Partnerhood – Plus One
by Kaye
Huggy noticed him the minute he walked in. The swagger was missing its
edge, the eyes not so bright. He watched him slide into a back booth, give a
half smile to the waitress, and a nod to Huggy, who had already rounded the bar
towards him.
“Hiya Hug.”
Huggy squelched the ‘where’s Hutch,’ and slid in across from him.
“Hiya yourself. What’s shakin?”
“Nothing – you?”
“Same, my friend – nuthin, nada, nunca, dim, nein, zilch, zip a dee do
dah . . .”
Starsky smiled wider now. Only Huggy could interrogate with a litany. He
answered the non-question. “He’s at Dobey’s – Edith is feeding him roast beef
and chocolate
cake – letting him watch PBS.”
“And you aren’t there, because . . .”
“Just needed a break, you know?”
Huggy laid his hand on top of Starsky’s. “I know. You don’t have to say
another word.”
Starsky laid his other hand on top of Huggy’s. “Thanks, man.”
Huggy withdrew his hands and motioned to the waitress. “What are you having
– beer, burger?”
“Sounds good.” Starsky leaned back, willing himself to relax. Wondered
if he ever would relax again. It had been two weeks. Every muscle in his entire
body had been on point now for two weeks. Two weeks of waiting for the relapse,
waiting for the walls to come tumbling down on the house of cards he had
hastily erected out of this fucking mess. So far, so good, though. Hutch was
getting stronger every day. The nightmares had lost their intensity, the
endless pacing had lessened. He had started eating again – which is why he was
at the Dobey’s. Starsky had little to offer in the way of comfort food. Had
little to offer in the way of comfort, at this point. He was almost as strung
out as his partner. Edith had taken one look at the both of them, sent Hutch to
the couch with a full plate, and Starsky out the door. Somehow she knew exactly
what to do. Dobey was one lucky man.
“I hate to state the obvious, but you don’t look so good.”
“Yeah, well. Been a little busy.” Starsky looked around the bar. “You
hear anything?”
Huggy shook his head. “Quiet as a tomb. I think we did it. As long as
you got Glassman covered – it’s good from my end.”
“Yeah, he’s solid. And Dobey’s been a rock. Even got Forest transferred
to solitary so he’d quit running his mouth to anyone who would listen about the
junkie cop. DA says it should be a non-issue at the trial. Hutch might have to
take a piss test . . .”
“He gonna pass a piss test?”
“What the hell does that mean?” Starsky sat up straight.
“Means what it means. You think he can stay clean?”
“Of course he can.”
“Why you so sure? Hell, you
haven’t even left him alone for more than an hour, yet.”
“Because I know Hutch. And so do you.” Starsky felt the anger rising.
“You don’t know Horse.”
“Now you sound like a bad movie.”
The waitress brought the beer and the burger. They both sat back. Huggy
watched Starsky take a bite, wash it down with the beer, and then push the
plate away from him.
“Guess I’m not that hungry.”
“Uh huh.” Huggy folded his arms.
“Huggy, what do you want from me?”
Huggy leaned in. “I want you to be very clear about reality here. That’s
what I want. I also want you to stop kicking yourself all over the goddamn city
about this. How bout that? And I want you to give yourself a break. I want you
to get some sleep, relax, get drunk, maybe get laid.”
“That an offer?”
“You wish.” Huggy swiped Starsky’s beer and took a drink. He handed it
back and Starsky took a long pull and offered it back to Huggy, who took it
again.
Starsky chuckled. “Remember when Hutch first saw you drinking my beer?
Thought he’d come out of his shoes. Now he does it himself.”
Huggy smiled. “Yeah, brother was one tight screw back then.”
“I guess we loosened him up, huh?”
“You were harder to crack.”
“C’mon Hug – how can you say that. The first time I met you, I broke the
law for you.”
“Yeah, I guess – you were just a baby back then, though.”
The bar fell away and they were sitting in Starsky’s squad car, arguing
. . .
gh
The young Officer Starsky had caught Mr. Brown in an alley, smoking a
joint, and as Starsky was just six months out of the academy, he had arrested
him. But Huggy knew that half a joint does not an arrest make, so he just sat
in the back of the squad car and taunted the young man, waiting for some
Sergeant to come by and spring him.
“Whatcha gonna do, baby cop? Send me up the river for a blunt? What’s
the matter, don’t they let you catch real criminals yet?”
“Shut up,” Starsky growled from the front seat, where he was trying to
get the car started. They had been halfway to the station when it had just
died.
“Piece of shit,” he muttered.
“You talking to me?”
“No, this car is a piece of shit.”
“What do you drive – oh, let me guess – some custom job, right? All
engine and wheels, flash and noise. Probably think it attracts chicks.”
“I wish. Hopefully, when I get promoted . . .”
“Promoted? Man, are you one of those cats that bleed blue? I don’t get
that kind of vibe from you, I gotta tell you.”
“The only vibe you’re getting is from that joint.”
“Like you never got high?” Huggy saw Starsky’s head lift and frown at
the rearview mirror. Gave him his answer, but he felt like pushing. Something
about this man intrigued him. If he wasn’t in the middle of getting arrested by
him, Huggy thought he might actually ask the man out for a beer.
“Come on, Officer, you telling me you never burned one? Even before all
that serve and protect hoo-haw? That I find hard to believe. You got the look
of the street about you. You weren’t always so dutiful – I’d lay book on it.”
Starsky shifted in his seat. For some reason, he didn’t mind the
interrogation. He suddenly felt like talking. To the man in the back seat. Whom
he had never seen before. Whom he had in custody. It was the damndest thing –
he felt at ease with this man from the minute they started talking. It wasn’t
the instant click that he had felt down to his toes when he met Hutch, but it
was close. They came from different places –different planets, really, but he
felt a sort of cosmic recognition of a kindred soul. And so he spilled his
guts. Right there, sitting in the sun, waiting for a tow.
They talked about a lot of things that afternoon. About being a cop.
About being a man. About how they had both been burned by friends in the past.
About how Huggy had lived on the street for a while, and Starsky had almost
joined a gang when he arrived in Bay City, fresh from the death of his father.
How Huggy had joined the rival gang himself, wanting to forget a mother who had
abandoned him to relatives when he started interfering with her tricks. Starsky
talked about Hutch, about how they were just waiting for the transfer to come
through, and then Hutch would join him on the streets. They would be partners.
Huggy took note of the reverent tone Starsky used when he mentioned Hutch and
partnership in the same sentence.
“Well, Officer . . .”
“Starsky – just call me Starsky, okay?”
“And you can call me Huggy Bear.”
“Huggy Bear? Man, that’s weird.”
“You’re weird. In a cute, people of the desert, kind of way.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means that it’s gotta be your heritage keeping you cool, cause my black
ass is frying like bacon back here. Care to crack a window?”
Starsky shook his head and smiled. “Well, Huggy Bear, you sure have a
unique way of communication, I can say that about you.”
“Yo, Starsky, my man – what you say we abandon this heap and go find
some refreshment?”
“But I gotta take you in.”
“You don’t gotta do nothing. You ain’t still gonna bust me, are you?
After what we been through? After all I mean to you? Man, I thought we were
friends . . .”
He looked up to see Starsky opening the back door, handcuff keys
dangling in his fingers. Huggy scooted over and leaned down and Starsky
unlocked the cuffs.
“Man, you weren’t kidding – you’re sweating like a pig.”
“I told you.” Huggy rubbed his right wrist. “I think you passed the
handcuff class with an A – those were tight.”
“Sorry.”
“No worries, you can pay me back with a nice cold brew.”
Starsky stared at Huggy, who stood smirking at him, his hand on his hip.
The image seared into his brain. Branded his heart. From somewhere deep, he
knew the moment was an important one. Life decision time. And like so many
other decisions he had made, he went with his instinct.
“Name the place.” He locked the car doors. “But I hope its close – cause
we’re gonna have to walk.”
Huggy smiled. “You gonna make me walk all over the city with a cop?
Ain’t you got some other clothes? You are gonna seriously destroy my reputation.”
gh
“Yes, but you’re the one that kept insisting on flashing my badge at
every woman we saw.” Starsky chuckled as he took the beer back from Huggy and
drained it.
“Got myself some tasty morsels, too, if I remember.” Huggy rubbed his
hands together at the memory.
“I remember a hangover, that’s what I remember. And Hutch. I remember
Hutch. He almost shot you.”
“I told you the man was tight – he didn’t even care that I was wearing
your uniform shirt . . . that we were obviously friends . . .” Huggy said.
“Actually, I think that’s what he did care about – maybe thought you’d
taken advantage of me or something . .
.”
“Not to repeat myself, but – you wish.”
“We got him calmed down, though.”
“You got him calmed down, you mean. You were the only one who could get
him calmed down.”
Starsky frowned. “And now, I can’t do shit for him.”
Huggy looked at Starsky, and then motioned to Janice. “What you need is
some lubrication.”
Starsky snorted. “And to repeat yourself – you wish.”
“Oh, now that was quick – nicely done.”
“Learned it all from you.”
“Yes, you did, my brother – but what I mean is that we need to jump
start this party.” He smiled at the woman now standing in front of them.
“Janice, will you bring me the bottle of Tequila that’s behind the cash register.
The good stuff. And two shot glasses.”
Janice smiled and turned to go. “I take it you’ll be needing limes and
salt . . .”
“God yes – lots of limes,” Starsky said. His shoulders relaxed another
inch. He sighed, took a good look at the man sitting across from him and felt a
tug in his chest. They had been through a lot since that first day, the day
Starsky had ignored procedure and protocol, not to mention his newly sworn oath,
and had tossed the joint in the sewer, took a half day, and followed Huggy on a
pub crawl to end all pub crawls. They had ended up at Huggy’s apartment, which
was where Hutch found them – on the front steps, singing at the top of their
lungs, Huggy draped in Starsky’s uniform shirt, with the badge pinned to his
denim apple hat. Hutch had practically tossed Huggy down the stairs, but
Starsky had pulled him off, slurring an explanation. No wonder it took almost a
year before he and Huggy could sit down together and carry on a civil
conversation without Starsky running interference. And now Starsky couldn’t get
them to stop talking.
Janice sat the bottle, two shot glasses and a bowlful of cut limes
between them. Huggy reached for the bottle, screwed off the top, and filled
both glasses. Starsky licked the inside of his wrist, shook some salt on it,
and picked up the glass. He hadn’t done Tequila shots for a long time. Somehow,
though, it felt right.
“So, what do we drink to?”
Huggy picked up his glass. “How about to life?”
“L’ Chaim,” Starsky said and clinked his glass against Huggy’s. He
licked his wrist, sucked down the Tequila, and chomped on the lime. His eyes
watered as the liquid burned his throat, the heat exploding when it hit his
empty stomach.
Huggy refilled the glasses. “Your turn.”
“Okay, well – to Hutch.”
“To Hutch.” Huggy raised his glass. “Strongest mother I know.”
They tipped their heads and downed the shots. Starsky sucked hard on the
lime. He felt the warmth down to his toes.
“And now, my brother,” Huggy continued, filling the glasses again, “I
toast you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. What you did for our Hutch . . .” Huggy swallowed hard. “Well, I mean, man, it was a beautiful thing
to behold . . .”
Starsky’s eyes welled up. “Shit, Huggy – cut that out.”
Huggy held the glass higher, sniffed, and said, “I am honored to call
you my friend.”
Starsky touched Huggy’s glass, downed the shot, and slammed his glass back
on the table. He forgot about the lime and choked, “Just doing my job – keeping
my partner alive.”
“Maybe you better start asking for hazard pay.” Huggy refilled the
glasses.
“Funny.” Starsky wiped the tears from his eyes. His toes were definitely
numb. He held up the glass again. “And now to you, my friend.” Starsky grinned
at Huggy, who was already having a little trouble getting his own glass up.
“Oh, here it comes,” Huggy moaned. “Soap on a rope.”
Starsky ignored the dig. “I don’t know what I would do without you,
Huggy.”
“Tell me about it,” Huggy snorted.
“I’m serious. I know sometimes me and Hutch don’t do enough . . .”
“You do plenty . . .”
“Jesus, will you let me finish?”
“I just don’t want you boohooing all over the limes.”
“To hell with the limes, can’t you see that I’m trying to thank you –
trying to say what’s in my heart here – hell, Huggy, I love you, dammit!”
Starsky’s voice had risen during the speech so that the last part was
close to a shout. The bar fell silent and all eyes turned to the back booth.
Huggy slowly turned around, smiled at his patrons and gestured to Janice.
“Janice, why don’t we buy these nice folks a round – on the house.”
He turned back to Starsky. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where we going?”
“Upstairs.”
Starsky swallowed hard. He hadn’t been upstairs since . . .
“Why not just go back to my place or something?”
“So you love me, but you won’t follow me upstairs?”
“Is that a proposition?”
They said it together this time. “You wish.”
“Starsky, if we’re going to exorcise some demons tonight, we better
exorcise some demons tonight. Now haul your ass up those stairs.”
Starsky slid out of the booth and stood. He was glad his legs felt steady.
Relatively steady. He reached for his glass as Huggy grabbed the bottle and his
own glass. They left the limes and made their way up the staircase, slowly.
They stood outside the closed door. Neither man wanted to be the first
in the room. Then Starsky smacked his forehead, mad at himself.
“Shit, man – you must really hate this room. After Stryker’s goons and
then Hutch . . .”
“Does kinda make it hard to use it for my crib.” Huggy opened the door.
They both stood for a minute. Then Starsky stepped through and stopped. Huggy
squeezed past him and turned, gesturing to Starsky’s glass. Starsky held it up
and Huggy splashed a few drops in and then into his own.
Starsky took another step into the room, turned to the bed and shuddered
as the memory of the smell and the mess and Hutch’s desperate cries almost took
him to a knee. He struggled to remember the room before that night. Instead, he
remembered the day they had busted in, guns blazing, to save Huggy. He had been
so flippant with his friend that day. Yelled at him, called him a black fink.
And Huggy had just shaken it all off, wandered back downstairs, and started
taking orders at the bar. Huggy had learned a long time ago to cope. To
survive.
Starsky held his glass high. “To partnership.”
Huggy joined him. “Yeah, partnership – you and Hutch.” He started to
drink but Starsky stopped him.
“No, Hug – I mean you and me.”
“You and me?”
“Yeah, you and me. We’re partners.”
“Damn Starsky, are you trying to make me cry now?” Huggy was touched.
Knew the word was one Starsky did not take lightly. Ever.
“Huggy, you are just as much my partner as Hutch is. How many times you
save my life, huh? How many times I crash at your place after work? How many
friends I got would put up with my shit?”
“I’d say two.”
“Precisely – two. You and Hutch. My partners.”
“So now we’re a threesome?”
“I guess.”
“Might get sticky – I for one would not like to be on the wrong side of
the blond one during a fit of jealous rage, you know?”
Starsky just held his glass up. Huggy tapped it, emptied his glass and
sank to a chair.
“I think I am officially hammered.”
Starsky walked toward the bathroom, stopped to finger the checkerboard now
sitting on the dresser, every checker in place. Huggy had had the place
cleaned, but Starsky could only see the mess. He shook his head, trying to
clear it, but it made him dizzy. He joined Huggy in the other chair.
“I think I am officially sick.”
“Let’s drink to that.” Huggy chuckled, willing the room to stop spinning.
Starsky leaned over and put his head on Huggy’s shoulder. “I do love you,
Hug.”
Huggy patted Starsky’s head. “Same here, man. You’re in my heart, hard.”
“You’re in my heart, too. Really hard.”
They sat silent for a few moments. The sounds from the bar drifted up to
them, noise from the street wafted through the open window, and they sat. Lost
in thought, in the past, in the Tequila. Huggy moved his arm around Starsky
shoulders, and pulled him closer. Starsky patted Huggy on the leg.
“I love you Huggy, you know that, right?” Starsky muttered.
“Yeah, Starsk – you just told me like, five minutes ago.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Starsky pushed himself upright and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly the room
didn’t feel so wrong anymore. Suddenly his shoulders felt lighter, his misery
relieved.
“Hey Hug.”
“Yeah, yeah?”
“I think we did it.” Starsky stood.
“If we did, I sure don’t remember – was it good for me?”
Starsky hauled Huggy to his feet. “No you ass – the exorcism. I think we
did it.”
Huggy turned, taking a good look around the room. Bed, chair, table,
dresser. No goons, no ghosts. “Hey, I think you’re right. How’d we do that?”
“Dunno. But it feels different. Better.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Huggy walked over and drew Starsky into his arms.
“Thanks, man.”
Starsky hugged him back. “No thank you, Hug. Saved my life again.”
They parted, and without a word, headed out the door and down the steps.
Huggy walked down in front of Starsky and stopped suddenly, which caused
Starsky to crash into his back, which sent him stumbling down the rest of the
steps. Starsky lunged forward to stop Huggy from falling, but ended up pushing
him harder, losing his own balance and landing on top of him instead.
Huggy’s head hit the floor. Then Starsky’s head hit his head, and his
head hit the floor again. Starsky rolled off Huggy, trying to untangle his legs
and get up at the same time. He slipped and his head banged into Huggy’s head
again, and Huggy’s head bounced off the floor for the hundredth time. He lay
still for a minute, wondering if he had enough saved back for carpeting or
maybe an area rug . . .
“I’ll be damned, Hutch was right.” A voice interrupted his redecorating
plans.
He looked up at the face of Captain Dobey, the reason he had stopped
suddenly on the steps, standing in the middle of his bar, the other customers crowded
behind him, watching. Starsky was crawling toward the steps, and used the
banister to haul himself up.
“Captain Dobey.” Huggy mustered all his strength and rose to a sitting
position. “Welcome to my humble establishment. What can I get you – beer?”
Dobey shook his head. They were both obviously drunk. When Hutch had
asked him to come down here to pick up Starsky, he had just thought it was silly.
Starsky was a grown man – he could take care of himself. But Hutch had
insisted, and Edith had given him a look, so he had gotten in the car and driven
all the way across town. Now he was
glad he did. No way was Starsky getting behind the wheel of anything tonight.
“Hiya Captain. Whatta you doing down here?” Starsky leaned against the
pinball machine, trying to act casual.
“I’m here to pick you up.”
“You driving a hack now, Captain? Out trolling for fares?” Huggy managed
to pull himself off the floor and stood, looking at Dobey.
“Funny, Huggy – real funny. No I’m not driving a cab, but you might be.”
He gestured to the customers behind him. “Liquor Control gets a little hinky about
a licensee’s public drunkenness . . .”
Huggy frowned, not understanding. Janice came around Dobey and patted
her boss on the back.
“Yes, Captain, we were just closing.” She turned to the crowd. “Last
call, everyone. Drink up.”
Dobey walked over to Starsky. “You okay, son?”
“Yessssiirr, okay.”
“Ready to go?”
“Go?”
“Back to my house. Hutch is there. Waiting.”
Starsky smiled and leaned into the captain, who caught him by his jacket
and leaned him back against the pinball machine.
“Hutch is waiting for me?”
“Yes, Starsky, remember – you dropped him off earlier.”
“Oh yeah – hey, Hug, gotta go. Hutch is waiting for me.”
Huggy turned around to Starsky. “Cool, man. You gotta go – can’t keep
the man waiting.”
“You are right there, my man.” Starsky walked over and patted Huggy on
the back, and they clung to each other.
“I am right here, too, my man.”
“Yes you are – partner.”
Huggy just smiled and leaned Starsky into Dobey, who wrapped an arm
around him and led him to the door.
“Bye, Hug – see you later,” Starsky called over his shoulder. “Gotta go
take care of Hutch. It’s my job, you know?” Dobey held open the door, nodded
back to Huggy, and they were gone.
“Yeah, go take care of Hutch. It’s your job.” Huggy collapsed on a stool
at the end of the bar. “And I’ll take care of you, my friend. Cause that’s my
job. We’re partners. All of us.”
Huggy laid his head on the bar and wondered who was going to take care
of him.