Coming To Terms

Chapter Three

 

 

Bobbie sat on the curb, her head hung dejectedly between her knees.  The waves of nausea were coming closer together now, and her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her weight anymore. 

 

“There you are,” a voice came from the dark behind her.

 

Expecting Detective Hutchinson, Bobbie turned and looked up, a grateful smile on her face.  “I didn’t think you would get here so qui—”  Her voice died in her throat as her eyes came to rest on Dickie Barrows’ angry face.

 

At 5’5”, weighing only 152 pounds, Barrows was a scrawny man by anyone’s standards.  A pocked face and ferret-like eyes did nothing to improve his sleazy appearance.  The unwanted child of a prostitute, Dickie had never known kindness from his mother.  And as an adult, he repaid every slight and every slap she had dealt him by wielding a cruel dominion over the stable of young hookers he had gathered from the city streets filled with frightened, hungry runaways. 

 

Plunging his hand into the mass of Bobbie’s unkempt hair, Dickie yanked the girl to her feet.  As he drew her close to his face, he brought a switchblade up and pinioned it just below her chin.

 

“You’re disgusting!” he spat.  “I told you to get busy and bring me your quota for this week.  Instead, I find you sitting here looking like a piece of garbage thrown on the curb.”

 

“I’m...sick, Dickie.  I c-can’t work like this,” she stuttered.  Her eyes darted right and left, and she prayed the cop wouldn’t show up now.  If Dickie found out she’d called Hutch, he really would kill her.

 

“I told you—bring me the money and I’ll give you the stuff you need.  Don’t I always take care of you, baby, when you do what you’re told?”

 

“But nobody...nobody wants to...when...when I’m like this.”  Her teeth chattered, making it difficult to speak in full sentences.

 

“Let her go, Barrows,” Hutch said walking toward them.

 

The pimp spun around, holding Bobbie in front of him.  With the sudden movement, the knife, still beneath her chin, nicked the delicate skin, bringing a drop of blood to the surface.

 

“Hutchinson,” he said, surprised.  “What the hell do you want?  This is between me and my whore.”

 

“Let the girl go, Dickie.  She’s coming with me.”  Hutch’s eyes bore into the other man, pinning him like a wolf sizing up his prey.

 

“We were just on our way home, weren’t we, Bobbie?” Dickie said, tightening his grip around the girl’s waist.

 

Afraid to say otherwise, she agreed, “Yeah...that’s...that’s right, Hutch.  Dickie was taking me home.”  Tears glistened on her cheeks.  “Everything...everything’s just fine.”

 

“Let her go,” Hutch said again.  He extended a hand toward the trembling teen.  “Come here, Bobbie.”

 

Sobs began wracking her body as she felt the warm drop of blood slide down the curve of her throat.  Why was this happening to her?  All she wanted was for this pain to go away and never come back again.  Maybe the easy way out would be to let Dickie end it right here and now. 

 

Then she focused on Hutch’s face.  The cop’s eyes were like calm pools of blue water.  Irrationally, she thought maybe she could just dive into them and disappear from the whole stinking world.

 

Hutch felt the cold metal of the Magnum nestled against his ribs, but knew drawing his gun could only end in tragedy.  Even if Barrows didn’t panic and slit Bobbie’s throat, there was no way Hutch could get off a shot without the possibility of hitting her instead of the pimp.

 

Barrows started backing away, taking Bobbie with him.  To Hutch’s dismay, she didn’t fight him.

 

Hutch took a step toward them.  “Bobbie, he’s not going to hurt you with me standing right here.  He knows I’m a cop.  Come over here, and I’ll take you somewhere they can help you.”

 

“Shut up!” Barrows shouted. 

 

Bobbie’s eyes locked onto Hutch’s again.  The depth of compassion and strength she saw there was foreign to her, but she found it comforting.  In that instant, she knew she had no choice but to trust him. 

 

“Don’t listen to him,” Dickie snarled.  “I’ll kill you if you leave now.  You owe me!  You owe me big time.  Who took you in and gave you a bed and a hot meal?  Huh?  You go with that pig and he’ll throw you in the tank.  Is that what you want?” 

 

There was more at stake here than one prostitute.  His reputation, his ability to control his girls would be ruined if he let her leave.

 

Hutch’s extended hand loomed before Bobbie like the bridge to another life.  He nodded at her, almost imperceptibly, urging her to take that one step to safety.  It was all the encouragement she needed.

 

Bringing her heel down hard on Dickie’s foot, Bobbie broke free and dove into Hutch’s waiting arms.  He pulled her into a protective embrace with his left arm as his right hand went to the Magnum, drawing it so quickly, Barrows didn’t realize what was happening.

 

“Drop the knife and put your hands on your head!” Hutch demanded.  Barrows hesitated only seconds, then did as he was told.

 

In that instant, Hutch felt Bobbie stiffen against his side.  Her head jerked back tightly, the whites of her eyes narrowed to tiny slits as her body began to convulse.  His attention drawn from the man before him, Hutch never saw the small .38 Special that Barrows had pulled from the belt at the small of his back.

 

™™  ˜˜

 

“Huuuuutch!”  Starsky saw the flare as the bullet exploded from the muzzle of the pistol and knew instinctively that his warning was too late.  Hutch’s head turned toward Starsky just as the load slammed into the muscle of his left shoulder, inches above Bobbie’s head.  Whether he dropped to the ground as an act of self-preservation, or from the sheer impact of the bullet, Starsky didn’t know.  His breath caught and his heart went cold with fear, but training and experience overrode emotion, enabling him to act.

 

“Police!  Drop it!” he shouted.  It was the only warning he intended to give.  When the gunman turned, the .38 leveled at him, Starsky didn’t hesitate.  He pulled back on the trigger, striking Barrows in the heart with one deadly shot.  Beneath the dim light of the street lamp, he saw the shock on the other man’s face before his body went slack.  The pistol fell from Barrows’ hand, and he dropped like a puppet whose strings had been sheared with one decisive stroke.

 

Still shaken by fear and rage, Starsky kicked the .38 out of reach, checked Barrows for a pulse, and was on his knees beside Hutch and the girl in seconds.  When he reached them, Hutch, conscious but confused, still held Bobbie close to the ground, pinned beneath his injured shoulder.

 

“Hutch!  You okay?  Hutch!”  Starsky tried to gently turn him over, but Bobbie still clung to Hutch like a life preserver.  Hysterical sobs tore from her throat, mingled with babbling pleas to spare her life.  Carefully lifting the injured arm, Starsky untangled the girl’s limbs from around Hutch and drew her close to his own face. 

 

“Listen to me!  Listen to me, Bobbie,” he said sternly.  “You’re safe; it’s all over.  He can’t hurt you anymore.  I need you to calm down so I can help Hutch.  Okay?”  He jerked her chin up to meet her eyes.  He only hoped he looked calmer than he felt.  “Can you do that for me?  Huh?”

 

She took a deep breath and nodded, her head bobbing up and down quickly.  The tears still streamed down her face and she trembled like a victim of hypothermia—partly from fear, and partly from withdrawal.  But regaining a modicum of self-control, she backed away, freeing Starsky to tend to Hutch.

 

Seeing that Hutch’s shirt and jacket were saturated with blood, Starsky snatched a clean handkerchief from his jeans pocket and pressed it against the wound, before trying again to turn him over.  The small scrap of cloth did little to staunch the flow of blood.  When Starsky finally rolled him onto his back, Hutch groaned.

 

“Hutch, can ya hear me, buddy?”

 

Hutch’s eyes fluttered open slowly.  “Starsk?” he muttered, still confused.  He blinked a few times then mumbled, incredulous, “He shot me.  The little bastard shot me.”

 

Unable to help himself, Starsky chuckled.  “That’s what I admire about you, partner.  You’re one hell of a detective.  Nothin’ gets past you, huh?”

 

“Ow!” Hutch complained.  A spasm of pain contorted his face and he pulled to the right, seeming to think that by moving he could avoid it.  “Did you get him?” he asked, his words slurred and his voice strained with the effort.

 

“Yeah, I got him,” Starsky confirmed, cradling Hutch’s head on his knees while pressing the now soggy handkerchief against the wound.  Even beneath the muted beam of the streetlight, he could see the color fading from Hutch’s face.  Concerned about the heavy blood flow, Starsky knew he had to act quickly. 

 

“I’ve got to call an ambulance, okay?”

Hutch reached up and grabbed his sleeve.  “Wait!  Bobbie...what about Bobbie?  She okay?”

 

“She’s fine.  Don’t worry about her.  Tough kid,” Starsky reassured him.  As he talked, Starsky slipped out of his leather jacket, rolled it into a soft cushion, and gently eased Hutch’s head over to rest on it.  He then unbuttoned the faded cotton shirt he wore over his t-shirt and shrugged out of it.  Balling up the fabric, he pressed it against the wounded shoulder.

 

“Bobbie,” he said.  Turning to find her crouched on the sidewalk behind him, Starsky took the girl’s hand and placed it over the makeshift bandage.  “Hold this here.  Keep it snug,” he instructed her.

 

“Like this?” she asked, concentrating to keep her trembling hand exactly as he had positioned it.

 

Once Starsky was satisfied she could handle the task, he turned back to Hutch.  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

 

“Don’t worry.  I won’t to leave without you,” Hutch said humorously.

 

 

™™  ˜˜

 

Starsky turned the key in the lock and opened the door to Hutch’s bungalow.

Because of his daily trips to care for the plants and pick up the mail, it didn’t have the stale smell of a place closed up too long.

 

“Home, sweet home,” he beamed, stepping aside to allow Hutch to enter first.

 

His shoulder heavily bandaged and his arm in a restrictive sling, Hutch smiled and stepped inside, relieved to see something other than the depressing beige walls of the hospital room he’d stared at relentlessly for the past two days.

 

He took a deep breath and looked around.  “And it’s great to be here,” he said earnestly.

 

Starsky hurried ahead of him and cleared the sofa, then grabbed a clean blanket from the closet.  “I thought you might like to crash here on the sofa for a while—you know, watch a little TV while I go pick up some groceries.”

 

Hutch eased down onto the comfortable, well-worn couch as Starsky stuffed a cushion behind his back with the finesse of a professionally trained nurse, then expertly arranged another beneath the sling to prop up Hutch’s arm.

 

Giving Starsky a teasing smile, Hutch said, “What’s with all the pillows?  You been taking nursing lessons from some cute little candy striper?”

 

“Give me a break, will ya?” Starsky retorted.  “I just figured you shouldn’t move around any more than necessary for a day or two, okay?”

 

“Look, I appreciate your going to all this trouble, but I’ll be okay, Starsk.  The doctor wouldn’t have released me if he didn’t think so.  He knows I live alone.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Starsky hedged.  “I kinda told him I’d be sticking around for a few days to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”  He looked up, challenging Hutch to argue the point.  “So don’t pull anything dumb that’ll land you back in the hospital, or he’ll have my head.”

 

Hutch met his eyes, fully aware that Starsky had volunteered to play nursemaid to break him out of the stifling confinement of a hospital bed.  It was a running debate between them, which one detested the places most.  Unfortunately, in their line of work, they’d both spent far too much time as patients and in waiting rooms.

 

Hutch relaxed into the soft cushions, happy to be in familiar surroundings, and grateful to Starsky for making it possible. 

 

“Look, Starsk...I just want to say, I’m sorry about before—”

 

Starsky interrupted, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”  He gave Hutch a crooked smile and added.  “Now, before we get all soapy here, I’m going after some grub.  Be back in an hour.”  He turned on the television and offered the remote control to Hutch.  “So you surf the channels, or get some shut-eye, or whatever turns you on, and when I get back, we’ll eat.”

 

Hutch looked at the remote for a second, then reached past it and gripped Starsky’s forearm instead.  Understanding Hutch’s need to make things right, Starsky turned his arm and clasped Hutch’s in the age-old symbolic handshake denoting brotherhood.  It was a simple gesture, but he knew it communicated the bond of friendship they shared.

 

Hutch cleared his throat and said, “I’ll, uh, I’ll be fine.  Take your time, okay?”

 

™™  ˜˜

 

Unsure how long he’d been sleeping, Hutch sat up and listened.  There it was again.  Someone knocking at the door.  The ride from the hospital must have tired him more than he’d admitted.  Looking at his watch, he realized Starsky had only been gone forty-five minutes.

 

“Just a minute,” he shouted, untangling the blanket from around his knees with his free hand.  He snapped off the blaring television on his way to the door.  His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since early morning, and making him glad Starsky hadn’t wasted two hours perusing the junk-food aisle at the market.

 

“Forget your key?” he called out. 

 

Hutch opened the door and found himself face to face with Jeanie.  She looked exactly as he’d remembered her¾beautiful and appealingly vulnerable.  Although her long blond hair was cropped just beneath the chin now, her features were the same.  Those eyes that had haunted his dreams...why hadn’t he been able to capture them in his painting?

 

“Hello, Hutch.  I...I heard about the shooting.  I had to see for myself that you’re okay.  May I come in?” she asked timidly.

 

“Oh...I’m sorry,” he said, stepping aside for her to enter.  “Of course, come in and sit down.”  He followed her back into the living room area where she sat down on the sofa, and he beside her.

 

“I’m just a little surprised to see you,” he explained.

 

“Yes, I guess you are,” she answered.  “Maybe I should have called first.  But when Huggy told me last night that you’d been shot, I freaked out because I was afraid I wouldn’t get a chance to see you again and make things right.  I went to the hospital earlier, but they said you’d been released.”

 

“You saw Huggy last night?”

 

“Yes,” she answered.  “Well, I’ve actually been in town for a while, trying to get up enough courage to come see you.”  She looked down at her hands and appeared to study them, while she tried to gather her thoughts and recall the speech she’d rehearsed in her mind for the past several days.

 

“Why would you need courage to see me?” he asked, a little troubled that she felt that way.  “Are you afraid I’ll do something to hurt you again?”  Memories of his own demented voice telling Forest about the beach house, begging for another fix, rose up like gorge in his throat.

 

“Oh, no!”  Her eyes flew to his face.  “It’s not that.  I just wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.  I mean, the way we left things...  You said, if we were going to end it, we’d end it there.  I figured I might not be welcome here.”

 

Hutch sighed and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very, very tired.  He didn’t know what to say.  He’d thought about this moment so many times, wished for one more chance to see her, talk to her.  Now that it was here, his mind was a jumble of emotions.

 

“Hutch,” she began apprehensively.  “I’ve missed you.  I was hoping you’d missed me, too.”

 

“Of course, I’ve missed you,” he admitted.  “For a while, I hoped I’d hear from you when you got settled somewhere.  When I didn’t, I assumed you wanted to leave that part of your life behind.”

 

“I felt terrible about what they did to you, Hutch.  I didn’t think you’d want me around as a reminder.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, reaching out to take her hand in his.  “I’m the one who let you down.  I led them right to you.  I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that.”

 

Tears sprang to her eyes and shimmered on her lashes.  “You had no choice,” she said, sniffing back the unshed tears.  “I never blamed you.  Don’t you think I, of all people, know how ruthless Ben been can be?”

 

 “But—”

 

“That’s all in the past,” she said, cutting off his protest.  “Can’t we just put it behind us?”  

 

He reached out and took her hand, hardly believing she was there, at that moment, sitting beside him.  Maybe he was being given a second chance, after all.  Hutch felt a shudder run through his body as he felt the heavy weight of guilt begin to slide from his shoulders. 

 

“Okay,” he said smiling.  “If you can, I can.”

 

She squeezed his hand affectionately and nodded.  “I already have.”

 

Changing the subject he said warmly, “You look terrific.  Tell me everything—where you’ve been...what you’ve been doing.”

 

“I’ve been living in Vegas, working as a showgirl.  The money is great and the job exciting, but I miss you, Hutch.  I realize now how much I still need you in my life.”  She slid across the sofa and lightly brushed his lips with hers.

 

He felt a familiar stirring in his loins as he wrapped his left arm around her and pressed his lips against hers hungrily.  The passion between them was still palpable.  The kiss deepened, and he drew her closer until the pain in his shoulder overrode the pleasure, reminding him of the wound.

 

 “I can’t believe you’re back,” he whispered, nibbling her lips and along the curve of her jaw.  “Where’re you staying?”  He gently brushed a wisp of blond hair behind her left ear, then reached down and kissed the delicate earlobe.

 

“I’ve been at Jenny’s place since I got into town, but I thought maybe if you want me to, I could stay here with you,” she said, her voice caught in her throat when his lips reached the exposed curvature of her shoulder.  “I could look after you until you’re back on your feet, then you can come out to Vegas.”

 

Hutch paused, then continued his gentle exploration of her neck.  “Go to Vegas?  What for?  I don’t understand.  I mean, if you’ve come back here to live, why would we need to go to Vegas?”

 

Jeanie pulled away slightly, her eyes seeking his.  “Wait, Hutch,” she said.  “I...I didn’t mean that I was coming back here to live.  Only that I’d stay with you a few days until you’re well enough to travel.”  She smiled at him brightly.  “I have a terrific job in one of the shows.  I just know they’re going to give me a major part soon!  I think this could lead to my big break.” 

 

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke.  “I mean, you never know who’s sitting in the audience.  Hollywood producers scouting in Vegas are discovering showgirls every day.  Some are famous actresses now!  I just can’t pass up a chance like this.”

 

Hutch stared at her, trying to comprehend exactly what she was proposing.  “You mean you want to live in Las Vegas?  If that’s what you want, why are you here?”

 

“I told you,” she said in her most persuasive voice.  “I miss you and I need you, baby.”  She leaned forward to plant another kiss on his mouth.  “I need you near me.  I want us to be together.  I want people to see that I belong to you.”

 

Hutch’s brow wrinkled with consternation.  Still a little shaky on his feet, he stood up and paced the length of the room and back.  Then turning to face her, he said pointedly, “You want a career in show business, and you want me to quit my job as a detective to live in Vegas with you?”

 

Jeanie sighed, realizing Hutch wasn’t pleased with the idea.  “Don’t you see?  I need to be where I can get exposure and make contacts.  You could get a job there,” she reasoned.  “What difference does it make where you work, as long as we’re together?” 

 

Sitting down next to her, Hutch answered heatedly, “It makes a difference to me.  This is my beat.  These are my people.  More importantly, Starsky and I are partners and we count on one another.  I can’t just walk out on all of them.  Don’t you think what I’m doing here matters—that they need me?”

 

“Well, what about me?” she said petulantly.  “I need you, too!  Ben’s gone, and now you’re gone.  I’ve tried it on my own, and it’s terrible.”

 

Hutch felt his temper surge at the mention of Ben Forest’s name, but resisted from being sidetracked from the issue at hand.

 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice pleading for understanding.  “There are all sorts of creeps out in Vegas, hitting on me day in and day out.  If we were living together, they’d know I was off-limits.  I thought you cared about me, would want to be with me.”

 

Hutch’s mind was reeling with the implications of what she had said.  It was finally becoming clear to him what their relationship was all about.  “Jeanie,” he said, taking her hand and drawing it to his chest.  “I want you to look me in the eye and answer me honestly.  Do you love me?”

 

She blinked the tears from her eyes, then looked way.

 

Releasing her hand, Hutch lifted her chin until their gaze met.  “Tell me.  Do you really love me?  Or are you just afraid to be on your own?”

 

“I...I never felt safer than when I was with you, Hutch,” she said sincerely.  “Isn’t that love?  Knowing you can count on someone?  I know you wouldn’t have told Ben where I was if they hadn’t used the drugs.  And I’m so sorry they did that to you.  But with him in prison,” she rushed on, “we don’t have to worry about that anymore.  We can be happy in Vegas, you’ll see.”

 

He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, and she stroked her face against it.  “Jeanie, I....”

 

Finding it hard to put his feelings into words, he paused for a moment.  “There was a time when I thought maybe we were in love, and that if things had been different, we might have made a life together.  But there’s more to love than one person needing the protection of another.  I guess it’s in my nature to be protective, and God knows, when we met, you needed someone to protect you from Ben Forest.  But let’s be honest with ourselves.  If that need hadn’t been the driving force behind our relationship, you wouldn’t have left me as soon as he was out of the picture.”

 

“I know now I shouldn’t have left,” she interrupted.  “We were good together...I need you in my life.”

 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s not enough for me.  I have needs, too.  I want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who loves me for who I am.  Someone who accepts that my job is an integral part of my life, and understands that I can’t walk out on my partner and all those people who depend on me.  I need to be more than your body guard, and it seems that’s all we had going for us when we were together.”

 

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, considering what he had said.  “What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

 

Hutch ran his thumb over her lips, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly.  “You’re supposed to trust in yourself.  You’re one hell of a lady, and I have no doubt you can accomplish anything you put your mind to.  Don’t depend on others to take care of you, Jeanie.  If you want to be a star, you need to have self-confidence and stand up to people.  If you don’t learn to stand on your own two feet, it’ll never happen.”

 

She smiled at him sadly, then stood to leave.  “I think we could have been happy together, Hutch.  But I guess we’ll never know.  Maybe you’re right.  Maybe I don’t understand what love is.”

 

He stood also and walked to the door with her.  “Jeanie, I know this sounds trite, but I really do want to be your friend.”

 

“You are my friend,” she assured him.  “Only a friend can be truthful enough to make a person face things about themselves they don’t want to admit.”

 

She opened the door and found Starsky trying to balance three bags of groceries while digging in his pocket for the house key.  When he looked up and saw her standing there, his face went pale and his eyes immediately flew to Hutch.  He could see lines of fatigue on his friend’s face and hoped that whatever had transpired between him and Jeanie wouldn’t mean a setback for Hutch.

 

“Sorry,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“I was just leaving,” she said.

 

Starsky heard the tension in her voice.  He stepped past them both and headed for the kitchen, allowing them some privacy.

 

“Goodbye, Hutch,” she said, taking his hand in hers.  “And this time, it really is goodbye.”

 

“Goodbye,” he said with a poignant smile.  “I’m glad you came back.  I needed to see you again.”

 

“Yeah, me, too.”

 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he added.  “Just remember to believe in yourself, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she said, then walked down the steps and out of his life forever.

 

At the sound of the door closing, Starsky peeked out of the kitchen and watched Hutch return to the sofa and sit down.  Taking that as his cue, Starsky popped the caps off two bottles of Coke, walked from the kitchen, and dropped onto the sofa next to Hutch.

 

Handing one bottle to Hutch he asked, “You okay, pal?”

 

Hutch nodded slowly.  Starsky thought he’d detected a trace of a smile on his lips as Hutch answered, “Yeah, I’m fine.  In fact, I’m probably better than I’ve been in a long time.” 

 

™™ ˜˜

Epilogue

 

Starsky pulled the Torino up in front of Hutch’s bungalow and hopped out.  Whistling as he took the porch steps two at a time, he was looking forward to the evening with relish.  It had been weeks since he and Hutch had been out for a night on the town.  Early that morning, Marlene and Glenda, two of their favorite airline stewardesses had called the station to say they were in town for a two-day layover.  He’d been pleased to find that it had taken very little persuasion on his part to convince Hutch that the only gentlemanly thing to do was to invite them to go dancing.  Having heard from Dr. Cleeson last night that Bobbie had completed rehab and been released to the care of a foster family experienced in handling kids with backgrounds similar to hers, had bolstered Hutch’s spirits immeasurably.

 

Starsky rang the bell, then, without waiting for an answer, tried the knob.  As expected, Hutch had left it unlocked for him.

 

“Hey, Hutch, it’s me,” he called out, closing the door behind him.  When no one answered, he called again, “Hutch?”

 

“Be right out.  Just finishing my shower,” Hutch answered from the bathroom.

 

In the corner, stood the wooden easel Hutch used when painting.  Starsky noticed that, for the first time in months, it wasn’t covered with the paint-stained drape he was used to seeing.  His curiosity getting the better of him, Starsky inched toward the corner of the room.  Knowing Hutch didn’t like anyone to view a “work in progress,” he listened for a moment to make certain Hutch wouldn’t catch him snooping, then tiptoed toward the easel.

 

“Help yourself to a brew!” Hutch yelled from the bedroom.  Starsky pulled up short, nearly tripping over his own feet.

 

“Uh, no thanks,” he answered casually. “I think I’ll wait ’til we get to the club.”  Recovering his equilibrium, he eased his way across the room and reached the back of the easel.

 

“Starsky!” Hutch said from behind him.

 

“What?!”  Starsky spun around, wearing the guilty expression of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

Despite the bathrobe and a towel thrown around his neck, Hutch still looked as intimidating as a stern schoolmaster.  “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Nothin’,” Starsky lied, taking a step back from the easel.

 

“You were going to look at my canvas, weren’t you?” Hutch said.

 

“Well, it was uncovered and all, so I figured it was finished.”  Starsky gave him a sickly smile, seeing from Hutch’s face he wasn’t buying the excuse.

 

“Actually, I’m just getting started.  But you can look if you want to,” Hutch said, nonchalantly.

 

Taken off-guard, Starsky just stared at him for a few seconds.  “I can?” he asked, disbelieving this sudden about-face.

 

“Sure, why not?  I mean, we are partners and all,” Hutch answered magnanimously.

 

Starsky walked to the front of the easel and gazed at the painting before him.  The solid white canvas shown beneath the spotlight, the wet paint glistening like whitecaps on a choppy sea.  Wide brushstrokes of shiny white paint completely coated the surface of the canvas, covering whatever had once been there.

 

Coming to stand behind him, Hutch asked, “So, what do you think?”

 

Starsky turned his head to one side and studied the canvas.  Try as he might, all he saw was white.  Deciding this was Hutch’s idea of a practical joke, he finally said, “Okay, I give up.  What the hell is it supposed to be?”

 

“I call it ‘A Fresh Start’,” Hutch answered with a smile.  He clapped Starsky on the shoulder.  “And I think it’s way past due.  Don’t you?”

 

Starsky considered it another moment, then answered with a grin, “Yeah.  I think it’s probably your best work.” 

 

His partner was back.

 

 

The End