{"id":438,"date":"2019-12-21T05:11:12","date_gmt":"2019-12-21T05:11:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/?p=438"},"modified":"2019-12-23T14:28:52","modified_gmt":"2019-12-23T14:28:52","slug":"december-21st-swing-shift-part-3-by-spencer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/?p=438","title":{"rendered":"December 21st- Swing Shift Part 3 by Spencer"},"content":{"rendered":"

Click here for Part 1<\/strong><\/span><\/a>
\nClick here for Part 2<\/strong><\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s just another concert hall, <\/em>Starsky repeated to himself as he stood in the wings. But the stage was larger than the previous others, the ceiling soared a little higher, and the audience — their biggest one yet — was dressed in Italian suits and designer gowns straight out of the pages of fashion magazines. What else did he expect? It was the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center, for crying out loud, and even David Starsky had heard of that.<\/span><\/p>\n

There were only a few performances left in their schedule. Just a few more mindless days on the road, restless nights in hotels, and hours of standing while pulling at stiff, white collars. The holidays were approaching and holiday lights and decorations had begun to appear in store windows and hotel lobbies. And although Starsky should have been looking forward to the grueling trip coming to an end — and having his bank account replenished — he wasn\u2019t. Other than his sweet but heedless mother and loose cannon of a younger brother, he had nothing to go back to. Besides, Starsky thought with a flutter in his belly, everything that drew him was up on that stage.<\/span><\/p>\n

The trip had changed Starsky in more ways than he could have imagined. He\u2019d learned more than he ever thought he would about the world of classical music. He still felt like a fish out of water but at least he was a fish who could bob with the current. As long as he wore a clean shirt, didn\u2019t botch any of the pronunciations of the composers\u2019 names that Hutch carefully drilled into him, and nodded at the appropriate times, he could pass as something more than a bouncer from Brooklyn. And he didn\u2019t need anyone to tell him that Hutch kicked some serious classical ass.<\/span><\/p>\n

If only someone could explain to him how someone as special as Hutch was so lonely. Even if he was<\/em> gay. His sexuality was only one part of him. He was also caring and talented and smart and funny and — Starsky squeezed his eyes against the image that jumped out front and center whenever he thought about Hutch — the man was definitely hot. Whether in a loose robe or formal black tux, it was easy to be taken in by Ken Hutchinson.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky looked out over the audience once again and felt the need to straighten his collar for the fourth time. It\u2019s a good thing no one could read his mind, he thought. Waves of unease pulled at him, dragging him down. Who was he kidding? He didn\u2019t belong here. And he vowed to stay far away from Hutch after this was all over. Starsky belonged at a place like Swing Shift, watching out for the boozers, breaking up fights with his glib tongue or fists, whichever worked best. And dealing with his messed-up sex drive. Guys like him were a dime a dozen, according to Joe Durniak.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch walked out on stage and took his seat at the piano. The audience quieted, waiting for his first note to be played. But his fingers paused over the keys. He turned to look over his shoulder at Starsky and gave him a small smile. Damn if it wasn\u2019t a message of encouragement. It should have been Hutch\u2019s confidence that needed bolstering, as he was about to perform before his biggest, most sophisticated crowd yet. Starsky was just a shadow in the dark. But Hutch seemed to have known the unease Starsky was feeling. And he\u2019d broken his concentration to focus on his scruffy driver, of all people.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky was flooded with a warmth that hadn\u2019t come from the stage lights. He felt connected to another person in a way he\u2019d never had before. Someone who seemed to see past the bullshit and bravado and accept him anyway. Up until that moment, Starsky had Hutch\u2019s back because he\u2019d was paid to. Now the money didn\u2019t matter so much anymore. He\u2019d stick with Hutch for free.<\/span><\/p>\n

After the concert followed by the obligatory, stuffy reception at which Hutch seemed to be treated more like a trained poodle than a human being, Starsky lay in his bed and listened to Hutch play his guitar through the thin hotel wall. He smiled to hear Hutch play Here Comes the Sun<\/em> in between the melancholier pieces.<\/span><\/p>\n

He imagined that Hutch played the private recital specifically for him and it lulled him into a more peaceful sleep than he\u2019d had in a long time.<\/span><\/p>\n

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

Lush Richmond, Virginia, seemed a world away from the concrete and steel of Brooklyn, but there, stepping into the lobby of the storied Jefferson Hotel, were two familiar faces — Chet and Rocky. They were two of Durniak’s men, although Starsky had never known exactly what they did. He hadn\u2019t wanted to know. In any case, Starsky figured the two thick-necked goons with even thicker heads had been sent south to work some dirty deal for Joe. He\u2019d forgotten how high Joe Durniak aspired. It wouldn\u2019t have been beyond Joe to want to squeeze himself into the genteel world of the South, where breeding mattered as much as chutzpah.<\/span><\/p>\n

Just like Starsky, Chet and Rocky were wearing silk ties and their shoes were freshly polished. Even so, they looked like rust on a new Cadillac. You can take the hood off the street but you can\u2019t take the street out of the hood<\/em>, Starsky mused, but then felt a pang as he wondered if that was the way Hutch saw him, too. He was as different from Hutch as a lump of coal was from a diamond. He probably looked as pathetic to Hutch as Chet and Rocky now looked to him, he thought moodily.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky tried to ignore the two men as they passed, Starsky on his way toward the elevators, Hutch\u2019s bags in hand, while Chet and Rocky headed toward the main doors. But at the last moment, Chet side-stepped to jostle him, a mockingly accidental move.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019d you know, Starsky. You\u2019re a long way from home aren\u2019t you?\u201d Chet stopped and looked him over like a disappointing cut of meat about to be returned to the chef.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSame to you, Chet,\u201d Starsky remarked coolly, his hands curling into fists on the handles of the bags. He was keenly aware that Hutch was just a few feet behind and dreaded a public scene. He considered how such a display might look to the hotel\u2019s well-heeled guests and more importantly, how it would reflect on Hutch.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone in the neighborhood\u2019s been wonderin\u2019 where you scurried off to,\u201d Rocky sneered.<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t as if Starsky had the kind of friends who would miss him if he disappeared for a few weeks. He figured it was more likely that Joe had groused loudly about losing his prize lackey. Perhaps he\u2019d even taken his displeasure out on the two men who stood before him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t see where that\u2019s anyone\u2019s business,\u201d Starsky retorted.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t need to get defensive, Starsky. It\u2019s just that with how things ended between you and Joe Durniak, we were all wondering how you were gettin\u2019 by. Call it neighborly concern.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Concern, my ass<\/em>, thought Starsky. More likely Joe was itching to drag Starsky back by his ears, if only to remind him how the big man had pulled the wild kid off the street and how much Starsky owed him. Joe Durniak thought he owned Starsky the same way he did the liquor stores or the delivery trucks. But Joe was wrong — nobody owned Dave Starsky, he told himself. Starsky may not be much, but he was his own man.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky took a few slow, deep breaths to calm his tingling nerves. \u201cYou tell Joe Durniak I\u2019m doing just fine,\u201d Starsky stated with a firmness he didn\u2019t really feel. What he felt was a bitter concoction of anger, disgust, and\u2026shame.<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly, Hutch appeared at his elbow. \u201cIs there a problem here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky\u2019s heart sank. He saw Chet and Rocky\u2019s attention swing automatically to Hutch and knew they\u2019d miss nothing — not the well-modulated tone of Hutch\u2019s voice, the expensive cashmere of his sweater, or his fine-boned hands. He could practically see white pockets of drool form at the corners of their mouths, like hungry wolves at the appearance of an unsuspecting, harmless sheep.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this who you\u2019ve been occupying yourself with? Some fancy pretty boy?\u201d Chet guffawed. \u201cWhy, Starsky, I\u2019m surprised at you. I didn\u2019t know you swung that way. Although I have heard rumors\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky knew the taunt was made to spark his ire, nothing more, but it worked surprisingly well. Starsky might have erupted like Mount Vesuvius if Hutch hadn\u2019t spoken up quickly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Starsky happens to work for me<\/em> now, not this Joseph Durniak person. And I don\u2019t appreciate you casting aspersions at my employee.\u201d Hutch\u2019s eyes took on an intense luminescence. He lifted a long finger and pointed it straight at the two other men. \u201cSo go crawl back into whatever gutter you came out of. We\u2019re late for our dinner with the mayor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It was clearly not the reaction they\u2019d expected. Chet and Rocky stared back at Hutch speechless, their tough guy act dissolved. They looked more like two misbehaving schoolboys who\u2019d just been reprimanded by the principal, grinning thick-lipped and foolishly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo each his own, Starsky,\u201d Chet said, and shrugged when he found his voice. \u201cJoe\u2019s never gonna believe this,\u201d he said to no one in particular, then added a disingenuous \u201cHappy holidays,\u201d as he straightened his off-the-rack jacket. Then both men continued on their way out.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky felt as though he could be knocked over with a feather. No one had ever spoken up for him like that. Although Starsky was sure he could have bested both Chet and Rocky with one hand tied behind his back, an unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his core. He started to say something he might eventually regret, but at the last minute changed his mind when something else occurred to him. Just like in the roadside restaurant, Hutch\u2019s words had been distinct and unfaltering. Unable to be ignored. It was as if Hutch had just needed to speak up for someone other than himself to make himself understood.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Hutch, what happened to your stutter?\u201d asked Starsky bluntly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch turned back to Starsky from watching Rocky and Chet saunter out toward the street. \u201cWhat?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour stutter. You didn\u2019t stutter when you were givin\u2019 those two what for. Which you did very well, I must say,\u201d Starsky added with a grin. \u201cNot my style, but effective.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat f-for?\u201d Hutch asked in bewilderment. He looked like someone who\u2019d been cavorting in the waves suddenly being reminded that he didn\u2019t swim.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know. The old heave ho. Amscray. You put the fear of god into those two bozos.\u201d Starsky laughed and let go of the bags. \u201cIt was like they\u2019d never heard proper English before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch reddened. \u201cI hope I didn\u2019t over s-s-step myself. I know you had the s-s-situation under control b-b-but–\u201d The stutter was back in spades. He trailed off, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut nothin\u2019. I didn\u2019t know ya had it in you. You\u2019re always surprisin\u2019 me, ya know that, Hutch?\u201d He reached out and patted his shoulder, wanting to reassure him that he\u2019d done just the right thing and that Starsky appreciated it. But Hutch flinched at his touch as if he\u2019d been struck, and Starsky quickly pulled back. His stomach felt like an elevator had just dropped him ten floors. He thought he\u2019d schooled himself to be immune from put-downs, but apparently he just been given another lesson.<\/span><\/p>\n

How had he gotten his signals crossed? Usually, reading people came easily to him. But Hutch constantly kept him guessing about where they stood. Boss, employee, business partner, friend, or something altogether different? While sometimes it felt as though he\u2019d known Hutch for a million years, other times they might just as well be aliens from different galaxies.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs that wrong in your world? An employee<\/em> as you say I am,\u201d Starsky spat out, \u201cto touch the guy who signs his paychecks?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m\u2026sorry. Don\u2019t m-misunderstand.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly, it was Starsky\u2019s turn to need an escape route. He pressed the button to call the elevator, then picked up the bags, shoulders back as he waited. \u201cI ain\u2019t misunderstanding anything.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

When the elevator arrived and they both stepped inside, Starsky felt they were impossibly close. He could smell Hutch\u2019s aftershave and inspect the fineness of his hair. He swore he could even hear Hutch\u2019s heartbeat reverberating against the steel walls. Or was that his own?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re n-n-not just an employee, Starsky,\u201d he heard Hutch say softly, his head down. \u201cI c-c-consider you a friend. I d-d-don\u2019t want anything to ruin that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

They were friends?<\/em> Ya could have fooled me<\/em>, thought Starsky. \u201cWhat could ruin our friendship?\u201d Starsky replied, confused, but before Hutch could answer, the elevator stopped to let in an older couple. The moment was broken. Starsky didn\u2019t know if he felt relieved or disappointed.<\/span><\/p>\n

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

The phone on the small bedside jangled shrilly, jolting Starsky awake. He blinked open his eyes, disoriented and unsure of where he was. There\u2019d been so many hotels, so many low rent apartments, so many strange beds. So many restless nights and bad dreams. But the dream that Starsky had just been torn from had reached a pleasant conclusion. Or had it only been beginning? He\u2019d been dreaming that he\u2019d found his way home after being lost in a maze of concrete, every turn of a corner more pointless than the last, until he\u2019d stumbled on an unexpected path. In his shadowed dreamworld, however, home had seemed less of a place and more of a person. Someone smart and brave and loyal, with fine blond hair and piercing blue eyes\u2026.<\/span><\/p>\n

The phone continued to ring as Starsky fumbled for the watch he\u2019d set beside it. The cheap, illuminated dial showed ten minutes after two a.m. He picked up the handset and cleared his throat. \u201cHello?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this David Starsky?\u201d The man\u2019s voice on the other end of the line demanded unapologetically even though he must have realized how he\u2019d interrupted Starsky\u2019s sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Starsky replied, pushing aside the dreamy images.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m calling from the Dial Tone<\/em> bar on West Cary Street,\u201d the caller continued brusquely. \u201cA friend of yours is here and he\u2019s pretty drunk. You better come pick him up. We don\u2019t like to call the police about these matters, but we will if you don\u2019t get here soon and get him out of here before there\u2019s any more trouble.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch. <\/em>Starsky\u2019s stomach clenched. Any more<\/em> trouble? \u201cWhat happened?\u201d Starsky asked even as he grabbed at yesterday\u2019s jeans that he\u2019d tossed on a nearby chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe was hitting it off with one of our regulars then decided to play hard to get. Chicky wasn\u2019t too happy about that. They started scuffling and your buddy may have gotten the worst of it. We sent Chicky home but your buddy here is in no condition for a cab. You better come get him right away.\u201d Surprisingly, the caller\u2019s last words indicated that he wasn\u2019t completely unsympathetic.<\/span><\/p>\n

Without wanting further explanation, Starsky followed the caller\u2019s directions to the section of Richmond known as the Block, the apparent hub of the city\u2019s gay community. Although most of the establishments of the Block had closed for the night, a few young men still milled about, perhaps looking for a last-minute hook up, perhaps loath to go home alone. They gave the place an aura of loneliness and desperation that Starsky well understood.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Starsky located the Dial Tone<\/em> after circling the neighborhood several times, he found Hutch slumped at a table just inside the door. Hutch lifted his head at Starsky\u2019s arrival and Starsky\u2019s stomach rolled at the sight of his fattened lip, dried blood and ugly bruise that discolored his slit of an eye.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell, Hutch?\u201d Starsky barked louder than he intended, and Hutch winced. Starsky could imagine what he was feeling — physical pain, drunken disorientation and, above all, humiliation. Not only had he\u2019d been bested in a fight, but his employee had come to see it. But it wasn\u2019t the time or place for Starsky to explain that his anger wasn\u2019t from having to retrieve him at such a time and place, but at the person who had purpled Hutch\u2019s eye and wounded his pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

A thin man with shoulder-length hair who\u2019d been stacking glasses behind the bar looked up at Starsky. \u201cTell your buddy that this isn\u2019t the place to lead someone on if he\u2019s not willing to put out,\u201d he explained matter-of-factly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI d-didn\u2019t… I wasn\u2019t\u2026\u201d Hutch mumbled thickly. \u201cYou…you don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt ain\u2019t none\u2018a my business,\u201d Starsky said, attempting to dial back his temper. As if he was acting purely out of an obligation to the man who signed his paycheck rather than out of concern. Another look at Hutch\u2019s disheveled appearance caused him to slip. \u201cBut tell Chicky if he ever comes around Hutch again, I just might kill him,\u201d he stated icily as he hefted Hutch up and put an arm securely around his waist.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky felt Hutch\u2019s attempt to hold himself stiffly away but Hutch fell heavily against him after a few staggering steps. \u201cN-no, Starsk. M-m-my fault.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t like trouble around here,\u201d the skinny bartender repeated. He turned back to the task of closing up for the night, obviously not interested in engaging Starsky further. Starsky understood his position. Like with Swing Shift, keeping Dial Tone<\/em> under the radar of the local authorities and the media was of prime importance — but for different reasons.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky settled Hutch in the back of the Galaxie and tried to assess the damage to his face in the dim interior lights. The smell of whisky clung to him heavily. Starsky touched Hutch\u2019s jaw to determine if it was broken. Thankfully, it wasn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to get you cleaned up,\u201d Starsky said. \u201cFind a way to cover up this mess you call a face and figure how to explain your bruises to your audience tomorrow night. They\u2019ll be expecting a fine-looking gentleman in a tux, not a bar brawler.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch wince again, and not just from Starsky\u2019s ministrations.<\/span><\/p>\n

What a dumb thing to say. The last thing he needs is somebody else coming down on him, <\/em>Starsky chastised himself.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is another fine mess you\u2019ve gotten us into, Stanley,\u201d Starsky quoted, then congratulated himself when he thought he saw Hutch smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

At the hotel, Starsky wrapped a chunk of ice in a hand towel and held it to Hutch\u2019s mouth but Hutch pushed it away. \u201cI\u2019m s-sorry\u2026\u201d he said. \u201cL-let me ex-ex-plain,\u201d but Starsky pressed the cloth insistently against his lips, effectively silencing him when he would have said more.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Hutch. What you were doing at a place like the Dial Tone<\/em> is none of my business. I don\u2019t care if you were trying to pick up this Chicky character or not. Your love life ain\u2019t none\u2018a my business.\u201d But even as he said it, Starsky wondered which of them he needed to convince more. \u201cThe only thing I care about is getting you to your show and getting my paycheck. I\u2019ve been around and I\u2019m no angel myself. So next time you decide to go out prowlin\u2019, maybe you could give me a heads up. That way I can keep an eye out for you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch shook his head. He put his hand over Starsky\u2019s fingers that held the chilled cloth. \u201cI wasn\u2019t on the p-prowl. I m-may do a lot of things b-but not that. I wasn\u2019t l-l-looking for a p-p- pick up. I just… needed to get away. Some p-place I could be m-m-myself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo you picked a seedy gay bar?\u201d Starsky sighed and settled on the bed next to him. \u201cAnd I thought I was the only one with a self-destructive streak.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch gave him a small smile. His eyes were liquid. He lifted the cloth from Starsky\u2019s fingers and put it back on the corner of his mouth. \u201cMaybe we\u2019re m-more alike than we at f-first thought.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Something twisted in Starsky\u2019s chest. \u201cA street punk like me and someone as talented as you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t want to feel any more for this man than he already did. In another week or two they\u2019d never see each other again.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re both lonely, m-misunderstood, far from home. Besides, there are all\u2026 kinds of talents. You have g-gifts I can only dream of.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLike what?\u201d Just stop — would ya?<\/em> Just stop before I\u2026<\/em> The conversation seemed surreal, more personal than any Starsky had ever had before. The hotel room surroundings seemed to recede into the background until he forgot where he was. But even half swollen shut, the warmth in Hutch\u2019s eyes drew him. He couldn\u2019t help himself. He leaned in closer, as if he and Hutch were attached by a silver cord.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI d-d-dream of the way you see through p-people,\u201d Hutch was saying, the stutter mingled with a slight slur, reminding Starsky that he was far from sober. \u201cYour acceptance of yourself, the w-way you s-stand up for people no m-matter who they are. I d-dream of your smile, your laugh, I d-dream of –\u201d Hutch\u2019s proximity was hypnotic. Even the faint scent of whisky on his breath was as intoxicating to Starsky as if he\u2019d drunk it himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

They\u2019d moved so closely together that their lips were nearly touching, and then for the briefest second they were.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the recesses of Starsky\u2019s mind he considered that what he was doing was wrong — against nature even — but at the moment it felt incredibly right. And extremely natural. It was as if every twist and turn his life had taken thus far had led him to this moment. To be in this place with this man. As if they were twin souls separated at birth that the universe took pity on to reunite.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then Starsky felt Hutch flinch and Starsky jerked away. He wanted to believe the reaction was from pressure on his abused mouth rather than distaste, but he didn\u2019t dare ask. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I don\u2019t know what I was thinking,\u201d Starsky quickly interjected. \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have done that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s my f-fault. I\u2019ve had… too m-much to d-drink.\u201d Hutch took back the hand towel, stood and walked over to the small sink that was positioned outside the hotel room\u2019s bathroom. He turned on the spigot and twisted the cloth with a vengeance under the stream of water.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky came over to join him at the sink. \u201cIt\u2019s not your enemy, you know,\u201d he said, taking the towel from Hutch. He wrapped it around a few more of the cubes of ice he\u2019d collected in the bucket supplied by the hotel. Lifting it to Hutch\u2019s purpled eye, he pressed firmly yet gently. \u201cAnd neither am I.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch lifted his gaze to meet Starsky\u2019s in the mirror above the sink. \u201cC-can you continue to work f-f\u2026 with me knowing what you do?\u201d Hutch asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Funny, Starsky thought he might just was well ask Hutch the same thing. Would Hutch still want him around if he knew his tough, street-wise driver was incredibly turned on by him? That his employee had fantasies about touching him and being touched by him in return. That when Starsky went to bed that night he\u2019d be thinking about Hutch as he came. And it had nothing to do with a troubled childhood.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky held Hutch\u2019s look as he pressed the compress to his eye. \u201cI\u2019m not goin\u2019 anywhere,\u201d he said. For the first time in his life he wished it were true.<\/span><\/p>\n

To be continued…<\/strong><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Click on the image to view it larger.<\/strong><\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Click here for Part 1 Click here for Part 2 It\u2019s just another concert hall, Starsky repeated to himself as he stood in the wings. But the stage was larger than the previous others, the ceiling soared a little higher, … 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":[4,9,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-438","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fic","category-sfw","category-slash"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/438","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=438"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/438\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":568,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/438\/revisions\/568"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=438"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=438"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=438"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}