Wishful Thinking

Hutch brushed his fingertips lightly against her cheek, where the peach was already darkening to purple. Alice didn’t flinch.

“I’ll be all right, don’t you worry none, Handsome Hutch. Some of these gentlemen callers just don’t know how to treat a lady right.” She smiled, a mixture of aw shucks and come hither that her tricks knew well. It was one reason they called her Sweet Alice.

There were other reasons too, of course. Most of them were covered by the robe she had wrapped around her body. Covered, but not hidden.

“Are you kidding me?” Starsky was bristling, despite Hutch’s warning glare. “These so-called ‘gentlemen’ are predators. They’re sharks who only want to put the hurt on you. That’s what turns them on.”

“I can take care of myself. I took care of that one, didn’t I?”

They all looked towards the bedroom. Starsky and Hutch exchanged a meaningful glance. Alice only looked like a delicate hothouse flower.

“Yeah, you did,” Hutch acknowledged. “But–”

“I know there are monsters out there. Believe me, I know. And not all of them come round with a twenty clutched in their fist, either.” Her smile disappeared into a grim line. She rose to stand by the window, rubbing her hands up and down over the silky sleeves of her robe.

Two paramedics came out of the bedroom, wheeling a gurney between them.

“I think he’s going to be fine, but we’ll take him in and have a doctor look at him, take some x-rays,” one of them said. “He’s under arrest, right?”

Starsky nodded. “We already read him his rights. One of the unis outside will ride with you. We’ll be along after we finish up here.”

When they were gone, Alice turned back to the two detectives, her sweet expression firmly back in place.

“Y’all came real quick when I called, and I truly appreciate it. Thank you.” She gave Starsky a quick kiss on the cheek, and another, more lingering one, on Hutch’s.

“Alice, you can walk away from this.” Hutch’s voice was soft, but there was optimism in his voice. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. He was hopeful for her.

If only wishes were horses. Then beggars would ride, and girls like Alice could have hopes too.

“I know I can,” she said. “I will, someday.”

But not today. Not anytime soon. And they all knew it.