{"id":223,"date":"2017-12-10T05:15:47","date_gmt":"2017-12-10T05:15:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/?p=223"},"modified":"2020-11-11T19:32:23","modified_gmt":"2020-11-11T19:32:23","slug":"december-10th-blondie-and-the-beast-part-3-by-spencer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/?p=223","title":{"rendered":"December 10th- Blondie and the Beast Part 3 by Spencer"},"content":{"rendered":"

Click here to read Part 1<\/em><\/a><\/strong><\/span>
\nClick here to read Part 2<\/span><\/a><\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Part 3<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky continued to stop by Huggy\u2019s regularly and watch the life inside through the windows. Hutch hadn’t come back out to his car. It was better that way, he told himself and he tried to ignore the ache of disappointment.<\/p>\n

Besides, the connection he\u2019d felt with Hutch was sure to break when he could no longer ignore Huggy\u2019s late payments.<\/p>\n

Doris, his waitress, was just getting back to work. Starsky had seen her the previous night, gamely taking orders with a taped up ankle. But Gus had called Starsky into his office twice that week already questioning his collection methods. He couldn’t wait any more.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Huggy\u2019s place would be closing in five minutes. Through the window he watched the remaining patrons pay their tabs. He took another swig from the bottle obscured by brown paper and took sadistic pleasure in the burn of the cheap gin down his throat. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a pair midnight blue eyes staring back at him. A creature\u2019s eyes — hideous and soulless. He no longer recognized himself.<\/p>\n

Who could want anything to do with me now?<\/em> The thought ran through his mind like a poison.<\/p>\n

He took another deep swig from the bottle. It was almost empty, nearly ready to join the other one lying on the floor boards. Liquid courage. Damn Hutch<\/em>, he thought, for making him feel, if only for a few minutes, that he could be like everyone else.<\/p>\n

Starsky got of the Chevelle and laid a hand on its cooling hood. The street seemed to undulate beneath his feet like a fun house floor and he waited for it to stabilize. He blinked at the sign above the door, the bright letters running together. He felt for the brass knuckles and the knife in his jeans pocket. He thought of the gun under the front seat. There was no going back. He wasn\u2019t good for anything else.<\/p>\n

After a few minutes Starsky pitched in through the door of the bar, then stopped. Hutch was perched long-legged on a bar stool, talking with Huggy and Doris who were drying and putting away glasses. Starsky hadn\u2019t expected otherwise, although it didn\u2019t stop the jolt that hit his chest.<\/p>\n

They all stopped what they were doing when they saw Starsky.<\/p>\n

\u201cTime\u2019s up, Hug,\u201d Starsky announced and flicked out his knife.<\/p>\n

Hutch slipped from the chair to stand at his full height, facing him silently.<\/p>\n

\u201cI been waitin\u2019 for ya,\u201d Huggy said as he deftly moved to intercede. He told Doris to leave and she quickly complied, careful not to make eye contact with Starsky as she went. Huggy pulled the drawer out from cash register and reached into the bottom to pull out a thick, banded up wad of cash.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the balance of what I owe. Three grand.\u201d Huggy tossed the bundle on the counter of the bar where it landed with a thump.<\/p>\n

Starsky approached unsteadily, eyeing the cash and trying to ignore Hutch. He picked up the wad and thumbed through it, the faded faces of long dead presidents staring up at him. Judging him. Starsky swallowed hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re still short. There\u2019s a matter of interest . . . . \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can tell your asshole boss I won\u2019t be payin\u2019 any more interest. I\u2019ve paid enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt ain\u2019t good enough,\u201d Starsky said. He brandished the knife at Huggy, the steel blade catching the shafts of remaining light overhead.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut that away,\u201d Hutch said quietly, \u201cor I\u2019m calling the police.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo cops, Hutch,\u201d Huggy broke in. \u201cIn this neighborhood, I don\u2019t need that kind of publicity. Besides, I\u2019m not so sure the boys in blue will see my side of things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re payin\u2019 — one way or another. The easy way or the hard way,\u201d Starsky said as he took another step forward, but his voice sounded all wrong. Instead of reverberating deep and threatening, it was muffled, like it was passing through cotton.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs this what you really want?\u201d Hutch asked.<\/p>\n

He made a tentative move toward him but Starsky jabbed out with the knife and Hutch jumped back, a thread of blood appearing on the back of his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have no idea what I want,\u201d Starsky raged. \u201cFuck, even I<\/em> don\u2019t know. I don\u2019t know who — or what — I am!\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky lunged from side to side unsteadily, waving the knife as if fending off unseen foes. Goblins of pain and loss and guilt.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut the knife down, Starsky.\u201d Hutch\u2019s voice was calm, hypnotic.<\/p>\n

Starsky looked back at Hutch but his features had blurred. His blue eyes shimmered like an oasis in the desert.<\/p>\n

\u201cMove aside, Hutch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you want to cut someone, cut me.\u201d Hutch stood like a statute. He looked like Michelangelo’s David, noble and confident. Beautiful. Everything that Starsky was not and could never be.<\/p>\n

Starsky thought of the eyes of the beast in the mirror. He recoiled inwardly, while lurching forward at the same time. This time Hutch was ready for him. He went to grab his wrist but Starsky twisted his arm wildly, slashing the knife through the air, aiming at nothing and everything. Nevertheless, Hutch held on until there was a snap of bones.<\/p>\n

Starsky groaned loudly and the knife fell from his hand, clattering onto the linoleum.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus,\u201d Huggy breathed.<\/p>\n

Starsky stared at the knife. It seemed to have landed at almost the same spot where he had poured out the mug of beer, splashing Hutch\u2019s shoes. Had that been only a few short weeks ago?<\/p>\n

The ground began to roll under his feet like waves, the air seemed to buffet him like a storm wind. He fell to his knees and Hutch was there beside him, propping him up where his wrist had collapsed at an odd angle, useless.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll drive you to a doctor,\u201d Hutch offered.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo doctor. No,\u201d Starsky gasped as the pain in his wrist collided with the alcohol in his system, \u201cdoctor.\u201d He swallowed down the bitter bile that threatened to erupt from his gullet, to humiliate him even more.<\/p>\n

\u201cSuit yourself.\u201d Hutch helped Starsky to a chair and gently examined his wrist. Starsky didn\u2019t have the spirit to protest. He didn\u2019t even make a good villain. Huggy went to kitchen and reappeared with some bar rags. Starsky watched dejectedly as Hutch bound his injured wrist, immobilizing it while Huggy stood guard over his shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cYa ever consider goin\u2019 into medicine instead of law?\u201d Huggy commented.<\/p>\n

Hutch gave a little laugh like a puff of air. \u201cI grew up on a farm, remember? This is no worse than getting kicked by a mule. Besides, my father would never forgive me if I didn\u2019t follow in his footsteps.\u201d He gave the rag binding a final firm and gentle tug.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerish the thought!\u201d Huggy rolled his eyes, his sarcasm letting them know how he felt about the legal profession in general.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere do you want me to take you?\u201d Hutch asked Starsky.<\/p>\n

Starsky hadn\u2019t looked at either of them while Hutch had applied first aid, but rather studied the scuff patterns on the floor, hoping that staring at one spot would stop either his head or the room from spinning. The knife had disappeared, Huggy having locked it up in his back room.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can drive.\u201d Starsky finally found the voice to grumble.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you can\u2019t. Even if you could manage the steering wheel with that wrist, you\u2019re drunk as a skunk. Is there someone you can call?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone who\u2019s not going to bust up my bar?\u201d Huggy added for good measure.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should get that x-rayed. If the bones are dislocated, they’ll need to be repositioned,\u201d Hutch said. \u201cYou can have someone take you to the doctor tomorrow.<\/p>\n

Starsky shook his head. He had no one. The slight movement caused the room to resume its spinning. He stifled a groan.<\/p>\n

Hutch sighed. \u201cCome on then. Just give me an address,\u201d he told him as he hoisted Starsky to his feet.<\/p>\n

Chapter Four<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky\u2019s apartment was in a bland, four-story building in Huntington Beach. It came with the prerequisite palm trees, pool, and lounge area for sun-worshippers who didn\u2019t want the hassle of going to the beach. Hutch opened the door to the unit then handed the key back to Starsky.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure this is your place?\u201d he asked as Starsky flipped on a wall switch, throwing light onto the sparsely furnished room. A faux leather couch and coffee table that looked barely used were pushed against a wall. A dust-covered Zenith TV sat in a corner. Dark drapes shrouded the large picture window. The only signs of life were a few pieces of dirty laundry and Popular Mechanics magazines scattered about.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that supposed ta mean?\u201d Starsky fell onto the couch and lifted his feet to rest on the coffee table.<\/p>\n

Hutch continued to stand. \u201cWell, it\u2019s nice and all, but it just doesn\u2019t look like anything you\u2019d pick out for yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGus Stone set me up. The car\u2019s not mine either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u201d Hutch found the bathroom and opened the door to the medicine cabinet. Inside was a razor, a can of shaving cream, toothpaste. \u201cDo you have any aspirin round here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d Starsky was plummeting deeper into a fog that had begun enveloping him ever since falling into Hutch\u2019s car, an old Ford that somehow seemed a much more comfortable ride than his fancy Chevelle.<\/p>\n

\u201cAspirin. You’ll need it once your buzz wears off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cChrist, Starsk. How can you live this way?\u201d Hutch walked back into the living room.<\/p>\n

Starsk.<\/em> The shortened version of his name sounded affectionate. The way one might refer to a friend.<\/p>\n

Starsky felt Hutch\u2019s weight sink into the couch beside him. Felt him lift up his wrist and gently yet efficiently check the binding.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho says I\u2019m living? I’m just existing.\u201d Even to him, his voice sounded hollow, disembodied.<\/p>\n

Hutch set down his wrist. \u201cDon\u2019t you want something more?\u201d he asked quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don’t deserve anything more. I’m a freak.\u201d Starsky felt himself slipping on the semi-slick material and thought he’d end up puddled on the floor. Instead, he found himself leaned up against something firm and unyielding. Hutch\u2019s side.<\/p>\n

He recognized the faint smell of cigarette smoke that lingered on Hutch\u2019s shirt from the bar, a clean, masculine scent of aftershave, the warmth of beer on his breath when he asked, \u201cWhy do you say that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky felt as much as heard the question. The words came from deep within Hutch\u2019s chest, vibrating through him, pouring out over Starsky like balm.<\/p>\n

What answer could he give to make Hutch understand? If being a loan shark\u2019s errand boy didn\u2019t disgust him, what would? Starsky\u2019s thoughts traveled back to a warm October night. A stickball game. His reluctance to return to the confines of home, homework, chores. He\u2019d thought he’d been bigger than that. The life laid out ahead of him more exciting. Until he’d heard the pop of a gun, squealing tires, metal smashing obscenely on metal.<\/p>\n

\u201cI killed my pop,\u201d Starsky murmured.<\/p>\n

In his mind he saw his father hunched over the steering wheel, the dark blood spreading between his shoulders. It was a sight he\u2019d never been able to forget no matter how hard he tried or how far he ran. Sergeant Starsky would still be alive if not for his errant son.<\/p>\n

Starsky felt Hutch\u2019s quick intake of breath. Felt him tense up, pull back fractionally. The pain of it hurt worse than a knife, amazing him that he still could feel anything at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cI . . .\u201d Hutch swallowed heavily, \u201cI don’t believe that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBelieve it,\u201d Starsky said, his voice falling into his practiced, tough tone even as his words slurred. \u201c\u2018A long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long? When you were a kid?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was thirteen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky could sense Hutch contemplating the enormity of the confession. Could picture Hutch\u2019s face take on a look of revulsion. Starsky kept his eyes on the flat beige wall ahead. He dreaded seeing Hutch\u2019s open expression close down, just like everyone else\u2019s. But he didn\u2019t kid himself that it wouldn\u2019t once Hutch knew the ugly truth.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy pop was a policeman back in Brooklyn. One night, I was late comin\u2019 home and he came lookin\u2019 for me. He was . . . I mean . . . He never would have been on that street if it wasn\u2019t for. . .\u201d Starsky felt a sob build in his chest. He fought it back but it bubbled up like a hot spring, scalding his throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was sh\u2014shot.\u201d The words burned his tongue. \u201cStory is, a local mob had it out for the cops for shuttin\u2019 down their operation. Said they\u2019d take one out, as a warnin\u2019 ta back off. So they did. My pop.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hutch\u2019s shoulder that had pulled away seemed to creep back closer. \u201cI think you\u2019re a little confused,\u201d he said. \u201cYou<\/em> didn\u2019t kill your father, someone else<\/em> did.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky had heard the rationalization more than once. From the parish priest, the school counselor. Even his pop\u2019s police buddies. It didn\u2019t matter. Starsky was the only one who knew the truth of what he\u2019d done. He\u2019d drawn his own father into deadly fire. He knew what he was. He was responsible. He\u2019d gotten his father killed as surely as if he\u2019d pulled the trigger of the gun or driven the car into the light post.<\/p>\n

Joe Durniak had understood. That\u2019s why they\u2019d drawn close. Big Joe had recognized the animal in him and set him on the path to where he belonged. A dark, shadowy place far away from decent society.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, we all make mistakes when we\u2019re kids,\u201d Hutch said. \u201cWe all disappoint our parents at one time or another. It doesn\u2019t make us irredeemable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky wasn\u2019t buying it. No one had messed up the way he had. And especially not this perfect person sitting next to him. Brave, smart, loyal, caring . . . What could he<\/em> ever possibly have messed up?<\/p>\n

As if Hutch had read his mind, he admitted, \u201cI screwed up with my parents big time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky moved his head back and forth against Hutch\u2019s shoulder. Against the thought that Hutch could ever be a disappointment to anyone.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s true.\u201d Hutch sighed. \u201cThey had such different plans for me than I had for myself. My dad is a lawyer, but I\u2019ve actually always wanted to be a cop. Talk about coincidence, huh? I couldn\u2019t see sitting around an office in a suit and tie, writing up contracts and filing forms. I thought I could do more being out on the street. Ya know? Being with people instead of paper.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky thought of Hutch leaning up against the bar, trading jokes with Huggy Bar \u2013 his fine blond hair contrasting with Huggy\u2019s dark afro. Hutch smiling at Doris the waitress, no doubt leaving a bigger tip than necessary. Hutch getting into a car with a thug to share a meal and talk. Yeah, he doubted there was an office that could hold him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what happened?\u201d Starsky found himself asking.<\/p>\n

\u201cI got my high school girlfriend pregnant. Can you believe it? Talk about bad choices. I guess I thought I had something to prove. You should have seen the look on my parents\u2019 face when I told them.\u201d Hutch paused as if he were reliving the life-changing moment in his head, but then continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyway, we got married real quick. But Nancy had a miscarriage at five months. After that, things just fell apart between us. We were too young to know who we really were or what we wanted.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d Starsky had thought once about what it would be like to get married; to be a father. He\u2019d thought his pop was the greatest man in the world and he\u2019d wanted to be just like him. A couple of married guys in his army unit would sometimes risk his black mood to show off pictures of their smiling wives, their plump little babies. Wouldn\u2019t losing all that be just as bad as losing a father?<\/em><\/p>\n

Starsky usually fought against reliving the past. Dredging up painful memories served only to poison the air, turning it foul and heavy. But this time was different. In fact, it seemed easier to breathe now than it had than when they\u2019d first entered the apartment.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened then?\u201d Starsky asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to go to the police academy, but I just couldn\u2019t disappoint my father any more than I already had. So I agreed to law school and here I am. Trying to pick up the pieces — putting the past behind me. Studying on my parent\u2019s dime by day, hanging out on the streets at night.\u201d<\/p>\n

The few minutes of silence that followed Hutch\u2019s revelation was comforting rather than tense. The waves that had been tossing him for hours slowed to a gentle rocking, lulling him in time with Hutch\u2019s breathing.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo . . . do you think it\u2019s really possible?\u201d Starsky asked.<\/p>\n

Hutch gave Starsky a sad laugh and little shove. \u201cWhat is? Studying, hanging out, or picking up the pieces?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPutting the past behind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hutch turned on the couch to face him. The loss of contact made Starsky feel as though a piece of himself had gone missing. Hutch\u2019s face was thrown into shadows in the dimly lit room, but his eyes remained luminous.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt’s all I have to go on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut that’s not what you’re doin\u2019.\u201d Starsky struggled to keep his eyelids open.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Hutch asked.<\/p>\n

Starsky could hear a tremulousness in Hutch\u2019s normally even voice as he felt himself slip away. A chink in the armor.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou’re following someone else\u2019s dream. Not yours,\u201d Starsky said before succumbing to the pull of sleep.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Starsky dreamed he was a creature locked in a fortress. He walked the parapets alone, shunned and forgotten by the rest of the world. Until one day a white knight breached the fortress walls. Starsky bared his teeth and swiped at him with his claws. But the knight had a singular gift. He could approach him without revulsion, seeing through to his soul. The monster that was Starsky became confused, snarling and snapping, yet not knowing how to defend himself against the shiny armor. Until the white knight lifted his helmet to reveal that underneath he was just a man.<\/p>\n

The next morning Hutch was gone, but he’d left a note behind.<\/p>\n

To be continued\u2026Click here to read Part 4<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Click here to read Part 1 Click here to read Part 2 Part 3 Starsky continued to stop by Huggy\u2019s regularly and watch the life inside through the windows. Hutch hadn’t come back out to his car. It was better … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6,7,16],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-223","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fic","category-gen","category-safe-for-work"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/223","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=223"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/223\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":537,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/223\/revisions\/537"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=223"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=223"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=223"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}