December 18th- Unconditional by Dandelion

A preview of a new novel

Chapter 1, Scene 1

“You’re not listening to me,” Starsky whined.

Hutch disagreed. “I’ve heard every word you’ve said.”

“How can you dig holes and hear me at the same time, hm?”

“I’m a magical being.”

“You’re definitely a bean, but I’m not sure of the magic.”

Hutch didn’t even want to guess at the meaning behind Starsky’s crack; it didn’t make sense except to figure his partner used it as leverage to make him actually give Starsky his undivided attention. Hutch wiped his brow, leaned on the shovel, and made eye contact. Oh, those beautiful, sultry eyes, Hutch noticed about his man—even when they were frustrated. “You don’t want to do this anymore,” he concluded.

“Did you hear why I don’t?”

“Every word, Starsk. I didn’t realize you were waiting for a reply.”

“I don’t want this cop job anymore,” Starsky repeated himself.

“I said I heard you.”

“I don’t want to be shot again… I don’t want you to be shot again.”

Hutch finally understood that he needed to keep his mouth shut while Starsky purged his thoughts, even if Starsky had already done it once through. They had agreed to dig a row of holes for new fruit trees, mostly to help feed the safe house boys, but it seemed Hutch was alone in the task as Starsky lamented about their future.

“We’re gettin’ too old for this game,” Starsky argued, as if there had been a debate; Hutch hadn’t said a word while he grunted and muscled dirt out of the ground. “I know we’ve talked about this before,” Starsky added, “but we’ve never made a decision. I want us to decide now.”

“Right now? I mean, it can’t wait until we’re done here?”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to hold hearings on it.”

“Then what’s the question? Is there one?”

“Do you wanna keep getting shot at?”

Hutch laughed. He’d barely dug the first hole and was already in the middle of a debate he hadn’t expected. “I never wanted to get shot at the first time; let’s start there. But, no, Starsk, I don’t want to get shot again.” He couldn’t help but notice how sexy Starsky was: intense with his desire to be heard, probably placated, standing nearby in clean jeans and shirt, no sweat on his brow, wearing hiking boots. He’d spent the entire hole-digging task that morning as a spectator.

“So… you wanna quit this racket then?” Starsky asked, sounding hopeful. “We both know how it feels to lose the other. We need a low-risk job.”

Hutch resumed his shoveling, figuring if he dug while he spoke, he’d make progress on the project solely because Starsky wouldn’t assume he wasn’t listening. “I’m all for whatever you want to do,” he promised between labored breaths. “We’re entering our forties now and it’s probably a wise decision to find something to do with our lives that won’t require a sacrifice like the ones we’ve had.”

“Exactly,” Starsky said excitedly. “So that’s it, then, right? I mean, we’re saying we’re quitting the police force.”

Hutch had only gotten several shovel loads out of the ground before he understood the depth of Starsky’s proposal. He straightened, leaned on the shovel again, and leveled his gaze that time. “I’m not sure we have to go that far, partner. Maybe we find some police job that simply doesn’t put us in harm’s way.”

“Okay, but I’m not doing traffic.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested that.”

“I’m not taking some desk job.”

“What’s your plan then?”

“I haven’t got one. I’m just telling you what I won’t do.”

Hutch returned to shoveling dirt and piling it neatly beside the hole it left behind. “Maybe you should try me on what you will do.”

Starsky sat in the grass close by, cross-legged, elbows on his knees, and watched Hutch dig. “Well, I mean, it’s gotta be something with a high success rate.”

“We rule out door knocking,” Hutch offered, hoping to narrow Starsky’s focus so he could better define a proposition. “No more surprise visits at convicted pedophile homes in search of preyed-on kids?”

“We could still do some of that,” Starsky countered, reflectively. “Even if it’s just our weekend hobby, you know? But I’m saying, for a job, we gotta find something that isn’t sure to kill us one day–and sooner than later–yet has to be gratifying, too.”

“Meaning we catch more bad guys than we don’t, right?”

“Something like that.”

Hutch pushed the shovel into the ground using a booted foot and put all of his weight on it, then used it to lean on as he looked over at Starsky. “Tell me more about what our new jobs have to be; let’s focus on the requirements.”

Starsky stared at the grass for half a minute as his mind obviously reeled, and then he lifted his eyes to Hutch’s when he got an idea. “It doesn’t have to be police work, but it’s gotta be low-risk, high success, be meaningful, and save lives.”

“Saving lives is meaningful.”

“I haven’t got more than that.”

“I’m assuming you’re not suggesting we work at the local animal shelter.”

“I couldn’t handle it, but c’mon… get serious with me.”

Hutch stepped off the shovel and dropped a new load of dirt onto the pile, after which he walked fifteen feet to begin the next hole. A cherry tree, he dreamed. He heard Starsky grunt behind him as Starsky pushed off the ground, followed by the sounds of Starsky’s reluctant footsteps in the grass, before Hutch turned to face him. “Shall we rule out working for animals altogether?” Hutch asked. He watched Starsky get comfortable in the grass again and realized he wouldn’t snag the physical help he’d hoped for on that hole, either. “You’re not looking to start a wildlife sanctuary or anything, are ya?”

“I’m thinking something to do with people. We can donate to animal stuff, but I couldn’t handle hands-on, not after what we’ve seen.”

“Good–because I was beginning to imagine us doing something like that–a farmed animal rescue–and I’d be the one to do all the physical work.”

“I’ll dig the next two holes,” Starsky promised, “and then we can split the last two in this row, okay? Same on the next row. But hear me out.”

“I haven’t stopped listening.”

“Something to do with people, something to kick the bad guys in the ass, like we’re good at, police or no police, but in a way that doesn’t put us in the line of fire anymore.”

Hutch broke ground on the cherry tree hole. “So, you still want to be a cop? Kicking ‘bad guys in the ass’ is police work.”

“Well, okay, I guess it’s what we’re good at, ain’t it?”

“Then how about we continue to do what we do; let’s just do it without guns.”

“Hutch,” Starsky said with a reprimanding tone.

Hutch split the ground with short stabs into the dirt. He knew he hadn’t helped Starsky figure anything out. But, in his defense, he’d broken a sweat on the first hole, even though the weather was relatively cool, so he was at least working on something. And he definitely needed to get back into better shape. Since he’d returned from Bolivia, he’d allowed his exercise routine to lapse.

“Hutch.”

What better way was there for Hutch to use his muscle than to finally be back into the art of farming? He sure had missed that kind of freedom and mindless tasking. Nothing like fresh air, singing birds, leafing trees, and grunt work to get his juices flowing again.

“Hutch,” Starsky said more loudly, that time sounding annoyed.

Hutch couldn’t ignore him. He stopped digging, leaned on the shovel, faced his partner. “What?”

Starsky’s return stare was firm; he’d grown outwardly sober in that last minute. “I can’t afford to lose you again,” he solemnly said. “I’m not playing around with this. We need to find another angle on our work… one that won’t kill you.”

“We were in Bolivia on vacation.”

“But that’s not my point. We came home to the same old job that puts us back in front of bullets again. Losing you is losing you, no matter how.”

Hutch finally heard the overall message in Starsky’s concern. And, of course, he fully understood it. “Okay,” he said agreeably, dropping the shovel on the ground. “We’ve made the decision to get out of the work we do, guns or no guns, and now we put our minds into figuring out a policing job that’s not traffic or behind a desk, but is also low-risk, highly successful, and meaningful. Did I hear you right?”

Starsky broke eye contact and picked at the grass. “For once,” he mumbled. He wasn’t serious, but he did sound appreciative of Hutch’s compliance, despite his light-hearted jab.

“Starsky?”

“What?”

When Hutch got his partner’s full attention again, he gently said, “I love you, too. But pick up the goddamn shovel and dig us a hole, will ya?”

Unconditional (the complete novel) by Dandelion will be posted on Christmas Day at http://starskyandhutch.info/fiction/unconditional-prologue/