Day by Day

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Fifteen months after Starsky survived Gunther’s hit, he and Hutch have retired from the force and are sharing a house. Yet just as things are settling down, events from the past threaten to change their  future. Their love is tested, requiring a degree of commitment they could never have anticipated.

 

Day by Day was originally published as a stand alone zine in 1985 and reissued in 1997.

Special thanks to Hutchlover who helped digitizing and proofreading this zine so we could offer it on the archive.

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Cover Illo

DAY BY DAY

written by April Valentine

illustrated by TACS

 

DAY BY DAY…

Slightly Revised 1997 Introduction to the Third Printing.

It was 1985, the year of Starsky & Hutch’s tenth anniversary, and I was newly into the show’s fandom. I wanted to bring out a zine to coincide with the Paul Muni Special, the con our SH group was putting on that would celebrate the anniversary. I remember staying up all night practically every night that summer, writing; once, I even called my own son “Jason” as he woke me up at seven a.m. by turning on cartoons as I dozed on the couch. My son is now 2 years over the fictional Jason’s age and a whole new group of Starsky & Hutch fans have come along.

This is actually the third printing of DAY BY DAY. This time, however, it has been put on computer for better readability. I would like to acknowledge my friend Flamingo for her tireless efforts in scanning the copy and transmitting it to me electronically. Ah, what a difference a few years makes in technology! And thanks also go to TACS for the wonderful vision of Jason with Starsky and Hutch.

I originally intended to dedicate this story to two characters, also offspring of Starsky and Hutch, but as the one character’s story hadn’t been openly published, I ended up not doing so. Whether or not you’ve heard of Michael, the son Starsky had by Rosie Malone in an SH novella by Valerie Dawson titled The Water is Wide and the baby the two of them took to raise as their own, Kenneth David DeSantis, from an unpublished series called “Homecoming,” the character of Jason was created to honor them. If you can locate these stories, read them; they are some of the best SH I’ve ever encountered.

Comments are still gratefully accepted at the archive or at aprilvalen@aol.com.

Read on, and enjoy!

April Valentine

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Pain, sorrow, tears…
Long, lonely years,
With love
Having, passed me by;
I could live a lie for you.
But truth is the road I choose,
Knowing all I need to do
Is give to you….
–“Nights, Winters, Years” — Justin Hayward

I.

Kenneth Hutchinson stood in the middle of a spacious living room, taking in the sight of familiar furniture in a new setting. Out in the dining area, glowing in the late afternoon sun that slanted through the windows, stood his oak table and chairs. The light wood, buffed to a soft finish, looked perfect against the hardwood floor and carved French doors with their accents of stained glass. Close by were the couch and easy chair from Starsky’s living room, and his own desk and a couple of lamps. Shelves on either side of the stone fireplace contained books and knickknacks from two collections. Hutch thought the combinations pleasing, that the furniture and personal effects belonged together.

He was almost as used to Starsky’s things as his own, yet it was a little odd to see them all side by side. He smiled, feeling like part of the furnishings, in a way. He and Starsky were as familiar to each other, and they complemented each other as perfectly as the mingled styles in the new house, yet the fact that they were here, together under one roof, was going to take a little getting used to.

He smiled, hearing the spray of the shower come on upstairs: Starsky cleaning up after the long day of moving in. They had been working on the house for almost two months. It was a small, old place and had required lots of repairs to the plumbing, floors and ceilings, but it was in a nice location out near the beach in Venice. There was a tiny yard in front, and in back the French doors opened onto a deck with steps leading down to the sand. Of the two bedrooms, the smaller held Starsky’s old bed and two chests of drawers, where they had decided to store little used clothing and other items. That room was really an extra room, and Starsky’s bed was in there mostly for appearances. The larger bedroom was the one they would share. It contained Hutch’s brass bed, Starsky’s rattan chair, and their clothes hung together in the wall-length closet. A third small room upstairs was fixed up as a den, with the couch from Hutch’s old apartment and other odds and ends of furniture.

Hutch moved through the living area and entered the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and found the steaks he was ready to put on the broiler, and made sure the champagne he had picked up that afternoon was chilled. Though neither of them felt like spending too long in the kitchen after moving in all day, he did want tonight’s dinner to be special. They were celebrating more than just their first night in the new house.

Starsky came down in time to check on the nearly done steaks. As Hutch finished the salad, he felt two arms steal around his waist as familiar lips planted a kiss on the nape of his neck. He leaned back against the warm body behind him, then turned into his lover’s embrace. Fifteen months after the attempt on his life in the police parking lot, Starsky had made a close to complete recovery. There would always be physical limitations for the retired cop, but Hutch was proud of the man every time he looked him over as he did now. Starsky was strong, vibrantly alive, still damp from his shower. Hutch drew him close, his fingers tugging at wet curls as he pulled him into a kiss that was deep and lingering.

When they parted, Starsky leaned back to gaze into his eyes. “Mmmm, nice,” he whispered. “It’s good to be home at last, isn’t it?”

Hutch nodded, loving the expression Starsky wore, a blend of eagerness and satisfaction. “Home at last. Am I nuts, or does this feel as crazy to you?”

“Crazy?” Starsky looked confused. “Oh. Well, I guess if you mean it’s going to take a while to get used to being together a hundred percent of the time instead of only seventy-five, I guess that’s crazy.”

“Think I’ll get on your nerves?”

“Course you’ll get on my nerves. Y’have been for years — I’m used to it by now. Hutch, you look like you’re having culture shock or something. We’re going to be fine. Look, we’ve got more room here than we ever had sitting in the front seat of a car for eight hours a day. We won’t be getting in each other’s way, if you think of it like that.”

“Okay.” Hutch grinned. “You know, we’ve talked about this and dreamed and planned it for so long – and there was awhile there that I thought we’d never be able to…maybe I am a little freaked out by it all.”

“Hey,” Starsky admonished. “I told you not to keep going back over the rough times. I’m fine. We’re together; we’ve got everything going for us.” He pulled him into another succulent kiss. “Believe it, babe. It’s real.”

Arms wrapped tight around Starsky’s shoulders, Hutch sighed. “Feels so good. Like we’re on the brink of something new, every minute.”

Lips close to Hutch’s throat, Starsky nodded. “New home, new jobs, new life. We’ve got everything.”

Hutch let his hands travel down his partner’s back until they cupped the firm, denim-covered ass. He squeezed, shifting position to pull Starsky up between his legs. He rocked their hips together, losing himself in the enticing sensations.

“Hey…” Starsky’s protest was muffled against his shirt. Hutch ignored him, continuing to stroke the full curves. “Hey! I think the steaks are burning!”

“Oh shit!” Hutch broke away, reaching for the long-handled fork. He turned the steaks, noting that although their edges were quite dark, they did not seem to be ruined. “Guess we better have dinner first, huh?” He looked back at Starsky.

A deep sigh lifted the man’s shoulders. “Looks like the honeymoon is over already, if we’d rather eat than make love.”

Hutch poked a finger toward him. “You mentioned the steaks.”

“Basic biology. Sustenance before sex. Can’t fuck on an empty stomach.” Starsky winked at him, leering.

“You think you’re pretty cute when you get crude, don’t you?”

“Yep.” A hand reached out and slapped Hutch’s ass.

He laughed. “Okay. So if you want to fuck, let’s get dinner over with.” He put the steaks on a platter. “The potatoes are done, too.”

Together, they got the food to the table and sat opposite each other.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were those of silverware on china, mostly coming from Hutch’s end of the table.

“You’re not eating,” he observed around a mouthful of steak.

Starsky continued to watch him, his chin propped in his hand, a tender smile playing around his mouth.

Inexplicably embarrassed, Hutch looked down, his fork playing with his salad.

A low voice came to his ears. “You still blush.”

Hutch cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I’m not blushing.”

“Sure. Of course you’re not.” Starsky did not quite manage to stifle a giggle. Then, he sobered. “Hutch — you’re not having second thoughts, are you? You said you were freaked out. Here we are in the same house, even though we haven’t exactly published an ad in the papers. People will talk.”

“I know they will. But I’m not having second thoughts. What we do in private is nobody’s business but ours.” Starsky looked at him as if he had expected Hutch to say more. Yet what else could be said? It was a discussion they had gone over more than once since they had decided to live together. Hutch was firm about not making an open announcement about their relationship to the world at large. He met Starsky’s eyes, still trying to explain what no words could. “We’re still the same people we always were.”

Starsky seemed to accept what Hutch could give. He picked up his knife and fork and resumed eating. His answer was light and more cheerful. “Yeah, I’m still cute and you’re still weird.”

Hutch couldn’t help chuckling. He was almost finished his baked potato when a strange touch on his ankle startled him. “What the –” Starsky’s bare foot rubbed against his knee.

“Hi, there.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Starsky met Hutch’s eyes. “It’s what I’m anticipating getting into me that I’m thinking of.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “That an invitation?”

Starsky countered without answering. “Or what I intend to get into — take your pick.”

“How about both?”

“Hmmn… I do like variety. Gotta make the first night in our new house memorable.”

Hutch smiled, liking the prospect. “It will be, I have a feeling.”

They continued to talk and tease throughout the meal. To Hutch, everything tasted special, was more fun. Here, in their own place, everything was better than ever.

After finishing, he went to the kitchen for his surprise champagne. It took him a few minutes to find the right glasses; they had moved so much stuff today that it was hard to remember where everything had been stored. At last he found his French crystal. He opened the bottle as quietly as possible, poured two glasses and put them and the bottle on a tray to be carried in.

When he re-entered the dining room, Hutch stopped abruptly. Starsky had arranged tall candles on the cleared oak table and buffet, lit them and turned off the ceiling light. The many flickering flames made the burnished wood surfaces of the room glow with warmth and the rose- and blue-colored glass in the French doors reflected back the tiny lights. In the center of the table, surrounded by candles, was another surprise.

Starsky looked up, smiling eagerly at Hutch. “Dessert!” He indicated the bakery confection he had somehow secretly slipped into the house. Noting what Hutch was carrying, he grinned. “You, too? Great minds, I guess.”

Hutch sat his tray on the table. “Cake and champagne and candles? Pretty fancy stuff.” He touched a finger to the tempting white icing, brought it to his lips to taste. “Whipped cream frosting. Nice.” He reached for another smidgen and offered it to his companion.

His hand was taken and held while Starsky licked off the frosting, sucking a little at his fingertip. Hutch closed his eyes at the feeling, thinking for perhaps the millionth time of the interesting things that man’s mouth was capable of doing to him.

“What kind of cake is it, Starsk? Wouldn’t be ‘wedding cake,’ would it?” Hutch asked as Starsky headed for the kitchen.

“Not for us, babe. Something more our style.” Starsky returned with a knife and two plates. He deftly cut into the white frosting, extracting the first slice and depositing it on a plate. “This is devil’s food.”

Hutch sampled the dark chocolate cake. “Perfect.” He handed Starsky one of the fluted wine glasses. “Guess we both had celebrating in mind.”

Starsky nodded, reaching to tap his glass gently against Hutch’s. “To our new home?”

The crystal rang out lightly. “To the beginning of a new life.”

They sipped the champagne, eyes holding the moment.

“Our new life together.” Starsky whispered it, his voice soft.

They finished their cake in the dining room, then took their glasses and the champagne bottle and sat side by side on the couch.

“Looks pretty good, all our stuff arranged this way. Doesn’t it?” Starsky was looking around at the mingled possessions.

Hutch smiled. “I was thinking that earlier. Yeah, the place is shaping up. I think I’m going to like living out here. It’ll be good coming home at the end of the day.”

They sat quietly, relaxed and comfortable with each other. Hutch was content. They had been going through a transitional phase for so long; it was good to feel things settling down. The attempt on Starsky’s life by Gunther’s hit men had capped a year of turmoil in both Hutch’s professional and personal life. For most of their partnership, he and Starsky had worked together and spent nearly all their off time together as well. Yet as Hutch grew more and more disillusioned with the job, he had drawn further and further away from Starsky, feeling the need to escape from anything that reminded him of their work. He had known that Starsky was left confused and hurt by his attitude, but in his state of burn-out and depression, Hutch had been unable to do anything else. He had been grateful that Starsky had not complained, that his partner had been understanding enough to allow him his space.

He had still cared just as much about Starsky, still regarded their partnership as the most important aspect of his life. When they had first become involved in the Gunther case, the sense of the two of them against an unsympathetic world had come back full force. After Lionel was killed, the pressures had built up in Hutch to the point that he decided to quit.

He had gone off by himself, to think over both how he was going to leave the force and how he would explain his resignation to his partner. Starsky had somehow found him, however, as he stood alone on the beach that day.

Now, watching Starsky as he sat beside him sipping champagne, Hutch remembered all his feelings from that afternoon.

“Mind if I join you?” Starsky said the words softly, sounding as if his only certainty lay in following Hutch.

Hutch just stared at him, stunned by the offer his partner seemed to be making. He knew, had always known, what being a cop meant to Starsky. Yet it was true that Starsky was just as dedicated to their friendship. Maybe he had been taking the man too much for granted. Hutch had not mentioned his half-formed plan to quit to Starsky, not knowing how his partner would have handled the idea. He had let Starsky go to his movie while he had headed for the beach to think things through. He had pretty much decided he would go by the station later to drop off his shield. When the impulse hit him to just throw the damn thing away, he had been startled to find Starsky there.

Hutch was still feeling the surprise, as he stared back at him, even though he should have known something like this could have happened. They had always been able to anticipate each other’s actions. Starsky had divined his intentions even as Hutch had formulated them. Side by side then, they threw away the symbols of the system they felt had polluted and corrupted them. Hutch had wanted to be rid of the badge he no longer believed in, yet he had not wanted to dissolve the partnership. When Starsky joined him, the non-verbal demonstration of commitment left Hutch shaken.

They turned from the beach, walking in silence back to the red and white car. Starsky headed for the driver’s side, but Hutch, needing to be close to him, followed.

No words had yet been spoken. At last Starsky turned and in the late afternoon sun, Hutch saw the midnight eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Aching, awed by the sacrifice Starsky was making for him, Hutch reached out and drew the man into his arms.

His own tears burned at the back of his throat, but his emotions were not for what was over. They were for what he sensed could be a new beginning for them. Holding Starsky close in a way he hadn’t for so long felt right. The physical embrace did more to soothe the anguish of the last year — and the last days — than Hutch could have imagined.

Still, he felt the need to speak. Hutch was afraid of how he had interpreted Starsky’s gesture. Was he reading too much into it? All his insecurities rushed back at him.

“Starsk,” he began, surprised at the roughness of his voice. He swallowed, fighting against the threatening emotion. “You didn’t have to do that.”

For a moment, Starsky didn’t answer. His arms stole further around Hutch, holding him tighter. “I had to. It was my choice, my decision.”

“But I know what your badge means to you.”

Starsky leaned back a little to look into his eyes. “What means more to me is us, Hutch. We’re still partners, no matter what…”

Hutch crushed him close again as the words trailed off and they stood locked together, holding on against the world and the system that had taken everything from them. Oblivious to the crashing surf, the keening gulls and the traffic roaring by behind them, they held the embrace, leaning against the Torino, lost in each other.

They became lovers that night.

 

At first, they had been so overwhelmed to discover the passion between them that they did not try to analyze the change in their relationship, or to think about the future. When the case they were investigating without the backing of the police force turned serious, they increasingly sought refuge in each other’s arms. Closer than ever, riding high on both their success on the case and their love, they had taken back their badges. Then Starsky was shot, and Hutch watched his world shatter into a million pieces, of which he, by himself without Starsky, was the smallest.

Until he knew Starsky would live, he remained a fragment of a whole person. When Gunther was apprehended and he could concentrate on putting both their lives back together, Hutch determined that the commitment Starsky had made to him needed a similar promise on his side. If they loved each other, they should be together. He vowed to do everything he could to make that possible.

Starsky would never work the streets again, the doctors said. Months in the hospital and longer months spent in physical therapy could not give back what the bullets had ripped away. The loss of youth and strength depressed him, and Hutch urged his partner to take his retirement on partial disability rather than torment himself by accepting a desk job. Both of them, Hutch pointed out, would benefit from a change in career and lifestyle.

Still working as a cop until he found something else to do, dividing his time between his job and helping Starsky with his therapy, Hutch had managed to find time to go house hunting. He would never forget the light that had sparkled in Starsky’s eyes when he had told him about the bungalow he’d found. Starsky had understood that Hutch was offering his own commitment to their love.

Once settlement had been made on the house, they began fixing it up the way they wanted it. When they were alone together at night, they spent hours sharing love, rediscovering the things they had learned about each other before Starsky had been hurt, and this time making plans for the future together.

During the Gunther case, Starsky and Hutch had received a certain amount of press coverage, and due to their notoriety a number of job offers came their way. Most of them were silly: neither Hutch nor Starsky wanted to be car salesmen or maitre d’s. Yet both of them had found their current employment through offers that had come as a result of their publicity.

Starsky had accepted a position with a film company as technical advisor to a popular television cop show. It paid well and required only a few days’ work a week when he observed filming on the set, watched the dailies and participated in consultations with the producer and director. He had already gone over the first few scripts for the show’s new season and would begin his duties as on-set advisor next week.

Hutch was just starting a new job, too. A non-profit organization that had been set up to help individuals forced out of their homes by the phony mortgage company in Gunther’s organization had hired him. It was part of a larger company that raised funds for several important charities and medical research facilities. He was to work as a sort of liaison between their public relations department and the legal community, using both his background and experience as a cop and his college education in business law. Within a few days of the move to the new house, he would begin his new career.

Hutch came out of his reverie as he noticed Starsky pouring the last of the champagne into their glasses. “Have we finished off that bottle already?”

Starsky tipped it so that the last drops trickled into Hutch’s glass. “Looks that way. It was good stuff — I think I’m feeling it, too.”

Hutch ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’m at least very relaxed.” He smiled, reaching to pull Starsky into his arms. “Come here. I want to get on with our celebrating.”

The warm body pressing close to him felt good. It was at times like this that Hutch was happiest. They had nearly lost everything and had been given back so much. Now, here together, safe in their own home, he could hold Starsky as close as he liked as often as he liked.

Starsky must have read his thoughts. “I was just thinking. No more driving home in the middle of the night.” His lips moved along Hutch’s jawline in little, teasing nips. “And we’ve hardly ever wakened up together — in the morning, I mean.”

Hutch held him tighter. “You’ve always been a romantic.”

Starsky sounded happy. “Incurable.”

Hutch turned his head, found warm lips and tasted them. “Thank God.”

“Won’t get cured,” Starsky agreed. “Not of you, lover.”

Their mouths joined again, pressing tight and opening. Tongues met, swirled together, strength against strength. Starsky pulled Hutch’s tongue into his mouth, sucking, and Hutch gave, wanting, needing to be the source on which he fed. Starsky pressed him back until he reclined on the couch, their lips still sealed. Hutch’s hands came up, one squeezing Starsky’s shoulder, the other pressing at his nape, then both were sinking into the abundant dark hair. Starsky’s body moved over his, a welcome weight sliding against him.

They stayed that way for a while, content and close, unrushed kisses heating with a slow fire. All the time in the world, Hutch marveled, drawing Starsky nearer.

I’ll never get tired of this, never get enough of you. He had had the thought many times since they had first become lovers. Starsky constantly filled him up, but he always wanted more of him, always wanted to give more of himself to Starsky. He would never know all the sweetness of his mouth, never caress enough of the responsive body, never be deep enough inside him no matter how many times they joined. Yet here in the world they had made for themselves, he had time to try to achieve the impossible.

Starsky broke their kiss, held himself away from Hutch a moment. His eyes had that eager look Hutch loved, still teasing and not yet too hot. That would come later… Starsky whispered something and Hutch had to struggle for concentration, he was so lost in the depths of blue.

“We gonna stay here all night?”

“Whatever you want. The whole house is ours, babe.” Hutch traced the tender lips with a fingertip.

The cobalt eyes twinkled. “Yeah. And no close neighbors. For once we can yell all we like.”

“Yeah… can’t wait.” Hutch let one hand slip down Starsky’s back, fingers tightening as they reached the rounded ass. He parted his own legs, fitting Starsky to him, settling him snugly between his thighs. His fingers rubbed across the tight center seam of Starsky’s jeans, reaching lower, stroking over and over.

Starsky’s reaction was to rock his hips, moving the front of his pants up and down over Hutch’s crotch. Their mouths found each other again, tongues playing, nudging. One kiss melted into another, each deepening, becoming harder, hungrier.

Hutch felt the buttons on his shirt being tugged open, then warm fingers moving over his bared flesh. They skimmed lightly, randomly feeling him and he shivered, finding every bit of his chest as sensitive to their delicate, knowing touch. When the artistic fingers fastened on a nipple, though, he gasped, even more responsive there. One fingertip circled, rubbed across, joined with the thumb to pinch. Hutch’s back arched in a silent request for more stimulation.

Starsky’s lips answered the unspoken plea, dropping quickly to mouth the tender bump, opening to surround it, tongue flicking over, lips fastening tighter to suck, teeth closing gently to nip. Hutch trembled and the mouth transferred to the other side where the second nipple was bathed by the wet, swirling tongue.

“Starsk…” he moaned, “let’s go up to the bedroom…”

The mouth returned to his lips, crushing to them in a demanding kiss. The hands yanked at the cloth of his shirt, exposing the soft skin of his belly. Fingers reached blindly, wriggling to get under his waistband.

Hutch tried to shift, to allow them access to him. Starsky adjusted his position, moving back as he opened the snap on Hutch’s cords. The zipper came down and the fingers reached in, found the opening in his briefs and rubbed, greedy for what they could touch.

Hutch’s hand groped down between them to squeeze hard over the firm bulge in Starsky’s jeans. “Come on, babe.”

“Can’t wait, you said?” Starsky’s lips moved to his ear, his voice a rough whisper. “Show me.”

Hutch tore open his lover’s pants and grasped the thick cock inside, pumping.

“Gonna make you yell tonight, lover.” Starsky’s promise was followed by wet suction at his earlobe, then an eager tongue ran down the side of Hutch’s throat.

“Thought you wanted… to go upstairs…” Hutch found the hands undressing him to be very arousing.

“We will. All in good time.” The shirt was pushed off his shoulders, his body lifted so the sleeves could be slipped down his arms. He was laid back down, hands caressing his shoulders, fingers sliding down to inflict matching touches on the sensitive nipples, to rub his sides and stomach. Starsky’s movements were possessive, assured of the response they were getting, and Hutch let himself go, willing participant in his seduction.

He met the bright eyes of his lover. They were hotter now, glazing with passion. The dark head bent, lips nuzzling at his collarbone, then the eyes looked up again, as if gauging Hutch’s arousal. The skillful tongue found its way down the center of his chest, eyes glancing back at intervals. His navel was circled with a wet lick, his belly teased and nipped. The eyes captured his, promising more torment.

Hutch begged for it. “Finish undressing me.” His hips lifted to help. Starsky smiled as he complied, his hands skimming over Hutch’s ass as he peeled down the pants along with the briefs. He worked the tight tangle of clothing down the long legs and off, dropping them to the floor. His hands moved to rest on Hutch’s thighs, then began slowly stroking down to the knees and back up. His eyes watched Hutch’s erection but his hands didn’t touch.

Hutch’s eyes closed, completely at his mercy, waiting for the caress he craved. He was suddenly abandoned, left alone when his partner got up and headed for the stairs. Aghast, Hutch opened his eyes. Starsky pulled his t-shirt off over his head as he went; it fell where he dropped it in the middle of the living room floor. Then he disappeared up the stairs.

Hutch drew a deep breath and wasted no more time getting up to follow him. He found Starsky’s jeans at the top of the steps and the naked man himself stretched out in the center of the brass bed.

Starsky met his eyes and the look held, the electricity of his gaze as compelling as his touch had been. Hutch turned, climbing on the bed to crouch over his lover, his head bending, open mouth taking the hard column offered to him even as his swollen cock was swallowed by the mouth beneath it.

They moved together, the pleasure building in intensity, sensations flowing back and forth between them. Hutch felt hot suction, searching fingers, tasted heated flesh. Together they sought and reached a plateau of excitement, then slowed and calmed each other with gentler touches, each knowing instinctively how much more the other could take before completion.

Hutch drew a shaky breath as arms encircled his hips, and a demanding strength pushed to roll him over. The body under him wriggled out of his grasp, rose to kneel between his legs.

Starsky reached for a tube on the bedside table and squeezed the gel into his palm. Coated fingers took Hutch, swirled over, around, reached to spread slickness inside. The pushing fingers rotated, making him crazy. Hutch pulled his knees back, wanting them deeper. They pressed in, massaged, found pleasure points to caress and thrill. Then they left him and, frantic, Hutch watched as they moved to rub more gel over his lover’s hard shaft, as that shaft pressed against his center, as the slick fingers took hold of him, pumping as slowly as the penetrating cock entered him.

The sensation was sweet anguish, being filled and accepting. Letting himself relax, wanting the pressure, Hutch tightened his hips and was rewarded by a groan from Starsky. Hands on his ass pulled him closer, the hardness pressed deeper. Hutch grasped his knees, opening himself further. Starsky began thrusting, slowly at first, then with tempo building, each stroke wringing a moan from Hutch. Starsky supported himself on one hand, while the other grasped Hutch’s sex, attentive to his pleasure.

Hutch kept his eyes open to watch the power of the living man that made love to him. Starsky was beautiful this way. He had worked hard to get well after being wounded. He was perhaps still a bit too thin, but his muscles were firm, playing exquisitely over abdomen and thighs, chest and arms. Seeing the scars that marked him was still painful to Hutch, but he did not look away nor avoid touching them when he caressed Starsky. His hands moved over the red, rigid lines that crossed through dark, silky hair, stroking the symbols of all they had nearly lost, reaffirming how precious to him Starsky was.

Under his hands there was also a vigorous heartbeat and strong musculature. Starsky moved in the rhythm of life and Hutch’s body surged in response. Their eyes locked, each finding their own confirmation in the other. Starsky’s eyes were more vividly blue than Hutch had ever seen them. He was burning under blue lasers, pounded by blue waves, tossed on a stormy ocean of unendurable pleasure. More feeling, and he would be destroyed, he thought, drowned by passion, burned up in flame.

Starsky was doing this to him, drowning and burning and living it with him. This wasn’t destruction, it was triumph, affirmation, perfection, completion. It was both of them together, shouting and joyful, shaking and spent.

The world settled down slowly, grew quiet with sounds of surf and summer wind and deep breathing. Hutch lay close against Starsky, the damp chest hairs of one man tickling the smooth flesh of the other. Hutch shifted a little so that Starsky’s head was pillowed on his shoulder. His hand traced slowly up from over the curve of a hip to the narrow waist, across the hard belly and on up to press against the heaving chest. The heartbeat was rapid, but steady, calming. A sleepy mumble was whispered against Hutch’s throat as an arm snaked around his waist. One of Starsky’s legs was thrown across his thigh; Hutch felt the sweaty clinging of skin against skin and welcomed the naturalness, the comfortable tangle of heavy limbs and sticky bodies.

Starsky was muttering again. Hutch wrapped his arms around his shoulders more securely. “What, love?”

“We both yelled, didn’t we?”

Hutch smiled, kissed his temple. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“Now all we gotta do is wake up when it’s mornin’…” Sighing, settling into a cozier posture against Hutch, Starsky sank back into sleep.

Hutch let his eyes travel over as much of his dozing burden as he could see from their entwined positions, then he lay his head back on his pillow, content. He whispered softly, by way of answer to what his partner had said, “I love you, too, babe. Welcome home.”

 

II.

Morning dawned in Los Angeles, another morning dulled by smog and loneliness. And hunger. For a boy on the streets, every L.A. morning meant the same thing: another day of no friends and not enough to eat under unfamiliar skies. Jason had been in the city for a week now, and so far he had had a pretty miserable time.

“What’d I expect, anyway?” he asked aloud, kicking at a crumpled paper bag that littered his path down the sidewalk. He had come here because there was nothing left for him at home. The teenager had lost a lot of illusions in the last year; he had seen that he couldn’t believe in a rosy future any more.

“Hey, kid.”

Jason turned in the direction of the calling voice. It belonged to a tall stranger leaning in a doorway. The man had close-cropped hair and a small mustache. He wore tight, ragged Levi’s and a skimpy purple shirt. In his hand was a twenty dollar bill.

The stranger smiled, looking Jason up and down. “Wanta make some money, sweetie-pie?”

The boy suppressed a shudder, not wanting to reveal either his feelings of revulsion or fear. “Uh… no, thanks.”

“Oh, I do like boys with good manners.” The dark eyes flicked down over Jason’s torso again.

He took a step back, shaking his head.

“Aw, come on, pretty baby. You look a little down on your luck. A twenty would buy a meal or two.”

Jason had not eaten since the morning before when he had stolen a Hostess apple pie at a small market. Having enough money for some decent food was a tempting idea. But he was pretty sure he didn’t want to do what the guy wanted to pay him the twenty dollars for.

The man’s eyes noted Jason’s hesitation. “What’s the problem, kid? Everybody’s selling it.”

Jason’s mind was made up. “Not me.” He turned and continued down the street.

The stranger’s mocking laughter followed him. “Someday, young meat. Someday.”

The boy broke into a run that didn’t slow until he rounded the corner.

He pulled up, a sharp stabbing catch in his side. He tried to breathe deeply, to calm down. Jason was so tired it was tough to keep going when you were hungry, and it seemed like the only way to find something to eat was by selling yourself to some pervert. Everywhere he looked in the city there was crime, bad people doing bad things, lonely people becoming bad when they couldn’t make out any other way.

Jason didn’t want to give in. He wanted to find some way to live here without selling out his self-respect, without getting caught up in the heavy, dangerous scenes he had observed in his week on the street. He wasn’t sure how he would do it, but he knew he had to try.

He wandered on, passing through a busy shopping district, coming to a small, open park area. Seeing a water fountain, he went over and drank deeply of the tepid bubbling liquid.

“Hi.” Another voice called to him.

This time the speaker turned out to be a young girl about Jason’s own age. She wore a brief skirt and a sheer, ruffled blouse, with more make-up on her face than the girls Jason had known at school back home. Still, her reddish blonde hair was pulled to each side in short pig-tails. Jason grinned; she looked like a kid playing dress-up.

“That’s better.” She returned the smile. “You’re much cuter when you look happy.”

Jason shrugged. “Hi. You live around here?”

“Sort of. I like to come here when I get the chance. I’m not working right this minute so I thought I’d eat lunch outside.”

He walked over to the bench where the girl sat. “Working? You have a job?”

The girl batted blue-shadowed eyes. “I wouldn’t call it a job, exactly…”

Jason thought he understood. Rather than ask the wrong question, he simply answered, “Oh.”

“Sit down,” she invited, opening a McDonald’s bag. “You look sort of hungry. Want some of my Big Mac?”

“Uh…” The hamburger smelled delicious. “You sure?”

“‘Course. I know what it’s like.”

Jason hesitated. “What do you mean?”

The girl met his eyes. “Bein’ on your own. You’re a runaway, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on, then.” His new friend offered her sandwich again and this time Jason took it. He bit in hungrily as she continued speaking. “My name’s Strawberry. What’s yours?”

“Jason.” It was hard to talk with a mouthful of burger. “How’d you get a name like Strawberry?”

She tugged on a pig-tail. “My hair, silly. They call it ‘strawberry blonde.’ Andre thought it up and I like it.”

Jason swallowed another bite of Big Mac and took a handful of French fries when Strawberry held out the bag. “Andre?”

“My man. You know. I work for him.”

Jason was more interested in the taste of the food than in what the girl had to say.

“Listen, Jason,” Strawberry went on, “if you’re looking for work, I could introduce you to Andre.”

“Oh, terrific. Sounds like just what I need.” Jason put as much sarcasm in the comment as he could.

“Hey. Andre’s a good man. He takes good care of me.”

“As long as you bring in the money? That is the way it works, isn’t it?” Jason shook his head. “Is that all anybody wants in this town?”

Strawberry met his eyes. ‘The way to make money is by selling something somebody else wants.”

“Well, I don’t have it to sell.”

“Boys work the street, too.” Strawberry spoke matter-of-factly.

“Shit. That makes the second time already today that somebody’s tried to tell me that. Back where I came from guys didn’t do it with other guys.”

“Oh, come on. Maybe you didn’t know any, but they were there. And besides, you aren’t back home anymore.”

“Give me a break.”

Tm trying to.” Strawberry tossed her head. “How long have you been in this town? Do you have a place to stay, money to live on, somebody to look out for you?”

Suddenly, Jason lost his bluster. “No. I don’t even have any friends.”

Strawberry smiled, this time not the brittle smile of a street kid old beyond her years. Now she looked as sweet and shy as she must have been at one time. “I’ll be your friend, Jason. No hassles, honest. I was just making a suggestion. How old are you, anyway?”

“Sixteen.”

“Me, too. Look, if you’re finished with the food, maybe I can find another way to help you out.”

“Finished…” Jason broke off and, looking down, discovered he had polished off the entire Big Mac and nearly all the fries. “Aw, Strawberry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were hungrier than me. I’ve been that way myself. Anyway, I know this guy — sometimes he hires kids to run errands for him.”

“What kind of errands?”

“I don’t know, but if you don’t want to stand on street corners, it ought to be worth a try.”

Jason thought for a moment. Strawberry seemed okay and she was the only person who had been nice to him since he had come to L.A. It would be rude to simply turn down her offer of help. Besides, he was getting desperate. He had tried to get a couple of jobs at places where he had seen ‘help wanted’ signs, but the store owners had asked his age and turned him down.

The two teenagers walked through the park together, sharing Strawberry’s coke. As they headed across a busy street, a long car pulled up along the curb and the man inside called out.

Strawberry turned back, hurrying over to the car. Jason followed more slowly.

“Hey, child. What’s the hurry?”

“Hi, Andre.” Strawberry’s smile looked older as she leaned against the car.

“Got anything for me, baby?” The man’s jewelry flashed in the sunlight.

“Sure.” Opening her purse, she pulled out a wad of bills and handed them over. “How’s that?”

Andre smiled, revealing a row of flashing white teeth. “Now I know why you’re my sweet Strawberry baby.” He glanced around toward Jason. “Who’s he?”

“Oh. Jason?” She turned and Jason approached, feeling a little embarrassed as the pimp looked him over. “This is a friend of mine. Jason.”

Figuring he ought to say something, Jason muttered a greeting. “Hi, Mr. Andre.”

“Pretty manners for a pretty boy.” Dark eyes glinted appraisingly. Jason was beginning to feel like a piece of meat.

Strawberry smoothly filled the silence. “He’s new in town, Andre. I’m taking him over to Eddie’s place.”

Andre scowled. “Okay. I’m hip. But listen, Jason,” he went on, lingering over the name as if he enjoyed the sound of it, “anytime you decide you want to work for me…”

Strawberry watched him go, then she turned and took Jason’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go. Eddie’s place is only a couple blocks away.”

***

Three weeks later, Jason was feeling better about the city. It no longer seemed the cold place it had when he didn’t know anyone and didn’t know how to get along. Strawberry had introduced him to Eddie Bacon, a guy who ran a dry cleaner’s and needed errands run from time to time. He let Jason sleep in his back room. It was small, but at least it was clean and Jason had spending money for food and clothes. Running Eddie’s errands wasn’t too difficult. Every few days, Jason had to go to three or four other businesses — a Chinese restaurant, a drug store, a movie theater and a candy store — to pick up a bag of money and bring it back to Eddie. Jason figured what Eddie did besides dry cleaning was probably slightly illegal, but since he didn’t know much about it he never worried about getting into any trouble himself.

It was better, anyway, than anything else he could do. In three weeks, Jason had learned a lot about life on the street. Some of the kids he had met didn’t have it as good as Strawberry. He knew Andre treated her and the other kids who worked for him pretty well most of the time, even though the things they had to do for him were not so nice. Other teenagers got beat up a lot, sometimes by the crummy men they picked up.

Jason was determined to steer clear of that kind of scene. He didn’t see how kids just like him could sell themselves that way. Back home, he hadn’t even had a real date. Jason was quiet, he didn’t have very many friends, and around girls be was painfully shy. Then, too, his mother had been so sick for the last year. The first girl Jason could remember being able to really talk to was Strawberry.

He saw her nearly every day. Most times, they met in the park in the late afternoon, occasionally having a snack of ice cream or soda, always talking, telling each other about what they were doing, how they felt and, more important, about their dreams and hopes for the future.

Still, there were areas that, by tacit agreement, were off-limits. Jason didn’t ask questions, and Strawberry didn’t say much about what she did for Andre. The pimp came up in their conversations, though.

“Andre asked how you are again,” Strawberry said one day over a bag of Doritos.

Jason sighed. “What’s his problem? I’m not interested. Can’t he take no for an answer?”

Strawberry shrugged. “Guess not. Guys like you can make a lot of bread, sometimes faster than girls. Everybody who works for Andre is young; it’s his specialty. Andre’s good to us, better than most. You know that’s true.”

“I know. But I just don’t… Strawberry, how can you do that all the time? Don’t you feel…?” He broke off, embarrassed suddenly.

Strawberry didn’t seem to be. “It’s okay, Jason. I don’t think about it much. It’s not real to me. Not most of the time, anyway.”

“But it could be so dangerous.”

“There’s more danger just crossing the street.” She crunched into a handful of the spicy chips.

“You know, you can’t work for Eddie forever. He likes to get new kids pretty often. Doesn’t like them to know too much about his business or for people to get to know them. What are you going to do when he decides it’s time for somebody else to take your place?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something. I don’t want to stay on the street forever, anyway.”

“What else is there for kids like us?” Strawberry looked at him curiously. “Why’d you come here, anyway? You’ve never said why you ran, why you picked this city.”

“It’s… it’s a long story. I don’t feel like talking about it.” Jason’s eyes darted away from his friend’s sympathetic gaze. He didn’t even like to think about his reasons for coming to L.A., much less confide them to somebody else. It all seemed so stupid now.

He had come chasing a dream, looking for something he had never had, but always missed. Yet now that he was here, he didn’t know where to search. Maybe what — who — he was looking for just didn’t exist.

Strawberry’s smile was kind. “Hey, I understand. My folks fought all the time. Mom beat me, especially after she found out about how my stepdad did it with me when she wasn’t home. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Jason was shocked. He had never thought much about what Strawberry’s life might have been like before she came here. No wonder she thought working for Andre wasn’t so bad. Yet despite the fact that she had shared hers, he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her his story. Besides, she’d had it rough at home and, up until the last year or so, Jason had been pretty happy most of the time. It didn’t seem fair. “It wasn’t all bad for me at home. But… I had to come here.”

Strawberry, as she usually did, seemed to understand instinctively. “It’s all right, Jason. I don’t exactly like going into all the details myself. I just think that someday you’ll need Andre, or somebody like him. And if you do, it’d be better to go to Andre, not one of the others.” She smiled, perking up again. “He’s always asking about you. He likes you, Jason.”

“Terrific. You might tell him how thrilled I am to hear about that.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“No. I don’t think I will. You wouldn’t want to insult Andre, ever. I said he’s better than some, but… well, he’s used to getting what he wants.” Jason shrugged and Strawberry continued. “You’ve been here long enough to know how things are on the street.”

“Yeah. I guess I have.”

Strawberry peered deep into the Doritos bag, sighing when she discovered it was empty. “I’m tired of talking about the past.”

“And the present,” Jason added emphatically.

“So that leaves — ”

“The future!” Together, they laughed. Strawberry was fun to be with. Around her, it was hard to feel down for long.

“The future,” she repeated dreamily. “I’ve been thinking lately that I’d like to be an actress. You know, my friend Tiger was in a movie last week.”

“Really? Out in Hollywood?” Jason was impressed.

Strawberry laughed. “Course not, silly. Right here. A skin-flick. You know. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Tiger turned eighteen a month ago. It’s no big deal.”

“There you go again,” Jason chided. “Anyway… I used to want to play baseball. Professionally, I mean. I was on the team my first year of high school. Wasn’t too bad, either.” He jumped up, taking a swing at an imaginary ball with an invisible bat.

Strawberry giggled. “We’ll both be stars. All the really cute athletes turn into actors eventually.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We’ll make movies together, then.”

It all seemed so simple, so possible. For a little while, the reality of the dirty L.A. streets disappeared and the two teenagers inhabited a fantasy place where everyone was happy and rich, and no one had to do anything they didn’t want to do.

Strawberry was the first to come back down to earth. “Well, it’s getting late. I have places to go, people to see.”

Jason sighed. “Yeah. Me, too.” They headed out of the park, walking slowly side by side. Before they emerged on the street, though, Jason turned to his friend. “Strawberry, let’s always remember each other.”

“What?” She looked up at him with that blend of curiosity and worldliness he had come to expect.

“We’re friends, right? You were my first friend here and you are still my best friend. No matter what, let’s be friends and remember each other. Help each other if we can.”

Strawberry grinned, tossing her pig-tails. “Sure. I’d like that, Jason. Always friends.” She held her arm out to him and he took it, feeling very gallant as he escorted his best friend out of the park.

III.

Hutch was late coming home from his office again. Second time this week, he noted in annoyance. He was having a difficult time keeping up with the paper work. As a cop, he had hated filing reports, but once he had learned the system, the paperwork, though a chore, wasn’t too hard to keep up with. On the new job, he didn’t seem to have the hang of things yet. Although he enjoyed the work and could see that he was doing some good for the people he helped, his lack of experience in the field was irritating.

As he pulled into the driveway, he saw that, as he had expected, Starsky’s car was already there. It was Friday, Hutch’s night to cook. He checked his watch, swearing softly when he saw that it was nearly seven-thirty.

Hutch grabbed his briefcase and climbed out of his car. The hours he had been keeping weren’t as bad as the ones they had both had to get used to as cops. Yet he missed spending all day with Starsky. Ever since the shooting, Hutch valued each minute they could be together.

He came through the front door, calling out that he was home. As he looked over the pile of mail — mostly circulars addressed to ‘occupant’ and bills — he wondered where Starsky was. Usually, when it was Hutch’s turn to fix dinner, Starsky hovered around the kitchen, asking questions about what they were having and how long it would take to cook, standing over Hutch while he pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator and looking generally starved while he peered into whatever was simmering on the stove. The habit was becoming more exasperating than amusing.

The thought of Starsky exasperating him made Hutch wince. Only a moment ago, he had been annoyed that precious time he could have spent with Starsky had been wasted while he worked through the mountain of paperwork on his desk and fought the late rush hour traffic on the freeway. Not very consistent of me, Hutch told himself with a grin. He supposed it was as hard for Starsky to put up with him as it was for him getting used to his partner’s living habits.

Because they had known each other for years, spent so much time together, lived practically in each other’s pockets for so long, Hutch had been sure that living together would present no adjustment problems. He didn’t feel crowded with Starsky living with him; he was just surprised that after all these years there were still things he hadn’t known about his partner. It felt as crazy living together as he had suspected it might that first evening. It felt good, but it did feel crazy. He was happy living with Starsky and he was annoyed with himself when he became irritated by the little things Starsky did that had always driven him out of his mind. It had been a natural part of their existence to pick on each other, call names and find fault; now Hutch realized that both of them were trying harder than ever not to treat each other that way.

He remembered that he and Van had gotten along beautifully while going together, and had only begun to bicker after they were living under one roof. Aside from his marriage, Hutch had never lived with anyone else since leaving home, and he realized that was part of his difficulty. Perhaps he had just become too set in his ways while single. He supposed that he and Starsky, in a weird reversal of a courtship ritual, had gone from a state of bickering to attempting to show only the best sides of themselves to each other. He hoped that soon they would get back to acting naturally. Life with Starsky was certainly much more pleasant than life with Vanessa had been.

Hutch checked his watch again. By this time, Starsky was probably starving. Hutch was, too. He dropped the mail on the desk and moved through the living area, shrugging out of his jacket as he went. “Starsk?” He repeated his partner’s name, louder this time as he slung the sport coat over the back of a dining room chair. There was no answer.

He walked into the kitchen but found it empty. Wandering back to the dining room, he saw that the French doors were standing open and he stepped out on the deck. Glancing down, Hutch found his partner.

Starsky was there, standing over a charcoal grill, flipping hamburgers. Hutch smiled, shaking his head. Weighed against not having to fix dinner himself was the factor of facing another of Starsky’s hamburgers. He tended to make everything he cooked out of ground beef, and mostly what he cooked turned out to be hamburgers.

Starsky looked up, sensing Hutch’s eyes on him, and waved. Hutch waved back, his smile warming. Who cared what was for dinner when the company looked like that? Starsky wore a brief pair of faded cutoffs topped by a blue and white football jersey that clung to the curves of his torso.

“Come on down,” Starsky called.

Hutch did, going down the steps to the sand. He walked over to the grill, reaching to hug Starsky briefly.

“Hi,” he breathed.

Starsky hugged back. “Hope you don’t mind burgers again. I figured you wouldn’t feel like cooking anything when you got home.”

“Thanks.” Hutch sat down in a nearby lawn chair. “Sounds fine to me. I’m bushed.”

Starsky stood behind him, his hands kneading Hutch’s shoulders. “Long day, huh?”

Hutch nodded, closing his eyes, enjoying the warm feel of Starsky’s hands. He loosened his tie, beginning to relax. If living together was making him a little crazy, it was the best kind of crazy he could imagine. He caught one of Starsky’s hands, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. “I love you.”

Starsky came around beside him to run his fingers through Hutch’s hair, pushing the long strands back from his forehead. “I’ve been waitin’ all day to hear that.”

Hutch wanted to pull him into a long, lingering kiss, but decided he shouldn’t since they were outside. Down the beach, he could see a few people, and a couple of little kids were tossing a ball in the yard of the nearest house. Hutch felt the time wasn’t quite right yet to shock their new neighbors with overt physical displays.

Starsky’s eyes met his, seeming to say they knew what he was thinking. “Later, babe,” he whispered. “For now, how about getting the beer and we’ll eat out here?”

“Okay.”

Later, they sat together on the scraggly grass near the house, watching the breakers roll in. Hutch had taken time to get out of his dress clothes and he sat comfortably in a pair of jeans with his shirt and shoes off. He noted that as usual, Starsky declined going shirtless. He was self-conscious about how he looked since the shooting. Starsky had always been so free and natural about his body and Hutch wished he could recapture that ease. The physical recovery had taken months; Starsky’s emotional healing was still going on. Hutch could see the changes, a new need to experience life that in some ways made Starsky more possessive and demanding than he used to be, as if he were afraid to let life and love slip through his fingers.

Yet there were also times when Starsky seemed more patient and philosophical, almost as if being so near death had permitted greater understanding. Hutch hoped that the scars would eventually fade some more, and that Starsky-‘s self-confidence about his body image would return. He hated the idea that Starsky had been hurt so deeply that such a personal aspect of his psyche had been affected.

When they had filled up on Starsky’s grilled burgers and huge mounds of grocery store potato salad, Hutch leaned back in his lawn chair, legs stretched out, eyes closed, fingers holding his last beer can loosely. Starsky had wandered off, talking to the kids from next door. Their ball had rolled into the yard and Starsky had tossed it back. Hutch had seen the eagerness in his partner’s eyes when he threw the basketball. No matter what, Starsky still liked to play.

He had been g one for a good while though, Hutch thought as his eyes opened and he glanced around, looking for him. The sun was almost below the horizon and neither Starsky nor the kids were in sight. Hutch, feeling a bit lonely, got up, heading down toward the beach, looking past the rocky outcropping that blocked his view of the shoreline.

Starsky and the youngsters came bounding into sight in a moment. Hutch watched the man’s movements, enjoying the graceful strides of the strong legs and the sight of the dark curls tumbling in the breeze as he ran. Suddenly, Starsky pulled up short, a hand pressed to the middle of his chest. He got winded easily and always seemed surprised when it happened, as if he didn’t remember that his body had its limits. Hutch walked out to meet him.

“Hi, kids.” He smiled at the boy and girl, then his eyes returned to the sweat-beaded face of his partner. His hair hung in damp ringlets over his forehead and his breathing was still ragged.

Starsky met his gaze, shrugging ruefully. “Here, Bobby.” He tossed the ball to the younger child. “See you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye, Starsky. Thanks.” The girl, taller than the boy, smiled shyly at both Starsky and Hutch, then dashed off to follow her playmate.

The men started back to their own house, moving slowly while Starsky got his wind back.

“Nice kids,” Hutch said quietly, watching him. Being told he should take it easy usually had the effect of causing Starsky to overdo even more in an effort to prove to himself and Hutch that he was all right. That had a tendency to provoke Hutch and they would end up fighting. Hutch didn’t want that, but he couldn’t help worrying about Starsky’s physical condition. A part of his life since the instant Starsky had been shot, he couldn’t let go of his concern even now.

An arm slid around Hutch’s waist. “I’m okay,” Starsky asserted, knowing how Hutch felt.

Hutch matched Starsky’s hold on him as they strolled slowly back to the house. “I know.” He rubbed the heaving side gently. “Let’s go in now.”

Starsky nodded. “They’re fun kids. I’ve talked to them a couple of times. They aren’t really brother and sister, you know? The girl’s a foster child. The Smiths took her in off the streets. She was a runaway.”

“Yeah?”

Starsky glanced back, watching the children as they progressed toward their house. “She’s got a lot of problems.”

They checked the grill and gathered their plates and empties, carrying them up to the house. In the living room, Starsky dropped on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table. Hutch sat beside him.

“You’re good with kids,” he observed. Starsky would have made a great father. If Terry had lived, he would probably be one now. How different their lives might have been…

“So are you,” Starsky was saying. “You were terrific for Kiko and with Molly, too.”

Hutch shrugged. “I always felt like I was doing the wrong thing in handling kids. When they’re young, I guess it’s easy. But teenagers…”

“Yeah. Good thing we won’t be having any babies, huh?” Starsky chuckled.

Hutch didn’t laugh. “Think you’ll miss having kids, Starsk?”

“There you go again.”

“What?”

“You’ve got that ‘culture shock’ look again, Hutch. Do you spend all your time analyzing what living together means? I’m happy, babe. You never need to think about what might have been, what the decisions and choices we made might have taken away from me. I’ve got all I want. All I’ll ever want. And I hope you feel that way, too.”

Regretting the way he had sounded, Hutch leaned over, urgently pressing Starsky’s lips with his own. “I do.” He sighed deeply. “I do, Starsky. I don’t mean to over-analyze so much. I’m just trying to get used to all we have.”

“You gotta get used to happiness?”

“I’m being dumb, huh?”

“Yep.” Starsky wound his arms around his back. “But like I’ve been saying, I’m used to ya.” He glanced up, looking into Hutch’s eyes. “You are happy, aren’t you?” The question was half-teasing, but half-serious.

Hutch returned the embrace, squeezing him tight. “Yeah. I’m happy. Sometimes I can’t believe we lucked out so much. But I’m glad we did.” He kissed the side of Starsky’s neck. “After all we’ve been through, we deserve our share of happiness.”

Starsky’s hands came up on either side of Hutch’s face, fingers stroking through his hair. He pulled Hutch into a kiss that answered all of his questions, filled up his heart the way his presence filled Hutch’s life. Hutch was home, in Starsky’s arms, and all was right with his world.

He had to tell Starsky how he felt. Breaking the kiss, voice ragged and breathless, he said aloud the words that had been in his heart. “I have all I’ll ever want or need, babe. You’ve given me everything.”

 

IV.

Jason was worried. Eddie had told him last night that he was looking for a new boy to run his errands. That meant Jason was soon going to be out of a job as well as out on the street again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to find a real job because he wasn’t eighteen and he didn’t want to go to work for Andre. He liked Strawberry, but he didn’t believe her when she told him she didn’t mind sleeping with men for money. Sometimes, he could tell someone had hurt her, even when she tried to deny it. Jason had looked at the boys who sold themselves to homosexuals and he couldn’t understand. He liked girls, even if he wasn’t very experienced. He didn’t want to do the things guys who didn’t like other men chose to do for money, either, and pretend it didn’t count. Jason knew it would count with him no matter who tried to tell him differently. His mother had told him that sex between two people was only right if they loved each other, and Jason believed her.

Yet if he couldn’t work for Eddie, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Not for the first time, Jason wished he had never bothered to come to this town. Maybe somehow he could get enough money to take a bus back home, he thought. No, that wouldn’t work. He didn’t have anything back there, either.

He had one last day’s errands to run for Eddie. The man seemed nervous, Jason realized as he left the dry cleaning shop. Usually Eddie was smiling and talking to some of his friends who liked to hang around the shop. Today, the place had been quiet, empty. There hadn’t even been very many customers in and, to Jason, Eddie seemed to do a pretty steady business.

The only thing Eddie had said to Jason as he left was unusual, too. “Be careful, kid,” Eddie had called out to him, and then, “wait a minute.” When Jason had turned to see what he wanted, Eddie had spoken more forcefully, as if he were warning him. “Take the long way around. Through the alleys. Wouldn’t want to be followed, you know, with all that money.”

Jason had nodded and, attempting to be as cautious as possible, had started on his way to the Chinese restaurant. When he came out of the place, he felt vaguely uneasy. Glancing around, Jason saw no one on the street. There was just a dull brown sedan parked across from the restaurant. Jason turned down an alley and headed for the candy store.

There were customers in the store when he got there, so Jason had to wait a while. By the time Arnie handed him the bag, Jason was anxious to get back to Eddie’s place. When he took too long making his pick-ups, Eddie got nervous.

Nodding a good-bye to Arnie, Jason took the parcel and headed out the door. He was in a hurry, so he cut around a brown car parked in the alley as he moved quickly on his way to Eddie’s street.

Jason got back to the dry cleaner’s and dashed in the door.

Eddie looked up at him, glaring. “What the hell took you so long, kid?”

Jason mumbled his excuse that the candy store had been crowded, but Eddie, as usual, didn’t really listen to him. Instead, the man reminded him that he was hiring a new boy. “You’d better start getting your stuff together. I want that room empty by tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any place to move yet, Eddie,” Jason tried pleading. “I’m looking, honest. Can’t I stay a few more days?”

“I don’t know, kid. Maybe till tomorrow night, but that’ll have to be it. Now get back there and at least pack up some of your stuff so you’ll be ready.”

Sighing, Jason complied. He was scared to go back out on the streets again, facing the inevitability of change. All he really wanted was a safe place, and no pressure. Back home, there had been pressure of a different kind. Here in L.A., the pressure came from the streets, and Jason was out of his element. He was pressured to steal, to do drugs, to sell himself. So far, he had managed to avoid the worst of the evils that confronted him on a daily basis. Out of the relative security of Eddie’s backroom, though, he didn’t know how long he could hold out against the offers and the temptations. He wasn’t even sure any more why he was trying to hang on to his old set of values. Alone, on his own, it didn’t seem to matter to anyone what he did. Not for the first time, he reflected on the irony of his situation. He had thought he was running to something, rather than just away from the home he couldn’t stand. All he had wanted was a family to care about him.

He was trying to fold one of his extra shirts when he heard sudden confusion erupt in the dry cleaning shop. There were shouts, scrambling feet and Eddie’s voice asking what was going on. The door to Jason’s room burst open and a uniformed policeman strode in, quickly scanning the small quarters. Grabbing Jason by the arm, he dragged the adolescent out.

Eddie, surrounded by cops, caught sight of Jason. “He don’t know nothin’,” he declared. “Kid, you don’t know nothin’!”

Before Jason could ask any questions, one of the cops was rattling off the spiel he had heard on TV about rights, while another put handcuffs on him. Jason started shaking.

***

The ride in the back of the police wagon had passed in a frightening blur. Eddie was mad at him. The man said it was all his fault, that the cops had followed him on his rounds and that he had led them to Eddie’s place. Jason felt terrible when he remembered the brown car he had seen in the alley. When he thought about it now, he realized it must have been the same one he had noticed outside the Chinese restaurant, cops in a plain car following him.

Jason was taken into the police station, booked, questioned and taken to a holding cell separately from the others. As a juvenile, he was told, he would be charged and handled apart from the adults who had been arrested.

At least the police seemed to believe him when he said he really didn’t know much about Eddie’s business. Jason had thought they would let him go, but they wouldn’t. The cops said that since he was under age and had no guardian, they were taking him to be detained in Juvenile Hall. He was put in another van and driven to an imposing, ugly building that looked like a jail for kids.

It was getting dark by the time Jason was led inside. For the third or fourth time that day, he was asked if there was anyone he wished to have called to come and get him. Again, Jason said no. In the morning, they told him, a caseworker would come and see him, talk to him about what was going to happen to him from now on.

Jason was taken to a small room in the dormitory that was occupied by three other boys. The sullen kids didn’t have much to say to the newcomer. Jason was glad they didn’t hassle him. He was still shaken by the experiences of the afternoon and feeling more frightened and lost than he had since coming to the city. He remembered how the image of the ‘friendly’ policeman had been presented to him when he was back in first grade. That certainly wasn’t how the authorities had seemed today. Wryly, Jason reflected that at least now he wouldn’t have to look for another place to sleep.

The other boys had dozed off hours before, but Jason lay wide awake, staring out a barred window at the distant stars. It was a bright night, but not from starlight or moonglow as the nights had been back home. Here, the bright lights on the grounds provided illumination.

Jason reached into the pocket of his jeans, taking out his folded wallet. Inside were photographs that he looked at very rarely. He needed them now. One was old, its edges ragged and its surface creased. It showed a teenaged boy and girl with their arms around each other. The second picture was more recent. It showed the girl, now a grown-up, with Jason. They had their arms around each other, too. Jason stared at the picture of him and his mother for a long time. Finally, wiping away the tears that trembled on his cheeks, he lay his head down on the lumpy pillow and fell asleep.

V.

Starsky pulled his Torino into the driveway, noting that for once, Hutch had arrived home before him. He had worked harder and stayed longer at the studio than usual today, and knew he was going to regret it. It irked Starsky that even a year after the shooting, he still felt the physical effects. He had regained a good deal of strength, to be sure, and he was thankful that he was no invalid, but the old agility and stamina were gone. Every time he overdid, the muscles of his chest and back reacted to the strain and he had to spend the next day recuperating.

Moving stiffly, Starsky climbed out of the car. As he headed inside, he tried to conceal the fact that he was aching so badly. Hutch worried about him too much anyway. This time, Starsky thought ruefully, he didn’t even have a good excuse. There had been a long delay in filming out in an open area of countryside. The cast had had nothing to do while the crew worked out the problem, and someone had produced a Frisbee. Starsky, who also had nothing with which to occupy his time and yet was going to be needed to observe the filming, had been urged to join in the game.

It had been fun, but all the running and jumping on the hard-packed earth had over-taxed his stamina. Hanging around until filming was completed several hours later than usual had not helped. Feeling stupid for having abused his body, Starsky tried to ignore the ache of his legs and the soreness around his ribs.

He found Hutch in the kitchen, bending over to look at something in the oven.

“Hi,” Starsky said softly, enjoying the view of Hutch’s rump in snug jeans.

Closing the oven, Hutch turned. He smiled and came close. “Where’ve you been?” His lips covered Starsky’s before he could answer. Yet when Hutch’s arms encircled him in a tight hug, Starsky couldn’t help drawing a sharp breath in reaction.

“What?” Hutch held him at arms’ length, blue eyes appraising him critically.

Starsky shrugged, realizing he would have to admit that he had overdone things that afternoon. He still hoped to downplay his symptoms. “I had to work late. They couldn’t film out at the location because of some technical problem. It took hours before they were ready.”

Hutch’s eyes watched him steadily.

“I was hanging around with some of the cast… you know, horsing around. I guess I overdid it a little…” Starsky’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t face those eyes and not own up to the truth. “It’d been ages since I’d played Frisbee.”

For a moment, Hutch said nothing. Starsky was expecting a tirade on how he had to take care of himself, how only an idiot would do something as stupid as running around, playing Frisbee with a bunch of twenty-year-olds. Instead of speaking, though, Hutch reached out a gentle hand and touched the side of Starsky’s face, asking, “Do you want dinner or a soak in a hot tub first?”

“I can wait to eat,” Starsky admitted. “I think it was having to stay late after all the running around that’s really made me stiffen up.”

“Okay. Go on upstairs. We’ll eat later.”

Starsky was so surprised he hesitated. Hutch smiled, his eyes full of light. “I’ll yell at you later, too.” He winked. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

“Sure, ‘mom’.” Starsky winked back and turned to leave the kitchen. Hutch slapped his ass hard as he went and when Starsky jumped out of the way he yelped aloud.

“You deserved that!” Hutch called after him, laughing.

Wasting no more time, Starsky headed upstairs. He was lying with his eyes closed in a deep tubful of water when Hutch tapped on the door ten minutes later. Starsky answered with a groan.

Hutch came in and crouched beside the tub. “Want a beer?”

Starsky opened one eye. “Thought you were gonna yell.”

“Who me?” Trying to look innocent, Hutch handed him the beer can.

“You usually do. When you think I’m not taking care of myself.”

“You know you shouldn’t overdo.”

A sigh. “I know.”

“There are certain things you can do only moderately.”

“Hutch — I won’t break. So I’m a little sore. I had a good time.”

“Bullshit. If you refuse to take care of yourself, you’re going to undo all the work you’ve done in the last year.”

“That’s just it,” Starsky argued. “It has been a year. Over a year. I should be able to handle a little exertion. I maybe retired but I’m not a cripple.”

“You will be if you keep this up.” Hutch’s tone was growing more heated.

“You’re always telling me I can’t do anything. Can’t run. Can’t lift things. Pretty soon you’ll have me wrapped up in cotton.” Starsky knew he sounded petulant, but he didn’t feel like accepting Hutch’s criticism.

“That’s ridiculous. I just want you to act like you’ve got a little sense, a little maturity.”

“Oh, that’s good. If you can’t be logical, attack my personality.”

“You’re the one who’s acting irresponsible.”

“And you’re just the one to tell me how to straighten up.”

“When you need telling, yes. I had to point you in the right direction enough times on the street.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m the one that had to teach you all the ropes out there.”

“I let you think that, partner.”

Momentarily speechless, Starsky sat with his mouth open, surprised at the sudden turn the argument had taken. Finally he shrugged. “Well, partner, what do we do now?”

Hutch looked sheepish. “I wasn’t going to pick a fight with you over this. I was half kidding when we started.”

“But only half. You were partly serious, too.” Starsky met his eyes.

Hutch rested his hands on Starsky’s shoulders. “Serious in my concern. You should know that.”

“I do.” Starsky put his arms around Hutch’s neck. “Do you realize this was our first real fight since moving in together?”

“Does this mean the honeymoon is over?” Hutch turned his head so he could kiss a spot on Starsky’s forearm.

“It’s almost been like we’ve been afraid to act natural.”

“I know. I told you sharing a house was going to be crazy.”

“Felt pretty natural when you were yelling at me.”

“Maybe we’re getting used to things at last.”

“Oh, no. I don’t wanta ever get used to it, lover. Don’t want to take us for granted.”

They pulled each other into a kiss. Hutch slid a hand down Starsky’s side to the water in the tub.

“You call this hot?” He moved to turn on the faucet. “Tepid water doesn’t do any good, Starsk.”

“Wasn’t tepid when I got in.” Starsky leaned back carefully as the water heated up.

Hutch rolled up a sleeve, then stirred the water with his arm, mixing the colder with the hot flowing in. Then he ran a wet hand over Starsky’s chest and down over his ribs. “Hurt through here?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Not too bad.”

“Right.” Hutch turned off the tap and stood, reaching for a towel to dry his arm. “Drink your beer and then come down for dinner. I’ll give you a rub down after.”

Starsky leaned back, the hot water soothing to his sore muscles. “Ahhh, I can’t wait.”

***

The massage helped to ease most of the stiffness in his back and along his ribcage, but Starsky was glad he wouldn’t have to work the next day. He rolled onto his back, still moving gingerly and Hutch lay down on the bed beside him, propping his head on his arm and a folded pillow.

“Feel any better?” Both the question and the hand stroking across his chest were gentle.

Starsky nodded. His eyes followed the direction of Hutch’s fingers as they traced a scar cutting a path across his ribs and belly. “You know, sometimes I forget it ever happened.”

Hutch’s hand, stilling its motion, was large enough to cover the length of the lowest scar. His voice was hushed. “Like today?”

“Yeah. I forgot for a while. It felt pretty good to run as fast as I could, play as hard as I wanted to. Didn’t feel like an old man then.” He was saying things that he hadn’t even let himself think about for a long time.

Once the trauma of the shooting itself had passed and he had come to terms with the extent of his disabilities, Starsky had concentrated on all that was positive in his life. For a while, he had gloried in the simple things — fresh air, bright sunshine, making love with Hutch. He was so glad he had survived that nothing else mattered. It had been easy to give up his career as a cop; schedules and reports and other people’s problems didn’t mean as much to him anymore. He was happy to be able to plan a future free of the violence of the street. Yet with the deep soreness throbbing in his chest and back like tonight, he felt broken and lost again like he had in the hospital, all his fears of weakness and pain and frailty and death coming back.

Hutch reached to touch his chin, turning his gaze deliberately away from the scars that would always be there, that would never let him forget. He met Hutch’s luminous eyes.

“You’re not old. You never will be old.” The soft voice shook with conviction. “Age isn’t counted in years, babe, or scars or retirement. When I look at you, I see the same beautiful, wide-eyed innocent I’ve always seen. You’re eternally young and that’s what I love about you. Whenever the streets made me feel cynical and useless and old, all I ever had to do was look in your eyes.”

The ache Starsky felt now was at the back of his throat, emotion that warmed and humbled him, gave him something to live up to and live for. He thought he might be blushing and wished he could shrug off the compliment with a modest or casual comment, but he knew his lover didn’t give out such words of praise lightly. He swallowed hard, fighting down the sensation that his eyes were about to overflow.

 

 

They were drawn together and the kiss they shared was sweet and slow. Starsky encircled Hutch’s back, pulling the man against him. They shifted, their bodies finding their familiar, snug fit, legs entwined, arms holding, hands stroking. Starsky’s head settled on Hutch’s shoulder and he sighed as he felt the softness of Hutch’s lips moving down the side of his face.

He was tired, down to his bones. The massage had relaxed him and the heady emotions had warmed him to the point of drifting lethargy. All Starsky really wanted was to fall asleep like this, wrapped up in Hutch’s tenderness and love.

As always, his partner seemed to be on the same wavelength. A raspy whisper spoke close to Starsky’s ear. “Ready for sleep, lover?”

“Sounds wonderful.” Starsky raised up for a quick kiss then settled back. He fell asleep with Hutch’s hand still stroking his shoulder.

 

VI.

Jason waited restlessly outside the office of the Juvenile Hall administrator. He was to be visited this morning by a counselor assigned to his case. The boy was nervous, not knowing what to expect of the mysterious person who was coming to talk to him. He was still scared from having been arrested the day before and figured that probably the counselor was going to tell him all about how he was going to have to stay in juvie for a long, long time because of the crime he had committed.

After what seemed like forever, the office door opened and he was beckoned inside. Jason tried to still the hammering of his heart that started when he stood up. He felt like a little kid who’d been called to the principal’s office for something he hadn’t done.

Trembling, Jason stepped into the office. The man behind the desk and a young woman rose.

“Jason,” the man said, “this is Miss Perkowitz, your caseworker.”

“Hi, Jason. Please — sit down.” She turned to him with a smile. Jason sat but didn’t feel any less nervous even though Miss Perkowitz looked friendly.

The administrator spoke again. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.”

“Thanks, Russell.” Miss Perkowitz was little, with big, bright eyes. She looked at Jason for along moment, and he glanced away, fidgeting.

“Jason. I’m here to help you any way I can. I’ve seen the arrest report from yesterday, but I think there’s a lot more to the story than that. You are a runaway, aren’t you?”

Jason felt defensive. “So? Is that a crime, too?”

“No, although I know sometimes you kids feel like you’re treated that way. Listen, I can contact your parents for you.”

“No!” Jason blurted it out, then couldn’t say more.

“If you call your parents, you can get out of here. Come on, Jason. Where are they? I’ll help — talk to them for you, if you want.”

Jason clenched his hands on the arms of his chair. It was hard, even now, to say the words. The pain was still so fresh. Finally, in a whisper, he admitted, “Mom’s dead.”

Miss Perkowitz leaned toward him. “I’m sorry, Jason. Is that why you left home?”

He shrugged. She was persistent. “What about your dad? He’s bound to be worried…”

“You don’t understand.”

A sigh, “I know, Jason. That’s why I’m asking. So I will understand. So I can try to help you. Don’t you get along with your father? Did he re-marry?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Jason looked at the woman, trying to decide what to say, how to say it. Maybe she could help. He had come all this way and hadn’t managed very well on his own. Perhaps if he told someone else, things would get better. At least, he didn’t see how they could get worse.

He drew a deep breath. “I came here… looking for my father.”

“Yes?” Her patience encouraged him to continue.

“When Mom found out she had cancer, she told me about him. Said… when she was g-gone… I might want to find my father.”

There was a short silence. Then Miss Perkowitz interpreted, “They weren’t married, your father and mother?”

Jason shook his head. “I never knew him. Mom was pretty young when I was born, see, and her parents sent her away when they found out she was pregnant. She wasn’t allowed to tell her boyfriend about it. She never saw him again. I guess he doesn’t even know about me.”

“So you came here looking for him. Why L.A.?”

“Mom called his old number one day. All she found out was that he lived here now. I… checked the phone book when I first got here, but… he wasn’t listed. I didn’t know where else to look. Then I thought maybe he didn’t even live here after all… or that he wouldn’t want to know about me. I didn’t know what to do.” He looked at the adult across from him, feeling relieved to have told someone at last.

“You know his name, then. Do you have anything else we could use to trace him?”

This might be his only chance to find the father he had never known. He pulled the wallet from his back pocket, opened it and slipped out the photographs. “I have a couple of pictures,” he said, feeling shy and yet proud of them. “This is me and Mom right before she died.” He handed Miss Perkowitz that photo and sat looking at the other one for a long moment. “And this one is of Mom and my father, back before I was born.”

Miss Perkowitz took the worn picture, glancing down at it, then back up at Jason.

The boy grinned. “I look kinda like him, don’t I?”

He noticed that Miss Perkowitz had a funny look on her face, sort of surprised and curious.

“I think I may know this man, Jason,” she said very softly. “What’s your father’s name?”

***

Starsky woke as sunshine glared against his closed eyelids. He raised his head, realizing the light was stronger because Hutch was between him and the east-facing window. The morning sun bounced off his bright hair, compounding the glow. Starsky smiled, propping his head on his hand to watch his lover sleep on, unaware that it was morning already. Nobody, absolutely nobody, looked as beautiful sleeping as Hutch, he thought, taking in the tousled silk of his hair, the relaxed vulnerability of his face, the slightly parted lips that looked like they needed kissing.

They did, but Starsky wanted to wait a while before disturbing him. He looked too peaceful. Hutch had scrooched around in his sleep until the sheet slipped down around his waist. Starsky looked over the expanse of tawny skin stretched out on the white bedding. One of Hutch’s hands lay atop the covers; large-boned, strong fingers that could hold a gun, bring music from the strings of a guitar… wring pleasure from Starsky’s body with a lover’s touch. Supple, light, touches that knew him intimately, firm commanding touches that burned him with passion’s fire…

Starsky didn’t wait any longer. He leaned close, placing his lips against Hutch’s, nudging him awake with a gentle, probing kiss. A hand touched his back lightly, then he was held tight by two strong arms and the lips were responding, moving, the body under him coming alive.

As wonderful as it was making love with Hutch before going to sleep for the night, Starsky thought that waking up with love together was even more special. When he opened his eyes to find Hutch next to him, he felt everything about his life was perfect.

Hutch’s moist lips clung to his; he pulled back slightly and they followed. Starsky felt their warmth moving through him, through his lips, his bones, his bloodstream, until the gentle heat ignited deep inside.

He was being rolled onto his back and his legs parted to accommodate his lover’s body. Hutch shifted until they found a perfect match and both their hips began rocking in a well-rehearsed rhythm. Still kissing him deeply, Starsky reached low, his fingers exploring. As he touched a particularly sensitive place, Hutch groaned.

He raised up off of Starsky and bent his head, his mouth fastening on tender flesh at the inside of Starsky’s thigh. The mouth was eager, moving to the other thigh, repeating its licks and nips in quick, hungry succession. A wet tongue suddenly ran up and down Starsky’s hard shaft, circled down over his balls and delved between his cheeks.

Hutch was on his knees between Starsky’s legs, his eyes locking with those of his lover. No trace of sleepiness was in them; they were aglow with passion. The cloudless sky was dull in comparison to the sparkling blue of those eyes, and the sunshine paled beside the tumbled spun-gold of Hutch’s hair. His expression was no longer vulnerable, he was assured, commanding, in control. Starsky reached for the nightstand drawer without breaking eye contact, his fingers unerringly finding the tube of lubricant.

He opened it, squeezing some into Hutch’s palm. Hutch applied it to Starsky first, then himself. Starsky wriggled as his lover’s fingers entered him, relaxing against the pressure, aching with loss as they left him to stroke the dear gel over the rose-tinged cock.

Hutch’s slick hardness pressed against him, wet satin over tempered steel. His hands lifted Starsky’s hips, bringing them to rest on his thighs as he slid forward in one slow, deeply penetrating stroke. Starsky felt the corded hardness of the thigh muscles under his ass, the leashed strength of the hands that took hold of his cock, the restrained power of the manhood deep within him.

Starsky watched his face, knowing how Hutch reveled in the feeling of possessing him. Starsky himself gloried in the sensation of holding Hutch inside his body, the ache of consummation, the stillness of that moment when their bodies sought perfect harmony. Needing more, Starsky flexed his hips, using the muscles of his ass to tighten all along Hutch where they joined. He relaxed, then squeezed him again. Hutch’s mouth dropped open in a soundless shout and he began to move.

No holding back, no restraint; strength and power let go as Hutch thrust into him. Starsky let him in, deeper and deeper on each stroke, until the power to which he surrendered himself became his own. He exalted in the total response of one body to another, the dissolution of personal boundaries, the giving and taking that became sharing. He let himself ride on the tide of hips snapping in frantic rhythm, the sound of their bodies parting and meeting.

They struggled together, pulling each other closer and closer, deeper into the approaching climax. Hutch’s face looked enraptured as it began happening for him, his eyes liquidly blue and wide with wonder. Starsky was rapidly losing the ability to think as feeling took over, blocking out sight and sound and time. There was only Hutch and him together, joined along every nerve and sinew, every breath and heartbeat until their every molecule burst from within.

Hearing filtered back first as Starsky caught the distant sound of raspy breathing. He felt the cumbersome weight of his lover’s body entwined with and covering his own. When his eyes could focus, he found Hutch’s head pillowed against his chest. Starsky raised his hand to touch the damp strands of tangled blond, then stroked Hutch’s forehead, letting his thumb lightly caress the softness of closed eyelids. They began to flutter open, and Hutch groaned.

“You’ve demolished me.” The bright head lifted, but dropped back heavily as strength failed him.

Starsky hugged what he could reach, his hands clasping at Hutch’s shoulder and waist. He could hardly speak around the smile that began taking over his face. “Yeah.”

Hutch giggled and groaned again. He tried to roll off but, held fast in Starsky’s awkward embrace, he couldn’t. The two of them ended up side by side, snuggling close, not wanting to be parted just yet. Starsky felt the same warm lips nuzzling his chest. Wanting to return the affection, he dropped a quick kiss on Hutch’s hair.

The blond looked up, smiling, the light of love shining in his eyes. Starsky pulled at him, dragging him close enough to deliver a proper kiss. They parted reluctantly.

Starsky spoke with a grin. “G’morning.”

Hutch looked dreamy. “Yeah.” He struggled to lift his wrist and focused dazedly on his watch. “Hell, it’s getting late. Gotta get to the office.”

“Huh-unh.” Starsky tightened his hug. “Stay home with me. Make love some more.”

Hutch’s hand trailed down the side of Starsky’s face. “You’re feeling better,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Just needed some lovin’. If you don’t want me to have a relapse, you’d better stay.” His voice and hands were coaxing, fingers teasing Hutch’s nape under the fine strands of hair.

“Mmmm.” Hutch wriggled close against him. “Maybe I could call in and take the day off. We need some time to ourselves.”

“Really.” Starsky thought of how many nights one or the other of them was late coming home. “You think you can get the day off?”

Hutch was taking the idea seriously. “I don’t have any appointments… just a little paperwork. I’d probably spend the whole day trying to figure out what to do next.” He looked at Starsky, eyes twinkling. “Yeah. Think I’ll do it.”

He sat up, turning to reach for the phone on the nightstand. Before he could pick it up, the shrill bell sounded. Sighing, Hutch answered hello.

Starsky lay watching him, enjoying the sound of his voice as he talked, but not making an effort to follow the one-sided conversation.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, it sure has been a long time,” Hutch was saying.

Must be someone from the department, Starsky thought.

“What can I do for you?” Hutch’s tone was studied cordiality.

And they want a favor. Starsky shook his head. It figures.

“Uh-huh.” Hutch was listening as the speaker explained. “Yeah. I see.”

Here goes our day. Starsky sighed, rolling over on his back.

“What?” The word was sharp. Sudden anxiety tightened Hutch’s frame. Starsky started paying closer attention. “No! No, I don’t understand… I don’t know anything about this!” He sat up on the edge of the bed and Starsky moved to his side, worried at the tone of his voice. He leaned forward, wanting to share the phone with him to hear what was going on, but Hutch held it fast in both hands, his concentration focused on the speaker. Starsky couldn’t even catch his eye to give him encouragement or look a question to him.

“Uh… yes, but…” Hutch ran a nervous hand through his tangled hair. “Uh… I don’t know. Come down there? I-I guess. But I don’t think — all right. Yeah. Okay.” He listened a moment longer and Starsky could feel the increase in tension. “Okay,” Hutch said once more. ‘”Bye.”

He hung up the phone, watching as he dropped it into the cradle. His eyes closed. He drew a deep breath and they reopened, but he didn’t turn to Starsky. Various emotions swept his face — shock, disbelief, confusion, others Starsky couldn’t identify.

“Hutch?” He spoke softly, trying to impart a sense of calm. Hutch seemed so shaken by the call. Starsky couldn’t imagine what could be wrong but he figured one of them at least had better hang on. “What, Hutch?” His partner didn’t seem to hear him. Laying a hand tentatively on his shoulder, he tried again, coaxingly. “You okay?”

Hutch jumped as if he had forgotten he was not alone. He looked at Starsky in dismay, seemingly too confused to explain.

“What, babe?”

Hutch shook his head, again raking his hair back with a quivering hand. He swallowed, regaining a little of his composure at last. “This can’t be true,” he murmured, half to himself.

“What? Come on, tell me, Hutch.”

“That was Perkowitz from Juvenile Hall. Remember?”

Starsky nodded. “What’d she want?”

“There’s a boy down there. A runaway. About sixteen-years-old. They picked him up last night.” Hutch drew a steadying breath and looked directly into Starsky’s eyes. “He could be… my son.”

“What?” Starsky’s voice came out as a high-pitched yelp. “That’s crazy.” Yet Hutch’s pale face and shocked reaction said maybe it wasn’t so crazy. He grasped both of the sagging shoulders and turned the man toward him, speaking softly. “Somethin’ you never told me, babe?” Hutch’s gaze faltered. “It’s okay. I…”

“No.” Hutch looked up again. “I mean… I never heard this before, either. The boy said he came here looking for his father, that his father’s name is Kenneth Hutchinson and… and Perkowitz says he’s got a photograph of… of me, back when I was a teenager.”

“Wait. I don’t get it. How’d he get your name and some picture of you? This has got to be some kinda set up.”

“It’s a picture of me and a girl I dated after graduation. I remember her name — Adrienne Foster.”

He stopped and Starsky looked at him, two and two adding up.

Hutch sighed. “Her family was wealthy. They were old money. Dad was a self-made man, new money, you know. I wasn’t good enough for their daughter. They broke us up and she left town — went to school out of state, they told me. That’s the last I heard of her. I never saw her again.”

“This boy says he’s her son — by you?”

Hutch shrugged. “Looks that way. That’s what he told Perkowitz, that his mother is Adrienne Foster and she gave him my name and the old snapshot.”

Color had begun to come back into Hutch’s face; it drained out again at Starsky’s next words. “Did you know she had a baby, Hutch?”

He shook his head, eyes desperate. “No. No, I never heard that she did, never heard from her again. I never suspected her folks had sent her away because she was… pregnant. I didn’t try to contact her because they wouldn’t tell me what college she’d supposedly gone to and then I met Van…” He was stammering, nervous and sounding contrite about something years in the past. “But he could be my kid, Starsk. I slept with her.”

Starsky held his gaze. “Okay. It’s going to be okay, Hutch. However this turns out, it’s gonna be all right.”

Hutch let out a shaky breath. “Guess I’d better go ahead and make that call to my office and take the day off. Sorry we won’t be spending it the way we thought.”

Starsky gave him a brief smile. “Let’s go down to juvie and see what we can find out.”

VII.

By the time the Torino pulled into a parking space in front of Juvenile Hall, Hutch had begun to believe he had regained some control. He and Starsky had not spent the ride discussing the situation; Hutch had felt they should investigate the boy and his claim fully before attempting to make any decisions. Instead, Hutch had been quiet, trying to remember Adrienne Foster. He had appreciated Starsky’s comforting ability to keep silent.

Adrienne had been a beautiful girl; that he remembered. Yet time had dulled the image of her face in his mind. He had liked the blonde hair, a shade or two darker than his own, that swung to her shoulders. He remembered the thick mass of it, combing through his fingers, fanning out on a pillow. He had been so young then. Hutch wasn’t sure he had loved her, but he had made love with her, several times in the five or six months they had gone out together. Adrienne had been a high school senior, he had already graduated. They had met the year before, following one of his baseball games at school, but hadn’t started dating until the next fall. He recalled watching television with her the whole weekend of the Kennedy assassination and funeral. Adrienne was seventeen and the first time they had made love had been the very first time for her… Hutch cut off that thought with a twinge of guilt. Although Adrienne had been willing and they had both enjoyed the sex, now, from an adult’s perspective and at the thought that he may have created a life, Hutch could not help but wish he had never slept with her.

If he had never had sex with Adrienne, he would know for certain that the boy at Juvenile Hall was not his child. Things were not that simple, now. The boy could be his and Hutch had never felt so uncertain about any possibility in his life. Me, a father… The thought was staggering. He couldn’t begin to think about what should be done with the boy because his mind kept reiterating the one thought: I could be a father.

Hutch was spared further agonizing when the Torino braked to a stop. He turned to look at Starsky and calm blue eyes met his own.

“We’ll take it one step at a time, babe.” The quiet voice and the steady hand on his bicep were reassuring. Managing a small smile in return, Hutch opened his car door and slid out.

***

Perkowitz looked the same as always, short hair framing her pixie face. She broke into a smile when Hutch and Starsky opened the office door, then came around the desk to clasp Hutch’s hands.

“I’m glad you were able to come down so quickly, Hutch,” she told him. “When he showed me that old picture, I knew it had to be you.”

Hutch swallowed hard. “Any other facts, Perkowitz? A birth certificate or anything?”

She shook her head. “Not on him. He’s a runaway, carrying almost everything he owns in his pocket.”

“How was he picked up?” Hutch looked over at the sound of his partner’s voice.

Perkowitz nodded a belated greeting to the dark-haired former detective. “He was arrested late yesterday down on Main. He was acting as a runner for Eddie Bacon’s numbers operation.”

Hutch winced. “Sounds like a nice kid,” he commented dryly.

“I’m convinced he wasn’t involved in any other phase of the business. He thought he was just running Eddie’s errands.”

“That’s typical, “Starsky responded. “The kid needed bread and a place to sleep, so Eddie set him up.” His eyes told Hutch to go easy.

Hutch drew a deep breath and tried not to sound so negative. “Okay. What else do we know about him?”

“Just what I told you over the phone. He came out here to look for his father.”

Hutch cleared his throat. “Have you been in contact with his mother yet?”

Perkowitz faltered, looking surprised and then annoyed with herself. “Oh dear. Didn’t I tell you over the phone? Hutch, I’m sorry. The boy’s mother is dead.”

Hutch needed to sit down very badly. He took a step back and ended up on the edge of a straight back office chair. He was aware of Starsky’s presence, very real, beside him, but everything else was fading out as stunned thoughts swirled through his mind. “N-no. You didn’t tell me that.” Half-formed ideas about child support payments faded as the new information sank in. The boy was alone in the world, looking for his father. The responsibility seemed suddenly to have increased tenfold. He glanced up at Starsky, feeling overwhelmed.

Perkowitz continued to apologize, but Hutch stopped listening. He sat, held by the look in Starsky’s eyes, letting them absorb a portion of the blow he felt. I love you, those eyes said, and we’ll handle this together.

Hutch found his strength in the steady gaze of his partner. He stood, speaking decisively. “Come on, Perkowitz. Let’s go meet the boy.”

“He’s down the hall in the visitor’s room.” Perkowitz led the way out of the office and stopped at a door a short distance down the corridor.

“Right this way, Hutch.” She turned the doorknob.

“I’ll wait out here.”

Starsky’s voice made Hutch hesitate. He turned to look at him, once more feeling the encouragement he offered silently.

“Be a minute,” he whispered, letting his hand come to rest in a brief touch at Starsky’s waist.

Then Hutch stepped through the door and came face to face with the boy Perkowitz had told him about.

He was gangly, seemingly all arms and legs as he came to his feet upon seeing Hutch. The hair was blond, fine and bright and slightly wavy. The complexion was fair and the eyes were blue. Coloring alone did not make a resemblance, Hutch knew, and yet the resemblance between them was there, for him to see and to feel.

 

Perkowitz had finished her introductions. The boy looked as if he didn’t know what to say. Hutch didn’t either, but it was up to him to find words for this awkward situation.

“Jason?” He heard his own voice crack and he cleared his throat a little. “Hi.” He extended his hand and after a moment, Jason responded, clasping it in his own. Hutch held on, the warmth of the large-boned, trembling hand transmitting, as sight and sound could not, the reality of the situation.

“Are — are you…?” The young voice trailed off and the boy blushed.

“It’s okay. Could I see your pictures, Jason?” Hutch waited until they were retrieved from a battered wallet, then took them in his hand.

The first he recognized instantly. He remembered the night it was taken. Adrienne and he had been at a party together; the photo had been snapped by a friend there. Both of them were smiling and Hutch saw that their arms were loosely clasped around each other’s shoulders. Adrienne was pretty and the memory of her personality came back forcefully as soon as he saw the picture. The next photo made him feel strange. It was of Adrienne, as she must have looked shortly before she died, with Jason. In the picture, the adolescent son resembled the young Ken Hutchinson even more closely than he did the adult Hutch.

He cleared his throat again. “Your mom told you my name?”

Jason nodded. “She told me different things over the years when I’d ask about my dad, but she didn’t give me your name until she knew she … she was going to die. She had cancer.” The boy shoved strands of blond hair out of his eyes. “She didn’t get along with grandmother and grandfather. They were too old-fashioned, they stayed mad at her for having a baby when she wasn’t married. Mom… Mom didn’t want me to live with them…”

Live with them… Hutch felt uncomfortable at mention of where Jason might live. Things were moving far too quickly, but he had the feeling there wasn’t going to be much he could do to slow them down.

“We should at least let them know you’re all right.” Hutch tried to keep to essentials. “They must be worried about you. How long have you been out here?”

Jason thought a moment. “I got here last month.”

“That’s a long time to be on your own out on the street.” Hutch thought of the perils that could have befallen the boy. He knew only too well the cycle of desperation runaway kids followed out there. Crime, drugs… he looked at Jason, seeing naïve earnestness and innate honesty that would have made him vulnerable. If you are my son, and you very well could be, I don’t want that for you. Hutch didn’t know what he felt for the teenager; he was still numb with shock. All he sensed was a deep feeling of responsibility. He couldn’t allow him to go back to the street and he wouldn’t leave him in juvie. There were charges against the boy; Hutch could at least do something about that situation. He turned to Perkowitz, asking a few quick questions about the Eddie Bacon case, learning that if Jason were to be released in his custody, he would only have to attend a hearing, the date of which had not yet been determined. Hutch sighed. He could not state that the boy was definitely not his own child. He would take him, at least temporarily, if only to prevent his incarceration in Juvenile Hall as a runaway.

There was so much to consider, he hardly knew what should be done first. Starsky… Mid-way through phrasing a question to Perkowitz, Hutch stopped. He should discuss this with Starsky first.

“Excuse me a moment, Jason, Miss Perkowitz.” He rose and stepped out into the hall.

Starsky had been sitting on a bench across from the visitor’s room. Now he bounced to his feet, his face all eager. “Well?”

Hutch wanted very much to put his arms around him. He needed Starsky’s solidity, his ability to take things in stride. Starsky smiled crookedly and draped an arm around Hutch’s shoulders.

“He’s got no place to go, Starsk,” Hutch began. “Perkowitz says he’ll have to stay in here until a foster home can be found — you know how long that takes.”

“It’s okay with me if he comes home with us. Do whatever you feel is right.”

Starsky didn’t ask questions, didn’t feel a need to have him prove the boy belonged to Hutch. It was not that he simply accepted that the boy was Hutch’s son, what Hutch wanted mattered most to Starsky.

“I still don’t know for sure, Starsk. There’s a strong resemblance… that doesn’t prove he’s mine, of course. But he could be. Why would Adrienne have told him I was his father if I’m not?”

“Easy.” Starsky held him firmly. “One thing at a time. Can we spring him from here now or not?”

Hutch nodded. “There’s some paperwork, I guess. I want to call Adrienne’s parents…” He stopped suddenly. “What about us, Starsky? What’s this going to do to us? If it’s true, if he’s my son, it’s going to change everything. I can’t do this to you.”

“Babe.” Starsky’s voice was very low. “Will you relax? Take it slow. Okay? You’re not ‘doing’ something to me, not messin’ up my life. We’re in this together, remember?”

Hutch leaned close, his forehead pressing against the warm silk of Starsky’s curls. “Okay. Come on in with me. I want you to meet him.”

***

The rest of the morning seemed to pass in a blur for Hutch. He alternated between periods of stunned confusion and bursts of activity. When he was able to act, he didn’t have to think; when there was time to think his mind shifted into neutral. He could not remember ever experiencing such a paralyzing inability to sort out his ideas and opinions and feelings. The confusion itself was nearly as unsettling as the condition that had caused it.

Starsky, on the other hand, seemed to be handling the new developments without much difficulty. Hutch envied him his ability to land on his feet that way, but he wondered how Starsky would have taken the news if a kid had turned up claiming to be Starsky’s son. Still, his partner’s calm attitude helped Hutch keep a level head.

Starsky had taken to Jason immediately, with none of the awkwardness Hutch seemed to be having. Hutch tried to relax and he kept hoping that as he got used to the idea, he would be able to act more naturally with Jason.

There had been a little paperwork to take care of, and then Jason was delivered into Hutch’s custody. The state of California was easily satisfied at this stage. Hutch’s statement that he did not deny the possibility of his being Jason’s father was acceptable. Hutch then had temporary custody of the teenager.

The first order of business consisted of getting Jason to a lawyer. Hutch called Ed Raines, the attorney who had represented him and Starsky when they had bought the house, who instructed them to come right over.

Raines, sitting behind his desk in his conservative grey suit, listened without comment as Hutch explained that he had learned about Jason only that morning. Of paramount importance however, were the charges against the youth. The lawyer questioned him about his involvement with Eddie Bacon. Hutch watched the boy closely as he talked.

“How did you get the job working for Eddie?” Raines asked.

“I didn’t have a job or any place to sleep. I met a girl — my friend, Strawberry — and she told me about Eddie.” Jason pushed a stray lock of blond hair off his forehead, then sat twisting his hands together in nervousness.

“And this man let you live in his backroom?”

“Yeah — all I had to do was sweep up the dry cleaning store and stuff and every couple of days, go pick up money for Eddie from a couple of other places.” The wide blue eyes flicked over toward Hutch anxiously.

“You knew it was money you were carrying?” Raines prodded.

A gulp and a nod.

“What was the money for?”

“It was Eddie’s. He didn’t tell me what it was for. I thought maybe they owed it to him — you know, for rent on their stores or something. Or maybe be had loaned it to them and they had to keep paying him back.”

“Did you think it might have anything to do with being illegal?”

Jason looked down at his hands in his lap. Hutch spoke up softly. “It’s okay. Answer him, Jason.”

The adolescent drew a deep breath. “I thought maybe Eddie was doing something against the law, but I didn’t know exactly what or how. All I did was run the errands. I didn’t think I’d get arrested.”

“Okay, Jason. I understand.” Raines spoke gently, then turned to Hutch. “I don’t think the D.A. is going to want to prosecute on this. I’ll get the arrest report and look it over, then give the D.A.’s office a call.”

“You don’t think they’ll want to prosecute on an accessory charge?” Hutch asked.

Raines shook his head. “I think we can have them nol prose it.” He looked toward Jason, explaining, “decide not to prosecute you, that is.” His glance then returned to Hutch. “He’s a runaway, needed a place to live. He was looking for his father, and now you have custody. You’re an ex-cop, you’ll see that he stays out of trouble.” Raines cocked an eyebrow in Jason’s direction. “And you’ll stay away from people like Eddie from now on, won’t you, Jason?”

Looking slightly confused, the boy nodded. “Yes, sir!”

Hutch stood, reaching to shake hands with the lawyer. “Thanks, Ed.”

I’ll give you a call as soon as I know anything,” Raines promised.

***

In the elevator, Jason looked up at Hutch. “Could I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Hutch found he was studiously watching the lights above the elevator door as they signaled the passing floors in turn.

“You said that you and Starsky were both cops, right? Why’d you quit?”

There had been so many reasons, how could Hutch explain in a sentence or two? He looked down into blue eyes full of genuine curiosity. “It’s a rough job, Jason. The cases we handled really took a lot out of us. We quit once before, and ended up going back. Then Starsky got shot.” Jason’s eyes widened. Despite his attempt to give a simple recitation of the facts, Hutch felt the emotions from that time coming back full force. “Starsky was hurt really seriously. He… almost died. There was no way he could stay on the force after that.”

Jason stood there a moment, looking up at Hutch. “So you quit, too?”

Hutch shrugged. “I’d had it with the job by then.” He glanced back up toward the indicator lights.

“You guys are best friends.”

The teenager’s observation was not inaccurate. Hutch smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Best friends. We were partners for a lot of years. I found out while Starsky was in the hospital that I didn’t like working as a cop without him. You must have a close friend back home that you miss, Jason.” He watched the boy’s eyes closely.

Jason shook his head. “Not really. There were a couple of guys at school I hung around with. But with Mom in the hospital, I didn’t do much after school last year. Then, right after the funeral, I went to stay with grandmother and grandfather. There aren’t too many kids where they live.”

“You stayed with them for a while, then?” The elevator doors slid open and Hutch and Jason exited.

“Just for a couple of weeks. Mom was right — I didn’t like living with them. The longer I stayed, the more I wanted to leave. It wasn’t that they didn’t try to be nice to me. I’m their grandson, you know, and they tried to make me feel at home. But I can’t forget how unfair they used to be to Mom. You’d think after sixteen years, they could have forgotten about the ‘mistake’ she’d made, as they always called it. Even though they didn’t seem to hold it against me, I always felt funny about being with them. I mean, if I was the mistake, how could they love me — and still be so angry with Mom?”

Hutch leaned on the glass door that opened on to the street. “You decided to take off?”

“I always felt Mom would have wanted me to go find my… find you.”

Hutch stopped as the door swung closed behind him. He wanted to say something, take the look of loneliness out of the boy’s eyes. He had heard something in the tone of his voice that he recognized. The fear of being rejected… Hutch had lived under the shadow of that worry for most of his life, how could he allow his own child to suffer the same way?

“It’s okay, Jason. You found me. It’s going to be all right.”

A tentative smile answered Hutch’s quiet assertion. The two moved on toward the waiting Torino.

Starsky turned inquisitive eyes on them as they climbed into the car. “How’d it go?’ he asked Hutch quietly.

“Ed thinks he can get the D.A. to nol prose the case.”

“Good. Everything else okay?”

Hutch nodded and when Starsky offered him an encouraging smile he returned it. “Yeah — as good as can be expected.”

Starsky checked his watch. “Hey, it’s almost lunch time. I’ll bet Jason could go for a taco, couldn’t you, kid?”

The boy nodded. “I sure could. We don’t have taco places back home. I tried one last week for the first time.”

“Great, aren’t they?” Starsky revved the Torino’s motor. “Good and spicy…”

“Starsk, you know your digestion can’t tolerate those things.” Hutch knew his cautionary words would be ignored.

“The kid’ll enjoy ’em.” Starsky was smirking.

“Yeah? Which kid?” Smiling, Hutch had the awful feeling he was going to be ganged up on.

In the back seat, Jason’s eyes glanced from Starsky to Hutch and back again. The teenager looked as if he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Don’t worry, Jason. He gets his kicks out of picking on me that way.” Starsky, eyes on the road, seemed to be laughing silently.

Jason apparently decided the two men were joking and he chuckled, too.

***

The adolescent had a healthy appetite and made quick work of two tacos and a chocolate shake. Starsky, despite Hutch’s warnings, ate several burritos. Due to his efforts, the conversation remained light. Hutch was grateful. The joking banter allowed him time to regroup. Jason relaxed, lost some of the lonely and scared look he had worn at Juvenile Hall and in the lawyer’s office. He seemed like a good kid, Hutch thought, listening to how he responded to Starsky’s friendly comments. Adrienne had done a good job with him. He was honest, fair-minded, gentle. A man could be proud of having Jason as a son.

A hand lightly squeezing his forearm drew Hutch’s attention. He looked up into Starsky’s caring face.

“Jason’s over there.” He nodded toward the bin where the boy was dumping their trash. “You all right, babe?”

Hutch looked down at the hand on his arm, covering it with his own briefly.

“Guess so. I just wish… I don’t know. What am I going to do with him?”

Starsky’s gaze never wavered. “Be his father.”

Hutch had no answer to that. It was what he should do, but he didn’t want to take Jason in out of nothing but a sense of responsibility. He wondered if he were capable of taking over where Adrienne had left off. There were a thousand questions he wished he could ask her; he felt a million regrets that he had never known… and yet, looking at Starsky, feeling his love and support, he knew he didn’t wish his life had been different. He knew about Jason now, and would go on from there.

The boy was moving back toward them. Starsky and Hutch stood up, releasing their hold on each other.

“What now?” Jason asked.

“Uh…” Hutch was uncertain.

“Clothes,” Starsky spoke up. “The kid needs clothes.”

A good inspiration, Hutch thought, taking in the grubby jeans and faded t-shirt Jason was wearing. “Yeah. Shopping?”

“Ugh.” Jason’s reaction was expressive.

Starsky laughed. “Reminds me of our Christmas shopping expedition with Molly. Remember, Hutch?”

“Molly?” Jason asked.

“Yeah — a kid we helped out once.” Hutch didn’t feel like rehashing that story. There were things he could have handled better that he still remembered. “Come on. We’ll try the mall near the house.” He turned to head out of the restaurant.

“You guys always go everywhere together?” Hutch heard Jason direct the question to Starsky.

“Pretty much. Hutch and I have been partners for a long time.” There was an ease in the way Starsky answered that felt extremely soothing to Hutch’s nerves. He wondered what he would be doing if he were in this situation alone.

***

Following the visit to the shopping mall, Starsky headed the Torino back toward home. As the car pulled into the driveway, the reality of Jason’s presence in his life finally sank in for Hutch.

“I want to call your grandparents,” he said abruptly as they walked into the house.

“No!” Jason’s protest was loud.

“I’ve got to. They must be worried about you.” Hutch tried to be reasonable.

“I won’t go back there!” The voice was defiant. “I told you I don’t want to live with them.”

Hutch put a hand on the squared shoulder and turned Jason toward the living room. He sat down and nodded the teenager into a chair opposite him. Starsky remained standing next to Hutch.

“Jason, I didn’t say anything about making you live where you don’t want to. I just want to let them know you’re safe.”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t know them. They’ll make you send me back.”

Hutch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Don’t worry about that. They won’t be able to make me do something just because they say so.”

“They don’t listen to other people.” Jason looked dubious. “All my life, Mom was always fighting with them, trying to make them let her raise me the way she wanted to.”

Hutch remembered the Fosters. His own dealings with them bore out what Jason said. They were wealthy and used to forcing their own way. Yet his last meeting with Adrienne’s parents had taken place when he was young and inexperienced.

“Come on, Jason. Give me the phone number. They’re all the way in Minnesota. You don’t even have to talk to them.”

Jason spent a long moment gazing into Hutch’s eyes, then his questioning look transferred to Starsky’s face.

“He’s right, Jason. Don’t worry. Hutch can handle the toughest, meanest guys on the streets and he doesn’t let rich people walk all over him, either.”

Jason grinned. “Okay. But I don’t want to talk to them.”

“I said you wouldn’t have to.” Hutch got up and moved toward the phone. He picked up the receiver and dialed the number Jason gave. After three rings the call was answered.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Foster?” Hutch tried to visualize the perfectly made-up face of Adrienne’s mother.

“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?” She sounded infinitely patient, infinitely polite.

“This is Kenneth Hutchinson, Mrs. Foster. It’s been quite a long time.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Was she really going to pretend she didn’t remember him? “I was a friend of Adrienne’s. We dated. Kenneth Hutchinson.” He put just a touch of stress on the syllables of his name.

The pretense of politeness was dropped. “What do you want?”

“I know about Jason, Mrs. Foster.”

The woman said nothing. Hutch tried again.

“Your grandson. He’s with me. He came to L.A. looking for me.”

“Los Angeles?” Mrs. Foster gasped. “Oh my God. That horrible city –”

“He’s all right.” Hutch drew on his experience in dealing with the distraught parents of runaways. “I told you — he’s with me.”

“With you? How did he find you?” Her tone was accusatory.

“He had my name. You must have known Adrienne would have told him.”

Mrs. Foster was quiet a moment, then she spoke up. “Jason is no concern of yours.”

“I think he is, Mrs. Foster. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Adrienne told you I was the father of her baby.” It wasn’t a question.

“She told me no such thing.” Mrs. Foster sounded more angry than convincing.

“Why would you have remembered my name after all these years if it weren’t true that I am Jason’s father?”

“He isn’t your son. You have no claim to him.”

“Did Adrienne get married before Jason was born? Did she ever marry?”

“No — ”

“Then there is no one who claims to be his legal father. Am I right?”

“Mr. Hutchinson. We have custody of the boy. I must insist that you send him back on the first available flight.”

“I can’t do that, Mrs. Foster. You see, Jason was picked up by the police yesterday.”

“Oh my God! What happened? Is he in trouble? Ken, please, is he all right?”

The concern in her voice was genuine. “Jason only did what he had to do to find work and a place to sleep. The man who hired him was arrested on criminal charges. Jason was nothing more than a witness. I’ve taken him to my lawyer and we’re confident that the charges will be dropped. But I can’t let him leave the city until we know for sure.”

“Well…” she paused. “We certainly could have one of our attorneys look into the matter.”

“My lawyer is quite capable. He also is well known to the local district attorney.”

“How do I know that what you’re telling me is the truth? You could be making it up to keep Jason away from us.”

“Get in touch with the L.A. police. They’ll verify the arrest.”

“We still want him back with us as soon as possible.”

“Mrs. Foster…”

“Kenneth, Jason should not be out there with someone he doesn’t even know. He belongs with his family.”

“From what I’ve learned today, I am Jason’s family.”

The woman’s voice turned cold again. “You’ll have trouble proving that. According to the state of Minnesota, Mr. Foster and I have custody of our grandson. If there had ever been any reason to let you know of his existence, you would have been contacted long before this.”

“I’ll be in touch with you as soon as we hear from the D.A. about his case.” Hutch brought the conversation to an end.

As he hung up, he noticed Starsky emerging from the kitchen, an open bottle of Coors in his hand.

“Thought you’d like a cool one.” The voice was neutral, the eyes solicitous.

“Thanks.”

“See what I mean?” Jason spoke up. “They’ll make trouble. I just know it. I’ll be back there before the week is out.”

“Jason — ”

“Jason,” Starsky broke in. “How would you like to go down and check out our beach? If you want, we’ll have a cook-out tonight. Hutch is great with the barbecue sauce.”

The teenager shrugged, not too enthusiastic. “Okay. I haven’t been to the ocean much.” He headed for the French doors, but paused at the sound of Hutch’s voice.

“Jason. Stay close by.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve had it with being on my own.” The tone was tinged with depression and just a little antagonistic.

Hutch smiled. “I mean be careful. And don’t worry. I’ll handle your grandparents.”

Jason smiled back, his eyes less wary, more trusting. “Okay. I’ll just be right outside.”

When he had gone, Starsky took Hutch’s arm and led him to the couch. He sat close beside him as Hutch took a long pull on the Coors.

“This is insane, Starsk,” he said finally. “I can’t believe the conversations I’m having. Here I am arguing with people I haven’t seen in years about a boy they have legal custody of. How do I know he wouldn’t be better off with them?”

“Do you think he would be?”

“That’s just it — I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in ages, didn’t know them well to begin with. She seemed to care about him, talking on the phone just now, but as soon as I started talking about being his father, she became hostile. Jason told me he didn’t like living with them — apparently they never got over their daughter having a baby out of wedlock — and their attitude toward Adrienne always made him uncomfortable with them. On the phone, she seemed as spiteful as I remember. She didn’t want her daughter dating me — now she doesn’t want her grandson to know me.”

“Then you feel he should be with you?”

“Permanently? I don’t know. They certainly have the money and the stability to give him a proper home and education…” He let his voice trail off; the comment seemed so lame.

“Hutch.” Starsky moved closer, holding his gaze. “You have to get your head together about this. I know it’s sudden. I know you hardly know what to think about Jason. But he’s here. You’ve got to figure out what you want. Do you believe he’s your son?”

Hutch sat without answering for a long moment. Yet there was only one answer he could give. It didn’t require facts or legal papers or medical tests. He knew it in his heart. “Yes. I do.”

The intent blue eyes never wavered. “Okay.”

“But that still doesn’t tell me what to do.”

A firm arm encircled his shoulders. “You don’t have to figure it all out all alone. I never said that.”

Hutch felt more miserable than before. “This does affect you.”

“That’s for sure.” Starsky’s smile was wry. “But you have to consider Jason also. I’m going to be here. I’m going to want whatever you want.”

Hutch drained the last of his beer. “It’s good to hear you say that.”

He squeezed Starsky’s hand. “I want to do what’s best for Jason… I just don’t know how to decide what that is.”

“Look. For now, he’s here with us. We’ll have a couple of days before we know what the court’s going to do about his case. That’ll give us some time to think.”

“Guess we’ll take it as it comes.” Hutch reached for Starsky, needing to feel the comfort of the familiar weight in his arms. He held on tight, breathing in his fragrance, soaking up his nearness, gradually untensing as Starsky stroked his back. “Thanks, lover.” They parted reluctantly, Hutch standing to move toward the French doors. “Maybe we should go out there with him.”

“Yeah. He’d probably like the company.” Starsky stayed close, keeping a hand at Hutch’s waist.

Looking into the deep blue of Starsky’s eyes, Hutch felt at peace. We’ll take it as it comes, he had said. ‘Me and thee’, just like always.

***

With Starsky and Hutch, Jason explored the beach and the neighborhood. Hutch felt as though they were hitting it off pretty well, there were smiles and laughter often. Starsky’s sense of humor in particular seemed to appeal to Jason. Hutch found himself shaking his head in fond exasperation as the two of them joked easily.

Jason explained that he loved swimming, having learned at an early age due to the fact that he and his mother had made their home on the shore of a lake. He was fascinated by the rolling breakers, running into and jumping over them with endless energy. Hutch began to think that living near the beach like this, where he could play under the sun and get plenty of fresh air would be very good for a growing teenager.

While Jason and Starsky tossed a football back and forth, Hutch mixed up some of his special barbecue sauce and set about grilling steaks. They ate on the deck overlooking the beach. Hutch marveled at the amount of food the adolescent put away. With some amusement, he realized that along with all the other facets of life that were about to change, their food budget was going to escalate.

After dinner, Jason asked if he could turn on the television, so the three watched a couple of programs. Starsky told him about his job and the youthful eyes grew wide with interest.

“Hey, can I watch them film sometime?”

“Sure. It’s a lot of fun.”

“When?”

Starsky grinned at his eagerness, then looked to Hutch. “You going to the office tomorrow?”

Hutch nodded. “Guess I’d better. My desk will be piled sky high after today.” He met Starsky’s eyes, the contact holding for a long, awkward moment as he remembered how their plans for the day had so suddenly altered.

Starsky gave him a smile meant to soothe. “Listen, how about I take Jason with me tomorrow? I have to pick up next week’s script and watch the final scenes from this week being filmed.”

“Could I?”

The request was directed to Hutch. He’s asking for my permission, as any kid would ask his father… The realization brought a rush of emotion to Hutch, a warm feeling that was also kind of unsettling. The responsibility of raising a teenager…

“I don’t see why not.” He gave his okay with a smile. “But listen to Starsky. There are rules to follow on TV sets.”

 

“I will,” Jason agreed.

Starsky checked his watch and groaned. “It’s after eleven already. Kid we leave at six-thirty for TV land. How about turning in?” His gaze included Hutch. “We’ve all had a pretty big day.”

Hutch agreed. To him, it felt like it was about four a.m. He stood up, yawning.

Jason picked up the packages of clothes and other items bought earlier that day. “Where do I sleep?”

Hutch opened his mouth to answer, then shut it as he abruptly realized that the question of the sleeping arrangements had not yet crossed his mind. He shot Starsky a look, hoping the panic didn’t show on his face when he turned back toward Jason. “We have a… spare room,” he stammered. “I’ll make up the couch in there for you tonight…” His voice trailed off.

“Okay.” Jason, apparently noting none of Hutch’s tension, started up the stairs.

“Hutch… you’re giving him the den?” Starsky’s voice, pitched low, for him alone to hear, carried tones of disbelief and a subtle reproach. “And I’m taking the middle room, right?”

He turned to his lover, feeling desperate to make him understand. “Starsk, I… I’m sorry. I just…”

Starsky closed the space between them in a single stride. He reached out, a steady hand finding the nape of Hutch’s neck. A gentle squeeze, a lingering caress, steady patience. The eyes said he didn’t completely agree with Hutch, but the touch said he understood.

 

VIII.

Starsky rolled over and squinted at the lighted dial of the bedside clock. Two a.m. He had managed to fall asleep — several times. The problem was that he kept waking up. He had grown accustomed to sharing a bed. Sleeping by himself was lonely.

Poor Hutch, he thought, shaking his head. Hutch was stunned by the idea that he’s Jason’s father. No wonder. Starsky couldn’t imagine being presented with a teenage son… and yet in a way, he had been. Hutch and he were making a life together, they had a commitment, for better or worse. What was Hutch’s was his. Hutch’s problems, successes, misfortunes, joys. And all of his life. It worked both ways. Starsky knew that if the problem were his, he could go off the deep end and Hutch would jump in to save him from drowning. He had promised Hutch that he would stand by him, would go along with whatever he felt he had to do. ‘You’re not messing up my life,’ he had said, and meant it. ‘We’re in this together.’

Except they weren’t together now, though they should be. Hutch was being torn apart inside. His pain was obvious to Starsky. The man was scared. When he was afraid, Hutch was capable of saying and doing the wrong thing and when he realized he had, it often added to his regrets. Starsky had felt the tension in the big body as Hutch held him in the living room earlier in the afternoon, sensed his anxiety and his need. From Starsky’s point of view, the last thing Hutch needed right now was to be alone.

Yet he had decided they should sleep apart. Hutch had looked so sheepish, so embarrassed as he stood there telling Jason about making up the couch in the den for him. Starsky didn’t think it was a very good idea trying to keep the truth from a perceptive adolescent, but when those wide blue eyes had turned to him, begging for his help, his understanding, Starsky had gone along with the charade. They had set up the second bedroom with Starsky’s bed so visitors would not find out what they did not want them to know, after all. Yet Jason was more than just a visitor. He might be staying for a very long time.

Starsky sat up, pounded his pillow, and flopped back down. He rolled over, struggling with the twisted covers. He sat up again.

This was ridiculous. He couldn’t sleep. And he was willing to bet Hutch couldn’t either. Starsky swung his legs out of the bed and crossed to open his door.

He listened a moment. The house was silent. Jason’s door was closed tightly. He could slip silently across the hall to Hutch and the kid would never know.

Starsky took a cautious step into the hall and froze as a squeaky floor board sounded incredibly loud to his ears. Ridiculous… As an afterthought, he moved back into the room and pulled on his robe. If he were observed sneaking around the house in the middle of the night, he supposed he shouldn’t be stark naked.

He turned the knob on the door slowly, silently. Sneaking into my own damn bedroom… It opened without a sound and he eased inside.

He stopped short. The bed hadn’t even been turned down. His eyes made a quick sweep of the room.

The rattan chair. Hutch sat in it, fully dressed, staring into the dark. Moonlight shining through the window made his hair gleam, but the soft illumination was unkind to the lines depression had etched across the fine features. Heart aching, Starsky closed the door behind him.

Hutch watched him approach, his gaze mournful. Starsky crouched in front of him.

“Why you still sittin’ up, babe?” He had to whisper and that made it hard to put the right expression in his voice.

Hutch shrugged. “Can’t sleep, I guess.”

“Me neither. But it looks like you haven’t even tried.” He reached to hug the drooping shoulders and was suddenly crushed in a desperate embrace. He held on, feeling the pounding of Hutch’s heart. “Come on, lover. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He kept up the soothing monologue, his hands stroking the broad back. Yet it seemed Hutch was trembling harder the longer he held him.

A deep broken sigh. An anguished whisper. “Starsk, I’m sorry.”

Starsky released him, leaned back to meet the troubled gaze. “I said it’s okay. I’m here now. Come on, talk to me, Hutch. Let me help.”

The eyes closed. Hutch spoke without looking at him. “I feel… like I’ve been unfaithful to you.”

“What?” Starsky was incredulous. “What do you mean?”

“Looks like another one of my past… affairs has caught up with me.” Hutch looked into his eyes. “Even though it was long before we met, it’s still causing repercussions.”

“You mean you feel like you’ve been unfaithful… because you slept with Jason’s mother all those years ago?”

“Look what me being with her is doing to us.” Hutch got out of the chair, pushing past him to stand at the window.

Starsky followed. He spoke again, keeping his voice low. “Hutch, you can’t go around blaming yourself for a mistake you made in the past. It won’t change anything. It wasn’t you making love with that girl that was so wrong, it was her parents for splitting you up. And it was her for not being strong enough to tell you despite what her parents wanted. Adrienne could have called you at any time in the last sixteen years, but she didn’t. She even knew she was dying and she didn’t tell you she’d given birth to your son. She left it to that boy to come and tell you.”

“I don’t know how we can judge her, Starsk…”

“Why shouldn’t we? She was her parents’ daughter. Maybe she wasn’t as vindictive as they seem to be, and I admit it looks like she taught Jason right from wrong, but she was weak, Hutch. She didn’t have the strength it would have taken to defy them.”

The blond head came up. You’re right. I don’t know why I should defend her. I didn’t love her. I swear that, Starsk.” He stopped, his expression full of pain. “But when I look at that boy, I feel bad that I didn’t love his mother. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do. You know I do. You can’t change what you didn’t know. Can’t feel something you never felt. The thing to do now is figure out how to handle the situation as it is for us.”

“I don’t seem to be doing too well at that, either.”

Starsky grew exasperated. “Would you give yourself a chance, just once? You’re doing all you can. Things didn’t go so badly today.”

Hutch managed a small smile. “Then how come we’re standing here rehashing it all in the middle of the night?”

“Nothin’ better to do?” Starsky winked, his eyebrows wiggling an invitation. He could just make out Hutch’s blush in the moonlight. For a long moment, neither man spoke.

“Starsky, I just couldn’t tell him.”

“I know. I understand. But I also know that there will come a time when we’ll either have to tell him or face him finding out some other way.”

Hutch, looking glum, nodded. “I’ve got to go slow with this. I’m not ashamed, believe me. It would be different if I’d always known him, if he had grown up knowing me.”

“Really.” Starsky rubbed Hutch’s shoulder. “What about tomorrow?”

The corner of Hutch’s set mouth pulled up in a grimace. “Well. I want to call Ed Raines and tell him what Mrs. Foster said about them having custody. And I was thinking — I should really call my parents.” Eyebrows raised as if to ask Starsky’s opinion, he glanced over toward him.

“Okay. That sounds good. What about making sure — as sure as we can — that Jason is really yours?”

“You think he isn’t?”

“I think we should be positive. With everything we’ve been considering, we need to know.”

Hutch smiled and brushed his fingertips lightly over Starsky’s jaw. “We. Always we.”

“What else?” There had been so many times Hutch had said ‘our problem’ when it had really been Starsky’s own. He didn’t need to enumerate them, Hutch remembered, too.

Strong arms reached out to enfold Starsky. Hutch wasn’t trembling now, though he did sigh — with contentment this time. And he spoke, a soft whisper. “I love you.”

“I know.” Starsky could feel the fatigue in the warm body. “Come on. It’s late. Let me put you to bed.”

In a moment, he had steered Hutch in the direction of their double bed, pulled back covers and eased his lover down to sit on the edge. He undid shirt buttons, slipped fabric off shoulders, unbuckled the belt. Hutch looked up, smiling.

“What is this, a seduction?”

Starsky leaned close to whisper in his ear. “You can’t sleep when you’re all tensed up. Just don’t yell, darlin’.” His tongue ran wetly over the lobe and Hutch shivered. Starsky found himself caught in a kiss.

The contact lingered, grew needful. They broke apart momentarily, and Starsky slipped out of his robe while Hutch finished undressing. Then they lay down side by side, just holding each other for a long moment of stillness. Starsky’s mind went back to their first time and how they had been drawn together, seeking solace from mutual pain, comfort for fear and anguish. He let his hands stroke down the long body, loving the silky feel of Hutch’s smooth skin, knowing how badly they needed each other. He urged a change in position, shifting until they lay crosswise on the bed, his arms encircling his lover’s hips.

Hutch was taut with tension. Starsky used tongue and lips and fingers to warm that tension and convert it to desire. Following Starsky’s lead, Hutch tasted offered flesh, his mouth feeling to Starsky like liquid fire. No storm of passion, this exercise in reciprocity was sweet, a gentle. almost ritual giving and receiving of love.

Starsky’s world spiraled down to include only Hutch, magnified to become a universe of sensation and taste. So easy to stroke the way Hutch liked best, to make him arch and purr and tremble. So easy when his own needs were being answered as instinctively. There… like that… ah, Hutch, we’re together…

The world came back into focus only gradually, yet his focus and his center were still Hutch, and Hutch’s love. Starsky’s hands slipped across flesh that felt even more silken now that it lay relaxed and satisfied in his embrace. He hated to let go. It would be so good just to lie like this, his head pillowed on the muscled cushion of Hutch’s thigh…

He sat up, found himself watched by drowsy eyes. “Feel better now?” Hutch nodded, looking at the very edge of sleep. Starsky leaned down for a kiss. “Good night.”

Hutch’s arms came around his shoulders, instinctively cuddling him close. Starsky hated to break the spell of afterglow.

“Shouldn’t I get back to the other room?”

A groan. “Maybe…”

“I love you when you’re decisive.” Before he could get too comfortable, Starsky made the effort to get up. He found his robe and pulled it on, belting the sash. “See you in the morning.”

Hutch captured his hand before he could depart. “Back to square one?”

“Keeps the romance, babe. I’ll live.” He stood. The strong hand held on.

“Miss me.”

One last kiss. “Go to sleep.” He hoped Hutch would. He needed the rest.

At the door, Starsky glanced back. Hutch’s even breathing told him that the peace their love had woven had worked its magic. Maybe I can sleep now, too.

*****

Hutch checked his watch for the third time in twenty minutes. It was only five-thirty, too early for Starsky to be on his way home yet. Starsky and Jason… They had set off early that morning, the boy in high spirits, excited to be visiting the set of a television show. Starsky seemed exuberant, too, in a good mood and eager to show off his interesting job. Only Hutch had felt uneasy at the start of the new day.

At least he had slept. After Starsky’s visit, Hutch had managed a few hours of untroubled sleep, free of the myriad thoughts that had kept him wide awake until well past two. Yet, he had been up again even before Starsky’s alarm went off and Jason’s footsteps in the hall brought back reality.

At the office, it had been hard to keep his mind on work; his concentration was more on Jason and Starsky than on next fall’s United Way campaign. He had spent his lunch hour on the phone, getting in touch with Ed Raines to see what advice the lawyer could give.

Ed had obtained the arrest report and was confident that the case would not be brought to court. That relieved Hutch of one worry, but then he had told the attorney about his call to the Fosters. Ed had offered to check with the authorities in Minnesota in order to verify their claim of custody and said he would also have the boy’s birth certificate sent out to his office.

The lawyer had encouraged Hutch to file for custody. Unless it was proven that Hutch absolutely could not be the father, he would in all likelihood be granted custody over any claim the grandparents might have.

The lengthy conversation with Raines had left Hutch little time for lunch. He had decided to call his parents after work and had in fact left the office early to do so from home.

Yet here he sat, looking at the phone instead of picking it up to dial. Hutch had no idea how to inform his parents of the fact that he was a father — of a sixteen-year-old boy. He wasn’t precisely worried that they would accuse him of immorality or promiscuity, though he could well imagine what they would have said had they known of Adrienne’s pregnancy at the time. Still, he was not anxious to make the call. It was impossible to predict how the elder Hutchinsons would react to any given situation. All his life, Hutch had never really known where he stood with his family. He hoped that for once they would choose to be supportive.

Thinking back, he remembered his pleasant surprise when he had let them know about his living arrangement with Starsky. They had always been proud of their liberal viewpoints and had been more or less accepting of his decision to choose an alternate lifestyle. They had even told him they hoped he was happy.

Was he due for a negative reaction, then, having had the former positive one? Or would his parents continue their new acceptance of his adulthood? Hutch could not pick up the phone.

*****

Jason leaned back in his seat in the Torino as Starsky pulled out of the studio gate and headed in the direction that would take them home.

Hands turning on the wheel, Starsky smiled over. “Have a good time today, Jason?”

“I sure did. I hope I can go back sometime.”

Starsky chuckled, eyes checking the rearview mirror. “We might work it out. You didn’t get in the way today — too much.”

“I didn’t!” Jason protested. Then he caught the look in the man’s eyes and knew he was being teased. “Starsky…” They both laughed.

Jason had enjoyed himself all day long. Even though a lot of the time he hadn’t really had anything to do but watch them move scenery, it had been interesting. And Starsky had been available to answer questions as much as he could. Jason liked him. Easy to talk to, full of laughter and fun, he seemed more like a friend than an adult. Jason found it hard to imagine Starsky as a cop. He didn’t have that problem where his father was concerned. For the teenager, it was quite easy to imagine Kenneth Hutchinson arresting people.

“Starsky? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Do you think my father likes me?”

Starsky’s eyes shifted from the freeway to his passenger. “Of course he likes you. Why?”

Jason sighed. “He’s not as easy to talk to as you are. Last night he seemed okay, but this morning… I don’t know. Maybe he’s moody or something.”

“Well, you’ve got that right.” Starsky cleared his throat, then spoke more seriously. “Jason, Hutch is moody sometimes. This morning, it was just a matter of having so much on his mind. It’s not that he doesn’t like you. He’s a good man. You’ve got to understand, this has all been a shock to him. He’s suddenly got all kinds of new plans to make, new decisions, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to get it right. On the other hand, you’ve had a long time to think about what your father might be like. It would be impossible to have it all play out just like you may have imagined. Don’t expect Hutch to fit any particular mold. No one could do that. And Hutch is too special. You two have just got to give it time.”

Considering what Starsky said for a moment, Jason concluded that he was probably right. Yet remembering his fantasies of a happy reunion with his newfound father, Jason knew that yesterday had not been very much like his dreams. The dreams hadn’t included his being arrested, either, after all. Maybe he was acting pretty immature about it, Jason decided. The man could have left him at Juvenile Hall, said he didn’t want him. Instead, he had immediately invited him into his home.

Yet other things were still troubling to the teenager. “I don’t even know what to call him,” he said in a quiet voice.

“What do you want to call him?”

Jason answered slowly. “I guess it’d bother him if I said Dad.”

“I don’t know. It might be a little hard to get used to. Nobody’s ever called either me or Hutch ‘dad’, you know?”

“He doesn’t really believe me, does he?”

“Jason. He believes you. Give it time.”

“I don’t want to go back to my grandparents. Living with them — I don’t know, it just seemed like I was betraying Mom.”

Starsky understood. “We know that. Do you think Hutch would argue with them about keeping you if he didn’t want you?’

“I guess not.”

“Right. Remember, Jason, I’ve known Hutch for a long time. When he cares, he doesn’t let go.”

“Okay.” Jason stared out the window at the buildings they passed. “Could I ask you something else?” He looked over in time to see Starsky nod. “Could we go downtown sometime? I mean, back on Main where I stayed with Eddie?”

“What do you want to go back down there for?”

“I have a friend who lives around there.”

“Oh?” Again, Starsky’s eyes were teasing. “What’s her name?”

Jason felt himself blush. “You’ll laugh.”

“No, I won’t. What’s her name?”

“Strawberry.” He watched, but Starsky really didn’t laugh. “I don’t know her real name. Anyway, she’s my friend. I didn’t know anybody in town, didn’t have a place to stay or anything, until I met her.”

“Did she introduce you to Eddie?”

“Yeah. At least working for him I wasn’t out on the street.” Jason couldn’t help being defensive.

“It’s rough out there, huh?”

“Awful.” He didn’t feel like going into detail on the subject, and Starsky sounded like he knew, anyway. “Strawberry must be worried about me. Would you drive me down there? I just want to talk to her, tell her I’m okay.”

Starsky was concentrating on traffic and did not answer right away. “I guess so. We’ll see.”

“I should ask… Hutch, right?”

“Yeah. That would probably be best.” Starsky looked over and smiled. “Look. It’s my night to cook. You’ll have some time to talk to him by yourself when we get home.”

“Okay.” That sounded good to Jason. Despite the fact that he had spent an enjoyable day at the studio with Starsky, his mind had been on Hutch. He wished he could have spent the day with him.

Jason had been sure Kenneth Hutchinson was really his father from the moment he saw him. Tall, blond, seeming strong and very much his own person, he looked like the kind of father he had dreamed about when he was little. Jason wanted to get to know him, to have a chance to see the side of him that Starsky had been talking about. It must be hard, finding out there was a sixteen-year-old kid around who was your son.

*****

Hutch held the phone tightly in both hands. His mother had been talking non-stop for five minutes. Ever since she had deduced that something was wrong from the tone of his voice and he had blurted out the truth, she had been going on about it. First, she said how stunned she was, how stunned he must be, how stunned his father would be, then moved on to the topic of how snobbish the Foster family had always been. They could try to make him pay sixteen years’ worth of child support payments, had he thought of that? And finally, what was the boy like and when could she see him?

He smiled despite himself. “You sound like a grandmother already,” he told her with love in his voice. “He looks like me at that age.”

“Kenny…” she breathed. “He must be beautiful.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s skinny, his feet and hands look too big for the rest of him, his hair is too long…”

“That’s right. Just like you at that age.”

The smile she wore could be felt even long distance. He couldn’t speak for a long moment and eventually managed only a lame joke. “You don’t worry about being too young for instant grandmotherhood?”

“Ken, I thought you might never make me a grandmother.”

“Now, Mom, please — ”

“Oh, come on. You know what I mean. I’ll admit, the word ‘grandmother’ does make a woman feel old. But I think I could get used to the idea.” She paused. “What about you?” He hesitated and she went on.

“Well, son, you’re a grown man. You’re old enough to have a sixteen-year-old. It seems like you’re going to have to get used to the idea pretty quickly.”

“I’m trying. But there are problems.”

“What? David?”

“No, Mom. He’s been terrific. He says whatever I feel is best is okay with him.”

“And what do you feel is best? Do you want to acknowledge Jason, to raise him, to love him?”

“I want to be his father. Everything that means. I just don’t know how.”

“Ken, I’ll tell you a secret. No one does, ahead of time. Even with nine months’ notice and nothing so much as a six pound infant coming home that first night, no one feels ready to face the responsibility.”

“That makes me the same as everyone else, you mean.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Thanks, Mother. That’s a big help.”

“Any time.” She chuckled lightly, then asked. “Son, what else is bothering you?”

“Adrienne’s parents say they have legal custody of Jason. They wanted me to send him back immediately, but with the court case pending, I held them off. Told them he had to stay here at least until we find out whether the D.A. is going to pursue the case. Mom, they don’t want me to have him. They don’t even want to admit that I’m his father.”

“Do you mean you’re going to fight for him?”

“That’s the problem. Jason says he doesn’t want to live with them. And that his mother didn’t want him to.”

“But you still think that maybe he would be better off with them.”

“They are a real family.”

“You told me you and David were a family.”

He had; they were in all the ways that mattered, and with Jason, he realized now, it could even be better. “I know. It’s a question of making a rational decision or an emotional one.”

“Ken, when a child is involved you have to be emotional as well as rational. Even though he’s really almost a young man, he isn’t big enough to be on his own.”

He sighed. She was right. It didn’t make his problem any easier to solve, but it helped to know he was understood. There had been a time when he would not have expected his mother to be so patient with him. Hutch was filled with gratitude and love. “Okay, Mom. I’ll try to remember that. And thank you.”

“Call me, son. Your father and I will be thinking about you.”

As Hutch released his clenched hold on the phone and replaced it in the cradle, he heard the front door opening. Starsky and Jason were home.

“Hutch! Hey, Hutch!” Starsky’s voice, calling out in eagerness, sounded so good.

“Right here.” He came through the kitchen to meet them in the living room, his eyes coming to rest on Starsky. “How was your day?”

Jason answered the question. “Great! Starsky showed me everything. And you should’ve seen the gag they filmed!”

“The gag?”

“The stunt. Don’t you know — ?”

“Oh, yeah. The gag. I’d like to hear about it — can it wait just a minute though, Jason?” He turned to Starsky. “I just talked to my mother.”

Starsky moved toward him. “How’d she react?”

“She took the news pretty well. They must be mellowing out in their old age.”

“But?”

He sighed, wondering why he was still tied up in knots even after the positive discussion with his mother. “No easy answers.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Cheer up. Things’ll get better. You listen to Jason tell you all about the gag — I’m cookin’ tonight.” Brushing past him on his way to the kitchen, Starsky let his hand caress Hutch’s arm in greeting, in support.

Hutch turned and met Jason’s eyes. Rationality versus emotion… Where could he begin to sort it all out? Listening to the teenager talk about his day seemed one way to begin.

They sat down together on the couch.

 

IX

Starsky stood on the deck overlooking the beach. Out by the breakers, he could see Hutch and Jason walking together. From this distance, their similarities were very apparent. The late afternoon sun glinted off both blond heads and even though Jason was not as tall as Hutch, his stride was very much like his father’s. Starsky tried to imagine him a few years from now; probably Jason would attain a height even greater than Hutch’s.

Everything was changing so fast. No matter how many times he told Hutch that it was all okay, Starsky knew that the arrival of Jason in their lives had shaken him as deeply as it had his partner. Yet he couldn’t confide his own difficulty to Hutch. Right now, Starsky knew his lover needed his support.

Yet it wasn’t commiseration that he minded giving Hutch. Starsky realized with a small twinge of guilt that he felt a measure of resentment toward Jason. He and Hutch had never needed outsiders. Throughout the years of their partnership, they had cultivated few other relationships. There was no one as important to Starsky as Hutch, no one Hutch felt as close to as Starsky. Now, while still in the early weeks of their living together — when Starsky still felt romantic about the whole thing — the twosome had become a triad.

I’m not jealous of Jason, Starsky had insisted to himself over and over.

He liked the teenager. The kid was outgoing and honest and he so desperately needed the support of adult friends. Starsky hated begrudging Hutch the time spent with Jason; more often than not in the five days since he had come home with them, Hutch had endeavored to include Starsky in their activities. Yet Starsky was practical enough to realize that he was so used to having Hutch all to himself that it was annoying that they couldn’t be alone enough of the time.

Moving out of their bedroom still bothered Starsky more than he liked to admit. His lover was beginning to get uptight about his sneaking across the hall when Jason was asleep, but Starsky was too possessive to be denied that part of their life. It wasn’t that he was a sex-fiend, either. Sleeping with Hutch in their own room every night did not mean constant lovemaking. Yet having to keep his hands off Hutch so much during the course of the day made Starsky miss him all the more at night. And a perversity of his own that could match Hutch’s stubbornness made him all the more demanding now that they were living as “just best friends” in front of Jason.

Adding to his sense of frustration was Hutch’s continuing confusion concerning Jason. Starsky had first-hand knowledge of how it must make the adolescent feel when Hutch couldn’t commit himself to him as his father.

It had taken Hutch a long time to admit the depth of his feelings for Starsky. The love had always been there — Starsky had been assured of that time and time again when Hutch stood by him and took care of him through the various crises they had endured. Yet Hutch had trouble coming right out and verbalizing his feelings, he couldn’t trust himself enough to make a commitment to another person. Why Hutch had come to feel that he was unworthy of another’s love and thus scared to let himself open up enough to return it completely had always mystified Starsky. He had been so happy when Hutch had finally let down his barriers enough to believe in their commitment. Now, perhaps, the blond doubted his ability to be a father to Jason. He must feel that if he couldn’t measure up, Jason would not want to be his son.

So Starsky tried to remain supportive. Getting angry and telling Hutch what to do was generally a completely useless exercise anyway. All Starsky could do was commiserate and coax and cajole and figure that in time Hutch would come around. Starsky hoped it wouldn’t take too long for his partner to sort it all out; he didn’t know how long his patience would last.

His eyes still followed the slowly strolling figures on the beach. Jason was talking, his hands gesturing expressively, the way Hutch’s did when he got involved with a subject. Starsky smiled. It was hard to resent the teenager. So like Hutch in ways he was sure neither of them had even noticed, Starsky couldn’t help but care for him. Still, he hoped they would come back up to the house soon. He didn’t want to intrude on their discussion, yet he hadn’t talked to Hutch all day.

***

Jason enjoyed walking along the beach with Hutch. When the man was relaxed like he was this afternoon, he was easy to talk to. Jason had been telling him about the house by the lake where he had lived with his mother. It had been full of beautiful things, flowers arranged in all kinds of attractive containers in the summertime and the walls were decorated with the interesting woven hangings she worked on during the winter. It made Jason a little sad to talk about home, but in a way it was nice to share the memories.

“I remember Adrienne loved needlework,” Hutch was saying. “And she wove things on her loom even back then.”

“Yeah. She said it relaxed her. When she got to feeling bad, she’d sit there for hours, trying to finish a piece she was making. She said it was good to have something to do, to take her mind off being sick, you know.”

Jason felt his father’s large hand settle comfortingly on his shoulder. “Were your grandparents around much?” Hutch asked.

Jason shook his head. “No. We used to go visit them on holidays. Mom said that even though they didn’t get along real well with her that I should still get to visit with them. And when Mom got sick, grandmother came over and stayed sometimes to help take care of her.”

“So things got better between them and your mother?”

“No. Not really. What I really hated about them was that they never forgot — or forgave — Mom for having me. They stopped arguing about how to raise me after she got sick, but when they were alone with me… they used to say all these negative things about her. You know what I mean?”

“I think so. And you felt you should stick up for her.”

“Yeah. When she died… I don’t mean to say they were… glad or anything, but I think they felt now they would finally have their chance with me — to make me turn out right. Right according to them, that is.”

Hutch nodded understandingly. “That’s why you left?”

“Uh-huh. I had just had enough of their ‘your mother never did anything right’ attitude. So, I lit out for L.A. I thought I’d look you up in the phone book.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t listed. Starsky and I moved just before the new one came out, I guess.”

Jason didn’t quite know how to respond to the sorrow in Hutch’s tone. It wasn’t as if he blamed him for not being in the phone book. Before he could say anything, Hutch had looked up and caught sight of Starsky up at the house, standing on the deck. His father’s down expression was transformed into a grin that broadened when Starsky waved.

Jason waved, too, following as Hutch headed toward the house. It appeared the talk he had been enjoying was over. Jason liked Starsky, but at the moment, he wished he was still at work. It was hard, trying both to get to know the man who was his father as well as learning to fit into his life.

Right now, watching Hutch bound up the steps to the deck to greet Starsky warmly, Jason felt a little confused and left out. Then Starsky looked over toward him and he was included again. Starsky always came home with a funny story from the set of the cop show. While the three of them busied themselves with dinner preparation in the kitchen, Jason found himself laughing at Starsky’s description of the star temperament a guest actor on the show had annoyed everyone with that day. Then the conversation shifted to a story of the time when the two former cops went undercover on a movie set.

“Here — comes — McCoy — now!” Starsky posed by the kitchen window and gave an imitation of Hutch suffering from a bad case of stage fright.

Jason broke up laughing, but he tried to stop when he caught sight of his father’s expression. He looked offended by the teasing.

Starsky didn’t seem worried, though. He laughed harder and grabbed Hutch around the waist, ruffling his hair and trying to tickle him at the same time. Hutch’s face got bright red, but Starsky seemed to have joked him out of his annoyance.

Jason liked hearing the stories about when Starsky and Hutch were cops. He realized that the only ones he had been told so far were those Starsky had brought up. Maybe it was hard for Hutch to talk about, he supposed. Jason realized it all couldn’t have been as fun as Starsky made it sound. He remembered Hutch telling him, that first day they had met, how they had quit after Starsky had been wounded. If Starsky was hurt so badly, I wonder why it’s him and not Hutch who can talk about when they were cops… Jason had no answer for his question and he didn’t feel right about asking either of the men about it. Maybe when he knew Hutch better, Jason thought, he would understand what it had been like for them when they were partners on the police force.

Hutch drew a deep breath, trying to avoid arguing with Jason. Things had gone so well earlier in the day — their walk along the beach, the kidding around in the kitchen before dinner, yet when they were cleaning up, Jason had brought up the subject of visiting his friend, the girl who had introduced him to Eddie Bacon. Hutch had tried to persuade him it wasn’t a good idea, but he wasn’t getting very far.

Two steps forward, three steps back, Hutch thought. For every hour he spent becoming more comfortable with Jason, he spent two losing ground in his relationship with the boy. What seemed so easy for Starsky to do came much more awkwardly for Hutch. He wanted Jason. That much had become a certainty in his mind. Yet no instant bond had developed between himself and the teenager. Hutch had experienced the same kind of feelings toward Molly when she had lost her father at Christmas and for the fatherless Kiko who had become his Little Brother. He felt a need to nurture, to give Jason a home. The adolescent had no one else but grandparents who put down his mother at every opportunity, and Hutch did not want him to have to return to them. Still, he thought he should feel more… Jason had so much love to give; he wanted to give it to a father. Hutch wasn’t sure that he was the kind of father Jason needed.

The father-son relationship with which he was familiar had never been a comfortable one. Hutch’s father had represented the law in his house; Hutchinson Senior was an authority figure. His son was expected to do as told without asking questions. And he wasn’t demonstrative. Hutch, to this day, could not recall his father saying he loved him.

That wasn’t the kind of relationship he would ever want between himself and his own child. There should be give and take, understanding, easy camaraderie. Yet Hutch felt that by being too much of a buddy to Jason, at least at present, the teenager would not respect him as a father figure. If he acted too much like a disciplinarian, on the other hand, the adolescent would think he was cold and unfeeling. On the street, the boy had been on his own, coming and going as he pleased. That factor, added to the normal teenage need to act and be treated as a young adult, combined to make every day a challenge in diplomacy for Hutch.

He was still trying to persuade Hutch to let him go downtown. “But Strawberry doesn’t know what happened to me. She’ll be worried.”

“Jason.” Hutch tried using patience. “Kids come and go on the streets. She’ll have other friends –”

“You mean she’ll forget me? No way. It wasn’t like that. We were friends, best friends. I’m worried about her, too.”

“You heard what Mr. Raines said. The court agreed not to prosecute you. If you start hanging around with the wrong people, down in that neighborhood, you could get in trouble again. Since you’re staying with me, they feel you are in good hands. I can’t let you start in with that crowd again.”

“You mean Strawberry’s a bad influence, I guess.” The young voice was bitter.

“I didn’t say that –”

“I want to see her and you can’t stop me!”

“Listen, Jason.” Hutch’s tone sharpened as he realized he was losing control of the situation. “You’ve said you don’t want to go back to your grandparents. If you want to be able to stay out here, you’ll have to understand what’s expected of you.” He winced; unintentionally, he was using a stock phrase of his father’s. “Jason,” he tried again, reasonably. “Eddie is probably out on bail. It’s not a good idea for you to go wandering around down there.”

“It’s been over a week already!”

“Jason.” Starsky’s voice came softly from the stairs. “Listen, Hutch is right about you going down there alone. Maybe it would be better to wait until he’s off on Saturday.”

The teenager looked up, the defiance leaving his eyes as he regarded Starsky. Hutch tried to swallow his feelings of futility. How did Starsky manage to get through to him that way? Jason resented what he heard coming from Hutch.

“Whatever.” Jason glanced toward his father, then got up and headed for the French doors. “I’ll be down on the beach.”

Hutch watched him leave. “What am I going to do with him, Starsk?”

“He’s just anxious to see her, Hutch. He doesn’t have any other friends.”

“Well, he needs to make some. I don’t want him spending time in that neighborhood. It’s not safe.”

“I know. But would it hurt for us to take him down to see her?”

“Terrific. I really appreciate you telling him he can go right after I say he can’t.”

“I was only trying to help.”

“Sure, Starsk.” Hutch leaned back in his chair, wiping a hand over his face. He tried to shut out the approaching presence.

“What’s really eating you?” Starsky took up a position on the arm of Hutch’s chair. “It’ll be all right. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.” Hutch didn’t answer. “I know it’s hard, getting to know a kid like that…”

“Not for you.”

Starsky shrugged. “I just treat him the way I’d wanta be treated. I like him, Hutch.”

“Well, so do I.” Hutch glared at his partner. “I hate having to boss him around. I sound like my own old man. He never had any time or patience with me. I never thought about how to be a father, but I know I don’t want to repeat my dad’s mistakes.”

“That’s a good start. But you’ve been trying too hard. Just give it some time. You’ve been worried about the charges against him. Until you heard the case was being dropped, you couldn’t make plans.”

Starsky’s soothing helped a little. “I still can’t.”

“What did Raines say when you talked with him this afternoon?”

“Besides the good news about the case? He got Jason’s birth certificate. There’s no name filled in for ‘father’ on it. We need some solid proof that he’s my son. I’m entitled to custody and Ed thinks I should let the Fosters know that I want him to stay with me.”

“You going to call them?”

“Yeah. I’ve put it off long enough, I guess.”

“Then why don’t you call now?” Starsky consulted his watch. “It’s seven-thirty here, that means it’s half past five back there.”

“I guess I should get it over with while Jason’s outside.” Hutch dreaded the confrontation with the Fosters, but he also wanted to let them know what he intended to do.

Starsky fixed him with a look. “So how come you’re not picking up the phone?”

His lover knew him too well. “Guess I’m trying to avoid laying my cards on the table. Once I make the commitment, there won’t be any going back.”

“Yeah. Commitments are like that.” The voice was soft, the eyes watched him closely.

“Yes. I know. And there’s another commitment that’s bound to be affected by my getting custody.” He met the steady gaze.

“Hutch. I lost my dad when I was younger than Jason. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. I wouldn’t want to see Jason miss the chance to know his. Sure, I miss having our privacy, our time for just each other. But sharing your life is what’s most important to me. And if that means Jason, too, so be it.”

Hutch reached up, his hands clasping Starsky’s upper arms. “How do you always know just what you want?” he marveled.

“I do when it’s sitting right in front of me.” Casting a quick glance in the direction of the French doors, he leaned close to deliver a brief kiss. “You make that call. I’ll be upstairs checking over a couple of scripts.”

***

This time when Hutch called the Foster residence, he got Adrienne’s father. “Mr. Hutchinson, we’ve been expecting to hear from you for several days.”

“I said I would call after we heard what the D.A. decided regarding the charges against Jason.” Hutch told himself he was not going to let the man’s attitude put him on the defensive.

“And you’ve had word?”

“Yes. The case has been dropped. Jason will not be prosecuted. Since he was a runaway having no other means of support and was here looking for his father, the D.A. decided he should not be charged. He felt that since Jason is with me now –”

“And since he’ll soon be coming back home with us…”

“Mr. Foster. I want you to know. I’m going to file for custody of Jason.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Hutch answered calmly. “I said I want Jason to stay with me.”

“The matter of Jason’s custody has already been determined. When his mother died, the court awarded him to Mrs. Foster and I. Surely you can understand how we feel — we’ve been concerned for our grandson’s safety ever since he ran away. Mrs. Foster misses him terribly. We feel he belongs with us. You have no idea what raising a teenager means. Surely this has caused considerable disruption of your life already.”

That was uncomfortably close to home. Hutch changed the subject. “The law tends to favor the biological father in these cases.”

Foster’s tone switched from studied cordiality to firm disagreement. “You have no proof that you are the biological father. And rather than allow Jason to be raised by a man we never approved of, Mrs. Foster and I will do whatever we must to keep him with us. Our attorney has advised us that we could win a suit for custody of Jason in California. If necessary, we will come out there to do just that.”

Hutch tried to reason with him. “Mr. Foster –”

It was no use. “You’ll be hearing from our lawyers. Good-bye Mr. Hutchinson.”

The line went dead. Hutch sat for a moment, then dialed Ed Raines’ number. He left a message on the attorney’s answering machine, then tried to calm down. He remembered how adamant Adrienne’s parents had been about not wanting her to date him; he supposed that their attitude was still as uncompromising. Even if they did have their grandson’s best interest at heart, it was painful to be told he wasn’t good enough to be Jason’s father.

“Hey — what’s up?”

Hutch turned to see that Starsky had come back downstairs. He had not even heard him approach. “They’re going to sue for custody.” His fist pounded his knee. “Damn. I feel like I’m floundering. I was a cop for more than ten years and yet I don’t know a thing about the law in cases like this.”

Starsky returned to his perch on the arm of Hutch’s chair. “Sounds like more than ever you need proof that you’re Jason’s real father.”

“Yeah. Surely there are reliable medical means besides a blood test. All that can show is if I’m definitely not his father.”

“There’s got to be other evidence, Hutch. Has Jason ever said that his mother put it in writing that you’re the man who fathered him — or that she didn’t want him raised by her parents after she was dead? Like a will or something?”

“No, Jason never said so. Besides, if she had put a stipulation to that effect in a will, it seems like the Fosters wouldn’t have been awarded custody at all.”

Starsky lifted his eyebrows. “The will might have been conveniently misplaced. Or she could have written down her wishes and they were just never found.”

“Right.” This was an avenue Hutch knew how to pursue. “Maybe Jason can tell us about any papers she may have left with him.”

“Let’s go ask him.”

They moved out on to the deck. Starsky called Jason’s name loudly.

Hutch shot him an exasperated look. His partner extended his hand, inviting him to do the summoning. With a grin, Hutch shouted the boy’s name.

He peered out toward the beach, not catching sight of Jason as he had expected to.

“Maybe he’s next door,” Starsky suggested.

“You know he doesn’t hang around with the ‘little kids.'” Hutch affected Jason’s tone of disdain.

Starsky laughed. “Really.” He started down the steps and Hutch followed.

After fifteen minutes of calling and looking, Hutch was beginning to get worried.

“There’s Bobby.” Starsky pointed toward the neighbor’s boy, playing in his backyard. They walked up to the child. “Hi, Bobby. You or Tina seen Jason around?” Starsky asked, scrunching down to eight-year-old level.

“We saw him a little while ago.” The kid looked up at Hutch.

“Well,” Starsky persisted, “could you tell us where you saw him?”

“Starsky?” Tina had come out of the house. “Are you looking for Jason?”

“That’s right. Did you see him, Tina?” Hutch turned to the Smith’s foster child.

“He was getting on a bus down at the corner, Mr. Hutchinson.”

The two men exchanged a glance. “Did you notice which one?” Hutch asked anxiously.

Tina shrugged. “A downtown bus. I can’t remember exactly.”

“Okay, Tina. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Starsky. Bye,” she said as they turned to leave. “Bye, Mr. Hutchinson.”

Heading for the Torino, Hutch caught Starsky’s arm. “They call me Mr. Hutchinson, but they call you Starsky.”

“Yeah.” The grin was mischievous.

“Why?”

‘”Cause I told them you’d arrest them if they didn’t talk polite to ya.”

Hutch opened the passenger door and climbed in. “You’re lying.”

The engine roared to life. “Okay. I told them you’d put them in your gingerbread oven.”

Hutch chose to ignore that one. His partner’s teasing had helped though. He fastened his seat belt. “Jason’s probably heading downtown to find that girl, Strawberry.”

Starsky’s eyes were on traffic. “That’s what I thought, too.”

***

Jason walked up and down Main, worried that he had not yet found Strawberry. It was almost dark and he didn’t know where to look for her at night. He knew she worked for Andre more after the sun went down than before, but he didn’t know where exactly. He remembered her saying that sometimes she strolled up and down Hollywood Boulevard.

He headed in the direction that would take him to the Boulevard, passing Denny’s Café. Recalling that he and Strawberry had eaten lunch there together once, he glanced in through the window. He felt lucky when he saw her sitting inside, all by herself in a booth by the window.

Jason hurried to her. “Strawberry!” He stopped in front of the booth. She looked up from her cup of coffee and broke into a smile.

“Jason!” It felt good to him, being welcomed by a friend like that. “Where have you been? Are you all right? I thought you were in jail!”

“I was in juvie, just for one night. But, guess what? I found my father!”

“Your father?”

Jason sat down to explain. “That’s why I came here. To find him. I never met him before, you see. All I had was his name and an old picture of him with my Mom. After a few weeks of hanging out on the streets, I didn’t think I would ever locate him and I just felt the whole idea was so stupid that I couldn’t talk about it. That’s why I didn’t tell you before.”

Strawberry, as always, understood. Jason went on to tell her about all that had happened since he had met Hutch. She especially liked hearing about his trip to the studio to watch them film the cop show. Strawberry seemed happy for him, but Jason could tell that something was bothering her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked finally.

Strawberry’s eyes looked scared, not grown-up the way they usually did. “Oh, Jason. It’s been really terrible around here lately!” She drew a deep breath. “Kids have been disappearing.”

“What do you mean — disappearing?”

“You know how kids come and go. But in the last couple of months, more than usual have gone away and not come back. Girls who work for Andre that I knew real well, and some of the boys, too. Two weeks ago, Shirl, who had been talking about getting a real job with a man and woman who wanted her to stay at their house — she just disappeared. And she would have said good-bye! Then three days ago, Tommy and Angela, they got in a car with a man and woman and didn’t come back.” She paused, then leaned across the table, speaking in a whisper. “They found Richie Bean dead the other night. Somebody beat him — ’til he died. Mary said she saw him with a man and that a woman drove up in a car and that Richie and the man got in it.” She picked up her cup with a trembling hand.

Jason didn’t know what to say. After a moment, Strawberry continued. “Can you keep a secret?” The teenager nodded.

Strawberry looked around as if to see if there was anyone near enough to hear what she was saying. “I think Andre has something to do with it.”

“What? I thought you said he wasn’t as bad as some.”

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know why he’s involved, but last night, I was working at the Beach View. Andre lives there. My John left and I was on my way back out. I passed by Andre’s room and heard voices. Andre was saying stuff like he didn’t want to be in on it, didn’t like it… whatever ‘it’ was. And then I heard a man and woman talking, saying they would kill him if he didn’t go along with their set up. They wanted some girls, they said, and more boys than he had been getting them. Then they started to leave. I got scared and jumped back in the shadows. I saw their faces. Jason, they must be the man and woman that killed Richie and took Shirl and Tommy and Angela.”

“Why don’t you tell the cops?”

Strawberry’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Cops! You gotta be nuts. They don’t care what happens to us runaways. And besides, if the man and woman knew I knew who they are, they’d get me!”

“Does Andre know you heard what they said?”

Strawberry’s eyes refused to meet his. She nodded slowly. “He saw me in the hall when he came out of his room. I didn’t say anything, but he grabbed my arm and told me I’d better not have seen or heard anything. I’m scared, Jason.”

The sixteen-year-old didn’t know what to say. “Just stay out of cars. Don’t go with anyone that looks like the man or woman you saw.”

“Terrific. I’ll tell Andre that I can’t work.”

“Strawberry, can’t you do something — leave town, go back home?”

“I called home the day you got arrested. Mom told me I couldn’t come back.” The girl said it lightly, but he knew she was only pretending it didn’t hurt.

Jason felt bad, his own happiness in the last few days making him realize how much worse off he could have it. “Maybe my father could help you.”

Strawberry shook her head. “I can’t ask for a favor like that. You just met him. It’s been a little hard getting to know him — you said that yourself. He’s not going to want to take in another kid.” She looked into the empty cup, then pushed it aside. Digging into her purse, she brought out lipstick and a mirror. After fixing her make-up, she smiled again. “I’ll be okay. The man and woman didn’t see me, after all. And as long as I bring in the money, Andre will take care of me.” Her eyes lost their little-girl look and she was the old, independent Strawberry again.

“Just be careful.”

“Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” She grinned and Jason smiled back.

***

Starsky cruised slowly down Main, watching the left side of the street while Hutch watched the right. “There’s Eddie,” he said, nodding toward the dry cleaner’s shop.

Hutch followed his gaze. “The scum’s back in business, I see.”

“Who they got workin’ this beat, anyway?” Starsky had seen enough going on to make him wonder if L.A.’s finest were represented in the neighborhood at all.

“Miss the old days, partner?” Hutch’s voice was soft, but it didn’t sound like he was teasing.

Starsky looked over at him. “I’m not sorry we quit, if that’s what you mean.”

Hutch didn’t answer; his eyes returned to the passersby on his side of the street. “There he is!”

Starsky pulled over to the curb. He saw Jason, too, walking along with a little girl with reddish-blonde hair. “That must be her.”

“She’s a hooker!” Hutch breathed in amazement. “A damn teenage hooker!”

“All right, Papa. Hold on,” Starsky advised. His mouth was pulled into a grin that wouldn’t resist forming, but he figured any references to Hutch and Jason sharing the same taste in women wouldn’t go over too well now. Instead, he asked lightly, “Worried about his virtue? What did you expect she would be?” Hutch responded with a non-committal grunt. Starsky opted to change the subject. “Do you want to go get him right now, or give him a few more minutes?”

“Guess I shouldn’t go charging up to him. Might spook him.”

“More likely it would embarrass him.”

Hutch turned to meet Starsky’s eyes. “Yeah. I’ll wait to yell at him ’til we get home.”

“It’s not easy, this father stuff, is it?”

The only answer was a muffled groan.

***

Jason walked with Strawberry, strolling slowly down the street. He had managed, he thought, to cheer her up a little by telling her more about his day on the set of the TV show.

“I’d really like to see it myself sometime,” Strawberry said wistfully.

“Remember when we talked about being in the movies together?”

“Yeah.”

The conversation lagged a little. Strawberry said something about heading over to the Boulevard. Jason wanted to tell her not to, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“I guess you’ll never have to work the streets, huh?” Strawberry could have read his thoughts. “That’s good, Jason. Really good. Andre asked about you again the other day, but I told him you’d make something of yourself. Guess I was right.”

“Strawberry –” Jason didn’t know what to say to make his friend feel better. “Listen, you got a piece of paper? I’ll write down my phone number. If you ever need any help, call me.” When she handed over a crumpled sales slip, Jason hurriedly wrote down Hutch’s number.

Her smile was brave. “I’ll be okay.” She slipped the paper into her purse. “Like I said, Andre will take care of me. And promise, don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.” Jason drew a breath. It was getting late and he should be going. He was about to say so when he caught sight of the red and white striped car parked down the block. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Strawberry followed his worried gaze.

“That car. It’s my father and his friend, Starsky.” He swallowed nervously. “I came down here without telling them.”

“Why?”

The car door was opening. Jason could see the tall form of his father climbing out. He answered automatically. “He didn’t want me to come here. Something about the court not sending me to jail if I stayed away from Eddie and everything down here.”

“Sure. I get it.” The girl’s voice went hard and cynical.

“No, Strawberry. It’s not that way — it’s just –” He couldn’t finish. The look of determination on the blond man’s face as he walked toward them was intimidating.

“Whatever. I gotta go.” Strawberry turned, hurrying on her way.

“Be careful!” Jason called to her retreating form. When he looked back in Hutch’s direction, he found that his father’s long legs had brought him near already.

“Jason…” The man radiated disapproval.

Feeling as though he had lost something precious in his relationship with Strawberry, Jason’s reaction was angry. “You made her take off!” He started to follow her.

“Jason!” His name was pronounced more forcefully and a hand clamped down on his shoulder. The boy twisted, trying to get out of Hutch’s grasp. “Just calm down. We’re going back home now.” Jason subsided, looking back for Strawberry. She was already lost in the crowd of other people on the street. Hurt and dejected, he walked back to Starsky’s car beside his father.

 

X.

Two steps forward… Hutchinson, you almost really blew it this time. He sat in a folding chair out on the deck, letting the cool night breeze caress him. He couldn’t sleep — again. It was becoming a habit. Tonight he was trying to unwind with a beer. Maybe it would work.

He had yelled at Jason more than he had intended. The teenager’s attitude had made something inside him snap. All Hutch had wanted to do was just pick him up and return home, explaining that he didn’t like Jason taking off without letting him know, especially after he had been told he couldn’t go. But Hutch had lost his composure when Jason had responded angrily and he had lectured him during the whole ride home.

Christ, I sounded just like Dad — just as insensitive. How is that kid ever going to be able to come to me with his troubles if I sound like an unfeeling bastard instead of a caring parent?

Starsky was right. I’ve gto to sort out my emotions if I’m ever going to be Jason’s father. But how do I know what I feel for him? Until a week ago, I didn’t even know he existed. That doesn’t let me off the hook, though. His mother is gone. All he has is me.

A small sound startled Hutch and he turned, gazing back into the dimness of the unlit dining room. A shadowy form, visible only as blacker than the darkness, stood there, slim and tall and wary.

Hutch spoke. “Jason?”

The figure moved forward a bit, hesitantly.

The adult softened his voice. “It’s okay. Come on out here with me.” The gangly youth joined him on the deck.

“Open up a chair.” Hutch nodded toward the folded furniture.

Jason did as he was told. He sat quietly for a few minutes. Hutch took another swig of his beer.

“I’m…” Jason began finally. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

Hutch studied the pale features. So young, trying so hard…

“So am I.”

“You?” Jason turned his surprised gaze on Hutch.

“Yeah. Guess I jumped on you more than necessary.”

“I did go down there without telling you. Mom would have done the same thing.”

Hutch felt strangely comforted by that admission. “Yeah. How about we forget it now? No harm was done. But, Jason, Starsky and I saw Eddie. He’s out on bail. It wouldn’t be safe for you down there.”

“It was really important for me to see Strawberry, though.”

“I understand. Was she glad to see you? Everything okay for her?”

The boy’s gaze shifted toward the horizon. “I guess she’s doing all right.”

Hutch could not interpret the emotion that crossed the young face. It’s hard for her, living on the street like that.”

Jason nodded. “She had it rough back home. That’s why she ran away.” He turned wide blue eyes toward Hutch. “I don’t understand families, I guess. Doesn’t seem anybody has it like you see on TV shows or read about in books.”

“No,” Hutch had to agree. “Real life isn’t like books or movies. People have problems that can’t be solved in an hour’s time.”

“Sometimes it seems like they can’t be solved at all.”

The teenager’s feelings weren’t all that different from his own, Hutch decided. “It looks that way sometimes for us adults, too. But things often have a way of working out.” They sat in silence for a while, not feeling uncomfortable. At length, Hutch asked a question. “How did you and your mother get along?”

“Mom — oh, she was great. Real easy to talk to…” He broke off, his voice becoming tremulous.

“You miss her a lot?”

Jason nodded. “We talked about you sometimes. We talked about everything. I wish you had married her — why didn’t you?”

“Jason, I thought you understood. I didn’t know Adrienne was going to have a baby.”

The lawn chair creaked as the boy turned to face Hutch directly. “But — you loved her, didn’t you?”

He didn’t know what to say. Any explanation from an adult perspective would seem like a cop out to the adolescent. “It’s hard to be sure what love is, especially when you’re young. I made a mistake.”

“When do you know about love?”

Hutch smiled a little, shaking his head. “You really ask the hard questions. Sometimes people try to find the answer to that one all their lives. Did you ever talk to your mother about love?”

“She told me two people shouldn’t have sex unless they love each other.”

“That’s usually the best reason.”

“But it seems like most people don’t believe that.”

“Why do you say so?”

“Because they want kids on the street to sell themselves.”

The switch in direction surprised Hutch for a moment. “Kids like Strawberry?”

“Yeah. And me.”

It should have occurred to him, but it hadn’t. The thought of Jason doing what so many boys had to do to survive was abhorrent to Hutch. “Jason — ”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t.” He shivered, then went on quickly. “I got lucky when Strawberry took me to Eddie. But guys kept asking me and Andre wanted me to work for him. Strawberry said he had lots of boys.”

Hutch was relieved. The boy had been on the street for nearly a month.

If Eddie had thrown him out, he might have had to turn to prostitution. His voice shook when he tried to comfort Jason. “It’s all right now. You won’t ever have to…” I promise, Hutch wanted to add.

Jason drew a deep, shaky breath. “It’s so awful. Doesn’t have anything to do with love that I can see.”

“No. It doesn’t. That’s why it’s wrong.”

“I don’t understand why kids have to.” Jason shuddered. “I… I couldn’t. I can’t see why guys want to…”

Something inside Hutch cringed at the comment. “Whether boys or girls have to sell themselves, it’s wrong, Jason, even if it’s the only way they can get money. But it’s the people who pay them to do it who are bad, not the kids.” He paused, then went on firmly. “When two people love each other, though, whether it’s a man and a woman, two men or two women, that’s different. Love-making is a beautiful thing, as long as the people care about each other.”

The boy did not answer for a long moment, but Hutch felt the probing of his earnest blue eyes. “But how do you know if you really care, if you really love the person?”

“That’s the hard part,” Hutch admitted. “You just have to try to be honest with yourself.”

“Is that the way it was with you and Mom? You thought you loved her…?”

“She meant a lot to me, when we were dating. We shared some good times, some new experiences. It was different than the kind of love I thought would come later.”

“If you didn’t love Mom, have you ever been in love?

Hutch’s eyes closed. He should say it, use this as the opening it surely was. Yet he couldn’t, not without preparation or preamble. “I’ve thought so a lot of times…”

“What happened?” Jason’s interruption saved him from saying more.

The boy’s ability to cut right to the heart of things was disconcerting. “I… was married once. I met her about a year after your mother went away. We thought we loved each other, but it didn’t work out. She didn’t like me being a cop.”

“Why not?”

“The hours are long and irregular. There’s a lot of danger. She couldn’t cope with that.”

“You got a divorce?”

Hutch nodded.

“But you didn’t have any kids.”

“No. No kids.”

Jason sighed. “I wish…”

“What?” Hutch leaned toward him, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Like I said before — that you’d married Mom.”

The easy answer would have been to agree, to say that he wished the same thing. But Hutch could not be less than honest. He had to say it gently, though. “Jason, if I had known about you things would have been different. But that’s no guarantee we would have made it as a family.” The teenager’s face fell. “Maybe things would have worked out — but we don’t know that, do we? All we can do is go on from where we are now.” Jason still did not say anything. “You know, there is something you can do to help.”

“What?”

“Do you have any papers your mother might have left that say I’m your father? Did she put anything down in writing about not wanting you to live with your grandparents?”

The youth thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. At least, I don’t remember. She did give me some things. A book she wrote in.”

“Where is it now?”

“In my treasure box, back at their house.”

“Treasure box?”

Jason grinned. “That’s what I used to call it when I was a kid. I kept it locked ’cause it had all my secret treasures inside.”

Hutch was intrigued. “If you think your grandparents know where it is, we can ask them to ship it to you. Just say it has things of yours in it, though, not that we want it for proof or anything.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell ’em how much I need it.”

“Good.” Hutch relaxed. This conversation with the newcomer had been productive in more ways than one. He wanted to say something to let Jason know how he felt. “Jason, I… I am glad we found each other.”

A brief smile, obliterated by a yawn. “Me, too.”

Hutch checked his watch. After one o’clock, again. “How about getting some sleep?”

“Okay.” Jason stood and the two folded their chairs and replaced them in the corner of the porch. “I’m… glad we talked.”

Hutch laid a gentle hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. “So am I.”

He followed Jason up the stairs and said goodnight to him at the door to the den. On the way to his bedroom, Hutch quietly opened Starsky’s door.

He was sleeping, his curled-up form buried under a mound of covers. Hutch stood by the bed for a moment, looking down at the face he loved.

“Someday I’ll tell him.” The promise was spoken in the softest whisper. “Someday he’ll be able to understand.” He bent, his hand lightly stroking the tousled head. Then, he turned from the room to go to sleep in his empty bed.

***

“He goes back, he goes back… and it’s good!” Starsky watched as Jason leaped high to catch the spinning football. He and the teenager had been out on the beach most of the afternoon. It was a day off for Starsky and he enjoyed passing the time with Jason. The athletic young man was wearing him out, though. He ran a hand over the sore muscles of his belly.

The boy seemed lonely. Hutch worked five days a week and this time of year there wasn’t much for a sixteen-year-old to do during the day. Starsky had been trying to come up with ideas for things the three of them could do together in the evening, activities that would allow Hutch and Jason to get to know each other. Starsky was looking forward to baseball games and even camping trips. He could imagine Hutch waxing poetic over the wonders of nature for his son. That would be beautiful to watch.

“Ready, Starsky?” Jason went back to pass and Starsky ran, going for it. Jason’s aim was wide. Starsky found himself in the surf. He leaped; he caught it.

And went down, foam from a breaker washing over him.

Jason ran up, laughing. “You okay, Starsky?”

Breathing hard, feeling the tightness in his ribs, he sat up in the spray. “I caught it, didn’t I?” Starsky managed to get to his feet. “I’m soaked. And I’m pooped. Come on, kid. Let’s go in and rest up!”

“Starsky…” His endless energy not tapped, Jason protested.

“Come on. It’s almost time for Hutch to get home.” Panting, Starsky headed up toward the house and the youth followed. They walked in silence for a while, as Starsky caught his breath and the flare in his side eased. “Did you play football in school?” he asked, making conversation as he began to feel better.

“Just intramural. But I was on the baseball team. Made varsity my first year.”

“Varsity in ninth grade? Pretty good.” He headed upstairs for his room and dry clothes, Jason following. “Hutch used to play baseball, you know.”

“Yeah, I know!” The young voice was enthusiastic. “Mom told me she met him at a baseball game.”

“Is that right?” Starsky stood before his dresser, opening a drawer in search of a fresh shirt. Jason leaned in the doorway, still talking.

“I guess maybe I inherited my ball playing ability from him, huh?”

“Mmmm — ” Starsky, his head covered by the sopping t-shirt he was pulling off, couldn’t quite hear. He finally emerged and turned to Jason. “What’d you say?”

Jason didn’t answer. He had taken a step into the room and stood there, a look of shock and distress on his face.

He hadn’t seen Starsky with his shirt off before.

Jason started to say something, then stopped, glancing away and then back again.

Starsky managed a casual gesture as he tossed the wet shirt toward the hamper. He turned back to the bureau, picking up a new shirt, and slipped it on. For a moment, he couldn’t say anything, either, realizing that as he stood before the mirror, Jason had had a prolonged and unobstructed view of his chest as well as his back. He cleared his throat.

Still, Jason found his voice first. “Starsky, I…” A stammered apology.

“It’s okay.” Buttoning the shirt with leaden fingers, Starsky walked toward him. “I’m okay.”

“Hutch said you got shot, but I didn’t realize…” The young voice was filled with a combination of awe and concern.

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. It left me with a few souvenirs. I’m pretty well mended now, though.” He winced a little, tried to hide it. Embarrassment combined with abused muscles to make him feel achy and old.

Crystal blue eyes, full of naiveté, met his. “How’d it happen? You — you mind me asking?”

“No.” Starsky gave a brief, unemotional recitation of the facts. “It was a machine gun. I don’t remember anything after I saw them coming. I was out of it, unconscious for days. They kept me in the hospital… for a long time.”

“And now you’re not a cop anymore.” The sympathy and caring in the gaze were so familiar.

“No. I can’t cut it on the street.” That disappointment was long since consigned to his past. He had a better life now. “Your dad and me — we decided it was time to get out.”

“He got shot, too?” The eyes widened.

“Not when I did, this last time.” Starsky tried a reassuring grin. “He got the bad guy for me.”

“Was he ever shot?”

A sunny street. An empty house. Sudden pistol fire. And Hutch, bleeding in a stranger’s hallway. ‘Just a kid.’ “Yeah. He was.”

The sound of the front door opening and closing precluded further conversation.

“I’m home,” Hutch shouted.

Starsky closed his eyes, relieved to hear his voice. “Up here.” The strain of the last few moments evaporated as Jason turned to leave the room.

Starsky sat on the bed, removing his wet shorts. Hutch was coming up.

“Hi, Jason.”

“Hi.”

“Listen, we need some bread and milk. Run down to the store for me?”

“Okay.” Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Hutch came the rest of the way upstairs. He stepped into Starsky’s room as the front door slammed. “Hi.” He said the one syllable softly, provocatively.

Starsky finished pulling up dry cutoffs. He headed for Hutch, reaching to hug him hello, his arms tightening gratefully around the welcomed form.

 

“Hey… something wrong?” Hutch hugged back.

“Not really. I had to change. Took a header in the surf. Jason and I were playing catch.”

“Mmm.” Hutch was busy finding Starsky’s earlobe with his lips.

“He, uh… got a look at me with my shirt off.”

Hutch paused, moving to meet his eyes. “Yeah?” Gentle hands held Starsky’s shoulders, kneading lightly.

Starsky grinned. “I think he was impressed. Once he got over the shock.”

“You are an impressive sight.” Hutch bestowed a leisurely kiss.

“That why you sent the kid to the store?”

He was released from the loose embrace. “Not exactly.”

“What? Something happen?”

“Ed Raines called just as I was leaving the office. He got a letter from the Foster’s lawyer. They’re petitioning the court to compel me to send Jason back to them, since they were granted custody in Minnesota.”

“Shit.” Starsky gathered up the rest of his damp clothes and put them in the hamper, then moved back to Hutch. “What now?”

“He wants me to go ahead and sue for custody. Since the blood test indicates I could be Jason’s father, I stand a good chance. What we really need is something from Adrienne that will prove I’m the father.”

“And indicate what she wanted for Jason.”

“Right. That box of Jason’s stuff they said they would ship to him hasn’t come yet?”

Starsky shrugged. “Not today.” He tagged along behind Hutch as he went to the other room to get out of his jacket and tie. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Hutch looked up. “You mean that since they intend to get Jason back, they won’t send it?”

“They might not, if they think something showing Adrienne’s wishes might be in it.”

“Jason said he kept it locked. As far as the Fosters know, it’s just stuff of his that they’d have no interest in.”

“Hope so. They did say they knew he’d want to have his prized possessions with him. They sounded sincere, you said so yourself, Hutch.”

The front door opened with a crash. “Guess what?” a breathless voice shouted. “My box came!”

Both men hurried downstairs.

“It came!” Jason could hardly hold still. “Mrs. Smith said it was delivered to her house. We were out this morning when the UPS truck came and she didn’t have a chance to bring it over ’til now.”

Hutch dug in his pocket for his penknife while Starsky took the precariously held grocery bag from Jason’s fingers and headed for the kitchen with the milk and bread. Both blonds bent over the box Jason had set on the floor.

“Here. Let’s get it open.” Hutch cut the strapping tape on the package and helped Jason rip off the brown paper. Returning from the kitchen, Starsky could see the old wooden box that Jason had described as containing all his treasures.

“Have you got the key to this thing?” Hutch was examining the lock.

“Sure.” Jason slipped his wallet out of his back pocket and dug into a zippered compartment. He came up with a tiny silver key.

Starsky took a seat on the floor beside Hutch, watching Jason unlock the clasp. As he lifted the lid, the teenager’s face transformed to an expression of fond recollection when his valued mementos were revealed.

“My baseball cards!” he exclaimed, lifting out a string-tied bundle. “And here’s my little league trophy.” Jason grinned as he looked it over, then brought out another item. “My sketch book.”

“You like to draw?” Hutch asked softly. Nodding, Jason handed over the book and Hutch accepted it, setting down the small trophy. He thumbed through the pages, looking at the pencil drawings of scenes of horses and boys playing baseball, his eyes bright with emotion. Starsky smiled as Hutch witnessed the revelation of Jason’s talents.

“Here’s Mom’s photo album,” Jason offered. Starsky and Hutch crowded around to look.

It was filled with snapshots of Jason from babyhood up, playing, opening Christmas gifts, posing in miniature suits on Easter Sundays. There were pictures of Adrienne obviously taken by a child from the off-center composition. They made Hutch smile.

“What’s this?” Starsky had turned to peer inside the box and noticed a slim, rose-colored volume with a gold embossed fleur-de-lis on the cover and a tiny lock.

“That’s Mom’s,” Jason told him. “I don’t know what’s in it ’cause I never had the key.”

Starsky exchanged a look with Hutch. “A diary. This might be just what we’re looking for.”

Hutch agreed. “Jason, I’d like to try to open this lock.”

“Okay. You think Mom wrote something that will help me stay here?”

Nodding, Hutch began prying at it with the tip of his penknife blade.

Starsky answered for him. “Anything in her writing that states Hutch is your father would be very important. Also, if she recorded anything about how she wanted you to be raised after she died. How long have you had her book in your treasure box?”

The young face grew sad. “She gave it to me right before she went into the hospital for the last time. She was pretty sick by then. All she said was to keep it — take care of it for her. So I did.”

“And your grandparents? Have they read any of what’s in here that you know of?” Hutch asked, looking up from the lock.

“I don’t think so. Like I told you, I kept all my special stuff in here and the box was always locked.”

“So when your mother’s effects were gone through after she died, this wasn’t among them?” Hutch persisted, clarifying.

“Yes. I said so, didn’t I?” Jason sounded as if he were losing patience with all the questions.

“Easy.” Starsky tried soothing him. “This has to do with a legal matter, Jason. Hutch has to be very specific so we know exactly where we stand. In court, you could be asked questions just like this.”

“Oh.” An inquisitive look crossed the boy’s face. “Court?”

Hutch put the penknife down and faced him squarely. “Your grandparents are trying to force me to send you back to them. Mr. Raines says that since they were awarded custody back in Minnesota, we may have to go to court in order for you to be able to live here.”

“I don’t understand. If you’re really my father, and I want to live here, why would we have to go to court?”

“Because the court in Minnesota said differently. I’d have to challenge their claim and win a case that proves you belong with me.”

“Doesn’t what Mom wanted and what I want make any difference?” Frustration vied with fear in the teenager’s voice.

“It doesn’t work that way in legal matters.” Hutch sounded equally frustrated.

“You see, Jason,” Starsky tried to explain, “the court has to have proof. We have to have evidence that your mother didn’t want her parents to finish raising you.”

“But I told you what she said. Can’t I tell the court the same thing?”

“Yes, you can tell them that, but that’s not enough,” Hutch answered gently.

“But I’m not lying!” Jason got up and stalked across the room.

“Jason — you’re under age. You aren’t old enough to decide where you want to live.”

It was the wrong thing to say, the wrong way to put it. The boy rounded on Hutch, fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m not a baby and I don’t make things up! You’re no different than Grandmother and Grandfather. Always trying to tell the little kid what’s best for him.” The petulant words were spat out in bitterness.

“Jason — ” Hutch got to his feet.

“I did all right on my own. If you don’t want me, I can go back out on the street. It may not be the greatest way to live, but at least I’d be on my own.”

“Jason.” Hutch said the name again as he moved closer. “Look at me. I never said I didn’t want you. Why would I be talking about going to court to fight your grandparents for custody if I didn’t want you to live with me?”

The struggle in the boy’s heart was obvious. He wanted to respond to Hutch but he was too scared and too angry to let himself. Starsky watched the two of them in amazement. They were both so much alike. He couldn’t say anything for fear of making the situation worse.

“How should I know?” Jason blurted. “Maybe you just feel guilty about not marrying Mom. You said yourself you didn’t think that would have worked out. So here I am, messing up your life, making you go to lawyers and court and causing you all kinds of trouble.”

“Jason, stop feeling sorry for yourself.” It wasn’t said unkindly, but Starsky wished Hutch hadn’t said it at all.

“You don’t understand! You never will!” Jason pushed past Hutch and bounded up the stairs. They heard the door of the den slam hard.

Hutch was heading for the stairs, too. Starsky grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Give him a couple of minutes, Hutch.”

The man seemed to sag in defeat. Starsky grasped his forearms, wanting to shake some sense into his partner.

“Looks like I really blew that one.” Hutch sighed. He straightened, rubbing a hand over his face, his expression clearing with the raising of his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Starsk. What am I doing wrong?”

“He’s a teenager, Hutch. That makes for a lot of confusion. Besides, he’s inherited your temper. You ought to know better than to keep pushing at him.”

Hutch walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. “Knowing and dealing with it are two different things.”

Starsky sat close to him. “He’s gone through a lot. You know how illogical our supposedly logical legal system can seem. For a kid like Jason, it probably makes even less sense. In the last couple of months, he’s gone through his mother’s death, moving in with her parents, running away, traveling cross country, living on the street, being arrested and meeting you. Is it any wonder he’s confused?”

Hutch sounded weary. “I’m trying to ease that confusion. I was explaining about the court case. I told him that I wanted to see that he’d be able to stay here.”

“I don’t know.” Starsky wasn’t sure he had all the answers, either, but it was about time Hutch started finding them. “Maybe he needs to feel wanted instead of just being told about it.”

Hutch looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them on his knees. “I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m not ready for it. I don’t know how to make him feel I want him because I don’t know if I can be his father.”

“How do you feel about him?”

Sudden tension seemed to explode in Hutch. “Starsky, will you lay off? Can’t you just accept ‘I don’t know’ for an answer?”

“It doesn’t matter what I can accept,” Starsky said softly.

Hutch looked at him, still angry. Saying nothing more, Hutch pushed up off the couch and headed for the stairs, stopping to pick up the small volume that had been Adrienne’s diary as he went.

“Well,” Starsky said to the now-empty room, “guess I’ll fix dinner.”

***

The lock finally yielded to the pressure of Hutch’s knife point. He folded the penknife, laid it aside, and then turned his attention to the book.

It was indeed a diary, handwritten in varying colors of ink. The first page indicated the notes were kept as a record of Adrienne’s pregnancy and the birth of her son, his infancy, and childhood.

Hutch could not help feeling that he was invading Adrienne’s privacy. The pages revealed the inner thoughts of a young woman he had never really known, her dreams and aspirations for the child she carried and her thoughts on how he would be raised.

On an early page, his own name leaped out at him.

“My parents have forbidden me to contact Ken Hutchinson, but even though I agree that getting married now, and to him, would not be the best solution, I still feel that he should know I am carrying his child.”

Hutch tried to shut down any emotional reaction to the words. It was impossible and for a moment, he closed his eyes, attempting to summon from his memory Adrienne’s face and way of speaking. They were gone; she existed only as a faded memory, incomplete and insubstantial. Yet the statement that she agreed she should not marry him stayed in Hutch’s mind. He felt relieved by the idea that she had not been pining away with love for him, that he had not been the guy she wanted to marry. Jason would most likely have trouble dealing with such an idea, but Hutch found his own guilt at least somewhat assuaged.

He began skimming, looking for later references, aware that he should feel some emotional closeness to the Adrienne of the early pages. That was not what he experienced, however. He was touched by references to the baby’s birth and infancy, landmarks such as first tooth, first step, first word. A strange sadness afflicted him at the thought of having missed all that. Here was Jason, in his house, nothing like the adorable baby written about by his young mother. Perhaps if he read it all thoroughly, Hutch decided, he would gain some insights to the boy’s character. At any rate, he would be able to share, on this distant level, the accomplishments of his formative years.

As the child grew older, the entries were spaced further apart in time. Adrienne moved to her house by the lake and enrolled him in school. She charted his progress in growth and learning faithfully, and on the occasion of each birthday wrote a detailed account of memorable events of the year.

Toward the end of the volume, her handwriting became less easy to read; obviously the latter entries were written by a woman who was very sick. Hutch scanned these eagerly, hoping to be rewarded with some statement about where she wished Jason to live after she was gone.

At the top of one page was a date six months prior to the current one.

“I have told Jason that his father’s name is Kenneth Hutchinson.”

That should be proof enough for the court, Hutch thought with some relief. The entry went on to state that Adrienne had attempted, by circuitous means, to learn of his whereabouts. She had telephoned the house where his parents still m lived, said she was an old friend who had lost touch with him and asked if he still lived in Minnesota. Told that Kenneth now resided in Los Angeles, Adrienne thanked his mother and said good-bye. Then she wrote:

“I have no wish to attempt getting in touch with Ken at this time for I fear that hearing from me now would cause, if not a disruption of his life, at least some surprise and unhappiness. However, I do not feel that it is right that he never know he has a son. I have told Jason that when he feels ready, he should try to contact his father.”

Hutch kept turning pages until he found one final, shaky entry at the back of the book.

“My parents brought up the subject of them raising Jason again today. I still « wish there was some other way. I’ve tried to teach my son my philosophy of life, to give him all I can of me in this brief time we’ve had together. That will have to do. I can only hope Mom and Dad will not do too much damage raising him the way m they raised me.

“Jason still says he wishes he could live with his father. I cannot say straightforwardly that I agree. My reservations are not only due to the fact that I don’t know what Ken would say about this. I no longer know him; he may have changed a lot from the sensitive young man I dated. However, if by some chance he would truly want Jason as his son, I would have no objections to him raising our child. A boy should know his father. A father should have the opportunity to love and know his son.”

And finally:

“Jason, I gave you life. I could not be both mother and father for you, but I loved you as much as two parents could. The last thing I can give you is courage.”

Hutch closed the book and drew a deep breath. There was a burning at the back of his throat and behind his eyes. The powerful love of the mother for the son he had glimpsed in the pages of the diary made him feel woefully inadequate. He wished his own emotions toward Jason were as clear-cut. He wasn’t at all sure he could ever love as deeply as the woman who had borne him and raised him all alone for sixteen years, and he was certain that he could never take her place for Jason. Still, there was something positive that he could do.

The diary would serve as the evidence they needed to prove their case in court. He would not risk losing the opportunity he had been given to do, as Adrienne had written, to know and love his son. Tomorrow, Hutch decided, he would speak to Ed Raines about filing suit against the Fosters for permanent custody of Jason.

 

 

XI.

Starsky finished puttering around in the yard and came inside. Two days following Jason’s argument with Hutch and the kid still hadn’t loosened up. Starsky was worried. Around him, Jason was relaxed, happy like he had been before, but when Hutch came home, the teenager clammed up again. Starsky didn’t want to interfere, but he could see how they boy’s attitude was hurting Hutch. Today, he decided, he would try talking to Jason.

He wandered into the living room where he was watching a re-run of The Addams Family. Lurch was giving his last rumbling comment of the day, so Starsky switched off the set. Jason stayed where he was, draped over an easy chair.

Starsky seated himself on the couch. “Hutch’ll be home in about an hour.” The boy declined comment. “You gonna give him the cold shoulder again today?”

A shrug. “Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Dammit, Jason, it does matter. You’re mad at Hutch because of something you think he doesn’t feel, because he didn’t say something just the way you thought he should say it. But you’re the one who’s wrong. You’re here, living in his house, eating his food, and he’s going to court to make you legally his son. If it takes more than that to make you feel wanted, I’d say you’re pretty damn selfish.”

The sensitive mouth dropped open in surprise at the unexpected outburst from the usually laid-back Starsky. Still, he attempted to justify his behavior.

“He doesn’t love me!”

Starsky looked closely. There was more than just petulance in the teenager’s demeanor. There was the pain of a child crying out for something he had lost and that he thought he would never find again. Starsky leaned forward, holding the blue-eyed gaze with his own.

“My father died when I was just a kid, Jason. I know how it feels, believe me.”

A gulp, a sideways glance, half grateful, half embarrassed at being read so easily. After a lengthy pause, Jason asked a hesitant question. “Does it… ever stop hurting?”

“Stop? Not really. It gets easier. But losing a parent while you’re still a child is something you never forget.”

Jason didn’t answer. He sat, twisting a cushion between his hands.

“You can’t expect Hutch to be everything your mother was. It’s too soon. You’re both too confused.”

“I know.” The blue eyes were bright with unshed tears. “But he really doesn’t love me. He talked to me about it, and he didn’t love my mother. If he didn’t want to marry her, why should he want me as a son?”

“People get divorced sometimes, but they still love their children. It doesn’t matter how Hutch and your mother felt about each other. What matters is learning to be father and son now. Hutch is trying. Do you believe that?”

Jason nodded, reluctantly.

“Then do something for me.” Starsky’s voice was stern. “You try, too. Give him a chance.” He relaxed a little, softening his tone. “His love is worth it, Jason. Worth having. Worth waiting for.”

Jason gave Starsky a long, earnest look. “Okay, Starsky. I’ll try.”

The solemn promise made him smile. “It’s gonna work out, kid.”

***

Hutch waited impatiently in Ed Raines’ outer office. The lawyer had left a message for him stating that it was important they meet again that afternoon. He felt like he was spending more time in the attorney’s office than his own. Every few days, he had to go over legal papers with Ed. His own suit for custody had been filed and a trial date had been set. Hutch wondered whether it was some new development that had caused Raines to summon him or just more papers to read.

The outer door opened and Ed hurried through. “Hi.” He spotted Hutch. “Sorry I’m late.” He leaned over the secretary’s desk to collect his messages, then motioned Hutch into his office.

His client sat fidgeting while Raines looked over the message slips and an accumulation of papers on his desk. Finally, Hutch cleared his throat.

“You said you needed to see me, Ed?”

The paper shuffling stopped at last. “We heard from the Foster’s attorney again. They have filed a counter suit for permanent custody, and they have also petitioned the court to have Jason returned to them pending the trial.”

“The trial? That’s six months from now. No, Ed, I can’t let him go back with them. I want to get the chance to know Jason and that won’t happen if he’s back in Minnesota for another six months. If I let them take him, he’ll believe I don’t really want him after all.”

Raines smiled at Hutch’s outburst. “That’s what I thought you’d say. We can request an immediate hearing on the question of where Jason will stay until the trial can determine who’ll get permanent custody.”

Hutch was not mollified. “What kind of chance do I have of keeping him, Ed? Until the trial — and after?”

Raines regarded him, his eyes serious. “There have been a few similar cases — one in which the mother is deceased and her parents have obtained custody of the children when they disapproved of their son-in-law. But your case is a good one. We have the document in the mother’s handwriting that states you are the father and that she didn’t want the boy to be raised by her mother and father after her death. As the natural father, the court should find in your favor over the grandparents. It also looks good that as soon as you learned of Jason’s existence, you took him in.”

“But — ?”

Raines rubbed the bridge of his nose. “These things do have a way of getting messy sometimes. The only way they have of winning is to prove that the natural father is unfit. The Fosters will probably have an investigator do some background work on you.”

“They’ll investigate me?”

“Yeah.” Ed looked at him closely. “What’s the matter? You’re an ex-cop with a good record…”

Hutch chose his words carefully. “Everyone has things he’d rather not have dug up.”

“Listen, if you have any skeletons in your closet, you’d better tell me about them. I’d rather not find out in court — we’ll need to know what they might uncover.” Hutch did not answer right away. “They’ll try to take anything they find out and use it against you.”

“What sort of thing?” Hutch asked, hedging.

Raines considered. “Any black marks on your record as a cop. Any illnesses or visits to a shrink, that kind of thing. They might even take something quite harmless and make it seem to detract from you as a father figure.”

“What do you mean?”

The attorney’s eyes roved toward the ceiling as he thought. “Well, for instance, you’re not married. You share a house with your ex-partner. They might try to make something of that, try to say you’re — living together, if you follow my meaning.” His tone of voice indicated how absurd he thought the premise.

Hutch compressed his lips. “We are living together, Ed.”

“What?” Raines burst out. He was clearly surprised. “You and Dave? You’re –”

“We’re lovers,” Hutch said simply. “It’s not a fact we’re broadcasting, but we’re not making a big secret of it, either.”

The lawyer sat for a moment, absorbing the information. He seemed about to speak several times, then appeared to re-think the idea. Hutch struggled not to be offended by Ed’s reaction.

Finally, Raines asked, “Does the boy know this?”

Hutch shook his head.

Removing his glasses and leaning toward Hutch, Raines spoke seriously. “I’m going to lay it on the line for you. If it comes out in court that you are gay, it’s very likely that you’ll lose the case.”

“I can’t believe that.” Hutch could feel his blood pressure rising. “In this day and age… in this state?”

Raines shrugged. “California may be a little more liberal than the rest of the country, but this is a fairly new issue. There have been very few cases tried with this background. And a very low percentage of gay parents have been awarded custody.” The man was spouting empty rationalizations, not even looking at Hutch directly.

“If you have a problem representing me, now that you know this, Ed –”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.” The answer came too quickly, but sounded sincere. “Hutch, I’m only telling you what you’re going to be up against.”

“In that case, what do I do?” Hutch did not want to think that Ed was prejudiced against him; he figured that reaction belonged only to the paranoid.

“You might want to make it impossible for it to be found out.”

“What? I don’t follow you.”

“If you weren’t living under the same roof, there would be no possibility of even questioning your relationship.”

Hutch fixed the man with a cold glare. “And which one of us do you suggest should move?”

Raines appeared to take the question seriously. “Since you have Jason there, too, maybe Dave would agree to take an apartment.”

Speaking through clenched teeth, Hutch answered emphatically. “Absolutely not. I’m not asking him to leave his own home. From a strictly financial standpoint, he couldn’t afford to move. Part of the reason we got the house was to share expenses. You know that, Ed. Starsky’s on disability. He can only work part-time. I’m not exactly raking in the bucks, either.” The lawyer had no immediate answer.

“You expect them to accept that you’re just roommates?” he asked at last.

“You did.”

Raines ignored that remark. “If you won’t change the living arrangement, then you’ll have to find some other sort of camouflage.”

Hutch’s mouth formed a tight line. “Camouflage.” The word was enunciated with precision.

“Dating. Have women over. Go out with them. Take separate vacations. You and the boy go camping, say, and Dave can go to… Tahoe.”

Hutch flung himself out of his chair and headed for the door.

Raines stood, calling after him. “Hutch, you know as well as I do that if an investigator snoops around long enough, he’s going to see something that will tip him off, and if it’s brought up in open court you’ll have to admit it. Your lifestyle’s not only going to be made public, you’re going to lose your son.”

“I still haven’t heard any suggestion I can accept.” Hutch turned to him, but stayed by the door.

“Well, you’re going to have to think about it,” Raines advised. “If you are serious about getting custody of Jason, it’s going to come down to an either-or situation.”

Hutch looked at him, eyebrows raised, challenging him to say it out loud.

“Either your lover or your son, Hutch. It’s up to you.”

He stood staring at the lawyer, using the same look with which he had daunted recalcitrant felons. Raines did not seem fazed by it. There was nothing more to say. Hutch turned and left.

***

He couldn’t go home. Starsky was there. Jason was there. Right this minute, Hutch couldn’t face either of them.

He got in the car and drove, aimlessly, almost unconsciously. He didn’t know or care where he was going. He only knew that he was driving to keep from thinking. And yet, instead of paying attention to his driving, his mind ran over and over what Ed Raines had said.

“Either your lover or your son. It’s up to you.”

your lover or your son — up to you — up to you — uptoyou

He found himself parking across the street from The Pits. He sat in the front seat a moment, trying to collect himself. Finally, using both hands to smooth his hair into place, he drew a deep breath and climbed out.

Huggy didn’t seem to notice him at first. Hutch sat at the bar and ordered a beer from the girl — a new employee, one he didn’t recognize. He sipped the brew slowly. It was good to sit there by himself, soaking up the familiar noise and relaxed atmosphere.

“I can’t believe it!”

Hutch looked up from his beer and into Huggy’s wide brown eyes. “Hey, Hug.” He smiled fondly, his voice soft with nostalgia.

“And just what brings you here after such an extended period of absence?” The grinning proprietor stood back, giving him a long look.

Hutch shrugged. “Missed your face, I guess.”

“That doesn’t tell me what you’re doin’ here at this time of day in the middle of the week.” He paused significantly. “And dressed like that.”

“Like what?” Hutch’s smile broadened as he looked down at his conservative suit. “Oh, I get it. I don’t fit in with the rest of your clientele.”

“You’ll do, Blondie,” Huggy laughed. “But one more question.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Where’s your better half?”

Hutch took another long sip from his pilsner.

“Don’t tell me,” Huggy leaned low to look closely at Hutch. “You two have a fight?”

Hutch managed a smile. “How come you always ask me that whenever I walk in here by myself?”

If it crossed Huggy’s mind to point out that Hutch had seldom in the last year crossed his threshold without Starsky, he didn’t say so. Hutch answered with a lift of his brows. “No, Hug, no fight. I just stopped in to say hi on my way home.”

“Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t want to think there was trouble in paradise. How are things at the house?”

“Never a dull moment.” Hutch thought it might do some good if he talked to Huggy; at least he should tell him about Jason.

“I’ll bet.” Huggy was smirking.

Hutch gave him a disparaging look. “Come on, Huggy, let up with the jokes. Actually, things have been interesting at our place, but for a reason you’d never suspect. We have someone else living with us right now.”

“Oh, yeah? Anyone I know?”

“No you’ve never met him, but he is a relative. His name is Jason, he’s sixteen and… and he’s my son.”

The reaction was classic. First, a look of confusion, then overjoyed surprise, then disbelief, and finally the combination of all three. Hutch couldn’t resist laughing. It felt good. He gave a brief and light-hearted account of the last week and a half, telling some of the ups and downs of instant fatherhood.

Huggy bent down, looking under the bar, and came up with a cigar, which he handed to Hutch. “You’re the one should be handin’ these out, Papa, but this one is on me.”

“Thanks, Hug.” He inhaled the tobacco fragrance and slipped the cigar into his shirt pocket.

“So, what’s the matter?”

“Huh?” There was no use denying it; Huggy had correctly deduced that if everything were fine, he would be home with his new family. Hutch sighed. “We have a few problems. His mother’s parents want him back with them. I’m suing them for custody. They’re suing me.”

“Well, you can handle yourself in legal situations, court rooms and the like.”

“Guess so.” He finished the beer. “That’s why I came down here. Your smiling face always brightens my day.”

Huggy adjusted the cap he wore with a fancy gesture. “Then bring the whole gang down some night. I’d like to meet little Hutch junior…” His voice trailed off as his eyes fastened on two customers who had just entered the bar.

Hutch turned, following his gaze.

“That is,” Huggy went on, his voice low, “come around with the kid when types like those two aren’t contaminatin’ the place.”

The couple, a man and woman in their mid-to-late forties, chose a table near the back of the room. “Who are they?”

“New in town. I’m not sure exactly what their scene is, but I know it’s kinky. They’ve been causing some trouble for the proprietors of various stables of working girls. Word is, they’re looking for young merchandise — of either sex.”

“Charming.” Hutch observed them, automatically noting details of dress and description. The woman had on a lot of gold jewelry, the man was in dark clothes and had a beard.

“Sorry, man. I know you’re out of the business. I’m so used to filling you in — old habits are hard to break, ya know?”

Hutch laid a hand on Huggy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Kinda made me feel like old times for a minute. Say, the new guys, you get along with them okay?”

“Sure. But they’ll never replace the Dynamic Duo. If you know what I mean.”

“Keep telling me that, Huggy.” He dug in his pocket for some change and dropped it on the bar. “I’d better get home. Thanks, my friend.”

“Hey, like I said, bring Starsky and the kid around.”

“You bet.” Waving good-bye, Hutch headed for the door.

Once back in his car, his lightened mood vanished. He sat behind the wheel watching the traffic light change, trying to let his mind go blank. Finally, he gunned the engine and drove off. It didn’t matter what direction, as long as it was away from home.

While negotiating long, meandering canyon roads, he tried to figure out what to do. There was no solution; at least none of the alternatives suggested by Ed Raines sounded viable. He could just hear Starsky’s voice when he brought up dating… or separate vacations.

Hutch cringed. He could hear Starsky’s voice all right, repeating the litany of reassurance and support ever since Perkowitz’ call that morning had turned their cozy, private world upside down. Hutch didn’t want to go home and tell his lover they should pretend to be dating women. He couldn’t ask Starsky that, couldn’t put him in the position of feeling like he had to say yes to such an unreasonable request. And he didn’t want Starsky to get angry with him for even bringing up the idea. But if they didn’t try that, what then?

Moving out? Impossible. Neither one of them could afford it. And not being together… no way. It had been hell sleeping in separate bedrooms since Jason’s arrival. Hell to have no time alone together. Hell to sneak across the hall for a few strained moments of whispered endearments and cautious lovemaking.

No, he needed Starsky in his life too much to do without him. Even pretending for Jason’s sake, at least they were together. Hutch had come to depend on their togetherness during the long years of their partnership. One of the worst times of his life had been the months he spent alone while Starsky was hospitalized. If he hadn’t had Starsky with him during these days with Jason, he would have come unglued.

He needed Starsky. Loved Starsky. Why was he letting a kid he had never known uproot his entire life? Just when he finally thought he had it all together… Jason was his son and he had no intention of denying him, but he was crazy to think he should have the boy live with them. He belonged back in Minnesota, where he had always lived, where he had friends and grandparents who could give him a stable home.

That’s bull, Hutchinson, he told himself bitterly. You can’t throw Jason out like he means nothing to you. He’s your child!

“Your son or your lover.”

Starsky. I love Starsky. I need Starsky. What do I need with a teenage kid around the house? I owe Starsky more than I owe him.

“You don’t love me. You don’t want me.”

He saw the need in the wide azure eyes that looked up at him, the eyes so like his own, that could light up with trust or cloud over with the fear of being rejected, beseeching him… “don’t turn me away, be my father.”

Oh, God…

He found himself pulling in to his own driveway. Relieved to be home, he turned off the ignition and cut the lights. Slowly, feeling a hundred years old, he I climbed out and entered the house.

He went upstairs to change his clothes, making a production out of carefully hanging up his suit and selecting a pair of casual cords and pullover shirt. He came down, busying himself with the mail, reading every word of a sales pitch for magazines addressed to ‘resident.’

He had been inside a full five minutes before he realized he was alone. Wandering out to the kitchen, he found a note on the counter. “We went out for dinner. Will bring you something back.” He sighed, grateful for the relative peace of being alone. Head pounding, he began to rummage for some aspirin.

He couldn’t locate any, but he did find something else that might be more soothing. The bottle of scotch was a welcome sight.

Hutch picked a clean glass out of the dish drainer and sat down at the kitchen table. Unscrewing the cap on the bottle, he poured the first of what he planned would be many drinks.

***

Starsky juggled the bag of take-out Chinese as he unlocked the door to the house. Right behind him, Jason was still recounting the story of the time he had pitched a no-hitter for his high school team. The door swung open and Starsky called out Hutch’s name.

“We’re home! Hutch, ya gotta hear this baseball story Jason’s been telling me!” Not getting an answer, Starsky exchanged a look with Jason.

“His car’s out there,” the boy offered.

“Yeah.” Starsky nodded and went through the living room, snapping on lights in the dark house as he went. “Hutch…?” He stepped through the kitchen doorway, catching sight of the blond head framed by hazy moonlight coming through the window.

“We brought you some Chinese.” He spoke softly, sensing even as the words came out that something was wrong. He approached the chair where Hutch sat. “Hey, babe, what’s the matter?”

The eyes that looked up at him were large and vulnerable. Seeing Starsky, they dropped immediately to resume staring at the glass held loosely between trembling hands. Starsky noted that the bottle on the table held only an inch or so of liquor.

He crouched down, trying to meet the haunted eyes. His hands reached to take the glass. Unresisting fingers let him have it. He put it on the table, then took hold of both Hutch’s hands, clasping them, trying to communicate.

“What’s the matter? Something wrong? Hmm?” Nothing. A cold lump seemed to settle in the pit of Starsky’s stomach. He had never seen Hutch quite like this.

“Hey, what’s going on?” The overhead light switched on abruptly as Jason came into the kitchen.

Starsky, eyes still on Hutch, saw the cringe of reaction in the still figure. Whether it was from the sudden illumination or from the realization that Jason was seeing him like this, Starsky couldn’t guess.

The boy seemed taken aback, too. “Uh, Starsky… is he… okay?”

Hutch came to life all at once. “‘M all right,” he declared loudly. He pulled his hands from Starsky’s loose clasp and levered himself out of the chair, leaning on the table as he tried to stand. “What ya lookin’ at?”

The slurred voice and wavering stance confirmed the diagnosis. He’s really plastered, Starsky thought. Though that much was obvious, what remained unknown was the reason why. Hutch seldom touched hard liquor, and when drinking his usual beer rarely indulged to this point. Concerned, Starsky put out a hand to steady his partner.

“Hey, Starsk…” The bleary gaze seemed to focus and a smile replaced the frown Hutch had been wearing. One hand came up to stroke down the side of Starsky’s face. Fingers lingered at his chin, tilting it up.

Starsky’s hand caught at Hutch’s before he could do something they might not want the kid to see. “Hi, Hutch,” he managed, trying to humor him. “Jason and I just got back from dinner. You haven’t eaten yet. Wouldn’t You like something?”

“We brought you some chicken and cashews.”

Hutch looked over toward Jason and his eyes changed expression. Starsky knew that look, the crushing guilt, the sorrow and desolation Hutch put himself through when he decided everything that went wrong in their lives was his fault. “Jason, I…”

Starsky slid an arm around Hutch’s waist. “Come on, Hutch.” He tried to guide him toward the living room. “Maybe you’d like a cup of coffee. Jason, put on a pot of water for instant, would you?” Starsky wanted father and son in two separate rooms for a while.

“I’ll fix a pot with the Mr. Coffee. You showed me, remember?” Jason busied himself with filling the percolator and Starsky steered Hutch out of the kitchen.

His staggering burden sank heavily to the couch and Starsky sat beside him. “Hutch? Hutch, tell me what’s going on.” Concern roughened his voice; he had to get somewhere with him and quickly.

Hutch seemed about to speak then shook his head in denial. He reached for Starsky as if to pull him into a hug, but abruptly let go. “No. I can’t. Can’t talk about it. You… don’ wanna hear.”

Starsky put an arm around the slumping shoulders. “Course I do. I always want to know what troubles you.”

Hutch shook his head. The movement seemed to hurt. “Oh, God. What am I gonna do?” He turned into Starsky’s embrace, reaching to cling tight.

“Here’s the coffee.”

Jason’s small voice was a bit startling. Starsky managed to remain calm; there was nothing odd about being hugged by a tipsy friend, after all.

“Come on, buddy. Have some coffee.” He rubbed the head lying against this shoulder. Hutch sucked in a ragged breath and sat up.

The coffee mug shook as he held and Starsky reached out to keep it from spilling. Hutch managed to drink a few sips from the steaming cup, it didn’t seem to help. Whatever was upsetting him couldn’t be obliterated by drink or washed down with coffee.

He started mumbling, but none of it made sense to Starsky. “All up to me… I gotta fix it… I gotta decide… Never work… never get better… All my fault… can’t do it right…. Can’t ever get it right….”

Starsky took the empty mug from hi and spoke distinctly, hoping to get through. “It’s all right, Hutch. Come on, you need to lie down. Let’s get you to bed.” He turned to Jason. “Give me a hand, will you?”

With the boy’s help, he got Hutch upstairs. Jason turned down the covers and helped Starsky put his father to bed. The kid was pale, confused, but Starsky could only deal with one problem at a time.

When he turned to leave, Hutch grabbed at his hand and wouldn’t let go. Starsky turned, about to suggest that Jason catch some television. The teenager was already on his way out of the room.

Starsky tried talking to Hutch a little, but it was still no use. He sat, hanging on to his hand, 1etting his touch comfort where his words could not. Hutch was so out of it that it wasn’t long until he sank into sleep.

Leaving one lamp burning, Starsky moved silently out of the room. He found Jason in the living room with the TV on low. The kid seems kind of embarrassed. Sighing, Starsky moved to sit next to him on the couch.

“He’s asleep. He’ll be all right in the morning.”

“Will he?” Jason turned questioning eyes on him. “He’s drunk, Starsky. I don’t understand.”

“I know. I don’t know what’s wrong, either. But he doesn’t drink often, Jason. You don’t have to worry about that part of it. He’s just got something on his mind. I’ll get it out of him in the morning.”

Jason didn’t look very reassured and Starsky didn’t blame him.

***

Starsky was sitting on the deck reading the morning paper when Hutch finally came downstairs. He staggered outside, groaning as the glare of sun struck his eyes.

“You’re up.” Starsky turned to look at him. Hutch was as disheveled as he’d ever seen him, hair uncombed, light fuzz of whiskers on his face, circles shadowing the squinting eyes. “Want some coffee?” He put down the paper and got up to head for the kitchen. Hutch followed, groaning again as he folded himself gingerly into a chair.

Starsky sat his cup in front of him and Hutch winced at the sound of china striking wood. “How ya feelin’?” Starsky teased.

“Ouch.” It was all Hutch said for a moment. He swallowed some coffee and glanced toward the wall clock. “It can’t be past ten. I’m late for work.”

“It’s okay.” Starsky sat across from him, soothing verbally. “I called you in sick. Figured you’d be in no shape.” He paused, watching while Hutch drank his coffee, hoping to see some evidence that he was waking up. “Are you going to tell me why you tied one on last night?”

The red-rimmed eyes closed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Starsky leaned forward. “I sent Jason outside. It wasn’t difficult. He didn’t like what he saw last night and I don’t think he wanted to be a witness to the morning after.”

Hutch met his glare with resignation. “You want to hear what’s eating me, huh? Okay. Ed Raines thinks I’m going to lose the custody suit.”

“Why does he say that?”

“Because he says gay fathers don’t win custody battles, that’s why.”

“What?” Starsky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What made Raines say something like that? I didn’t think he knew.”

“I told him. He said the Fosters would probably have me investigated and use anything in my life they could dig up against me to win Jason.”

“So you told him about us?”

Hutch matched Starsky’s incredulous tone. “Would you rather I kept it from him and have it come out in court?”

“Hutch, it’s not that you told him that bothers me.” Starsky tried to think clearly. “I was just surprised. We didn’t tell him when we did the settlement on the house.”

“Well, he knows now.” Hutch sounded defensive.

“And –?”

“And it’s gonna cost me my son.”

Stunned by the vehemence of what Hutch said, Starsky didn’t quite know how to respond. He drew a deep breath, asking, “You mean the fact that we’re lovers is automatically going to mean you can’t keep Jason?”

Hutch spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know how automatic it’s going to be…”

“Looks like your lawyer thinks so. What did he say? Didn’t he have any suggestions about how to handle this?”

“Oh, he had a couple of suggestions.” He said nothing more as he stirred his coffee.

“Yeah?”

A shrug. “Nothing worth talking about.”

“C’mon, Hutch. Tell me.” With some impatience, Starsky tried coaxing it out of him.

There was anguish in the light blue eyes that looked up at him. “Stop it! I don’t want you to start telling me everything’s going to be all right, that you’re going to understand this. I don’t understand. I don’t know what to do about this and you’re not going to be able to say we’re in it together!”

Starsky reached across the table to clasp the clenched hands. “You’re not makin’ any sense. What do you mean I won’t be able to say we’re in this together? We are. You know we are.”

“Damn it!” The words seemed to explode from Hutch’s throat. Agitated, he got out of the chair and strode across to the sink. He turned on the water and filled a glass, then opened a cupboard, cursing again as he pawed through boxes and jars. Starsky stood up and reached into another cupboard for a bottle of aspirin.

“This what you’re looking for?”

Hutch sighed, taking the pills from Starsky and swallowing a couple. “I’m sorry. I just… don’t think I’m in much shape to be explaining anything.”

“Then you’re going to have to get in shape — you can’t start something like that and not finish it!”

Hutch turned at the sharp words from Starsky. “Okay. You want to hear what Ed suggested? I’ll tell you. We should keep the investigator and the court from finding out, he says. One of us should move out of here, or else we could both start dating women as cover. He also thinks taking separate vacations might be a great idea.”

The blue eyes were bright with a fire Starsky could not quite define, and at the moment he was not sure he wanted to try. Swallowing, he asked softly, “What do you think about that suggestion?”

“I don’t like it, of course!” Hutch shouted, moving to look out the window. His eyes followed Jason’s figure as they boy strolled along the water’s edge. “It’s all happening too fast. I can’t hang on to it, can’t control any of it. Not so long ago, I said you were all I’d ever want and need. Now there’s Jason to consider and I don’t know how to fit him into our life. I’m not sure he can fit in.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I have a decision to make and I don’t know how to make it. I’m saying I don’t know if I can have a life with you that includes that boy out there.” He dropped back down into a chair at the table, his eyes going to Starsky. “I don’t know what I want.”

Starsky met his gaze, feeling as if Hutch had just told him it was all over between them. He struggled to keep that thought out of his mind, to realize that Hutch was torn by a terrible choice no one should be asked to make. That of all people, Hutch would not want to have to make such a choice. Yet his lover’s fears of his own inadequacy — imagined or otherwise — were not something Starsky felt capable of dealing with right now.

“You don’t know what you want. Hutch, that’s something I can’t tell you. No one but you can decide whether or not there’s room for Jason in our life. And you are the only one who can say if it’s our life — or just yours he’s going to fit into.”

“You don’t think I’m asking you to take that lawyer’s suggestions seriously?”

“I don’t know. Do you take them seriously?”

“Of course not! Starsky, all I said was…”

“I heard what you said, Hutch. I just don’t know if you understand everything it means.” Starsky knew he could say too much, destroy Hutch’s fragile confidence in what they had. Yet he was feeling too shaken himself to be careful. He turned, heading out of the kitchen. Hutch came after him.

“Starsk. Starsky! Don’t walk away from me!”

He stopped, but he didn’t turn. Don’t make me say it, Hutch. You can’t ask, but don’t make me offer to try those charades. I love you, but I don’t know if I can prove it that way. Starsky could not say aloud what he was feeling. It would cause another round of accusations and denials that were completely off the subject. There were too many misunderstandings between them that weren’t quite ancient history, too many women, too many games. Starsky was afraid that any charade might become too real. He was possessive enough not to want Hutch with anyone else for any reason. Yet it was his lover’s relationship with Jason that they were supposed to be talking about. “I’ve been telling Jason what’a terrific guy you are, how you’re trying your best to sort things out, get your act together with him. What are you going to do — make me look like a liar?”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.” Hutch’s deep, ragged breathing tore at his heart. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Starsky turned. Hutch’s eyes implored him to understand. “What about Jason?”

Anguish flared again, the blue eyes darkening, the voice hollow. “I have to do what’s right.”

Why can’t you just say you love him? That wouldn’t hurt me, don’t you know? He took a step closer, trying to find a way to reason through the pain. “What do you think that is?”

Hutch did not have an answer. Starsky tried again. “You’ve got to know, Hutch. Jason is your son. That much is a fact. Figure out if your feelings for him are strong enough to go through with the changes having him in your life is going to cause.”

“I’m not trying to ignore my responsibility,” Hutch began, speaking as if very tired. “I just don’t know what to do to be able to have everything work out. We’re living a lie. What if we go on, do what we have to to win the case? What will he feel when he does find out? What would it do to us in the meantime? It’s not right, Starsky…”

“Wait a minute. You’re the one who decided we should cool it down on the beach, in front of the neighbors, the one who doesn’t want to have the people you work with find out. And, if you recall, you’re the one who started the lie with Jason, when you put him in the den that first night. Are you that ashamed of the life we were supposedly making together?”

The protest was immediate. “God, no. But when somebody I turn to for legal advice stands in front of me and says the way I live is going to keep the court from granting me custody of my son… I don’t know. We made a choice to be together. That might mean I don’t have the right to ask for more.”

“You mean, because we’re together we have to give up the things other people can have?”

“Starsky. You see things so clearly — you forget other people aren’t as open minded as you can be.”

“Forget the philosophical crap, Hutch. Tell me what you want.”

“I want Jason.” The words came hard, but he said them. “And I want you. I just don’t know if…” Words failed him and his face twisted in pain. It was his turn to walk away. Starsky could barely hear the words spoken as Hutch sagged against the banister. “I don’t have love enough in me to make it right for both you and him.”

“That’s right. Every time you’re faced with one of the tough choices, you drag out the standard Hutchinson cop-out. ‘I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve to be happy.’ You do have love enough in you, dammit. If you just let yourself feel it…”

Hutch turned, his mouth curving down in a thin line. “I still don’t have the answer.”

“I can’t give it to you. I can share and I can help. But until you realize you have to make any decision regarding our life and Jason based on how you feel about the boy instead of basing it on guilt and responsibility, I can’t be a part of it.”

Eyes of purest crystal blue looked at Starsky with tenderness and sorrow. “I’ve already asked too much of you, haven’t I?” Hutch shook his head in disbelief of the whole situation. “That’s one thing I can do something about.” He moved away, striding toward the French doors. Pulling them open, he shouted his son’s name.

“What are you doing?” Starsky was beside him, grasping his shoulders to pull Hutch around to face him.

“I can’t lie to him any more about what I am — what we are. It’s not fair to you or to him.”

“Hutch, wait. Is that what you really want to do? He might be… upset. He’s just a kid. He might not understand.”

“You don’t want me to tell him?”

Starsky smiled. “I appreciate your reason for wanting to.” And he did. Telling Jason meant more than telling one of their friends or letting the neighbors figure out their relationship. It was a commitment in its own way. “Why don’t you spend some time with him today? Take him out, go to a ballgame. Tonight — we can tell him together, if you want.”

XII.

Hutch wanted to tell Jason. He really did. Yet as the day wore on, he became less and less certain that he knew how to tell him. When he had decided to do it that morning, he had figured he would just say it flat out. Now, he realized it was more complicated than that.

Things the teenager had said kept coming back to him. Comments about boys who sold themselves to other men; Jason didn’t understand how men could want each other. Questions the adolescent had asked about love… those things were difficult enough to answer, but throwing in the complication of two men who loved each other seemed to add another burden to Jason’s understanding. Hutch began doubting his own credibility. His record in matters of the heart was not too good, after all.

There had been a marriage and divorce, broken love affairs, times he had fallen for the wrong woman, times he had lost out even when the woman and the love had been right. A few weeks ago, Hutch had felt he was finally going to have love work for him. The love he felt for Starsky had grown and developed over the years of friendship into something about which he was so certain that he thought nothing could destroy it.

And yet, he was hurting now. And he knew Starsky was, too. Hutch could not handle the thought of failing at love one more time. Starsky was too important, too precious to him. If he lost him, nothing else would ever be right again.

Starsky had stopped him from telling Jason that morning, even after letting Hutch know how he felt about keeping the fact from him. Starsky’s innate honesty would not make him comfortable with such a deception. Hutch was not pleased with it, either. And talking about deceiving the Fosters had made the idea of pretending in front of Jason seem like a betrayal. He needed Starsky’s trust as much as he needed his love.

Trust… Hutch needed Jason’s trust as well. One of the things Hutch felt most certain about concerning the idea of a father-son relationship was trust and openness. He could not be as withdrawn from his son as his own father had been from him.

It would have been different if the boy had been younger. Then, they would have had no pressing need to tell him. They could have let him realize the true situation gradually. At sixteen, however, Jason was too aware, too observant to be fooled for long.

If he chose to do what Ed Raines suggested and managed to forestall an investigator uncovering the truth about his relationship with Starsky and the court awarded Jason to him, what would the teenager say when he finally learned that Hutch and Starsky were lovers? Whatever they showed the outside world, Jason had a right to know up front what their lifestyle was about.

Hutch wasn’t as sure as he had been at first that Raines was wrong to suggest that they hide their relationship from the court. It seemed like the only way he could keep both Starsky and Jason. To come out openly was to lose his son. Yet he did not know how he could deny the relationship without losing Starsky. They had told a select few of their friends; Huggy knew, Hutch’s parents and Starsky’s mother knew. Captain Dobey had never been told in so many words, but he had said certain things that indicated he had an understanding of what was between them now.

If they had stayed on the force, they would have had to keep their love undercover. They could not have moved in together openly. Would seeming to be nothing more than roommates be so difficult if it was only long enough to assure Hutch could win custody of Jason? He did not want to play dating games or move out, but they ought to be able to appear like the relationship was platonic.

Starsky had told him that morning that he was willing to agree to what Hutch decided as long as he knew the decision had been made out of love and not guilt. Telling Jason the truth was one way of making it up to Starsky for having to pretend to everyone else.

***

They were all three together in the living room. Jason lay on the floor, stretched out in front of the television and Starsky and Hutch sat side by side on the couch. Hutch looked at his lover, knowing that he should begin, but he suddenly felt unsure. How do you tell a sixteen-year-old something like this? Starsky moved fractionally closer to Hutch, a way of showing support as well as demonstrating the nature of their relationship.

His low voice came to Hutch’s ears. “Would it be easier if I left you two alone?”

It might… Hutch turned to him. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Starsky winked at him in reassurance and stood. “We’re almost out of milk. I’d better run down to the store and pick up a gallon so we’ll have enough for breakfast.”

Jason rolled over. “Can I come along, Starsky?”

Hutch spoke up. “I’d like to talk to you awhile. All right, Jason?” The boy’s gaze turned toward him and Starsky mumbled his good-bye. Drawing a steadying breath, Hutch nodded at the TV set. “You want to shut that thing off?”

Jason complied and moved to sit near his father on the couch.

“Jason, I have something important to tell you…”

“My grandparents are going to let me stay out here with you and Starsky?”

“No, but it does have to do with us — Starsky and I. And you.”

“I don’t get it.” The youthful gaze met his without wavering.

“Jason, we’ve talked about a lot of things since you came to live here. We talked about your mother and I, what we thought about love. The fact that love between two people is the important thing.”

The boy looked away a moment. “You also said you weren’t sure exactly what love is.”

Hutch cleared his throat. “I think we spend our whole life learning that. I know what love is for me. That’s what I want to tell you now. I want you to listen to what I have to say. If you have questions, I’ll try to answer them. But I want you I to wait until I’ve finished before you start asking them.”

The clear blue eyes were curious now. Hutch swallowed, more nervous than when he had broken the news to his parents. Yet he was also proud to say the words, to tell his son about the most important relationship in his life.

“Jason, I love Starsky. He loves me. That’s why we live together.”

“Yeah…” A slow nod, the expression in the boy’s eyes remaining unchanged.

Hutch tried again. “We were partners for a long time. Best friends. A year or so ago, before Starsky was shot, it became more than that. We realized that what we felt for each other was love. We have… a commitment to each other now. To live together, to share everything we have…”

“You mean –?” The voice sounded distressed, confused, not wanting to understand.

“It’s like a marriage, Jason. It’s real. It’s important. And we wanted you to know.” He stopped speaking, watching Jason closely, trying to gauge his reaction and hoping it would not be a negative one.

Jason got up off the couch, striding across the room toward the stairs. He turned, looking at Hutch with a mixture of pain and disbelief. “You and Starsky –? Is that why you didn’t marry my Mom? Because you like guys?”

“No. Jason, of course not. This may be hard for you to understand.” He got up, taking a step toward the retreating figure. “Starsky is the only man I’ve ever loved this way. I was married. I had girlfriends. So did he. But we discovered that what we felt for each other was different. It’s unique, but it’s right for us, for each other. And it’s very real.”

“You’re… gay…” Jason shook his head as if the images crossing his mind were not something he wanted to see.

“We don’t live the way some gays do — you know, going to bars all the time to meet other men. We have our own kind of life. It’s not what some people would choose, but it makes us happy.”

“I don’t understand.” Jason looked at him, eyes imploring. “I never… I mean — with another guy?”

“I told you that when two people who really care for each other make love it’s right. Before I felt this way about Starsky, I don’t know if I really understood. I don’t think he did, either, but now we do.”

“You like being with him more than being with a girl?” Amazement was plain on the adolescent face.

“Jason, please.” Hutch felt like his life was suddenly being placed under a microscope. He tried to remind himself that sex was usually on any sixteen-year-old boy’s mind anyway, so it was natural for the questions to be so personal. Still, that didn’t make it any easier. “When you really love someone, you don’t want to be with anyone else. Say you were grown up and married. And you met a movie star you’d always wanted to go out with. But no matter how glamorous and sexy she was, you wouldn’t leave the wife you loved just because maybe she wasn’t as beautiful. To you, it would be her love that makes her special to you, more beautiful than anyone else could ever be. Just because Starsky is a man doesn’t change the way I feel about him or stop me from wanting to make love with him. Loving a man isn’t that different from being with a woman. Love is giving yourself to the other person — that’s what makes it feel good.”

He paused, watching Jason’s expression. The boy seemed to be following him, trying to grasp his explanation. “But this isn’t just about sex, Jason. Our life together is more than that. We want to be together all the time, help each other with our problems, share the good things, the sad things. We decided to stay together for keeps, to buy this house and make a life here. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know. Why are you telling me this now?” He moved back toward Hutch and both of them returned to their seats on the couch.

“Because you’re my son. You are living in this house with us and we want you to know the truth. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend to you.”

“Do my grandparents know?”

Hutch shook his head. “What do you think they would say if they did?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “They’d think it was weird. I’ve heard grandfather call gays fags and queens. He always laughs at the guys on TV who act weak and have high voices. Calls them fairies. You and Starsky aren’t like that, but…”

“But he might not see the difference,” Hutch concluded. “Jason, my lawyer told me the court might not let you stay with me if the way Starsky and I live comes up in the custody trial. I’m going to have to ask you not to say anything — to anyone — about this.”

The sound of the front door closing took Hutch’s attention. Starsky was back, carrying a bag from the store. Both Hutch and Jason turned to look at him.

After a moment’s awkward silence, Starsky spoke up. “You asked Jason not to tell anyone about us? Does that mean you want to do what Ed Raines told you, pretend we’re just roommates, just friends?”

“No, Starsky. I only asked Jason not to say anything. We haven’t really decided what to do next. But maybe Ed’s right. Maybe the only way is to fool any investigators the Fosters might send out.”

Starsky headed for the kitchen. “Oh, that’s a great way to set an example for the kid. Always tell the truth — except when lying might serve a better purpose.”

“Come on, Starsk. I only said we might have to do a little pretending, a little covering up. I didn’t say I wanted you to move out. God, we don’t stand out on the beach and grope each other for all the neighbors to see. What’s different about being a little reserved and not admitting everything to the Fosters? What if we were still on the force?”

The refrigerator door slammed shut. “We’re not. That’s one of the reasons we quit, so we wouldn’t have to live a double life. What will you do, Hutch, if you get on a witness stand and the question is asked outright?”

Hutch was about to speak, but Jason’s voice stopped him. “Hey, guys. Don’t get in a fight because of me.”

“Jason — ”

“Kid, I’m sorry.” Starsky came out of the kitchen. “It’s not you — this is something that would have come up between us eventually, anyway. Maybe it’s better it came out now.”

“That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?” Hutch faced his lover. “You think I’m using this as some kind of excuse to retreat back into the closet. Starsky, do you think if I felt that way that I would have told Jason?”

He watched the changing feelings through Starsky’s luminous eyes; accusation and annoyance were swept away by denial, replaced by understanding.

“Was it just this morning I was telling myself how much it meant to me that you wanted Jason to know?” Starsky had spoken in a low murmur, almost to himself. He swallowed, his gaze touching Hutch in tenderness. “Okay. For what it’s worth, having Jason know is good enough for now. What do we care what the rest of the world knows or thinks about this family?” His glance, along with Hutch’s, moved to include Jason. “We are still going to be a family, aren’t we, kid?” Starsky sounded hesitant.

“Jason,” Hutch added, “if, uh… you feel like this makes a difference, if you want to change your mind about living here…”

The teenager shook his head vehemently. “No, I… I’m glad you told me. Makes me feel like you trust me… it’s just… I guess I’d rather do some thinking before we do any more talking. Okay?”

“Listen, I got some ice cream down at the store.” Starsky made an attempt to break the tension in the room. “How about we all have a dish?”

“What flavor?” asked Jason.

“Rocky Road.” With a backward glance at Hutch, Jason turned toward the kitchen.

Starsky followed him, opening the freezer. When he spoke, his voice was carefully modulated. “You want some, too, Hutch?”

“Sure.” He followed the two of them, lending a hand by getting bowls out of the cupboard while Starsky dug in a drawer for the ice cream scoop.

They all sat down at the kitchen table a few moments later. Starsky tried to relieve the awkwardness with small talk, asking about the baseball game Hutch and Jason had attended during the afternoon. Yet Hutch knew none of them had their minds on either baseball or ice cream.

The conversation lagged while the three finished dessert. Jason, drawing a noticeably deep breath, asked a question.

“Is it rough, you know, when people find out?” His eyes stayed on the melting ice cream in his bowl.

Starsky looked over at Hutch. “Sometimes, yeah. See, Jason, this is still kind of new for us, too. That’s why Hutch and I aren’t quite sure how to handle the stuff about the custody case.”

“I wanted to tell you the truth.” His heart swelling with gratitude toward Starsky, Hutch spoke softly. “It’s important to me that you understand.”

“I… I don’t know. I guess… the idea is going to take some getting used to. I mean…” His eyes darted from his father to Starsky, then dropped again to follow his spoon as it stirred through the remains of his ice cream. “I never really thought about anything like this before.”

“It’s all right,” Hutch told him gently. “Take your time.”

After a long moment, Jason sighed. “I thought it was going to be so easy out here. It sure has been anything but.”

“Jason,” Hutch answered quietly. “I know things haven’t gone real smoothly. But real life is like that. That’s what we have to learn as we grow up.”

“Yeah.” There was an edge of bitterness in the young voice. “I’m kinda tired. Okay with you if I go up to bed now?”

“Of course.”

“Good night.” Jason’s eyes flicked over to Starsky. “‘Night, Starsky.”

“Jason, we’ll talk some more tomorrow, if you want.” Hutch could hear the strained hopefulness in his own voice.

“Whatever.” The boy walked out of the kitchen.

Hutch stood up, intending to go after him. A hand on his arm brought him up short.

“Let him go. He’s got a lot of thinking to do. Give him the time to do it on his own.”

Sighing, Hutch resumed his seat.

“Guess it didn’t help, me coming in when I did and jumping all over you. I didn’t mean — ”

“Yes, you did, Starsk. It’s all right. I know how I must have sounded. Like I was admitting some dirty secret I didn’t want him discussing with the neighbors.”

“I could hear a little while I was coming up on the front porch,” Starsky admitted. “Actually, you sounded like a father.”

“You know — I did.” Hutch was able to smile. “I thought it would be hard, to say it all out like that, but it wasn’t. I just thought how I would have liked my dad to explain things like that to me and… the words just came. I told him we loved each other. That we were making a life together and we wanted him to know because it was important to both of us. For the first time, Starsky,” he admitted with wonder in his voice, “I felt like a father.” He shook his head, musing. “I tried to do it right. But I don’t know if I did or not. I can’t tell how he feels about what I said.”

“Maybe most fathers feel that way,” Starsky suggested with a lift of his shoulder. “Hey, how can anybody know if they’re doing the right thing as a parent? I guess you gotta just tell the truth and hope for the best.”

***

Hutch sat waiting in the rattan chair while Starsky showered. He was tired out from his own anxiety and confusion and from worrying about Jason and Starsky. Right now all he wanted was to stop thinking and believe that everything was going to work out. That, and one thing more: to reassure Starsky. If he could. He had taken the first step when he pointed out that there was no reason Starsky shouldn’t move back into their bedroom.

His lover emerged from the bathroom, rubbing at his just-washed hair with a huge towel. Hutch looked him over, a slow smile relaxing his features. He got up and walked across the room, turning down the bedcovers and moving to stand before Starsky.

Arms reaching, he pulled the still-damp body close. There was a muffled protest from beneath the towel. Hutch pawed it aside, found the mouth and kissed. Starsky flowed against him as the kiss hardened. Hutch let go of the towel to run his hands down the moist back.

“Hey,” Starsky managed, pulling away for air.

“Hey, what?” Hutch squeezed his ass.

“We should talk.” It was almost a question as Hutch tried the distraction of licking down the side of the tanned throat.

“I’m tired of talking.” His lips tasted as they moved in speech. “Actions speak louder than words. Wanta show you — ” He gave in to the desire to suck at the pulse point on Starsky’s neck.

“What?”

“How much I love you, that’s what.” Again, he reached for the mouth he loved and couldn’t help the bruising ardor of his kiss. It was so good to let the physical sensations replace the strain between them, make up for words that had been poorly chosen. He felt arms going around his back, the masculine strength holding tight, turning his kindling desire to flame. Still deeply involved with Starsky’s mouth, he moved them toward the wide bed.

His hands took hold of Starsky’s shoulders, gripping with a possessiveness he did not often allow free reign. He leaned into the kiss, bending the man in his arms back, running one hand down to mold the firm ass. It was easy to topple Starsky on to the bed and Hutch smiled at the way the supple legs parted the minute the body was horizontal.

“What ya grinnin’ at?” A devil with bright eyes asked the question, one who knew very well what the answer was.

“At what I want.” Hutch lifted his eyebrows and Starsky answered with a nod, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

Hutch pulled open the buttons on his shirt and shrugged out of it, letting the plaid fabric fall to the floor behind him. While he tugged open his belt, his eyes stayed on Starsky, caressing with a look every place he planned on touching. Dropping the unzipped trousers, he stepped out of them and pulled off his briefs. Then he moved close again, leaning over the waiting body he wanted to possess.

He took the open mouth first, his hands holding the beautiful head still, his fingers deep in damp, silky ringlets, stroking the scalp and sliding down to smooth the neck and shoulders. His lips moved lower and so did his hands.

The skin grew warm under his touch. He couldn’t feel enough of it at once yet taking his time was part of the pleasure. This loving was going to be thorough. They hadn’t taken their time together in weeks. Before he was finished, Hutch was going to give all of himself to Starsky and take all the love Starsky had to give.

His fingers circled hardening buds on the heaving chest. He smoothed and stroked the downy hair, following its pattern and the planes of firm muscle. Starsky arched into the touch, a sharply indrawn breath saying yes to Hutch’s ears.

Hungry for the quivering flesh, his mouth descended. One taste was not enough. He felt wanton, delirious, starving. He felt like a king, that anything he wanted could be his, was his already. Starsky’s body curled around him, legs crossing over his back, fingers in his hair nudging his head.

Hutch’s hands skimmed over the flat belly, feeling the sinewy hard abdominals, circling the narrow waist. He gripped low, at the hips, while he kissed a line down from navel to groin.

The legs gripping his back let go, the hips arching. Hutch’s hands found the bent knees; one push and the legs opened wide. He sank down, kneeling on the carpet. His fingers ran down the open thighs, knowing deep nerves would respond to his touch. His hands came together to stroke the flushed column from base to tip, his lips opened and his tongue explored.

“Babe, yeah.” From far away, Starsky was gasping. “Come on.”

As if he hadn’t wanted him badly enough already. The pleading voice made Hutch desperate to please. His mouth sucked, swallowed. His fingers groped, penetrated. Starsky’s body rocked to the rhythms of deepening sensation. All of him yearning, Hutch gave and gave, relishing the hard trembling in Starsky’s frame, the harsh breathing, the single, piercing cry that heralded his release. His taste was smooth as honey, rich as life itself.

Hutch mouthed the softened flesh, kissed the velvety sac with reverence, rubbed his cheek along one satin thigh. He smoothed his hand up the sweat-dewed torso to feel the rapid throb of Starsky’s heartbeat.

He stood, gazing down into the face that was now soft with satisfaction. Starsky’s eyes opened, deep blue pools of love. “Mmmm,” he sighed. One balletic hand reached to caress its way down Hutch’s chest, finding the hard readiness of his lover. “Want you. Now.” The whisper commanded Hutch, his desire rising swift as flame.

Hutch looked down at the waiting body. The room was illuminated by only the soft light coming from the half-closed bathroom door. Starsky was glistening, a sheen of sweat making him shimmer under the light of love and moonglow. His hair black as midnight, his skin bronze as noon, Hutch thought he had never seen anything as beautiful. Every line and plane was masculine perfection, each scar earned through years of dedication was a badge of honor, marks that bound him to Hutch and Hutch to him. The man Hutch loved; the one he would always love…

He stood between the parted thighs, his eyes held by Starsky’s gaze as his palm accepted the gel Starsky squeezed into it from the tube he had found under the pillow. Hutch stroked himself with coolness that could not dampen his fire and his fingers spread the rest on Starsky, massaging deftly.

Muscles deep within his lover’s body were clenching and relaxing against his fingers, ready for him, open. He withdrew his hand, took a step closer, held the knees wide apart… and entered. He slid deep all at once where he was welcomed and held tight. He moved, the muscles of his thighs and back and ass working, flexing in rhythm. His knees bent, he leaned forward, hips snapping. He was falling, breaking, aching… caught and completed. Inside Starsky, he realized, one with him, a part of him for just this instant, for forever. Alive… and loved.

He was shaking, shivering. Arms wrapped around Starsky at waist and shoulders, he kissed the beloved face with needful lips that were not too tired to show his gratitude.

“Starsky… lover…” He gulped in air, unable to say what he felt.

“Hey.” He was shushed by gentle hands that stilled the movement of his head, stroked back the hair that blinded his eyes.

“I love you.” The words came tumbling out in urgency. “David, I love you. No matter what. Know that I love you.”

“I do. And I love you.” There was a smile on Starsky’s lips. It pressed against his cheek and Hutch sighed, at last relaxing. “I always knew, but you gave a pretty good demonstration just now.”

 

 

Laughter bubbled up from inside him and Hutch felt himself slip outside the encircling flesh of Starsky’s body. Grinning, he got one knee up on the bed and both arms under the sated form, using what remained of his strength to lever them both farther up on the mattress. He collapsed across the body that shook with giggles, feeling the sticky seal that bonded them.

The jangling of the phone cut into the night.

“Shhh.” Starsky hushed loudly and they both held their breath, but the phone didn’t ring again. “Whew. Two minutes sooner…”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Hutch whispered back, his head dropping heavily against Starsky’s shoulder.

“Hey. I need a shower again.”

“Quit complaining. Stay right where you are. We’ll shower together in the morning.”

“So this does mean I’m moving back in.” The sleepy voice was smug.

“As if you didn’t know.” Hutch kissed his lips one more time and reached without looking for the corner of the sheet to pull it over them. “Now shut up and sleep with me.”

Starsky enjoyed having the last word. He sounded happy as he murmured, “Every night, lover.”

***

Jason sat on the couch in the living room, wide-awake with the troubled thoughts that had prevented sleep since he had crawled into his bed. He had lain there listening to footsteps in the hall, whispering voices, muted laughter, and only one bedroom door closing. Then the shower had come on in his father’s bathroom. Jason had gotten up, heading downstairs to sit in the darkened living room.

He was confused by the knowledge that his father loved a man. It was hard to equate Starsky and Hutch with the image he had of homosexuals. Guys at school made fun of teachers and students they thought were gay. His grandfather said the queers wished they were women instead of men. To Jason, however, Starsky and his father were two of the strongest, nicest men he had ever known. His grandparents had hated his mother for the moral mistake she had made; who were they to judge homosexuals?

He thought back over the nearly two weeks he had lived in his father and Starsky’s house, wondering if he should have suspected. They touched each other a lot, but in ways that just looked friendly and caring. Yet, now that he thought about it, there had been a subtle undercurrent between them, a tension he had not bothered to define. Sometimes their eyes would meet, as if they were speaking without words, as if there was some kind of secret between them.

‘Best friends’ Jason had called them. ‘Partners’ was the word Starsky used. Yet now they had told him that it was more. They were… lovers.

Though Jason tried to be fair, it was hard thinking of two men he had liked and respected so much as being homosexuals. Jason couldn’t help himself; knowing made him feel differently about both of them.

They were awake up there in the bedroom. He could sense it. Jason didn’t try to imagine them together that way. That would be like invading their privacy. The specifics weren’t really any of his business anyway.

This neighborhood was so quiet at night. Jason could hear subtle sounds above him, so much more noticeable in the still night. He tried to shut them out, didn’t want to think about what could be bedsprings creaking or if it was a muffled groan that startled him with its suddenness.

He jumped when the phone rang, reaching to snatch it up from the endtable without even thinking about who could be calling at this time of night. He only wanted to silence its ringing.

“Hello?” he whispered.

“J-Jason?” The girl’s voice was shaking.

“Strawberry — is that you? What’s wrong?”

“Jason, please, I need you.” ^

“What? Tell me — ”

There was a painfully long pause while Jason worried that she would hang up. Finally, even more quietly, she whispered. “They know. The man and woman — they know I saw them at Andre’s. I’m scared.”

“What can I do to help? Should I tell someone?” Jason’s eyes flew upward, not knowing if he could knock at his father’s door.

“I’m at the Darby Hotel,” the urgent whisper continued. “Room 312. Please, come and stay with me. I’m hiding here all alone.”

“I…” He hesitated, then decided. “I’ll be there.”

An hour later, Jason climbed down off the intercity bus, buttoning his jacket against the chilly night air. He looked right and left, but few people were to be seen walking up and down Hollywood Boulevard. He saw the Darby Hotel down the block and headed for it. ‘

Strawberry had sounded so scared when she called. Jason had thought he might never see her again, after she got upset about what he had said when Hutch came to pick him up that last time they were together. He was glad she had called. He wanted to be a friend to her. It was good to be needed.

Jason shivered with cold and dread. The man and woman were bad news, they stole kids and used them and they were probably killers. He didn’t know how he could help Strawberry. She was afraid of cops. Maybe he could call his father; he and Starsky might come down in the car and pick him and Strawberry up, take them home where they would be safe. He checked his watch. It was half past three in the morning. Nobody was out on the street but kids and the people who bought them. In a doorway, he could see a boy, younger and smaller than himself. He couldn’t imagine doing what men paid that boy to do with them. Couldn’t imagine Starsky and his father…

Hutch had said the difference was love. Yet even that was hard for Jason to comprehend. The only love with which he had experience had been the love of his mother. That love had been taken from him by a cruel disease. Jason was alone now, with only memories of love, and the words his mother had used to explain the world to him. Though she had never discussed the issue of homosexuality with him, his mother would have been open-minded, he thought, like she was about everything. She had taught him to always be fair to everyone, even if they were different from him.

There was so much she had never had time to say. That was the worst, not having her around to ask the hard questions she had always managed to answer with wisdom and patience and humor. Yet Jason, with the knowledge gained in his brief sojourn on the streets of L.A., felt that maybe this place was one thing his mother would have never understood. It didn’t make him any less lonely for her, though. But it did mean he was the only one who could interpret the world for himself now. Jason had never felt more on his own.

He couldn’t think about all that now. He had to get to the Darby, where Strawberry was waiting. He hurried toward the hotel, knowing his friend needed him. He wasn’t sure he could help her, but he had to try.

XIII.

Starsky woke slowly, to the pleasant sensations of sunlight on his eyes and a warm body next to him. Hutch’s legs were heavy and his bristly cheek was pressed against Starsky’s side.

He lifted the arm resting across his chest and rolled gently away from the sleeping form of his bedmate. It was so good to wake up together again.

Only they weren’t together, not awake, anyway. Starsky slid light fingers over the sleeping features, skimmed a line around the parted lips. Hutch mumbled and seemed to chew a little in his sleep. Starsky resolved to take stronger measures. He slid over to reach Hutch’s mouth with his own and greeted the sleeper with the day’s first kiss.

Hutch came alive at once, responding all over to Starsky’s presence. The silky body arching against his own made Starsky want to stay right where he was for another few hours, but he decided a little teasing might be fun.

“Hey.” No answer. “Hey!” He nudged Hutch away from the intricate pattern his tongue was drawing on Starsky’s shoulder. “What about that shower?”

Hutch surprised him. “Okay.” He said it brightly, a fiendish gleam coming into his eyes. He was out of bed and dragging Starsky with him before his startled lover could protest.

The shower came on hot and Hutch adjusted the spray to a gently pulsing massage. He steered Starsky under it and stepped in facing him. His arms wrapped around Starsky’s already drenched back and his tongue resumed its tracing, this time licking droplets off the shoulder blade under his lips.

Starsky retained enough presence of mind to reach for the soap. Still held tight against Hutch, he applied a silky mass of lather down the long back, taking his time, finally tickling down low until Hutch giggled and stepped away. Starsky smiled and ran the soap over the smooth expanse of chest and belly, swirling his hand to create more bubbles. Then he pulled Hutch to him, rubbing himself against the slick body until the suds covered him, too. Hutch was all smoothness everywhere except for the small hardness of erect nipples and the hardness lower down of his swelling cock.

Starsky reached for that with both hands, fondling, his soapy fingers wriggling beneath producing anxious sighs. He quivered as Hutch’s large hands reached in turn for him. They stood close under the warm rain of the shower spray, legs locked in matching wide-spread stances, hips rocking, hands pulling, mouths pressed tight to silence their twinned gasps.

They made it happen for each other, easy as the break of morning on the horizon, and stood, clasping loosely as the shower rinsed off soap and semen. They kissed wetly and found each other grinning.

“I’d better get out of here or I’ll never get to work.” Hutch sighed apologetically.

Starsky followed him out of the shower and caught the towel Hutch tossed him. The bathroom was crowded in a familiar way and they bumped into each other as each tried bending and reaching to dry off.

Chuckling, Starsky headed back to the bedroom first, hunting through the bureau drawers for clean clothes. Hutch slid open the closet door to select a fresh shirt.

“I wonder if Jason’s up yet,” Starsky said softly.

“Hope so. Even though he knows now, it’s going to feel a little odd walking out of here with you if he’s coming out of his door at the same time.”

“Really.” He grinned. Everything felt so good this morning, Starsky figured he could handle that. “Hey, we should move him into the other bedroom. He’d have more space.”

“Mmm.” Hutch’s answer was non-committal. Starsky preferred not to think that might have something to do with his comments yesterday about going along with Raines’ suggestions about camouflage.

Finished dressing, he headed for the door. “I’ll start the coffee.”

“Wait up.” Hutch called and Starsky came back to him. “Here.” The smiling lips touched his in a brief kiss. Starsky winked and went on his way.

Jason’s door was standing open. The kid was probably already downstairs, Starsky reasoned. He descended the staircase and crossed through to the kitchen. He filled the top of the Mr. Coffee with cold water, spooned in enough Maxwell House for four cups and switched the appliance on.

Moving back through the house, Starsky wondered where Jason could be. It was only eight o’clock and the boy didn’t usually get up quite that early. Starsky checked the dining room, but the French doors were closed. He walked back to the living room and headed upstairs again.

From the hallway, he glanced around the open door of the spare room. What he saw made him hurry back to Hutch.

His partner was just coming out of the room, still looping his necktie. He stopped and Starsky realized his face showed all his distress. “I think Jason’s gone,” he reported quickly. “His bed hasn’t been slept in.”

“Oh, my God.” Hutch strode past him to look for himself. “Damn. I thought he understood.”

“Hutch, listen…”

“Listen to what? What possible reason could he have for taking off other than what we told him last night?” A fist pounded against Hutch’s hip in frustration. “Dammit. God, we must have scared him. All he knows about men sleeping together is what he’s seen on the street. Teenage boys giving head for ten dollars, letting men fuck them for twenty. Christ, what if he decided to go out there and find out what it’s all about?”

“Stop it, Hutch!” Don’t drive yourself crazy like that. Just calm down and call your office so we can get started looking for him.”

Hutch scratched a hand through his hair, messing up the newly combed strands. “I’ll call the office. Again.” He sighed. “Looks like I’m spending as many days working as you do. Maybe if I get fired you can get me a job down at the studio.”

“Right. You can move scenery or something.” Starsky went back downstairs to look outside. At least the grumbling was of the familiar Hutchinson variety, letting him know that somehow his partner was hanging on.

***

Twenty minutes later found them in the Torino heading downtown. Starsky had checked with the Smith kids next door and had confirmed that Billy and Tina had not seen Jason at all that morning. When he came back to the house, he found that Hutch had changed clothes. The black leather jacket, its collar turned up and catching at the long, fine hair, seemed to suit the tension in his movements and the dark moodiness of his face.

Now, as he cornered the Torino smoothly, Starsky smiled at his companion. “Look at us. They way we’re dressed you’d think we were still on the force.” He indicated his own bomber jacket.

Hutch glanced over, his answering smile forced. “Yeah, but a couple of items are missing.” He patted the spot under his left arm.

“Can’t say I mind,” Starsky assured him.

Hutch’s eyes scanned the street. “It’s pretty early yet. We may have a hard time finding any of the kids down here.”

“Where would they go?” Starsky asked dryly.

“You have a point there.” There was a pause. “Listen, I remember Jason talked about him and his friend Strawberry meeting in that little park off Main.”

“Okay.” Starsky turned the Torino in that direction.

They slid into a just-vacated parking space and climbed out of the car. Hutch headed toward the small group of park benches under scraggly trees. Starsky watched him move, noting the leashed power in his stride, the tense set of his shoulders only he could see. Hutch had not moved that way since their days on the force. It was obvious how much he cared about his missing son. Starsky was worried about Jason, too. The thought of him being so shaken by the idea that the men he lived with were lovers was upsetting. He wanted the respect and friendship of Hutch’s son.

His partner had taken a look around the park and was heading back to Starsky. “I don’t see either Jason or Strawberry.” He checked his watch. “It’s only a little after nine.”

Starsky’s eyes scanned the street. “I see a couple of coffee shops.”

He nodded toward them.

“Okay.”

They entered the first one they came to, but the customers looked like adults who worked in the neighborhood. Questioning the clerk yielded no information.

Hutch shouldered through the glass door of the establishment, muttering as he went. Starsky caught most of it, something about not even having a photograph of Jason to show around.

They checked several more restaurants with no luck and as other businesses began to open, checked the drug stores and music shops, too. Finishing up at the end of the street where Eddie’s dry cleaning store was, the two men exchanged a look.

“It’s possible,” Starsky said. The numbers man had been out on bail for a couple of weeks now. Hutch nodded and followed Starsky inside.

“Well, Eddie.” Starsky leaned on the counter as the proprietor turned. “It’s been a while.”

A slow smile showed Eddie still recognized Starsky and Hutch. “How’ve you guys been?” he asked with false friendliness. “I didn’t know you worked this neighborhood.”

“We get around,” Starsky told him. “We were just wondering — have you seen that kid you had carrying your bag for you when you got busted?”

“Kid? You mean that… Jason, I think his name was?”

“Right. Jason’s the name.” Hutch’s voice was cold.

“Nah. Haven’t seen him since the paddy wagon.” Starsky watched the man’s eyes. They revealed nothing.

“You better be sure about that.” Hutch stepped behind the counter. “If I find out you’ve seen him, or done something to hurt him, you’ll face worse than numbers charges.”

“I swear to ya, Hutch. I ain’t seen him.” Eddie glanced fearfully to Starsky.

“Don’t lie to my partner, Eddie,” he advised. “Hutch is in a mean mood this morning.”

“No. The kid ain’t been around. I thought he was locked up.”

Starsky turned to Hutch with a look. It seemed Eddie really hadn’t seen Jason.

“We’ll be back, Eddie,” Hutch told him with contempt in his voice.

Back on the street, Hutch seemed to cave in a little. Starsky put a hand on his arm.

Hutch straightened. “I’m worried about him. What if he didn’t come down here at all? He could have decided to leave town, head for some other city or even back to Minnesota. A kid like that’s going to be hard to find. All the runaways out there…”

“Come on, Hutch. Take it easy. We’ll find him. You forget, we used to be pretty good at hunting for people, even when they didn’t want to be found.”

“Someone could have grabbed him, Starsk. All kinds of things happen to kids these days.”

The crystal eyes were clouded with concern. Starsky didn’t know how to soothe him; he was just as fearful for Jason’s safety. “We don’t know that has happened. Let’s keep looking. He must have come down here, tried to find his friend. Strawberry’s the only one he talked about. She was real special to him — I’m sure he wouldn’t leave town without contacting her.”

“You could be right, I guess.” Hutch sounded less than convinced.

“Course I am. C’mon, partner. Let’s head over to Hollywood Boulevard. She might be walking the street over there.”

***

Two hours later, Starsky and Hutch had questioned more than a dozen street kids, but none admitted knowing a girl named Strawberry. It was frustrating, not having any leads at all.

They decided to check the hotels. The closest one was called the Darby. The man behind the desk was half asleep with Walkman headphones on. Starsky reached out and turned the volume to high.

The clerk jumped, one hand yanking off the headphones. “Hey… what the hell?”

“I don’t like his attitude, do you, Starsky?” Hutch took the Walkman unit out of the man’s thin hands. “What do you want to bet this little toy is hot?”

“Hey, I paid for that.” The skinny guy reached to retrieve his tape player.

“Yeah? Retail, too, I just bet,” Starsky said pleasantly. “Well, maybe you can convince us by giving us a little information.”

“You cops?” The bloodshot brown eyes darted from one man to the other.

The blond took his cue. “You ever heard of Starsky and Hutch?”

A gulp made the prominent Adam’s apple jump in the skinny neck. He looked less cocky as he asked, “What can I do for you?”

Starsky smiled. “I do appreciate it when a citizen is helpful, don’t you, Hutch? Listen, friend, we’re looking for a young teenage prostitute. She goes by the name of Strawberry.”

Gnarled hands spread wide. “Hey, nothin’ like that goes down here, man.”

“I’ll bet.” Hutch grasped a reedy arm and pushed up the sleeve of the dirty turtleneck. A ladder of needle tracks showed in the pale skin at the elbow’s bend. He felt a double dose of revulsion, one for the man he was questioning, another for the inescapable memory of such marks on his own skin. “You get a cut from their take — is that how you pay for your habit? We should run him in, Starsk. I think a couple of nights down in de-tox will straighten him out, don’t you?”

“Okay. Okay. Yeah, some of the kids use my rooms from time to time.”

“We’re looking for Strawberry,” Starsky repeated in a hard voice. “She’s about sixteen and has reddish blonde hair.”

“Oh, that one. Yeah, she was here last night.”

“Which room?” Hutch’s hand tightened on the junkie’s arm.

“Three twelve. But she’s gone.”

“Where do we find her?”

An indifferent shrug. “Ya got me. She checks in here every couple of nights. Her man, Andre, keeps his ladies moving around. More interesting for the customers, I guess.”

“You sure she’s gone?” Hutch persisted.

“Yeah. The room was empty at six when I came in. You wanna go check?” The now-cooperative hype pushed a key toward Starsky.

“Couldn’t hurt.” Starsky headed for the stairs.

Hutch stayed with the clerk. “Besides the girl, we’re also looking for a young boy, also sixteen. He’s a friend of Strawberry’s. Kind of tall, blond hair.”

“Like yours?” A sly grin revealed smoke-yellowed teeth.

“Yeah. Like mine.” Hutch’s throat was dry.

“Nope. Haven’t seen a kid like that before. Course, I didn’t work last night.”

“Hutch!” Starsky was descending the stairs at a gallop. “I found something.” He held out a button. Hutch recognized it instantly as one from the jacket he had bought for Jason the first day he had come home with them. “Where’d you find it?”

“Under the desk in the room. Looks like he was here.”

Hutch took the object from Starsky’s palm. “This button shouldn’t have been loose. It was a brand new jacket.” He turned the button over. A knot of thread and a bit of fabric were attached underneath. “This was torn off, Starsky.” An undercurrent of fear added itself to his concern for Jason. Both former detectives turned back to the junkie behind the desk.

“What went on here last night?” Hutch spoke first, his fists taking a grip on the man’s sweater front.

“We can run you in as an accessory,” Starsky threatened.

“I — I don’t know! The night man told me there was a scuffle upstairs at around four in the morning. That’s all I know. Honest.”

“Where do we find the night clerk?” Starsky demanded.

“He lives on Pico. Name’s John Warren.”

“And how about Strawberry’s pimp?” Hutch began pulling the hype toward him by the sweater, dragging him over the desk.

“Andre. His name is Andre. Lives at the Beach View. But John said he wasn’t here last night at all.”

“We’ll determine that.” Hutch let go of the junkie. The little man dropped heavily to his feet.

Outside the Darby, Hutch turned to his partner. “Let’s go talk to that pimp.”

“The night clerk can probably tell us more.”

“Listen, Starsk, something happened to those kids last night. They haven’t been seen on the street and there was a scuffle here at four a.m. You can bet Andre is going to have some idea of where his girl is.”

“Okay, partner.” Starsky gave him a grim smile. “I guess the night guy isn’t going anywhere. After working all night, he’s probably sleeping.”

“Like I said… ”

“The Beach View’s over off the Santa Monica, isn’t it?” Starsky’s eyes scanned the street.

“Hey, you remember this stuff pretty well.” To Hutch, it was about as pleasant as remembering a hangover.

“Starsky and Hutch ride again?”

The glint in his partner’s eyes was almost enough to make Hutch feel nostalgic. There had been some good times in the old days on the streets. He shook his head, though. “We’re playing for keeps this time.”

Starsky’s arm draped casually around his neck. “We always did, buddy.”

“You know what I mean.”

His shoulder was rubbed gently as they continued down the street. “I do. It’s a little too close to home, isn’t it?”

Hutch turned to look directly into Starsky’s eyes. “Yeah. But it was always too close to home, too.”

Together, they headed for the Torino.

***

“Yeah, here we are back in business again,” Starsky found himself repeating. “I can’t believe it. Guess it’s like riding a bicycle. We haven’t forgotten all the old moves.” His heart seemed to constrict for a moment. The feeling of being Hutch’s working partner again swept through him like fine wine. The mellow taste of it was so rich, he couldn’t help wishing for more. He had never thought it would feel like this. He had thought he had accepted that they would never work the streets together.

Yet the old pattern had come back to them so effortlessly it almost made him wish he could go back to the way they had been. In retrospect, those days seemed so uncomplicated. They weren’t, of course, but compared to the present, they did seem easier. Now they had a whole new set of problems, with Jason in the picture. Wishing they could come to terms with that issue, Starsky attempted to cautiously broach the subject, partly to see if they could come to some decision about Raines’ opinion on the custody suit as well as to try to take Hutch’s mind off the fear of what might have happened to his son.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I would’ve thought we were getting so used to being roommates that we wouldn’t know how to be partners anymore.”

Hutch didn’t take the offered bait. “We’ll always be partners… and roommates.”

“We haven’t been roommates for a couple of weeks.” Hutch didn’t react. “But I’m glad we’re back in the same bedroom again.”

Finally, Hutch turned to him with a quizzical look. “Just what are you trying to say?”

“Nothing.” Starsky returned his attention to the street. Maybe it was a bad idea, trying to get into the subject under the present circumstances.

“You could say that it’s good to be able to act like partners — just partners — when we have to and not something closer than… roommates.” There was the unmistakable edge of challenge in Hutch’s voice.

Starsky found a parking place and didn’t answer until he cut the wheel to the left and slid into the slot. Then he turned to Hutch. “I knew we should have talked last night.”

Hutch’s gaze was directed downward. “You didn’t seem to mind that we didn’t.”

“I thought we were back on the same wavelength.”

Hutch sighed. “So did I.” He shifted so that he could look at Starsky. “I haven’t said Ed Raines is right. I only said that we should consider…”

“Have you sorted out your feelings about Jason yet?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

There was a fleeting spark of torment in the light blue eyes, as if Hutch were thinking, how could you ask me that, now? “Let’s go talk to that pimp.”

“Hutch…” Starsky followed him out of the car and across the street. He wanted to apologize, but he knew Hutch wouldn’t hear him if he did. Maybe there would be time later… when they found Jason.

 

It didn’t take long to locate the apartment upstairs at the Beach View where Andre lived. He had a modest couple of rooms on the fifth floor. Starsky glanced around, mentally naming the decor ‘early tacky,’ a little too much fur, a little too much red velvet. The door had been opened by a young woman of about twenty-five who told them that Andre wasn’t in.

Starsky sauntered into the center of the room, acting like he owned the place. Hutch took a seat on the couch, propping one foot up on the huge slab of glass that served as a coffee table. “We’ll wait,” he said with just the right amount of casual boredom.

“Who are you anyway?” the girl demanded. “I… uh… know most of Andre’s business associates.”

“Oh, we have a few things in common.” Starsky turned on a charming smile and a look that challenged her to make them leave.

“Excuse me a minute,” she said finally and departed the room by way of a side door.

It wasn’t too long before Andre appeared through that same door. Wearing a full-length maroon dressing gown, he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Yet his salon-styled curls were freshly combed. The only thing that marred his image as a man of leisure was the Band-Aid above his right eye and the dark, ugly bruise on the smooth olive cheek.

Starsky shot a look at Hutch and saw that he had not missed the signs of Andre having been in a fight, either.

“Hey, who are you guys? Bettina said you wanted to see me about some business.”

Hutch got up from the couch. “That’s right, Andre. We’re looking for a couple of kids you know.”

“This ain’t no day care center, man.” Cold brown eyes looked Hutch over as Andre chuckled at his joke.

“Listen. I don’t have time to fool around,” Hutch said impatiently. “You have a girl working for you named Strawberry. We want to know where she is.”

“Yeah. Strawberry’s one of my girls. I haven’t seen her today.” Andre’s answer was laconic.

“But you saw her last night,” Hutch persisted. “Say, about four a.m.?” Andre’s glance flicked away from Hutch’s penetrating stare. He didn’t answer right away. Hutch took a step toward him and Starsky moved in on the other side of the pimp.

“Who sent you guys?” he asked. “George and Madeline?”

“No, Andre.” Starsky became friendly, moving closer into Andre’s space. “We’re on our own. We’re looking for Strawberry. Nobody’s seen her since four when she was in her room at the Darby.”

Andre slouched. “She worked the Darby last night.”

“Good. Now tell us something we don’t already know.” Starsky smiled.

“Just what do you want with her?” Andre kept a wary eye on Hutch.

“We want to ask her about a mutual acquaintance.” The blond’s reply was neutral.

Andre relaxed. “Well, I can’t help you there. To tell the truth, Strawberry won’t be working for me anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? Why not?” Starsky’s smile was in counterpoint to his flinty tone.

Andre’s face was unreadable. “Her contract was taken over… if you know what I mean.”

“Not exactly,” Starsky told him. “You say she’s working for someone else now? George and Madeline, maybe?”

“Yeah.” Andre sounded none too pleased with the situation.

Hutch picked up on the reaction. “Didn’t you want them to have her, Andre? Why not?”

“I… liked the kid. She was good, brought in the bucks, you know. It’s gonna cost me, not having her.” There was a hollow ring to the statement.

“Why didn’t you want George and Madeline to have Strawberry?”

The pimp looked at Starsky. “What’s your scene, man? Good clean fun, you come to me. For a little S and M, that’s George and Madeline’s turf. With a twist.”

Starsky felt a wave of disgust at the mention of what George and Madeline were into. “Young kids, huh? Runaways their specialty?”

“Right.” Andre looked back and forth between Starsky and Hutch.

“You got something more to say?” Hutch advanced another step.

“Hey,” Andre hedged. “You guys cops or what?”

“Not exactly,” Starsky told him. “We just want to help out a couple of kids who are personal friends of ours. If you do ‘like’ Strawberry and believe she’s in some kind of danger, you should tell us.”

“Hey, I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Starsky could feel Hutch’s tension, even before he spoke. “What about a friend of hers, a boy named Jason?”

“Jason.” Andre nodded, lingering over the name. “Yeah. I’ve seen him around. He was new in town. Didn’t take me up on my offer of employment.” Straight white teeth grinned suddenly. “I knew it would only be a matter of time. Someday, he’d be hungry enough — ”

Hutch’s reaction was explosive. Andre found himself pinned against the wall by two large, very strong hands. Blue eyes flashed inches from his face.

“Do they have him?”

“Hey man, take it easy. What’s it to you?”

A crashing blow landed beside Andre’s head. The plaster cracked, but Hutch ignored his bruised fist.

“That boy’s my son!”

“Y-your son? Hey I had nothing to do with him. That’s the truth, man.”

“I want to know where they are! I’m going to find them and you better hope he’s all right when I do.” The threatening voice was menace incarnate.

Starsky moved in, his head inches from Hutch’s. He kept his tone even. “I said we weren’t exactly cops, Andre. But we have enough friends on the force to put you out of business for good. Now I suggest you tell us everything.”

Hutch’s grip on Andre did not slacken. When the pimp started talking, his voice shook.

“Strawberry… she saw George and Madeline up here one night, heard them telling me they were cutting in on my action. They wanted kids, but word on the street was keeping the runaways from going with them. If I sent my own girls out, though, they’d go. They… they trusted me, you know?”

It’s always good to know you can have faith in your pimp,” Starsky said with disgust.

“They found out Strawberry had seen them! I tried to make them believe she was too scared to tell the police or anybody. But they got ugly — wanted her just ’cause she knew. Told me that if I wanted to live I had to give her to them. I told them she was at the Darby.” The bruises on his face gave silent testimony to the fact that they must have had to force the information on Strawberry’s whereabouts out of Andre.

“What about Jason?” Hutch grated.

The flow of words from the pimp’s mouth stopped. His nervous gaze moved from the maniacal man holding him to his partner. At last, Andre said, “Strawberry told me she had talked to a friend about being able to identify George and Madeline. It musta been him.”

“He was in that room at the Darby with her last night.” Hutch’s voice dropped to a deadly rumble.

“Then the both of them are probably at George’s place.”

Hutch was shaking, a fine trembling that Starsky knew was the harbinger of anger unleashing. Starsky put his hands on his shoulders, trying to help him get a grip on his emotions. He spoke to Andre.

“If you think your charming Madeline and George were rough on you last night, you wouldn’t want my friend here to cut loose. Now give us what we need.”

“T-tell him to let go of me, first.” The dark eyes flicked back to Hutch’s face.

Starsky patted the shoulder under his hand. “Hutch.”

Gradually, Hutch let up on Andre. He dropped his hands, but didn’t step back from his close position. Against the wall, the pimp relaxed only slightly.

“They’ve got a place about thirty miles outside of town. Out on a deserted road. That’s where they take the kids.” He gave some sketchy information regarding the location of the house. Starsky figured it was enough to help them start looking.

Having learned all they could from Andre, Starsky and Hutch turned to go. Hutch left the pimp with a final warning to stay available.

Starsky unlocked the car while keeping his eyes on Hutch. The man hadn’t said a word since coming out of the pimp’s room. When Starsky climbed in and leaned across the car to unlock the passenger side door, Hutch got in quickly, his movements jerky with anger and distress.

“We’ll find him, Hutch.”

“Sure.” The low voice was tight. The blue eyes that looked over were bright with determination, but Starsky could see the pain in them, too.

“Let’s go home… and get our guns.”

***

They drove in silence for as long as Starsky could stand it. He kept thinking of things to say, but rejected each one as being so obvious as to be unnecessary or the kind of thing that would upset Hutch even more than he already was. The game had changed suddenly. When they were looking for a boy they thought had run away, it had been easy to joke about falling into old working habits. Now, knowing that Jason was being held by ruthless criminals, things had taken a grim turn.

Nearing the house, Starsky finally offered one gentle suggestion. “You think we ought to call Dobey? He might be able to get us a make on those George and Madeline characters.”

He glanced over at Hutch who was riding along lost in thought, elbow propped at the window, fingers rubbing absently along his creased brow.

“Hutch?”

“Not Dobey, Starsk. You know what he’d say. By the time he ran a computer check and got in touch with the county boys anything could be happening. I can’t take that risk with Jason’s life.”

Starsky didn’t have an answer for that. In their career, they’d gone in with only each other for back up enough times that they did not consider calling in help now.

Hutch turned half way toward Starsky in the seat. “Huggy.” He said it as if it explained volumes.

“What about Huggy?”

“I didn’t remember until now. I stopped in at The Pits day before yesterday — after I left Raines’ office. I told him about Jason and while we were talking, a couple came in. Huggy had heard some talk on the street that they were into kids and God knows what.”

“You mean you think it was them?”

He nodded. “And I got a good look at them.”

Starsky pulled into their driveway. “Guess we should give him a call.” Hutch spent a few minutes on the phone with Huggy. Starsky listened with his head pressed against Hutch’s so Huggy’s answers could reach both of their ears.

George DeBonner and Madeline Malloy had come in from San Francisco a couple of months ago. They ran a freaky S and M club somewhere out in the Valley and word had it that they were exporting kids to Mexico, selling runaways for sex. Huggy didn’t have a location, but he came up with the names of three or four people who might give them the information.

The last thing he told them was even more chilling than the kind of business the couple was in. Before San Francisco, they had been operating back east and were wanted for the killing of a police officer, rumor had it, shot while they were trying to prevent the rescue of some of their kidnapped kids.

Hutch hadn’t said a word then. Starsky took the phone from him, thanked Huggy and hung up. His partner disappeared upstairs and Starsky knew he was getting his gun out of its place on the top shelf of the bedroom closet.

Starsky stayed where he was, thoughts racing as fast as his heartbeat. Hutch wanted them to go in there like the Dynamic Duo, get the bad guys and rescue the kids. But the days of youth and luck were long past. Tension knotted a tight band around his ribs. Starsky pressed a hand to his abdomen, painfully aware of his own limitations. Fifteen months ago, his days as a street cop had ended.

He had accepted his changed reality; happy to just be alive, he had willingly traded work on the streets for a new life with Hutch. No matter how easily they had fallen into routine this morning, questioning those people earlier, it was not the same as the dangerous situation they were likely to face taking on DeBonner and Malloy.

Starsky shivered, grasping the banister, staring up toward the top of the stairs as if he could let Hutch know his thoughts. Yet he really did not want Hutch to know what he was thinking right now, he decided. I can’t let you risk your life, babe, with me — the way I am now — as your only back up. God forgive me, I can’t do it.

 

 

Quickly, before Hutch could get back downstairs, Starsky snatched up the phone and punched out a number he hadn’t dialed in over a year. A familiar, rumbling voice answered. “Dobey.”

“Captain — it’s Starsky.”

“Starsky!” Well, good to hear from you — ”

“Captain, listen…”

“I can barely hear you. Why are you whispering? Dave — what’s wrong?”

“There’s no time to tell you everything, Cap, but Hutch and I are involved in something bad. There are a couple of kids, runaways, that we think are being shipped to Mexico. The names we got are George DeBonner and Madeline Malloy.”

“Starsky, wait — ”

“Call Huggy. He’ll fill you in. We got some names. We’re lookin’ for a place, a sex club, out in the Valley.”

“You’re not officers of the law anymore.”

“I know. It’s personal, Cap. Anyway, I think we’ll need some help. I can’t stop Hutch, gotta go with him.”

“I’ll get on it.”

Dobey had evidently picked up something from Starsky’s frantic explanation. He had always understood when it came to the bond between partners. He did not try to talk Starsky out of going into the dangerous situation. And Starsky knew Dobey would do what he could to get there first, or at least to back them up.

It was all Starsky had time to tell him. “Gotta go,” he hissed into the phone as he heard Hutch’s footsteps along the upstairs hall.

“Be careful. Hutch, too,” Dobey told him sternly before the line went dead.

***

Hutch finished checking out his Magnum and slipped into the shoulder holster. Its leather creaked as it settled into place against his body, the familiar constraining straps fitted to him with their old unyielding comfort. He put the gun on, its weight seeming foreign for a moment. A little adjustment and he felt time slip back on him. He was a cop again, in spirit if not name, and all the bitterness of all the bad cases came rushing back. They had won some, he and Starsky, but the ones they had lost… Don’t let us lose this time, he thought fervently, let the old magic Starsky and I used to have work — just one more time.

He stepped into the hall and the past fell away from him. He was in the present again, worried about Jason and doing the only thing he knew how to rescue him. Drawn by a new intensity of emotion, he walked into the room the boy had occupied.

It was still mid-way through its conversion from unused den to boy’s domain. The couch had been stored in the basement, replaced by a twin bed. The closet was overflowing with clothes, scattered sports equipment, old books, new comics and cardboard cartons stacked precariously in the corner. On a shelf over the bed stood Jason’s little league trophy, right next to an old transistor radio of Hutch’s. The teenager had found it in the closet and now he listened to the current rock hits every night. Hutch smiled, reaching toward the shelf, but his hand fell uselessly to his side. Seeing the kid’s trophy next to his own radio conjured a strange feeling. The two items shared shelf space more easily than their owners shared living space. Hutch’s worry zoomed to a new level of intensity. He wanted the chance to share more with his son than a few unused appliances. Wanted to provide more for him than just a small spare room.

Hutch sat heavily on the bed. His hand rubbed across the rough surface of the cord spread, fingers tightening on the pillow. As his hand slid across it, an odd solidity was encountered. A flat oblong was hidden on top of the pillow and covered by the bedspread.

Hutch pulled it out — Jason’s sketch book. He thumbed through the pages, eyes traveling over the elementary drawings, knowing they were simple and childish, but finding in them the unmistakable hint of undeveloped talent. A line here, a way of balancing composition there; the boy would benefit from lessons. Hutch sighed, oddly proud to see that his son liked to draw. Someday, he would have to show him the paintings he had done himself years ago and now stored in the basement. Baseball, art, it seemed Hutch had indeed given something of himself to the child he had fathered. There was no escaping the bond they shared. It was real, even though for sixteen years Hutch had been ignorant of its existence.

Toward the back of the book were sketches done more recently. The quality improved, became more mature, and Hutch found one, a drawing that resembled Adrienne, particularly moving. She was smiling and her figure was surrounded by clouds. Hutch turned the pages, smiling at drawings of a rock band in strange hats that Jason liked to listen to. He couldn’t remember the group’s name, and his smile faded at the thought that he might not be able to ask Jason what it was… Near the very back of the sketch book, one final drawing caught his eyes. Two male figures, both blond, stood side by side. The picture was not finished.

Hutch sat looking at it until the book was taken, very gently, out of his hands. Starsky stood in front of him, wearing his holster and gun.

“We’ll find him, Hutch.”

He nodded, losing himself in the promise blazing in the steady, vibrantly blue eyes. “Let’s go.”

***

Jason leaned back in the small, cramped space of the dark closet, trying to ease his uncomfortable position. It was hard; his hands were tied behind him with tight leather straps. He had awakened here, he didn’t know how many hours ago, after the man and woman Strawberry had been so afraid of had broken into the room at the Darby where they had been hiding.

He had tried to talk Strawberry into coming home with him, but she wouldn’t go. She wouldn’t listen to anything he suggested. Earlier that day, Andre had spoken to her about the couple and she got scared that they knew she could recognize them. Shortly after Jason arrived, they had come bursting into the cheap hotel room, telling the frightened girl that Andre had sold her to them. Strawberry and Jason had both tried to put up a fight, but the adults had overpowered them. A blow on the head had knocked Jason out.

When he came to, he was in the closet, all alone. At first, he couldn’t hear much, but later there were voices. A woman yelling, and some crying that sounded very much like Strawberry. Scared for her, he had tried to kick his way out of the closet, but a man had opened the door, hit him several times in the stomach, tied his feet and slammed the door closed.

Hurt and terrified, Jason had lay still, trying to choke back tears. He was alone with no one to help him, no one to care what happened to him… except his father and Starsky.

Jason had tried to pull himself together. He had to be ready for a chance to run, if one ever came. Starsky and Hutch must be looking for him by now. He pinned desperate hopes on that one thought. They used to be detectives; they could surely find a clue that would help them find him.

They were probably worried. Jason tried to imagine them finding his room empty in the morning. It would look like he had run away. The thought chilled him. If they didn’t try to look downtown for him… no, they would think of searching for Strawberry. Jason trembled, realizing that it had been really stupid not to have left a note telling them that he had gone to Strawberry’s aid.

Not knowing that was what he had done, his father would think that telling Jason about his love for Starsky had upset him so much that he had run away. Jason worried about Hutch thinking that. He wouldn’t hurt his father for anything.

At that realization, Jason was brought up short. It was true. He loved Hutch and he didn’t want to do anything that would hurt him. And Starsky had always been a friend to Jason… a good friend and thinking Jason was scared of him or disgusted would make him feel pretty bad.

There were more sounds as the hours dragged by. Low voices, heavy footsteps. When people passed by in the hall, Jason cringed back in the darkness, afraid they were coming for him. But he was always left alone, wondering what the other sounds were. He heard the heavy clunk of something metallic that sounded like a chain being fastened. In his dark prison, it was hard to tell what was real and what he was imagining the sounds to be. He heard struggling, and the whoosh and crack of leather striking someone’s skin. Then someone shrieking in pain… curses… blows… more screams. And howls of some primal emotion that came at intervals and made Jason more afraid than all the other sounds combined.

It seemed very late when the closet door was opened again. Jason shrank in terror from the man. It was the guy in charge, George. He settled on his haunches and took hold of the front of Jason’s sweat-soaked shirt, pulling him close to his bearded face.

“Been listening to the party, kid?” George snarled.

Shaking, Jason nodded.

“You want to join the fun?” He gave a short burst of ugly laughter. “Well, don’t worry, pretty boy. You’re special. You don’t have to party ’til you’re down Mexico-way. You’re being kept for a very important customer.” He laughed again, rubbing Jason’s shoulder with rough fingers. He let go and the bound boy fell back against the closet floor again as the door was relocked.

Jason drew himself to a painful sitting position. He knew he had seen something obscene, more foul than anything he had encountered on the streets. The sex that went on between these people was ugly and cruel. It was used to make defenseless kids hurt and scared, not to make love. It had nothing at all to do with love.

Hutch’s face came into Jason’s mind. The gentle features were full of concern and caring, the blue eyes so knowing and kind. Jason thought about how Hutch spoke of love, how he looked and sounded when he explained, with pride and patience, that he and Starsky were gay. The sex they shared was all about love. Hutch had said so — and Jason believed him. Love was what was important. Hutch said that, too, and Jason was sure he was right.

He remembered Hutch’s face when he looked at Starsky and Starsky’s when he looked at Hutch. Jason had thought of them as being best friends. Last night, when they had told him they were lovers, he had thought his interpretation had been in error. Now he realized that he hadn’t been wrong. They were best friends… and more.

Jason thought he understood. At least now, he wanted to try. He still wanted to live with his father, wanted to be safe with him in the house he shared with Starsky. If he ever saw them again, he swore silently, he would tell them so. If he ever saw them again…

XIV.

Starsky had seen his partner worried, up tight, frantic and all gradations in between, but he had never seen him quite like this. It made Starsky want to say something, or touch him, but he knew the only thing he could do was what he was already doing.

With his eyes on the road, Starsky was surprised when he felt a hand settle at his collar. The grip started out light, but it tightened gradually. Starsky glanced over.

“I’m here.” It seemed like not enough to say, but he made it a promise.

“Yeah.” Hutch understood.

Their kind of vow. The only kind they ever needed.

***

It took the rest of the day to track down and question the people Huggy had suggested might be able to help find DeBonner and Malloy. As the Torino pulled up on a quiet stretch of road just beyond the three-story white frame house surrounded by trees, it was already dark. Starsky stopped the car several yards up the road from the building and cut the motor.

Turning to Hutch, he unzipped his jacket and took out his Beretta. “Been a while,” he mused, getting used to the feel of it in his hand once more.

Hutch’s lips were pursed. “We’ve missed a few sessions at the practice range. Starsk, how do you feel about taking this on?”

Starsky cast a glance in the rearview mirror, holding his breath before answering. “I could say I hope we don’t have to use these guns.”

The blond moved closer. “You know what? I don’t care. Not about the vermin inside that house. I may sound like I’m planning on taking the law into my own hands, but I want my son out of there. And if they’ve hurt him…”

Starsky gripped Hutch’s knee. “I know. But they could out-gun us. We know they’ve killed to escape the law before.”

“I can’t help it. I want my boy back safe. If we were still on the force, there would be rules to follow, but on our own, we can do what we have to.”

Starsky touched a strand of hair at Hutch’s temple, smoothed it back with the rest of the silvery bright silk. He understood what Hutch was feeling, but he was scared. It wasn’t for himself that he feared, but for the man he loved. Hutch could be hurt by what was about to go down, and in more ways than one. If Jason were hurt or killed, Hutch would never forgive himself. And if anything happened to either Hutch or Jason, due to Starsky not being able to do his part, Starsky knew he would feel his own share of guilt.

“We’ll get him,” he promised softly. “We just gotta be careful not to endanger him. You know I’m with you.”

Hutch looked at him with eyes that saw too deeply. “Starsky, I think I should go in alone — ”

“No way.” One corner of Starsky’s mouth lifted in a determined grin. “Partner.”

“Be careful, then.” Hutch was emphatic.

“Always. You, too.” Starsky’s eyes went back to his surveillance of the house.

A fist struck the dashboard. “Dammit, why did I have to tell him?” Hutch was still punishing himself.

“Don’t do that to yourself, I said. We’ll get in and get him out.” Starsky fervently hoped that by now Dobey had sent help for them. “Don’t think about anything but getting Jason out.”

***

Hutch thought of freeing Jason from the house… and what he would say to him when he did. How could he ever hope to prove to the boy that he and Starsky were not the same as those who tried to corrupt young kids on the street? How could he convince his son that he could be a loving father who also happened to love another man?

Loving father… Hutch’s heart seemed to be breaking. He realized how very much he wanted to be just that to Jason. Somehow, without his knowing it, his feelings for the boy had changed. It was inevitable. He thought of Jason not as a stranger who had suddenly invaded his life. The boy was his son, a part of his life.

Maybe loving Starsky had made it easier. His partner had already brought so much to his life: joy, contentment, beauty. Yet Hutch had never realized how loving made it easier to love. Loving one person in one way did not mean that you couldn’t love anyone else. Just the opposite.

Yet perhaps Jason would never know. He had lived all his young life not knowing his father, wondering where and who he was, with questions a boy needed a father’s answers for. And once he found the stranger who had helped give him life, he learned that the man had never loved his mother, and seemed unwilling to offer love to the child. Hutchinson, you’ve made a pretty poor showing so far.

God, how I hope I get another chance. One more chance…

Beside him, Starsky shifted. Hutch sensed that almost imperceptible movement near him, the reassurance it conveyed. I can make it through anything with you at my side, he wanted to say.

“We ready, partner?” The baritone voice seemed to come out of the past. This wasn’t the past, though. It was the now they always lived in, the edge upon which they always balanced. Yet when Hutch met Starsky’s eyes he found them as deep and as steady as they always were.

He managed a smile and saw the answering light in Starsky’s eyes. “Let’s get the bad guys.”

They climbed out of the car and headed for the house by a circuitous route. Spotting a side entrance, a set of slanting basement doors, they approached cautiously. The rusted padlock was loose and the doors lifted to open outward. Hutch felt Starsky’s hand at his back as he descended into the dark cellar.

Their eyes gradually grew accustomed to the lack of light. Starsky nodded toward the stairs on the far side of the room, leading up to the rest of the house.

At the top, Starsky carefully turned the knob on the door and inched it open. He peered into the narrow strip of the house the open space afforded.

“Kitchen,” he hissed. “Nobody’s there.”

Raucous music seemed to be coming from farther away, perhaps on the upper floor. Starsky eased back suddenly as someone entered the kitchen. Hutch came up closer beside him to look through the crack. He recognized the woman pouring a drink as the one at Huggy’s place.

A loud voice called out to her. “Madeline, they’re here. I’ll go up and get the kids, you let them in.”

The sound of the music cut off a second later as Madeline Malloy picked up her glass and left the kitchen.

“Come on.” Starsky pushed the door the rest of the way open and Hutch followed him out of the basement.

Backs against the wall, they edged toward the next room. The front door was being opened. Hutch saw Starsky reach into his jacket for the Beretta. Voices came to their ears.

“Ah, Miss Malloy. We meet again.”

“Come on in, Esteban. How was your trip?”

Hutch met Starsky’s gaze, saw him roll his eyes in reaction to the casual greeting. The newcomer’s accent sounded Mexican.

The one addressed as Esteban spoke again. “Do you have our merchandise ready?”

“Oh, yes. George is bringing them down, now.”

Hutch took a chance on leaning around the doorway in an attempt to see into the living room. Madeline Malloy was taking to two burly men, both with dark, south-of-the-border looks. He lifted two fingers to tell Starsky how many there were.

Footsteps on the stairs drew his attention as well as that of the group at the front door. DeBonner was dragging at least one person with him who was trying to resist going along.

Hutch leaned further and he sensed Starsky doing the same, dropping low with his gun in his hand. He could see George DeBonner now, the man who had accompanied Madeline to The Pits. With him were two kids. He could make out Strawberry, her red-gold hair tangled and her face streaked with tears. She was sobbing quietly.

When he saw Jason, held secure, in DeBonner’s grip, he couldn’t hold back. Hutch stepped out into the room, gun aimed.

“DeBonner! Let the kids go.”

The group at the door whirled. One of the Mexicans pulled a gun and fired. Hutch jumped back for cover and heard the Beretta go off. He risked another look and saw Jason and Strawberry pulled out the door by the retreating men. DeBonner fired again, heading for the kitchen.

Starsky yanked Hutch back and threw a nod toward the basement. “The car!” he yelled, setting up covering fire as Hutch retreated down the stairs.

He dashed through the basement, heard Starsky slam the door and follow him down. He hesitated in caution at the cellar entrance and when Madeline appeared with a gun, took aim. He caught her in the shoulder and her gun went flying. Hutch sped past her on his way out of the basement, Starsky a few paces behind him.

Hutch got to the Torino first and jumped behind the wheel. A dark car was pulling away from the house, heading in the opposite direction. Hutch revved the engine and circled hard, breaking for an instant as Starsky jumped in.

He floored it, taking off after the car carrying Jason. The dark stretch of road was secluded, winding. If the Mexicans got too far ahead, he might lose them entirely.

“Damn. I may have blown it back there,” he spat as he rounded a curve. “We could have gotten back outside before they knew we were here and with just the two Mexicans, the odds would’ve been better.”

“Forget it,” Starsky snapped. “They had Jason. I’d’a yelled, too.”

Hutch didn’t answer. He had all he could do to keep the car on the road. It had been too long since he had done any of this kind of driving. “They’re pulling ahead.” Starsky sounded impatient.

“I can handle it.” Hutch nudged the car ahead and felt the tires skid as they swerved around a sharper turn. Around the curve, they came out along a straight stretch. The Mexicans had managed to get a good distance ahead of them.

Eyes intent on their tail lights, Hutch was surprised to see them cut to the left. “Where’re they going? There’s nothing over there, just a field.”

“Hutch.” Starsky pointed out the reason for the abrupt change in direction, the approaching lights of two county black and whites.

“Cops?” Hutch was puzzled, but he had no spare time to wonder why they suddenly had the cavalry to help them out. He could see the headlights of the Mexicans’ car now, as they made a wide circle in the field, attempting to turn around and head away from their new pursuers.

Hutch cut the Torino to the left, entering the field, coming face to face with the bright white lights, playing chicken with the Mexicans.

They came to a sudden stop and Hutch hit his brakes, too. The cars were stopped less than ten feet across from one another.

The passenger door of the black car swung open. Both Mexicans scrambled out. Hutch opened his door and Starsky went out the passenger side, dropping to roll through the underbrush.

The field was deep with thick vegetation. Hutch felt the weeds snag around his knees as he took up a position behind his car door, using it as a shield.

The Mexicans pulled both kids from the back seat. Esteban had an arm around Jason’s throat and his gun was pressed to the teenager’s temple. The other man held Strawberry in front of him. Hutch couldn’t fire with the Mexicans shielded by both the car door and their captives.

“Let them go!” he bellowed, his grip on the Magnum tightening.

One of the men got off a shot. Hutch ducked. Strawberry screamed.

An answering burst of fire came from behind them. Starsky, Hutch thought, he must have made it around to the back of their car.

Esteban’s goon let go of Strawberry to turn in Starsky’s direction. He fired, then stepped a couple of feet away from his cover, as if to see if he had hit his target.

Hutch took careful aim and squeezed off a shot. Yelling, the Mexican went down.

Strawberry shrieked again. Hutch could see both the girl and Jason struggling with Esteban. Hands came up, the dark ones of the foreigner and the paler ones of the adolescent, wrestling for the gun. Hutch held his breath, fearing the pistol would go off and Jason would be hit.

He left the safety of the Torino’s door. The approaching lights of the police cars illuminated the scene. Esteban’s gun went off, high in the air.

“Jason!” Hutch shouted the name and the boy let go of Esteban. Hutch took one more stride and came into firing stance.

The Mexican’s gun was on a level with Hutch’s chest. The former detective fired. Esteban’s gun went off, but the target had moved. Hutch came back to his feet from where he had rolled in the weed growth. Esteban had fallen, too, but he didn’t get up.

The police were spilling out of their cars. Hutch let them take over, rushing instead toward his son.

In an instant, he had Jason in his arms.

The teenager was holding on tight, shaking. Hutch caught his breath enough to ask, “Are you all right, son?”

The voice shook as much as the tall, gangly body. “Y-yes. I… thought I’d never see you again.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He drew apart from the teenager a little, looking him over. Jason was disheveled but otherwise looked unharmed. Hutch hugged him close again and felt the trembling lessen. Hutch glanced around the chaotic scene. Esteban was writhing on the ground, being handcuffed. Alive to be taken into custody, Hutch thought with cold relief. Strawberry was sobbing, in hysterics. The second Mexican was dead. Hutch stepped back, feeling dazed as the adrenaline slowed its rush through his veins. He could hardly believe the gun battle had happened. We did it, Starsk… “Starsky?”

He turned. In the dark surrounding the cars, the high weed growth was unmoving. Hutch took a few steps, shrugging off the hands of a cop who was trying to question him. There was an indentation in the growth several feet beyond the black car.

“Starsky? Starsky!” No, God no… not again… The world turned upside down in space and time. Hutch was rounding the Torino in early morning sunshine, stopping to see Starsky lying still. The blood… the fear… the insanity of death…

He took a step forward, two. Like drowning, like being pulled through a vortex, time wouldn’t hold still, the world wouldn’t right itself. He moved faster.

Around him, the cops were moving in. There were shouted questions, running feet, the girl’s crying.

He reached Starsky. Sank down beside him. Saw the blood.

It seemed to be everywhere. The blood spilled in a bright red torrent from a rent at the edge of wine dark curls. He could not tell if it were a little or a lot — his eyes were blurring — but any amount was too much. It was taking life away from Starsky… from himself.

He had hoped never to see Starsky down on the ground like this again, and yet a deep knowledge inside him had dreaded and feared and tried to prepare him for the possibility. He had thought Starsky would be safe once they were off the force. I brought you into this…

He had thought he would feel only the terror. That was all he could remember of that morning fifteen months ago. The awful sight and the numbing terror… I couldn’t touch you, his heart cried out.

Now he felt more. His own soul, bleeding and torn, demanded all the pain, denied the numb insanity of paralyzing fear. He craved the pain. It was the only thing real to him. He knew it would hurt, and he begged for it. Starsky had taught him to feel and Hutch had to feel this.

His fingers went for the blood, sank in the curls where the wound cut its path. Warmth, brightness, wet agony there… He cringed and accepted.

His left hand went for a pulse, touched the throat, couldn’t find what he searched for. His hand pushed hard against the jaw. Just a beat? Light as a breath? He held his own, tried to fight down the agony long enough to trust his senses.

“Starsky…” He lifted the limp form into his lap, heedless of voices and movement around him. He was alone with Starsky. There was only pain and blood and fear… and Starsky.

He held on tighter and suddenly time flipped back into reality. He knew where he was: a weed-grown field, shrouded by night, enveloped by pain. He felt himself the absorber of agony, owning it, treasuring it. All I have…

Love filled his eyes, spilled over. He bent, desperate lips saying the words, touching the cool, damp face, trembling fingers fluttering over the pale cheek. Rocking, holding on… loving and grieving…

 

 

Jason stood where Hutch had left him. Starsky was on the ground. His father was bending down, dropping to his knees, gathering him up. The man’s expression mingled shock and fear and what Jason could only identify as a terrible resignation. As he watched, something bright slid down Hutch’s cheek.

His mother had hardly cried, even when her pain got bad. She must have done her crying alone, Jason had always thought. And when she died, her parents, his grandparents, had not openly cried, either. They said they loved her, and yet they wouldn’t cry. Grandfather told him he was too old to cry now, that grown men didn’t let their tears show.

Jason stood watching his father’s tears now, hearing his words of just the night before — a lifetime away — ‘I love Starsky. He loves me. That’s why we live together.’ This was love, Jason knew it in his heart, as certainly as he knew he had loved his mother. His grandparents, he was sure, could never show love like this, for each other or for him. His father could love, though, and he was no less a man because his eyes were wet with tears.

Jason had been so scared a moment ago. He had been afraid of what his captors would do to him and what they would do to Strawberry. The small fears and worries about living with his grandparents seemed childish in comparison. In the last few moments, he had known the kind of terror that came from the possibility of dying instantly. That fear made him feel suddenly older. His father and Starsky had not been afraid. Their bravery had given Jason the courage to try to get the gun away from the Mexican. He looked at his father’s anguished face. The concern written on his features was for Starsky’s life. The thoughts running through Jason’s mind were becoming muddled. He could sort it all out later. For now, there should be something he could do.

He heard a siren, turned his head to look for it. Beyond the police cars, an ambulance was approaching. One of the black and whites pulled away, heading back toward the house. Jason hoped they were going there to arrest George and Madeline. Medics opened the ambulance door. Jason ran to meet them, stumbling on legs that were still numb from being tied.

He grabbed the sleeve of a man with wavy, long hair. “Help! Over here. My father’s friend.”

Almost dragging the man with him, Jason hurried back to where Hutch knelt on the ground, holding Starsky. Jason’s gaze went from his father’s white face to Starsky’s. He looked terrible, with blood all over. Jason drew a deep breath. He was almost as scared as Hutch that Starsky would die. Yet he couldn’t let his own fear out now. Somehow he knew he had to stay calm, help his father.

The doctor was taking over, bending with stethoscope and medical bag. He reached for Starsky, easing him part way out of Hutch’s grasp. Jason heard his father moan.

Minutes passed. The cops were questioning Strawberry, trying to calm her down. They were putting Esteban in a police car, bending to check the dead man who had driven the car. Jason shivered, remembering how the gun had felt pressed hard against his skull. What did it feel like with a bullet inside you?

The paramedic was speaking, but Hutch didn’t seem to hear him. His attention was still focused on Starsky. Jason moved closer.

He crouched beside the pair on the ground. Starsky was quiet, his face ashen and clammy, his hands limp. The medic, hooking up an IV, turned to Jason. “Looks like a bad graze. They bleed quite a lot. He might have a concussion.” He checked Starsky’s pupils, then reached for another gauze bandage.

Hutch wasn’t hearing any of it, Jason realized. He had never seen fear like that on anyone’s face, or such caring. Hutch looked lost, as if he thought Starsky was dying, or that he was dead already. The teenager had to help his father, get him to realize Starsky was not hurt as badly as he thought.

Jason put a hand on Hutch’s shoulder. Haunted eyes looked right through him. It almost hurt physically to see that fear and touch that grief, yet Jason did not let go. Knowing somehow that only touch could break through the barrier of pain, Jason reached for Hutch’s hand. It went into his own so easily. He clasped it for a minute, trying to reassure him, then lay it over Starsky’s chest so Hutch could feel the heartbeat. He kept his palm over Hutch’s hand until the pulse of life could register for him.

“Dad. Dad, he’s alive.” As Jason spoke, Hutch’s tear-washed eyes blinked and he looked down toward Starsky.

The dark head rolled slowly from side to side. His eyes opened, looking black as the ocean at night to Jason. They focused on him for an instant and Jason saw recognition in them, then they moved on in their search for Hutch. When he saw whose arms were holding him, he smiled. Just with his eyes, Jason realized, but he smiled.

Hutch spoke, his voice amazingly clear. “It’s okay, babe. I’m right here.” Hutch closed his eyes, his last tears dropping against his cheek; he looked up at the sky and back down at Starsky, smiling. “We’re gonna be all right.”

Jason’s hand, over his father’s, lying on Starsky’s chest, tightened.

Epilogue

Starsky lay on a chaise lounge in the shade of the deck, watching Hutch and Jason play Frisbee on the beach. He smiled; the night before last and its danger seemed far away. It was good to lie in the warmth and relax. Even the headache still troubling him from the concussion couldn’t dampen his high spirits.

He had been lucky, the doctors had said. Had the graze been a shade lower, nearer his temple, he might be laid out in a box right now. Knowing that, and knowing that his convalescence this time would be a brief one, he was content to relax and take life easy.

Hutch was heading toward him, his legs looking tan and strong in their cut offs. Jason followed more slowly, retrieving the Frisbee from where it lay on the sand. Starsky couldn’t help caring about the kid. ‘Kid?’ He seems older now, somehow. Starsky would have to start thinking of him as a young man. And he did care for him. There was so much of Hutch in Jason. Starsky wanted the adolescent to have the chance to grow up happy, without the guilt and hang-ups that had plagued the older blond since his own youth. After the kidnapping and gunfight, Jason needed peace and stability. Starsky hoped to be able to help give him those things.

Hutch dropped into the chair at Starsky’s elbow, fingers moving automatically to feel his forehead. Starsky looked up through his eyelashes. Hutch noticed. He always did.

Restraining a grin, Hutch picked up Starsky’s wrist. “Your pulse is racing. Your head is warm.”

“Naturally.” Starsky kept watching the perfect features. There was almost nothing in Hutch’s face to reveal the trauma that had touched him the other night. Starsky could see it in the eyes, though, the aftermath of desperation. When Hutch smiled, the vulnerability remained. Starsky knew what seeing him lying there bleeding from a head wound had cost Hutch and he was doing his best to keep the mood light.

Starsky had not been coherent enough to take much notice of what was going on at the scene after the shooting stopped. Hutch had filled him in when he visited his hospital room yesterday.

***

“Seems DeBonner and Malloy were under investigation all along.” Hutch was seated on the edge of Starsky’s bed. “A couple of runaways turned up dead, but the kids downtown were too seared of the cops to talk. Somehow, they got a new lead.”

“Oh, yeah?” Starsky hadn’t really been interested in the conversation. His head hurt and it was easier to just watch Hutch’s mouth as he talked.

“An anonymous tip.” Hutch leaned over him, propping himself on the arm that reached across to the other side of Starsky. “But it was called in to Metro. The county boys coordinated with Dobey, somebody said.” His eye, sparkling and suspicious, looked down into Starsky’s.

“That so?”

“How do you suppose Captain Dobey got that lead, huh, Starsk?”

He looked away. The hand next to him moved from the mattress to his cheek, gently persuading him to meet Hutch’s eyes. Starsky took a deep breath. “Hutch, I don’t know what to say with you looking at me like that…. All right, I called Dobey.” Hutch opened his mouth to speak. “Wait. Before you start yelling, I did it for you, you know. This half of Zebra Three isn’t quite as nimble as he used to be….”

“Don’t.” The hand slipped to his shoulder, squeezed firmly. “When it first hit me that you had called Dobey, it bothered me. But I guess it’s a good thing you did.” For a moment, there was a flare of anguish in the voice, the eyes. “I… shouldn’t have endangered you that way.”

“Hey.” It was Starsky’s turn to interrupt. “We had ’em cornered. The cavalry just got there in time to head ’em off at the pass.”

The grin transformed Hutch’s worried face. “I think having them cornered and heading them off at the pass are mutually exclusive, but I see your point.”

Starsky opened his arms and Hutch bent to clasp him tight. “I was where I wanted to be, partner,” he whispered against the long strands of blond at Hutch’s neck. “Am I forgiven?”

The ‘yes’ sounded a little shaky.

“How’s Jason?” Starsky asked as they separated a long moment later.

“He’ll make it. Last night he kept waking up. Bad nightmares.”

“Did those people hurt him?”

“They roughed him up. Kept him tied up and locked in a closet all day. He wanted to sleep with the lights on. And every little noise he heard…” Hutch shivered.

“He’s safe now.”

“And the others, too. Besides Strawberry, there were about six other kids upstairs in that house. They were hurt pretty badly. Malnourished Strung out on drugs. They were taken to the hospital.”

“What about Strawberry?”

“Oh, Jason’s delighted. The Smiths are taking her. She’ll be living right next door.”

He grinned at Hutch’s expression. “That’s gonna be trouble, papa. Better watch that kid. He takes after you…”

***

Starsky had come home this morning. He had not wanted to stay at the hospital at all, much less for two nights, but he had not argued with his doctors, wanting to allay Hutch’s fears for his health.

“Hey, I just realized,” he piped up. “We wrapped up a case and didn’t even get stuck filing reports!”

“Of course not, Starsk.” Hutch sighed in mock exasperation. “We’re private citizens.”

“That’s what I mean. For a while there, it felt like we were really cops again. It’s good to know things are back to normal.” He caught Hutch’s grin and laughed with him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Starsky.” Jason stood beside them, a shy smile on the wide mouth that was so like his father’s.

“I’m tough, remember?” He reached for the teenager’s hand. “How ’bout you?”

“I’ll make it. It was bad there for a while, but you and Dad got there in time. I… I’ve been meaning to thank you both…”

Starsky grinned, squeezing his hand affectionately. The youth dashed off again as quickly as he had come. He’s survived a lot in his life, he’ll bounce back from this, Starsky reflected. “He’s tough, too.” He smiled up at Hutch. “Dad?”

A self-conscious look of pride and pleasure crossed Hutch’s face. “Yeah. Started that sometime the other night.”

“That’s good. You know — ” Starsky hesitated a moment, his feelings so strong he felt slightly overwhelmed. “I feel kinda like he’s mine, too. That’s okay with you, isn’t it, Hutch, us havin’ a kid together?”

His forearm was rubbed lightly. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

Starsky tilted his head back against the lounge, closing his eyes for a moment. “You thought any more about what Raines said?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have.” Hutch enveloped Starsky’s hand in both of his. “I called him this morning and fired him. Tomorrow I’m going to look for a new lawyer, one with more experience in custody matters. And I’m telling him up front that my life is my life.”

“Huh?” Starsky was a little dazed. Once Hutch made up his mind, he really moved.

“I can’t hide behind lies. And I can’t go on being selfish.”

“Selfish…?”

“With my love. There’s enough to go around. We all deserve a little happiness, don’t you think?”

“What are you saying?” Hutch’s eyes looked so bright, so certain.

“I mean I’m willing to take my chances in court. No pretending. No denying. Jason’s my son. This is my life.”

Starsky felt a rush of warmth rolling over him like a wave. Hutch’s commitment was as deep as the ocean stretching out before them, its strength as powerful as the breakers crashing in on the beach. Permanent. Maybe even endless, like the ocean was. Starsky swallowed the lump in his throat. “Does Jason know this?”

Hutch nodded. “The court will have to listen when he says he wants to stay with us. He told me he felt that way last night. Asked me to tell you, too.”

The joy in Hutch’s eyes was beautiful to watch. Starsky drew the hand that held his near, bent his head to press his lips to the broad palm. Then Hutch was there, leaning close, one hand encircling the back of Starsky’s neck as he grabbed a kiss right there on the beach in broad daylight. The contact was warm and lingering. He came up smiling into Starsky’s eyes.

“As for the rest of it, we’ll work it out day by day.”