December 14th- Blondie and the Beast Part 4 by Spencer

Click here to read Part 1
Click here to read Part 2
Click here to read Part 3

Chapter Five

“Think of the one thing that you’ve always wanted.
Now find it in your mind’s eye and feel it in your heart.”

-Disney’s Beauty and the Beast

In the light of day, Gus Stone’s low-slung office building looked unassuming. Harmless. But Starsky had found that appearances don’t tell the whole story. Gus’s modest yet serviceable work space was a far cry from his luxurious house and exclusive parties, set apart from the hard-working people who bled to support his lavish lifestyle.

Starsky paused and swallowed hard outside the door to Stone’s office. He hadn’t been called in and he hadn’t made an appointment. But such protocol wasn’t about to stop him. His mind was made up.

Gus was on the phone when Starsky walked in. A few feet inside, Starsky pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them over to the desk. The whoosh of air created by the flying keys caused the papers on its surface to flutter. Gus started to wave him away but something in Starsky’s eyes caused Gus to change his mind. He looked down to the keys, then up at Starsky.

He ended his phone call tersely, setting the black handset in its cradle with a frown. “What’s this?” Gus asked. “You wantin’ a bigger pad? A fancier set of wheels?” He tapped the cigar he’d been smoking on the edge of a tortoise shell ashtray in dire need of emptying.

“I don’t want anything,” Starsky replied. “I quit.”

Gus leaned back in his chair, gauging him. He inhaled deeply from the cigar, then blew a puff of smoke toward Starsky. “This isn’t the kind of job you can quit with a fuckin’ two-week notice.”

“I ain’t giving no notice. I’m done as of now.”

Gus straightened abruptly, his displeasure sparking to life like a lit fuse. “What makes you think you can just walk away?”

Starsky held steady while his insides quaked. Yet his face was a mask. He’d had plenty of practice at hiding what he felt inside.

“Oh, I get it,” Gus said when Starsky returned his glare unflinchingly. “You want to go into business for yourself. You think you can make easier money by fencing? Or maybe even pushing horse? Joe warned me about you. Loyal as a retriever but too damn smart for your own good.”

The insinuations collected like a foul residue on Starsky’s skin, as though he were wading through a swamp. He couldn’t wait to go somewhere to wash off. “It ain’t that. I’m done doing people’s dirty work.”

Gus’ face colored. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m no different than anyone else.” The simple words tasted like sweet ambrosia on his lips. Manna to a starving man.

“Is that what you think? Well, you’re wrong,” Gus fumed. “You’re a two-bit punk a long way from home. Where are you going to go? You can’t just walk away like squeaky clean. Who’s going to take you in the way I did? You’re as dirty as I am.”

Starsky shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe so, but I’ll take that chance.” He pulled the notebook from out of his jacket pocket and ripped pages, one by one, from the binder, tearing them into unreadable scraps. “I might not be able to stop you, but I can sure slow you down.”

Gus lunged around the desk, heedless of the cigar that smashed in his hand. He grabbed for the ledger but he was too late. Names, amounts, dates, compounded by sweat and tears, floated to the floor like confetti. Inches away from Starsky, he quaked with rage, his neck mottled. His hands curled like claws at his sides.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

Starsky had nothing left to say. He just turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Gus’ threats and stale, tobacco-laced breath behind. He strode out to the street where he stopped long enough to heave the contents of his stomach onto the curb.

Then he got up and walked resolutely away.

Starsky had only one reason to go back to Huggy’s. When he saw the tall blond sitting at the bar he was relieved the trip wasn’t wasted.

“Here comes trouble.” Behind the bar Huggy used his eyes as pointers.

Hutch turned in his stool to see Starsky walk through the door carrying an army duffle. The bar patrons’ chatter turned to nervous whispers.

Hutch stood up cautiously at Starsky’s approach. “What’s in the bag, Starsk?”

“It ain’t some kind of bomb, if that’s what ya think.” Starsky dropped his burden heavily on the floor and slid onto the stool next to Hutch. “Unless dirty laundry is life threatening.” He gave a small smile that spread over to Hutch like a ripple of water.

Just like that, the tension that had followed Starsky into the bar dissipated into the smoky air.

“Did your washing machine in those fancy digs of yours break down?” Hutch sat back down and rested his hand on his glass.

“Let’s just say, I moved out.” Starsky turned to Huggy. “How about a beer? I’m just a regular customer today.”

“That’s good to know,” Huggy said as he reached for a glass.

“What happened?” Hutch asked.

“I quit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Huggy set a beer down in front of Starsky. “In that case, this one’s on the house.”

Hutch lifted his glass and touched it to Starsky’s with a clink. Above the rims their eyes met, the two distinct shades of blue melding.

“What are you going to do now?” Hutch asked.

Starsky took a gulp of beer and swallowed, letting the refreshing liquid sooth the burn in his throat. “Not exactly sure.”

“What about going back east?”

“Maybe later. Just not right now.” He wouldn’t admit he had no intention of showing up on his mother’s doorstep with nothing more than a pair of too tight jeans to show for himself. The look on Hutch’s face said he didn’t need to.

“What about you?” Starsky asked purposefully. “Did you mean what you wrote?”

“About what I really wanted?” Hutch nodded. “I guess I have a call to make,” he said next, his gaze never leaving Starsky’s face. “I’ll tell my parents this is going to be my last semester of law school. I won’t be taking the bar in the spring.”

“What?” Huggy’s already wide eyes grew even larger as he looked from one to the other, caught up in their game of catch and release.

“Starsky and I got to talking the other night,” Hutch said. “About how we might have been looking at things the wrong way. Being who other people wanted us to be, instead of just being ourselves.”

“Hutch left me a note saying that if I straightened up, he’d quit law school,” Starsky finished. “Seein’ as how that’s never what he wanted. He was just don’ it to keep peace in the family.”

Hutch gulped down the last of his beer and set the glass heavily on the bar. “I suppose my trust account will be closed within a week.”

Starsky’s glass followed suit. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I suppose Stone will try to get even.”

Huggy looked from one to the other as they grinned at each other. Not catch after all. More like Chicken. “You’re both crazy.”

“Possibly,” Hutch said.

Huggy shook his head. He picked up a rag and began to wipe the bar down, then stopped and slowly turned back to Starsky. “So if you’re not working for Gus anymore, there’s a good chance some other creep will be knocking at my door?”

“There’s that chance,” Starsky drawled.

“Seems to me I might need a good bouncer for a while,” Huggy mused. You know anybody looking for a job? It doesn’t pay much but at least it’s honest work.”

“You could flop on my couch for a while if you want,” Hutch jumped in, before Starsky had a chance to turn him down. “My place isn’t a castle, but at least it’ll keep the rain off.”

Starsky was speechless. He felt the same way he did when witnessing a small miracle, like a ray of sun piercing the thickness of a cloud bank or the first buds of spring emerging through mud.

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder and gave him a little shake. “What do you say?”

The jostle served to break up whatever had jammed in Starsky’s throat. “I guess I could, for a little while,” he said, then adding, “long enough to make sure you get into the police academy, anyway.”

Hutch smiled, giving Starsky the odd feeling that he’d known what Starsky was going to say all along.

“Police academy, huh?”

“I’m thinkin’ it’s where you belong,” Starsky said. “You got a way of seein’ the best in people, no matter how messed up they are.”

When Huggy brought them two more glasses (the last ones on the house, he warned, or he would go broke), he found them sitting side by side so closely a napkin could barely pass between them.

Chapter Six

 “David Starsky!” A voice called sharply out of the darkness.

Starsky and Hutch had finished their beers and helped Huggy close up shop. Starsky, his duffle slung over his shoulder, had followed Hutch out to his car when he heard the voice he figured would haunt his dreams for a long time to come. Its jagged sound echoed from the buildings that lined the city street.

Starsky and Hutch turned as one to see Gus Stone silhouetted under a street lamp across the street, his feet spread wide, his gray overcoat billowing in the cool air.

“I told you I’m done with you, Stone,” Starsky called back. “Now go back under the rock you crawled out from.”

“You think you’re something special, like you’re untouchable,” Gus spat out. “Let me tell you something, boy. I know all about you.”

Starsky took a step forward, blocking Hutch with his body, but Hutch would have none of it, matching him move for move. “Leave it alone,” Hutch warned.

“What’s this to you, blondie? Don’t tell me you care what happens to this punk. I got news for you. He can go down just like his father. Starsky’s pig of a father wasn’t capped in some random hit. It was planned all along. Your buddy — Joe Durniak — set up the whole thing,” he directed at Starsky.

“What are you saying?” Starsky felt as if he’d been slammed in the gut. His knees grew weak and he sensed the blood drain from his face. He felt Hutch’s arm at his elbow, bolstering him as Gus continued to rail.

“Don’t you get it? Big Joe, everyone’s favorite uncle, is in with the mob. A wise guy. But your pop, he was on to him, see? He was about to turn Joe in when he got burned. You want to know the funniest part?”

Gus’s face split into a sadistic grin. “Joe actually liked you. Thought you were smart like your father. Joe thought he could get you to follow in his footsteps if he started early enough. But he messed up. That’s why he sent you out here. Joe thought you might find out a truth you weren’t ready for. That you didn’t have the stomach to join the Family.”

Gus pulled a gun from his coat pocket and pointed it at Starsky. “I’m gonna fix his mistake before your head gets any bigger.”

Starsky stood immobilized as he listened to Gus’ words, because of the gun Gus trained on him. He suddenly realized that what he had done or didn’t do that night all those years ago hadn’t mattered. It wasn’t his fault that his father had died after all. It was Joe Durniak’s.

Starsky’s stomach began to roil just like it had at his pop’s funeral. The years peeled away. He could see the contrived sympathy on Joe’s face, smell the gardenias Joe had brought to the house. Their overpowering scent had left Davey slightly woozy.

He remembered the shiny Schwinn Joe had put together for Nicky on his birthday. The old car he’d miraculously arranged for Starsky to buy at sixteen. The back room meetings, the generous payments for packages carried and messages delivered after dark. The admonishments — Keep this between us, kid — that Joe had used to make him feel appreciated and reel him in bit by bit.

Hutch didn’t move from Starsky’s side. “Don’t be a fool, Stone. Being a crooked loan shark is one thing. Being a murderer is something else,” he cautioned coolly while next to him Starsky burned.

“Step aside, blondie. You don’t want to die for this creep.”

“You got it wrong, Stone. It’s you who’s the beast,” Hutch proclaimed.

Starsky saw Gus turn his gun on Hutch at the insult. The motion made him come to life. He moved to push Hutch aside, the same time as he heard the crack of gunfire and felt a white hot poker stab his shoulder. The force of it threw him backwards and he landed hard on the pavement.

“No!” Hutch cried out, dropping down beside him. Starsky felt Hutch grope him with frantic tenderness. Finding the bullet wound, Hutch pressed down with both hands and Starsky gasped in pain.

The night exploded then with the scream of sirens, a cacophony of shouts and running feet. Starsky distantly heard calls of “Police! Put your hands in the air!” Then other shouts and a scuffle.

“Oh God!” Huggy exclaimed as he arrived on the scene. He crouched with Hutch next to Starsky on the ground. “I was afraid of something like this. That Gus Stone is one badass dude. I knew no way was he gonna let Starsky walk away. I saw the whole scene go down and did something I thought I’d never do – call the cops.”

Starsky tried to speak but only managed a groan.

“Hang on, buddy. It’s going to be okay,” Hutch crooned.

Starsky moaned again. There was something he needed to say. Starsky was seeing his life as one long dizzying carousel ride, a parade of faces that blurred in passing. His father, mother, counselors, Big Joe. But then his focus settled in on one.

“I’m here,” Hutch said.

An officer ran over to them yelling, “An ambulance is on its way.”

Two other policemen had put Gus Stone in handcuffs and were leading him to a squad car. “What happened here?” one of the officers said as he reached them.

“Gus Stone took a shot at my friend, here. Nearly killed him,” Hutch said, not releasing the pressure of his hands or taking his eyes from Starsky’s face.

“I saw the whole thing from my place across the street, officer.” Huggy stood and gestured to his bar. “I was the one who made the call. Stone’s been hassling this neighborhood for years.”

My friend. Starsky grabbed for Hutch’s arm. “N . . . not a monster . . . ” He felt weak, fading away.

“No, babe,” Hutch leaned in to whisper. “That you could never be.”

A team of paramedics appeared and Hutch moved aside. They examined Starsky’s shoulder and took his vital signs with Hutch hovering inches away. When they secured Starsky in a gurney and lifted him into the ambulance, Hutch climbed in beside him.

When Starsky was finally settled, he turned to Hutch. Pain medications were starting to kick in, making him feel dreamy and peaceful. “Everything’s gonna be okay now, isn’t it?”

Hutch smiled down at him. “It sure is. We have a whole other lifetime to live.”

Starsky caught his reflection in a mirror hanging from one side of the ambulance. He noticed he could use a haircut and that his shirt was torn and bloodied. He saw he wasn’t perfect, but not irredeemable either. He was just — human.

FIN