by Terri Kouba
“Hey, stop that,” she shouted. She broke into a run. Clumps of damp sand flew out behind her as she ran down the beach. “I said stop that,” she repeated, louder. She ran up to the children and stepped in front of them. “What do you think you’re doing?” She waved her arms and advanced toward them.
The two boys, aged nine and twelve, backed up.
She was breathing heavily from her sprint through the sand. “That’s a wild animal,” she said between gulps. “He’s dangerous. You need to stand farther back.”
“Hey, get away from my kids,” a large, burly man shouted. He ran to them and pushed the kids aside. The smaller one fell to his knees with a whimper. He spit sand out of his mouth.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He towered over the woman. He had at least ten inches and a good hundred and forty pounds on her. His fists were balled but he held them at his side. “I said, get away from my kids.”
She held her ground and craned her neck to look up at him. “Your kids, kind sir, were dangerously close to that.” She pointed behind her. “That’s a wild animal. It may look slow, but it can move surprisingly fast.”
The man peered over her head. “That? It’s a cripple.” He tore a stone from his older son’s hand and threw it at the sea lion. His aim was good and he hit it squarely on the side. The sea lion grunted and hid its nose.
She took a step closer. “Stop that! You’re worse than your kids. You, at least, should know better.”
“Ah, it’s just a dumb seal.” He turned and laughed at his youngest son who was brushing sand out of a scraped knee.
“It’s a sea lion,” she corrected him. “And it doesn’t deserve to have rocks thrown at it while it’s resting on the beach.” She stepped forward to force the family to move backwards. “You’re visiting its home. Now move back and give it space.”
The man stepped forward, almost stepping on her foot. “Or what?”
She blinked. “What?” She scrunched her face. “What do you mean ‘or what’? This isn’t kindergarten. Leave the wild animal alone.” She looked at the grey sea and rolled her eyes.
“Excuse me. May I be of some assistance here?” a second man asked, moving closer. A third man, bulky, taller even than the father, stood behind his left shoulder.
“You don’t want to get involved in this, stranger,” the father said. His voice was low and the warning was clear. He turned to look at the stranger and his face broke out into a smile. Two of his teeth were missing.
“Hey! Aren’t you Ken Richards?” He looked more closely. “You are Ken Richards, aren’t you?” He turned to his oldest son. “Hey, Jimmy, look, it’s Ken Richards.” He reached down and grabbed the man’s hand in his and pumped it.
Ken nodded and smiled politely.
The father positioned himself in between Ken and the woman.
“What in the hell are you doing out here on a wicked day like today?”
He pulled his oldest son by his collar. “I want you to meet my son, James. He’s a fine boy.”
He dropped Ken’s hand and slapped his son’s in it. “A fine boy indeed,” the father said.
“It’s nice to meet you, James.” Ken smiled his movie star best. “And who is this?” he asked, looking at the younger son still sitting in the sand.
“Oh, that’s just my baby brother, Todd.” The boy kicked sand at his brother. “Quit your sniveling.”
“You were great in American Terror,” the father said.
Ken smiled and bit his tongue. If only he had a penny for every time he heard that one.
“Jeeze, Dad, that was Donald Deeter.” Jimmy’s face turned red. “This is Ken Richards. You know. The Annihilator. The Gladiator.”
“Oh yeah. You were great in those too,” the father said. “Hey, wait a minute. I wanna get a picture with you.” He turned to his youngest. “Quit your sniveling and go get the camera. And don’t break it or you know what will happen.” His arm flung out in the direction of their backpacks.
The youngest son took off like his pants were on fire.
“You were great in Motorcycle Mayhem,” Jimmy said. “Is it true? Did you really ride that hog?”
Ken nodded. “Yes, I did most of my own stunts in that one.” He flexed his shoulder. “And I have the x-rays and months in rehab to prove it.” He chuckled.
“All of the stunts?” Jimmy asked, his eyes wide.
Ken shook his head. “All but one. The only one that wasn’t me was the death scene, when the motorcycle went off the mountainside. That was a stunt man flailing in the air.”
“Oh man! That is so cool.” The boy’s eyes sparkled.
The father turned around to stand next to Ken and put his arm over the actor’s shoulder. “Don’t you mess this up or I’ll have your hide,” he said to the youngest son positioning the camera.
“OK. I got it.” He took the picture.
The father pulled Jimmy in front of him. “And now one with my son.” He tightened his arm around Ken’s shoulder.
The youngest son took a second picture. “OK.”
“Well, that was something else running into you, all the way out here,” the father said, pumping Ken’s hand again. “Wait until I tell the guys at the club.”
“How about one with me and the little one?” Ken offered. He knelt down by the boy and handed the camera to Jimmy. They waited until they heard the shutter open and close.
“It was nice to have my picture taken with you Todd,” Ken said, rising. He shook the youngster’s hand. “You have a nice day at the beach.”
Ken watched as the family of three walked back to their packs, Jimmy and the father exchanging high-fives. He turned to the woman.
“Ken Richards,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Tina.” She shook his hand. “You certainly defused that situation smoothly. I guess fame does have its benefits.”
She looked confused. “Though, I’m not quite sure how it got so out of hand so quickly, but I thank you. If you ever give up acting, you should try your hand at diplomacy.” She turned toward the silent man and held out her hand. “Tina.”
The large man looked at Ken first and then stepped forward and shook Tina’s hand. “Matt Brown.”
“What was the commotion about?” Ken asked. He was curious why a five-foot-two woman would confront a six-foot-five man.
“Oh, those nasty kids were throwing rocks at this poor little creature.” Tina pointed over her shoulder. “And they were standing much too close to him. I think people forget that these are wild animals, not pets.”
Ken looked at the creature sitting on the sand just out of reach of the largest waves. “Is that a seal?”
“Sea lion,” she corrected.
“How can you tell?” Ken asked.
“For me, mostly by the ears. It’s not exact, but sea lions have ears and seals are earless.”
She waved her hands. “Well, they aren’t really earless. They’re just called earless because they lack ear flaps. But they aren’t deaf. Seals have tiny openings, pinnae, that serve as ears.”
Ken looked closer at the sea lion’s head. He wondered if the woman was a wildlife expert and that’s how she knew about ‘pinnae’.
“But most people tell the difference by looking at the flippers,” she continued. “Sea lions’ front flippers have only a partial fur covering, unlike the seal, whose flippers are covered entirely by fur. Sea lions’ first toes are longer than the other toes.” Her hand motions enhanced her words. “And their hind flippers are extremely flexible, and can actually rotate forward and beneath the body. This enables sea lions to move around on land with ease, unlike the seal. That’s why I was so concerned with those kids. This lion can move quickly on land.”
Ken smiled to himself. She was thorough in her explanations, if nothing else. “Do their backs always look like that?”
Tina shook her head. “No, this one is injured. It could have been a propeller or most likely a killer whale, in which case he’s
one lucky sea lion. The wound is old. You can tell because his fur has started to grow over where the scar is. I’m guessing he’s probably five years old and has been a cripple for at least four of them.”
“Man, that’s tough.” One of the stunt safety consultants on The Annihilator had been an active stunt man before he became paralyzed from the waist down in a stunt accident. Ken had been impressed with how well the man seemed to have adapted to his new life after the accident.
“It looks like he gets around well enough to eat, but given the way his spine curves, swimming long distances must tire him out easily.” She looked up and down the stretch of beach. “He was probably swimming up the coast with his herd but he had to stop and rest.” She scowled. “And then he had to face the indignities of them.” She pointed toward the family.
Ken could hardly see them as they walked along the beach, returning to their vehicle. He looked up and down the empty beach. “Are you here alone?”
Tina glanced at Matt. “No, I’m here with a friend.” She pointed north. “He’s waiting by the car.” She stepped aside so neither man was at her back.
Ken waved in the direction of the sea lion. “You saved his life, now you have to name him,” he said with an exaggerated flourish of his arm.
Tina smiled. “Is that how it works?” She thought for a moment. “Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
“Charlie. King of the sea,” she elaborated, mimicking his arm flourish across the ocean.
Ken narrowed his eyes. “Wasn’t he a tuna?”
Tina raised one eyebrow.
Ken put up his hands so his palms faced her and acquiesced. “OK, OK. Charlie it is.”
“Well, there goes Charlie,” Ken said, pointing to the sea lion as it hobbled back down the beach and slipped into the grey water. “Here’s hoping he’s more graceful in the water than on land.”
“Creatures are designed for where they hunt. Sea lions may seem to spend a lot of time lying around on land, but they hunt in the water, and that’s where their bodies perform best.” She waved. “Bye, Charlie.”
“Bye, Charlie.” Ken joined in, smiling. He pointed toward the parking lot. “Returning?”
Tina looked at the sun sitting just over her shoulder in the sky. It was about to dip under the thick bank of fog sitting just off the coast. “I see it’s that time of day already, so I guess I am.”
“May we join you?” Ken asked. He would have already been back at his car if he hadn’t felt the need to intervene. He shoved his cold fingers into his pants pockets.
“I’d be delighted,” Tina replied. “Though I’m disappointed I don’t have any books for you to carry.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Ha ha.”
“Would you like my scarf?” she asked, pulling it out of her coat pocket.
Ken considered and then took it and wrapped it around his neck. “Thank you. I can’t believe how cold it is here. We were in Marin and it was baking hot, so we figured we’d take a drive to the beach.” He was wearing only a long-sleeved dress shirt. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms to warm them. He licked his lips and tasted salt.
“Well, in about thirty seconds it’s going to get a whole lot colder,” Tina predicted. She stopped to remove her coat and held it between her knees. The sun dipped below the fog bank and the wind picked up, pushing the cold, damp fog onto land. She pulled off her sweatshirt and handed it to Ken before she quickly donned her coat and buttoned it. She wore a turtleneck sweater on underneath it.
He accepted her sweatshirt but knew he couldn’t wear it. He couldn’t take the clothes off the woman’s back. The wind kicked it up a notch and Ken’s teeth started to chatter. “That wind is like ice.” He held out the sweatshirt. “Are you sure you don’t need this?”
Tina shook her head. “Not as much as you do.”
Ken hesitated and then pulled the SF Giants sweatshirt over his head. “That is much nicer.” He pressed his fingers underneath his arms to shelter them from the biting wind.
“First time to Northern California and Point Reyes North Beach?” she asked.
“Yeah. Is it always like this?” He had to contract his leg muscles to keep his knees from knocking.
“In June, yeah, pretty much so. Up and down the coast can be socked in by fog for most of the month.” She turned around to look at Matt who walked slightly behind Ken. “Your first trip too, Matt?”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied. He was wearing a dress shirt and suit coat, but showed no signs of being affected by the weather.
She walked backwards. “Sorry, but I wore only one sweatshirt today, Matt.”
“Not to worry, ma’am. I’ll be fine.”
She turned front again. She dipped her chin under her coat collar.
“I take it you live around here?” Ken asked. She had clearly been here before; at least she knew how to dress for the beach. He thought about the beach in Southern California, where dressing for the beach meant shorts and sandals and sunscreen.
He looked at the woman walking next to him. She looked like a thousand other women he had seen once he got out of Hollywood.
At home, everyone was sculpted and buffed with perfectly applied makeup and form-fitting clothes.
Next to him was a woman who wore a sweatshirt under a coat, and the sweatshirt was large enough to fit him with room to spare. Her dark brown hair was pulled haphazardly into a braid that ran down her back, as if she had braided it facing the wind, which, now that he thought about it, she probably had. She wore no makeup and her nose was slightly crooked. Her skin looked smooth, but that just could have been the fresh ocean air. Her teeth were normal, not the polished, blinding-white of Hollywood.
Tina brushed a stray hair out of her face. “Not any more, but I used to. I lived in Berkeley for twenty years. My husband and I used to come to Point Reyes North Beach every other weekend. We’d stay at a friend’s place in Inverness. You passed it on the way here. Vladimir’s Czech Restaurant. I highly recommend it.”
“And what did you do in Berkeley?” Ken asked.
She was curious. She didn’t fawn over him, like most people did and yet she clearly knew who he was. She hadn’t even told him yet which one of his movies was her favorite.
“I was a Physics professor at Cal and my husband, Jake, taught history at Berkeley High School. We moved to Boise, Idaho five years ago.”
“Boise, Idaho? What do you do in Boise, Idaho?” He went skiing one winter in Sun Valley, Idaho. He pictured her riding a horse, herding cattle.
“Still physics, but I no longer teach. I work for a research company now.”
“And your husband? Does he still teach history?”
“No, he died unexpectedly a year after we moved.”
It felt like someone punched him in the gut. “I’m very sorry.”
Ken thought of his own wife and child. He quickly pushed the thought away.
Tina shrugged. “People die every moment of every day.” She took a deep breath and pushed it out through her nose. “It’s just that this one affected me a wee bit more than the other ones do.” She looked out to sea. “And what brings you to Northern California?” she said after a while. “Shooting your next movie?”
“Just vacationing. I needed to get away from Hollywood for a while.” What Ken really needed to do was get away from his concerned friends in Hollywood, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“Well, you picked the right spot to vacation. Northern California is gorgeous.”
“If not a little cold.” Ken pulled his elbows in tighter. The wind seemed to find every opening to get in next to his skin.
Tina chuckled. “You know what Samuel Clemens said. ‘The coldest winter was a summer I spent in San Francisco’ or something like that.”
He had heard that quote before. “Yeah, and now I know what he meant.”
They climbed up the hill to the parking lot. There were only two cars left; his limousine and a new navy b
lue Tesla.
“Is that yours?” Ken asked. He would have never guessed a physics professor would drive that kind of car.
“Yep. And I take it that one is yours,” she said, pointing to the limousine.
“Where’s your friend?” Ken asked.
Tina winced. “I’m here alone,” she admitted. She looked up at him. “Come on, give me a break,” she said defensively. “A woman, alone on the beach, and two men walk up and ask her if she’s alone.” She waved her hands in the air. “Of course I’m going to say no.”
“Oh, but you’ll confront the knuckle-dragging behemoth by yourself.” Ken reminded her.
Tina shrugged. “Getting one right out of two isn’t bad.”
Ken chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never ridden in a Tesla before.” He had seen a few of the electric sports cars on the road in L.A. and liked the lines of the sports car.
“Would you like a ride back?” Tina asked.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” He felt like he had stepped in it now.
“I’m only going as far as Inverness, but I’d be pleased if you would join me.”
Ken thought for a moment. “OK, Matt can follow with the car.”
Tina laughed. “Your limo is not going to be able to ‘follow’ my Tesla.”
She turned to Matt. “We’ll meet you at Vladimir’s Czech Restaurant in Inverness, An eighth of a mile or so past the Golden Hinde. You can’t miss it. It’s the big white building on the right.”
Matt stepped forward and leaned near Ken’s ear to speak quietly. “Sir, I don’t believe this is a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” he assured him.
“You’ll be too far away. I won’t be able to do my job, sir,” Matt countered.
“Thank you for your concern, Matt. It’s duly noted, but I’m going to ride in Tesla.” he shouted. He grabbed Tina by the arm and ran towards it. “Any chance I can drive?”
Tina shook her head. “Not my Tesla.” She smiled broadly. “You’ll have to get your own to do that.”