This story is entirely fiction—no superstar was compromised writing it. The story has a copy write and can not be used without written consent. Email all comments to tjannson@yahoo.com. My special thanks to “Isle of Joy” for his superb editing of my story.

Zack’s right arm had put him on the sideline for a year and a half, any sympathy his comrades once had for him had long ago vanished. Truth be told Zack was never liked by his teammates; he was from a small town in Mississippi, a fact that seem to grate on the
nerves of the San Diego team.  He was always on the defense; they seemed to enjoy needling him at every chance. Consequently he was a loner, except for Beverly, his wife, he had no friends and his heavy drinking was seriously damaging that relationship.

The prospects of a reduced lifestyle from Zack’s trade down had Beverly burning the midnight oil thinking of suitable career for him after baseball.  Zack failed to grasp the changes the new contract would bring; he left all that for Bev to manage. After much thought she concluded the single plus the twenty-three year old jock had going for him was his looks—he was drop dead gorgeous.

Memorial Day weekend was coming up and Beverly had finally persuaded Zack to take a little vacation, to the beach area west of Tijuana. He had refused to go to any beaches near San Diego and run the risk of being recognized; an incident that happened last year
was still fresh in his memory—he had been strongly criticized by a drunken and disgruntled fan.

Beverly drove the whole way to Mexico, and Zack drank steady the entire trip. She didn’t talk very much as she was determined not let him pick a fight, his usual plan of action when confronted with something he didn’t want to do.

They parked the car and walked the short distance to the beach. As soon as they reached the sand they were confronted by a large sign that said NO GLASS OR CANS ON THE BEACH. Zack threw down his chest of beer and looked at Bev as if it had been some diabolical plot hatched out by her just to make him as miserable as possible—sitting in the sun without beer was unthinkable.

Zack asked a vendor selling watermelon slices where he could find a beer stand. The vendor chuckled and pointed down the beach. Zack thanked him and purchased two slices of watermelon. By now Bev was seething, the slice of melon just added to the burden she was already carrying; she followed a few feet behind Zack mumbling her displeasure.

Bev was aware of the lustful attention Zack was generating as they strolled down the beach. She understood Spanish and people were talking about his good looks.

Typically he was oblivious to the commotion he was stirring up; before marriage they had been high school sweet hearts so Bev had a long history of jealousy. Secretly she enjoyed their isolation; although Zack had never been unfaithful Bev didn’t want any
temptation around. She studied him as she followed; he was the palest man on the beach and his muscles and flaming red hair seemed to dance in the bright sunlight as he walked.

After walking for almost a mile they saw a palmetto thatched roof in the distance; a crowd of rough looking surfers surrounded the open bar. The surfers watched the couple intently as they spread their blanket on the white sand.