Always appreciated, G."

He placed his wallet back in his pocket. "Keep yourself out of trouble." He said with a wink.

"But where's the fun in that?"

Callen laughed. "Good point."

"Giant white hot chocolate!" Terry, the other worker called from the other end of the espresso bar.

"Give my best to Susie." Callen offered to Jessica, walking towards the end to get his drink.

"Come around more often and you can tell her yourself." She told him as he passed her again, mug in hand.

"Maybe I will." Callen smiled and took a seat at the last table. There were newspapers spread out across it and he set the steaming beverage down to grab the closest paper.

He read his way through the first section, the sports section and was working on entertainment when a shadow hovered over him. Callen looked up to find a guy about his age, maybe younger standing next to him. He had shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes and a nice smile. Callen classified him as a surfer from his casual dress. The man had on loose but well fitting jeans, a faded yellow t-shirt and well-worn flip flops. In his hand was a bright red mug with the Bean Pole logo on the side.

"A little far from San Diego aren't you?" Callen asked, looking up at the man.

The stranger smiled. "A little bit. Mind if I sit? The other tables are full."

Callen gestured to the chair. "Sure."

"Thanks." He set his drink down. "I'm Jared." He held out his hand.

"G." Callen said, reaching out and shaking the hand.

"Just G?" Jared asked, taking a sip of his… it looked like coffee to Callen.

"Just G."

"Mmm. This is good." He observed setting the mug back down.

"First time here?"

Jared nodded. "Yeah, I pass this place on my way to work everyday but I've never stopped by."

"Until now."

"Until now." Jared agreed. "I moved here recently from San Diego." He said tilting his head in recognition of Callen's guess. "How'd you guess?"

Callen shrugged. "You look like a surfer." He said, sipping his half empty mug of hot chocolate.

Jared laughed. "I'm a chef, actually." Callen stared at him. "But I do a little surfing in my spare time." He admitted.

"Any restaurant I would have heard of?"

"Le Bon Choix." Jared replied.

Callen was mildly impressed. He had heard of the place from Sam. It was a popular dating restaurant, trendy, upper class, fancy and no reservations were accepted. Of course Callen had never been there. "My friend likes that place."

"Your friend? Not you?" He sipped his coffee again, a happy expression falling over his face.

"Never been there."

"Well, I work Wednesday through Sunday, the dinner shift usually, so three to twelve. Stop by and say 'hi'."

Callen laughed. "I really don't go out much." He downed the rest of his hot chocolate.

"You should." Jared told him. "Have a little fun every once in a while."

Callen offered him a sad smile. "Sure." He gathered the newspapers back into a pile. "Well, it was nice talking to you Jared." He started to walk past the table to the door when a warm, gentle hand touched his lower arm.

"Do you come here often?" Jared asked, looking up at him.

Callen shrugged. "Every couple weeks or so."

Jared dropped his hand. "Alright. Have a good night, G." He smiled kindly.

"You too." Callen stepped past him. "By ladies!" He yelled towards the workers.

"See you next time, G." Jessica yelled after him.

Callen smiled and shook his head. He pushed open the door and the cold air greeted him. Rule number six: never make plans.