Starsky leaves Hutch to take care of family in New York, and Hutch tries the life his father wanted for him. No one is happy. When Starsky shows up years later on Hutch’s doorstep, happiness takes a long time to find.
“You aren’t coming back, are you, Starsk?”
The silence at the other end told him all he needed to know. He didn’t bother saying goodbye. He just hung up the phone and went to bed. He didn’t expect it to ring again. It didn’t.
The next morning, he headed to Starsky’s place, figuring he’d pack up Starsky’s things and ship them, one last gesture of friendship. But the landlord was already there, overseeing movers who were almost done packing up Starsky’s belongings.
“You’re Hutchinson, yes?” the landlord asked.
“Yeah,” Hutch acknowledged.
“He left a key and a letter for you over there.” The landlord pointed to the counter.
Hutch went over and looked at the key. It was the spare to his place, proof that when Starsky left, he knew he wasn’t coming back. He was holding the spare to Starsky’s. He handed it to the landlord. “Here. This is his spare key. You can toss the letter. We spoke last night.” He picked up his key and left without another word.
* * * *
His life had changed substantially in six months. He’d quit his job, packed his belongings and left Bay City with no forwarding address. After a difficult phone call with his father, Hutch went back to Duluth and an entry level position in his father’s company, on condition that he return to school, earn a degree in business and forget all the nonsense about criminal law. He’d agreed.
* * * *
Hutch combed his hair in the tiny bathroom, still unused to seeing the shorter haircut or the no-nonsense expression that hardened his gaze, but both met his father’s expectations.
Not everything did. His father had arranged for a swanky penthouse apartment, and a fancy automobile, but Hutch had declined both, preferring to live modestly and pay for things himself. His father gave him a dress code and a set of expectations, then stepped back and watched.
Hutch bought a well-maintained used car, and leased a small, one bedroom apartment in a reputable section of town. He enrolled in business courses at the university. The housekeeper his father insisted on reported that Hutch lived simply. He didn’t date, didn’t entertain, read voraciously and had no hobbies. He did have a guitar he stored in the back of his closet, but he never played it.
He was ready. Hutch picked up his briefcase and headed to the office.
* * * *
Another paper was due. Hutch was already overtired, but he stayed late to finish it. If he could turn it in tomorrow, he just might treat himself to a rare Saturday off. He worked six days a week, staying late if he didn’t have a class, coming back to the office if he did. He was learning the company to his father’s satisfaction, but his lack of social life upset his mother, and he gave up trying to explain.
* * * *
One more course and he’d have his MBA. Hutch put his checkbook back in his desk drawer and locked it, making a mental note to adjust his payroll deductions once he got the diploma. To his father’s chagrin, like everything else, he’d paid for it himself, and he’d done it living on the same money he’d earned as a detective in Bay City. The rest of his salary was shunted to a high-yield savings account he didn’t touch.
His assistant, Layne Reese, came in with messages and the sorted mail needing his attention. It included an envelope addressed to Ken Hutchinson and marked ‘personal/confidential.’
Hutch went through the messages quickly, and gave Layne instructions on how to deal with them, then thanked him. When he left, Hutch went through the mail. He left the personal letter for last.
It was written in Starsky’s handwriting and felt as though it contained photos. Hutch held it, thinking about the man for the first time in over a year. They’d been partners for several years, had grown ever closer, and suddenly found themselves in an intimate relationship.
It was barely a week old when the call from Starsky’s mother came. His brother Nicky had died in a drive-by shootout. He was dead at the scene, but his pregnant girlfriend was DOA and so was the baby. His mother was inconsolable. She cried on the phone for an hour, refusing to hang up until Starsky promised to book a flight to NYC as soon as they ended the call.
Hutch had expected to go with him, but Starsky had refused. “My mom’s distraught, Hutch. Nick had finally cleaned up his act and she was thrilled at having a grandbaby close by to spoil.” Starsky pulled out the phone book and looked up the number for a travel agency to book a flight as promised. “If I show up with you as my lover, she’ll be offended.” He started to dial. “Go home, Hutch. I’ll call ya when I’ve had a chance to talk to her.”
They didn’t even kiss goodbye, and Hutch left with a disquieted feeling in the pit of his stomach. When Starsky finally called a week later, Hutch knew he wasn’t coming back. His mom wanted grandchildren, and Starsky wanted to please her. Family first, and Hutch wasn’t family. Not yet. Now, not ever.
He didn’t bother opening the letter. He turned and fed it to the shredder under the credenza behind his desk, then stood to go. His last course began tonight and if he left now, he’d have time to stop for coffee and a burger at a drive-thru near the campus. He grabbed his briefcase and left.
* * * *
Months later, he hung the MBA on the wall behind his desk, proof to his father that he’d earned it. His father didn’t attend the ceremony. No one in his family did. Obtaining the MBA wasn’t an accomplishment. It was fulfillment of an expectation, and those weren’t celebrated.
The following week, Hutch’s mother died. At the funeral, he was forced to share a limo with his father, and his father lectured him all the way to the cemetery.
“She expected you to maintain a social profile, Ken. Entertaining clients, marriage, children…”
“If you recall, I was married. Both you and mother considered her suitable, the perfect trophy wife. But I wasn’t acceptable to her. I—” He noticed the avid interest the limo driver had in what he was saying, and he stopped talking.
It didn’t matter. A few days later, there was a generous article in the business section reporting his promotion to assistant vice president. It included a biography that lauded his dedication and his MBA, mentioned his failed marriage and blatantly described him as a rich, eligible bachelor, but said nothing about his years as a detective in Bay City.
He continued putting in the long hours, increasing the bottom line of his father’s company, but living like a monk. He didn’t date, didn’t entertain, didn’t attend parties.
After one particularly intense day fielding questions from the board regarding the upcoming financial disclosures, he arrived home exhausted, got ready for bed and poured himself a glass of wine. Before he could drink it, there was a knock at the door.
It was Starsky. He was older, his face was lined, and there was a touch of gray in his curly hair, but he was still fit, still wearing tight jeans and his old, leather jacket.
“Hello, Hutch. Can I come in?”
“No. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I don’t entertain and I don’t receive guests at my home.”
“Is that what I am? A guest?”
“No, not even that. There’s no reason for you to be here at all. Go away.” Hutch shut the door in Starsky’s face, set the wine glass on the counter, turned off the lights and went to bed.
When he woke, he thought about calling in sick, but he knew his calendar was full and there was no point in rescheduling things. Hutch took a quick shower and got ready. He didn’t bother making coffee. Instead, he stopped at a drive-thru on his way to the office and bought a large cup. There wouldn’t be any at the office till Layne got in to make it.
When Layne arrived, he brought in fresh coffee and Hutch’s notes for his morning meetings, then pointed out a last minute addition to his calendar. “You have a business lunch at 12:30 at Harold’s Deli with a Mr. David Starsky. He’ll meet you there.”
“Cancel it,” Hutch ordered in no uncertain terms.
“I-I have no way to get hold of him. He was checking out of his hotel and didn’t have a number.”
“It doesn’t matter. Remove it from my calendar. I’m not meeting him. If he shows up here asking for me, have Security escort him from the building.”
Layne looked at him in stunned surprise, but didn’t ask any questions. “Yessir.”
Hutch picked up his notes and headed for his meetings.
By late afternoon, Hutch was exhausted and wired from too much coffee and no food, but his meetings were done and he decided to call it a day and go home. Layne met him at the door to his office.
“Sir, your father would like a word with you in the boardroom before you go.”
He sighed, but nodded. He hefted his briefcase and headed out to meet his father.
“Son.” The man was looking out the bank of windows, down to the busy streets in the late afternoon sun, but he didn’t turn.
“Sir?”
“When the Board of Directors announce the company earnings next week, there will be a modest increase over last year’s earnings, due, in part, to your efforts.”
The words surprised him. Hutch knew the increase was actually substantial, but they were the closest to a thank you Hutch had ever received from his father. But his next words diminished their worth.
“There will, of course, be a sumptuous, catered affair afterward, and I expect you to host it.”
Hutch was well aware that his father was studying his reaction reflected in the windows. He thought about the extensive lists of expectations his father had given him since his return to Duluth, and he had exceeded every one of them, but he was done. “No, sir.”
Now his father turned to confront him. “What did you say?”
“I said no. I do not party, I do not entertain. I’ve given everything I have to fulfill your expectations and that should be enough.”
“Well, it’s not,” his father stated in no uncertain terms.
It confirmed what he always knew, why he’d left Duluth in the first place. He would never be good enough for his father and he would never have his own life while he lived in his father’s sphere of influence.
He turned and left the boardroom and went back to his office.
He wrote a quick letter of resignation, then emptied his briefcase, shredding most of what was in it, setting aside a few items for Layne to handle. He unlocked his top drawer, pulled out his checkbook and the bank statements outlining his high-yield account and put them in the briefcase. He added his office keys to the pile for Layne, stood and looked around. There was nothing personal to claim and he had no interest in the MBA displayed on the wall. He closed his briefcase and left the building for the last time.
He was nearly back to his place before it occurred to Hutch he’d freed himself to do whatever he wanted to do for the first time since leaving Bay City, and all he wanted to do was sleep. It was enough for now. But when he approached his front door, Starsky was sitting there, waiting for him.
He stood quickly and brushed himself off. “I want to ask you something, Hutch. It won’t take long.”
“You want… Interesting… When was the last time you did what you wanted to do, Starsky?” Hutch pulled out his key, not really caring what the man wanted.
Starsky grabbed his arm. “When did you?”
“Let go, or I’ll call a cop.”
“I am a cop.” But Starsky let go.
“Not here.” Hutch put his key in the lock, but didn’t turn it.
“Let me guess. You haven’t done a thing for yourself since Bay City. What do you want, Hutch?”
“I want you to fuck me,” he blurted, without thinking first.
Once the words were out of his mouth, he expected anger or mild regret, but not the extreme embarrassment and shame that coloured Starsky’s face.
“I-I can’t…”
“You mean you won’t. I get it. Family first, and I’m not family. Never was, never will be.” He opened the door. “Lots of things changed for me today. I’m doing what I want now. Whatever you wanted to ask, the answer is no. Leave and stay away from me.” Hutch went inside and shut the door. He dropped his keys and briefcase on the floor, took the phone off the hook, and headed for the kitchen. Buried at the back of the appliance cabinet was the lockbox with his gun in it. He took it to the counter and opened it.
He hadn’t touched his gun since he moved back to Duluth. He picked it up, appreciating its weight in his hand. He carried it into the bedroom, changed into an old pair of jeans and a shirt he dug out of the closet and dumped his suit on the floor under the others hanging neatly. From the shelf, he collected a box of cleaning supplies and took it and the gun back to the counter.
As tired as he was, he felt better than he had in a long, long time. When he was finished, he loaded it, set the safety on, boxed the cleaning supplies and took the gun with him back to the bedroom. He tucked it under his pillow and laid down, falling asleep almost immediately.
* * * *
Fifteen hours later, he woke to pounding on the door and staggered out to answer it. Two police officers stood there, doing a wellness check on behalf of a Layne Reese at his father’s company. He frowned at their sense of urgency.
“What the hell? A wellness check? Layne was my assistant. He saw me yesterday, just before I quit.”
“You what? You quit?” The officers looked at each other in confusion.
“Yeah. Fifteen hour days, six days a week wasn’t enough for my boss. You being here is his way of telling me I’m late for work.”
The officers gave a polite salute. “Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Hutchinson.”
He sighed. “Don’t blame Layne. He was a good assistant, but he’s stuck doing what he’s told to do, and the big boss doesn’t take no for an answer. Guess that includes the extra hours he expected from me and my resignation. But thanks for your concern. I’ll be leaving town shortly, so you shouldn’t be bothered again.”
They nodded and Hutch watched them leave. He needed to decide what to do.
* * * *
Off the grid. He wasn’t sure where yet, but he needed the alone time. He wasn’t taking much. In the back of his closet, he found his old backpack and added his other pair of neglected jeans, two sweatshirts, his bankbooks, gun, ammo, a bar of soap and a towel. Anything else he could buy as needed. He looked at the guitar that was once so important to him, but left it where it was. It could be donated with everything else he was leaving behind.
There was a soft knock at the door. Hutch sighed and ignored it, but there was another and he suddenly knew the caller wasn’t going away.
It was Starsky.
“I was at the airport and saw the bulletin. I know you said to stay away, but you said family first. Your line was busy and I thought you might want the support now that yours is gone.”
“I didn’t want to be disturbed so I took it off the…what do you mean my family is gone?”
“You don’t know? Hutch, your father was found at his desk before lunch, dead from a massive heart attack.”
Hutch staggered back into the room and collapsed on the sofa. He picked up the phone receiver, cleared the line and called Layne. He said very little, just listened as Layne provided a myriad of details not released to the press. Finally, he sighed and said, “Thanks, Layne. Notify Security I’ll be there early. They’ll have to grant me building access and keep the press away. Leave my keys on my desk and I’ll do what I can before I go to the funeral home.” He said goodbye, hung up the phone, then quickly took the receiver back off the hook and sagged against the sofa.
“Can I get you a drink?” Starsky asked.
“I guess. There’s an open bottle on the kitchen counter. Pour yourself one too, if you want a glass of wine. I don’t have any beer.”
Starsky brought him a glass of the Bordeaux he’d been drinking, but didn’t pour one for himself. “What can I do, Hutch?”
The doorbell rang persistently.
“Christ.” Hutch stood and walked out of sight of the door. “Send them away. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
Starsky made sure the chain was on before he peered outside.
“Mr. Hutchinson?” A reporter and a photographer crowded the doorway.
“No. He’s indisposed and not seeing anyone tonight. If you want to talk to him, make an appointment with his assistant at his office in the morning.” Without another word, he shut the door.
Starsky found Hutch in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He hadn’t touched his wine.
“When you came here before, you wanted something from me. What did you want?”
“You said no, rather emphatically. Let it go, Hutch.”
“What did you want?” He said it in the quiet, no-nonsense tone he used in all his business dealings.
“I wanted to ask you to be guardian to my son if anything happened to me.”
Hutch nodded to himself, unsurprised that Starsky had a child. He’d stayed in Brooklyn because his mother wanted grandchildren nearby to spoil. “What does your mother have to say about that?”
Starsky huffed. “My mother has already said too much. She has no say in this matter.”
“And your wife?”
“Sarah’s dead.”
That was an unexpected shock. “What happened?”
“You didn’t read the letter I sent you,” Starsky said, knowingly. “It was all in there and I sent pictures.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There were complications during the delivery. She died without ever seeing our son.” Starsky’s face was impassive, but the pain in his voice was as fresh as though it had happened this morning.
“What’s his name?” The fact that he had to ask proved that Hutch hadn’t read the letter he’d shredded so long ago.
“Eli. His name is Eli Michael Starsky. My mother demanded I name him after my father and brother, but Sarah already had names picked out, and I used those. My mother was furious.”
“You did the right thing,” Hutch muttered sub-vocally. “Your mother needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut.” Louder, he asked, “Do you have any pictures?”
Starsky took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out two photos. One showed a pretty brunette with kind brown eyes and shoulder length hair, the other a curly-headed ragamuffin about three years old, with dark brown eyes and a wicked smile.
“He looks like you, except his eyes are brown.” A faint smile crossed Hutch’s face, then disappeared. He handed the pictures back to Starsky. As Starsky gently ran his fingers over Sarah’s, he murmured, “Eli was her father’s name. Her parents died when she was twelve and she went to live with her aunt.”
As he opened his wallet to replace them, another photo fell onto the counter. This one was faded, ragged and much handled, a picture of the partners arm in arm, leaning against the Torino, carefree smiles on their faces. Starsky picked it up and tucked it away with the others.
Hutch headed for the bedroom to retrieve his backpack. He hugged it tightly, feeling the weight of his gun and the memories it recalled, then he whispered to himself, “Family first,” and opened it. The gun and ammo, bankbooks, towel and soap went on the bed. He took the backpack and the rest of its contents out to the kitchen and dumped it in the trash bin, then picked up the lockbox on the counter and went back to the bedroom. Starsky followed.
The gun and ammo went into the lockbox, then out of sight in the back of the closet shelf. Hutch picked the discarded suit up off the floor, shook it out and put it in the bag marked “Cleaners” hanging on the closet door. The shirt and tie were added next. He pulled out another suit and shirt and hung them on the valet in the room, ready to wear when he dressed in the morning.
Starsky was stunned by the severity of the room—the single bed, small dresser in lieu of a nightstand, and tiny lamp sitting on it, were the only furnishings besides the clothing valet. “This is your place?”
“You don’t need much when you work 90 hours a week. I already told you, I don’t date, party or entertain, although I guess that’s about to change.” Hutch pulled clean underwear and socks from the dresser and set them on the valet.
“How so?”
“My father told me I wasn’t doing enough to promote his company. He informed me I was expected to host the reception after the upcoming Board of Directors’ meeting, that he wanted a lavish, catered affair to reflect the substantial, increased earnings they were announcing.”
“For which you, no doubt, were responsible…” Starsky muttered. “90 hours a week. Geez…”
Hutch shrugged. “I told him no and quit. No one tells my father no. Layne said he shredded my letter of resignation and sent an email to the board, detailing my promotion to full Vice President and my responsibilities, beginning with a sumptuous reception following their earnings announcement. Then he ordered Layne to send the police to do a wellness check on me when I didn’t show up for work yesterday. I guess that was to embarrass me to return to work. They weren’t especially happy with me. No one is.”
“So, what are you going to do, Hutch?”
“What’s expected of me, of course. I’ve been trained to run the business. That’s what I do now.” He picked up the towel and soap and returned them to the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway. “I’m willing to be Eli’s guardian should anything happen to you. I can start a trust fund for him tomorrow so he won’t want for anything, but I need you to make it legal, to write out a list of specifics for how you want him raised. I don’t want to have to fight with your family over custody, religion, or education. And as he gets older, he should have a say in what he wants to do with his life.”
Starsky didn’t say anything, and Hutch decided he’d changed his mind, but as Hutch passed him, Starsky reached out and touched his arm.
“When was the last time you were truly happy, Hutch?”
‘Wha—?”
“You heard me, babe. When was the last time you were truly happy?” Starsky let go of his arm and dared to caress his cheek.
Hutch closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. “Bay City,” he whispered softly, his low voice heavy with longing. It teased a distinct memory of his first time with Starsky, the excitement, the pleasure of their kiss during a shared orgasm so profound, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
He could still taste that kiss, and he moaned, then suddenly realized Starsky’s mouth was pressed to his. And he wanted it, needed it. He kissed back.
“How could I tear us apart like I did?” Starsky muttered.
The life he now led reasserted itself. “Easy. Family first, and I’m not.” Hutch pulled away and wiped his mouth.
“But you were. You are. You’re my family.” Starsky touched him again, and wouldn’t let go. “Come to bed with me, Hutch. Tonight, it’s just us. Let me hold you, make you feel good. I know you want it. Let me show you love.”
He hadn’t been touched since Bay City, and he nodded. What could one night hurt? Starsky slowly undressed him, pulled the bedding aside and urged him down, then undressed himself, squeezed next to Hutch on the bed and touched.
It was a delight for them both.
“Why didn’t you come back to me, Starsk?” Hutch whispered.
Starsky froze. The shame and embarrassment were back.
“Never mind, Starsk. You had your reasons.” He should have kept his mouth shut. Hutch waited for Starsky to get up and leave, was surprised when he didn’t.
“My mother. I called her back and told her about us, about our being lovers, but she had other ideas. She wanted grandbabies and she threatened to kill herself if I left her. I thought she was overwhelmed with grief, so I stayed an extra couple of days, then she became a drama queen, ordering me around and setting up dates. But she swallowed a bottle of aspirin when she heard me making arrangements to go home. I called you from the ER while they were pumping her stomach.”
Starsky snorted. “She won’t pull that stunt again. I had her locked up for observation and she had to agree to therapy to get released. It hasn’t helped much, because she’s uncooperative, but she mostly minds what she says now.”
Family first. Hutch hated Starsky’s mother. “Yet you left my key. You knew. Did she arrange your marriage?”
“She tried, but no. Sarah and I went to high school together, and she worked at the funeral home that handled my brother’s service. We ended up together. I liked her a lot, and tried to be a good husband, but I didn’t love her. I was almost relieved when she died, then felt so guilty. Still do.”
“Your mother must be in her element, taking care of Eli.”
Starsky muttered an obscenity. “She wants more grandbabies, but that’s not happening. I don’t date. As for Eli, she sees him for an hour once a week if she behaves. Otherwise, she’s not allowed near him unless I’m there to supervise. Sarah’s aunt is my live-in nanny. She cares for Eli while I’m at work. Sophie is a childless widow, a year or two younger than my mother. Eli’s very fond of her.”
“Where are they now?”
“In a hotel at the airport. They came with me.” Starsky resumed his touching. “Sophie knows what happened between us in Bay City.”
“And she isn’t offended?”
“No, she’s not.” Starsky kissed him. “She knows I tried to do right by Sarah, and she’d like to meet you. So would Eli.”
“God, oh God…” Dreams of the life he’d wanted conflicted with the realities of the life he led.
Starsky rolled on top of him and rubbed against him. “Let yourself feel me, babe. Feel how much I want you.”
They never got to penetration in their week of intimacy in Bay City, but Hutch wanted to spread his legs. “Starsk…”
“I know, Hutch, but we’re not ready for that. Not yet. We’ll get there.”
The words pushed him over the edge and Hutch flashed white hot, not thinking of the meaning behind them. His complete surrender triggered Starsky’s, and his cum mixed with Hutch’s, sealing them together. It felt so right.
* * * *
Persistent pounding on the door woke them.
“More media. I’ll send them away.” Starsky sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t answer it. They’ll go away eventually.” Hutch gently stroked Starsky’s back and stifled a yawn. “Stay the rest of the night. You can have the bed. I’ll be up and out early. Anyone out there will follow me and you can get away unnoticed.”
“When can you meet Eli?”
“You were serious about that?” Hutch frantically replayed the evening in his head.
“Dead serious, Hutch. I didn’t come here to lure you into bed. I’m not playing games. I want you to be Eli’s guardian, but I want more than that.”
Hutch sighed. Of course you do… “What else do you want from me?”
More pounding on the door interrupted them. Starsky frowned as Hutch began to close down, but he persisted. “Is there any chance at all you, me, Eli and Sophie can create our own family without compromising you?”
The question shocked him. “I-I don’t know, Starsk. If I still have a job with Hutchinson Industries, I can’t leave here.”
“I know. But I’m willing to leave Brooklyn behind and move to Duluth to be with you. Sophie would like to meet you first, but she’s willing to move with me to care for Eli, so I can find work and help support us. I don’t expect a free ride.”
“What about your mother?”
Starsky shrugged. “Unfortunately, I can’t leave her behind. But I’ll handle her expenses.”
“It’s not about the money. I have money. What I don’t have is your assurance that we won’t be at the mercy of her temperament. The board won’t tolerate any notoriety. What happens if she demands you take her back to Brooklyn?”
“Then I’ll take her back to Brooklyn and return to you.”
“You really mean that?”
Starsky kissed him deeply. “Yes. I really mean it. But she won’t be a problem. She’ll behave herself. She won’t risk her access to Eli, however limited it is.”
Hutch stifled another yawn.
“You need to get some sleep, babe. You’re exhausted. You take the bed. It smells like us and I want you to remember that as you go through your day.” Starsky urged Hutch to lie down, tucked him in, and when Hutch fell asleep almost immediately. Starsky picked up his clothes, went into the bathroom, quickly cleaned up and got dressed. Minutes later, he was keeping watch on the couch, under the afghan draped there.
* * * *
Starsky didn’t recognize the stranger coming out of the bedroom wearing Hutch’s face. He was well-groomed and expensively-dressed, but formidable, radiating a capable attitude that said he knew your limitations, yet gave nothing of himself away. He opened the briefcase Starsky had set on the counter and added the bankbooks he carried.
“Hutch?” Starsky began to have second thoughts about disrupting Hutch’s life.
The man shook himself, his demeanor softened, and his world included Starsky again. He closed the briefcase and checked the time on the Rolex he wore. “Layne is sending a car for me. It’ll be here shortly. Anyone still out there should follow me, but I suggest you wait thirty minutes before leaving, so you won’t be hassled.”
Starsky nodded. “Yeah, sure. But I think I’d better say goodbye and go back to Brooklyn. Whatever happens at your company, you’re high profile now, and you don’t need someone like me lurking in the shadows of your life.”
“Someone like you?”
“Think about it, Hutch. When I came here, I thought maybe we could become life partners, live quietly. But not now. Now, I’d be titillating white trash, slinking to anonymous destinations to provide no-strings sex.”
“Starsk…”
“I can’t do that to you, and I won’t do that to Eli.”
They heard a car pull up and doors opening. Voices could be heard, yammering questions amid orders to step aside.
“Your ride’s here. Time to go.” Starsky wished he’d stayed in Brooklyn. “Goodbye, Hutch. I won’t trouble you again.”
Hutch picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. On his way, he stopped and kissed Starsky and handed him a slip of paper. “You promised I could meet Eli. I’d skip the office if I could, but I need to know what’s happening. Call Layne and tell him where to send the car. It’ll pick you up at 1PM and we’ll have a late lunch where we won’t be disturbed.”
There was a knock at the door.
“I have to go.” Hutch kissed him again “The decision is yours, but know this. You are not titillating white trash. There’ll be no slinking around. If you stay, I won’t hide our relationship. I’m proud of who you are. I always was.”
There was another knock at the door.
“At least let me meet Eli. Please.” Hutch went to the door and let himself out.
Layne’s phone number was on the paper, and Starsky took it with him into the bedroom, laid down on the bed and inhaled deeply. Memories of what they’d done here washed over him, and he hungered for the life they could have together. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes to savour it.
He was tempted to pleasure himself in Hutch’s bed, but it didn’t feel intimate. It felt pornographic, and he left himself alone. Instead, he got up, stripped the bed and put the sheets and used towels from the bathroom on to wash, then remade the bed with clean sheets. He didn’t know where Hutch was sleeping tonight, but what they’d done here was no one’s business but their own, and he took no chances. He also stopped in the kitchen and removed Hutch’s backpack from the trash, and put it by the door to take with him.
Ninety minutes later, he went back to his hotel suite, called Layne to arrange for the car, then waited for Sophie to wake up so they could talk.
* * * *
Hutch had promised a late lunch where they wouldn’t be disturbed, but Starsky was stunned when the car pulled up to an imposing iron gate next to a brick carriage house. The driver lowered his window and nodded silently to the guard who opened the gate and he entered the grounds and approached a tasteful, three story brick mansion, where a uniformed man waited at the curb.
“Where are we?” Starsky asked, taking Eli’s hand.
“Hutchinson Manor, sir. Johns will escort you inside.” The driver parked and hurried around to open the car door.
“This way, Mr. Starsky. You’re expected.” Johns offered Sophie his arm and led the little family up the stairs and through the ornate double doors. The foyer was large and welcoming; with a giant crystal chandelier overhead; on the left was a parlor, tastefully furnished, with a fire burning to take off the chill.
“Please wait here. Mr. Kenneth will join you shortly.” Johns helped Sophie settle in a chair near the fire.
“Where is he, Johns?” Starsky had an odd feeling Hutch needed him now.
Johns didn’t hesitate. “I believe he’s still in the master suite, sir. Second floor, left wing, first door on the right.”
Starsky nodded his thanks, pulled a matchbox car from his jacket pocket, and knelt next to Eli. “Stay here with Aunt Sophie. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, daddy.” Eli hugged him and dropped to the floor to play with the toy car.
Starsky took off for the grand staircase to find Hutch.
He paused in the doorway. The room was exquisite. Mahogany paneling covered the walls and hand-carved woodwork enhanced the feeling that a wealthy man retreated here at the end of his day to recharge in luxury. Off to the side, a single leather chair, with a mahogany side table and a floor lamp for reading confirmed his impression.
Hutch stood at the end of a massive, stripped down bed, gently touching the frame, and listening to voices quietly working in what appeared to be a huge walk-in closet in a far corner.
A faint sob drew Starsky into the room. “Hutch?” he called softly.
Hutch didn’t turn, but he leaned into Starsky’s touch as Starsky rubbed his back.
“It’s a beautiful room,” Starsky murmured, trying to distract him.
“Yes, it is. I’ve never been in it before today. I didn’t know my parents didn’t share it. There’s a sumptuous feminine suite across the hall my mother must have used.”
“You’ve never been in here?” Starsky was stunned.
“It wasn’t allowed. My governess and I had rooms in the wing on the other side of the staircase. When I was Eli’s age, I wanted my father to read me a story, so I snuck down here with my book and knocked on his door. He sent me back to bed, and when I woke, I was in a room on the third floor and the governess was gone. I got a new one a day later and she kept me off the second floor entirely. My relationship with my father became various lists of expectations I met if I wanted access to him.”
Bastard. It explained so much. Starsky could feel the hurt Hutch had buried deep, and he’d unwittingly made it worse.
“And today?” Starsky asked. He had to know.
“It seems he changed his will and left me everything after I got that MBA,” Hutch said in wonder. “Including this estate. My great-grandfather built it after he started the company. It sits on two hundred fifty acres surrounded by wrought iron fencing to keep the livestock in and the riff-raff out.” He looked around the room again. “Do you think you could live here? There’s room enough for everyone and servants who could help.”
“Do you think you could give up your 90 hour work weeks?” Starsky asked in return. He stared at what to him was luxurious solitary confinement and realized he and Hutch could make it a cozy, intimate retreat. Arousal flickered, but he shook it off. “Come meet Sophie and Eli and we’ll talk, babe.”
“All right.” Suddenly, Hutch turned and pulled Starsky into his arms. “But whatever you decide, know that I love you, David Michael Starsky. I won’t hide it.” And Hutch kissed him. “Take me to Eli.”
They went down together to the parlor where Sophie and Eli waited. Starsky introduced him.
“Sophie, this is Kenneth Hutchinson. He was my partner when I was a police detective in Bay City, California. Hutch, this is Mrs. Sophia Halloran, my late wife’s aunt, my son’s great-aunt and nanny.”
Hutch leaned down and shook her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Halloran.”
“Sophie, please, Mr. Hutchinson.”
“It’s Ken, or Hutch, Sophie.” He smiled at her, then turned and knelt next to the child playing on the floor. “You must be Eli.”
The boy picked up his toy car and stood. “And you’re Uncle Hutch. Daddy showed me your picture. He said we might come live with you.”
“Do you want to?” Hutch asked him, watching intently.
Eli asked a question of his own. “Daddy said you used to sing and play music for him. Would you do that for me?”
Hutch glanced at Starsky, who shrugged, then he answered Eli. “I sure can.”
“Then I’ll come live with you.” The boy gave him a huge smile, then unexpectedly hugged him. A toucher, just like his father. Hutch hugged him back.
He stood and addressed the others. “So, what do you think?”
Starsky looked at Sophie, who nodded. “I like him, David. Let’s do it. It’ll be good for you both.”
Hutch’s smile was a huge, happy one. “Let’s have lunch, then you can pick out your rooms.” He took Eli’s hand and led them to the kitchen. Behind him, he heard Sophie whisper, “We would live here, David?” He looked over his shoulder and saw Starsky nod, and they both gaped at every room they passed through. Hutch blinked. To him, it was just the house he grew up in, and he’d never appreciated its grandeur before. Now he looked at things with new eyes.
In the kitchen, he introduced them to the cook, Helen Maxwell. She smiled pleasantly and directed them to the casual dining in the next room. It was set with plain white plates and bowls, flatware, glasses and napkins. A platter of sandwiches and a large bowl of fruit salad, along with a choice of lemonade or milk were offered, and were on the table in front of a built-in banquette.
“Johns thought you might be more comfortable here than in the formal dining room, Mr. Ken,” Helen said.
“Yes, thank you!” Hutch approved. They sat and ate, talking happily, then Hutch took them on a tour of the upper floors to pick their rooms.
On the second floor, in the right wing, there was a large, bright bedroom in a robin’s egg blue, with a full bed, built-in bookcases and storage cubbies. There was also a large, walk-in closet and an ensuite attached. It had a generous shower, a separate tub and a step stool next to the sink. “Cool room! Can I have this one?” Eli climbed up on the bed and jumped.
“Sure.” Hutch said. “Wanna know a secret? This was my room when I was your age.” He’d loved this room, but hadn’t been in it in years. Being evicted from it still hurt. “There’s another suite next door. My governess slept there.”
Hutch opened a door on the far wall that gave quick access for the governess. On the governess’s side was a sturdy lock, but the suite was large and tastefully decorated in rich creams and delicate blues and white plaster molding, with curtains and bedding trimmed in handmade lace. There was also a large, walk-in closet, an ensuite in a feminine décor and its own door into the hallway that didn’t go through Eli’s room. It, too, locked.
Sophie was enchanted. She clasped her hands together and said, “This is wonderful, Hutch! I’ve never had anything so fancy. I would be quite comfortable here!”
“Then it’s yours. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll arrange to have your luggage brought from the hotel tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss having movers pack up and bring your possessions from Brooklyn.”
Hutch was glad that housekeeping was able to clean and prepare these rooms so quickly. He’d wanted to temp them with this wing, to keep them close and comfortable. He hoped they’d made progress on the master suite. He was anxious to get Starsky back there and discuss their options, now that the family had chosen to stay.
“Starsk?”
Starsky looked at him and nodded, then followed him down the hall.
The room wasn’t quite finished, but it had changed for the better. The bed was made with plush bedding and multiple pillows. The solitary leather chair was gone. An overstuffed sofa had been brought in and set in front of a fireplace; Hutch’s guitar case was leaning against it. A pair of comfy wing-back chairs and a small table completed the gathering spot around a thick, handwoven rug. Soft firelight lit the room; Starsky hadn’t noticed the fireplace when he was in here before, but the glow was warm and welcoming.
“Whatcha think, Starsk?” Hutch watched him apprehensively.
“I think there’d better be a lock on that door. I don’t want people seeing what I’m doing to you in our bedroom!” Starsky said mischievously.
“Wow! Is this your room, daddy?” Eli walked in and looked around.
“It’s Uncle Hutch’s, but I’ll sleep here too.” Starsky scooped up his son. “Whatcha think?”
“I think that’s the biggest bed I ever saw! Can I jump on it?”
“I suppose so! Maybe we should get you a trampoline!” he teased.
Hutch laughed as Starsky took Eli over to the bed, but before he dropped the little boy onto it, Starsky said quite seriously, “You’re welcome to come in here, but if the door is closed, you knock first and wait to be invited in. Understand me, little man? You knock first.”
“Okay, daddy.”
Starsky hugged him tight, then tossed him on the bed. Eli jumped up and down and giggled.
“Aunt Sophie! Uncle Hutch has a fireplace in his room! And he’s got a fire!” Eli stopped jumping and slid off the bed and hurried to the doorway where Sophie stood. He grabbed her hand and led her over to the sofa. “You can sit here and watch it with me.” He climbed up on the sofa and yawned, then spotted the guitar case. “Can you sing me a song now?” he asked Hutch, then yawned again.
“Maybe you should take a nap first,” Starsky said.
“But he promised!” the child said, petulantly.
“One song, then a nap.” Hutch sat in one of the chairs and opened the case.
Eli watched him tune the guitar. “Do you know ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’?”
“I know the song, but I can’t play it. I’ll have to learn it first,” Hutch admitted.
“Oh. Can you play ‘Happy Birthday’?”
“Yes, but why? It’s not your birthday.” Hutch finished tuning.
“Aunt Sophie’s is tomorrow. Let’s sing it now to practice, then we can sing it real good tomorrow when we have cake and ice cream.”
“Good idea, little man!” Hutch began to play and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sophie. When they were finished, Hutch started an old Gordon Lightfoot song, ‘Early Morning Rain.’ It was melancholy and he sang softly, half to himself, while the others listened and glimpsed the loneliness he’d been unable to excise.
When he finished, he set the guitar aside and pointed out that Eli was asleep. Starsky scooped him up and he and Sophie took him down and put him to bed while Hutch stayed behind and watched the fire alone.
“Are you okay, babe?” Starsky was back. He closed the door, came over to Hutch and stroked his hair.
“Do you really think we can make this work?” Hutch sounded morose and unsure. “I feel like I’m trying to bribe you to stay. I’ll never forgive myself if I hurt you.”
“Like I hurt you…I didn’t know, Hutch. I didn’t know you were so alone. I always thought you’d get over me quick and move on with your life.”
“Forget it, Starsk. You did what you had to do. Eli is worth it, and Sophie is a gem.”
“Want to lay down and hold each other?”
Hutch shook his head. “Maybe later. You need to select your mom’s quarters. Can she handle stairs?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t even want her here, snooping around the place.” Starsky sat down on the sofa and frowned at the fire.
“There are cottages on the estate if you don’t want her in the Manor house. They’re used by some of the staff and their families, but we don’t have the staff we used to have, so some are empty now. The smaller cottages are pleasant and large enough to house a companion to help care for her.”
Starsky perked up. “Can we go look at one while Eli is sleeping? You can tell me more about the grounds. You mentioned livestock?”
Hutch stood and gestured to Starsky. “Let’s go. Yeah. There are about two dozen other cottages of various sizes scattered on the estate. There’s a barn with a few horses, two cows, a bull and a lot of chickens, an equipment shed behind the barn, and a garage next to the carriage house by the main gate. The cook keeps a large kitchen garden out back of the Manor, and there’s a small greenhouse close by. The rest of the grounds are grasslands, trees and a pond with fish. I learned to swim in it when I was a kid.”
On the way downstairs, Hutch asked Starsky for his hotel room key. He stopped by the kitchen where Johns was discussing the supper menu with the cook. Hutch interrupted their conversation.
“Johns, please have Starsky’s luggage brought here and check them out. Have the bill sent to my attention here at the Manor.” He handed Johns the key and turned to the cook. “Forget cooking supper, Helen. You’re getting the night off. Call our caterer and apologize for the last minute notice, but have them provide a casual spread for the entire staff and our families tonight—theirs and mine—so we can get to know each other. Aim for 7:30 or so. I’m not asking for fancy, just plentiful. Pasta and salad, or subs and chips or even pizza and BBQ wings. Whatever works for the time frame. They always do a good job, and I’ll see to it they get a hefty tip for the rush job. Oh! Have them provide cake and ice cream. Tomorrow is Mrs. Sophie’s birthday and we should make a fuss. We’re all family now.”
Helen nodded and picked up the phone. Johns left to arrange for the luggage pickup and to notify the staff about tonight’s impromptu party.
Hutch led Starsky out the kitchen door to show him the garden.
They found a dwelling that satisfied Starsky. It was set apart from its neighbours, a two bed, two bath cottage with a flower garden and a screened-in porch. It had a comfortable sitting room with a wood-burning fireplace, an adequate kitchen and tiny pantry. The furniture was in decent shape; the place hadn’t been vacant long. The décor was in neutral colours. Hutch offered to arrange for new towels and bedding, but Starsky said no. He and Eli would take his mother shopping and let her select what she wanted. It might mitigate her upset at having to leave Brooklyn.
Hutch nodded and they went back to the Manor.
* * * *
The last-minute party was a huge success. Hutch introduced his family to the staff and the staff was pleased their families were included. When Eli learned there were kids to play with, he made sure to meet them and ask their names.
The caterer stuck mostly to finger foods that encouraged everyone to mingle and forget about any mess—giant subs cut into generous slices, chips, pizzas and BBQ wings were paired with cans of soda, little cartons of milk and lots and lots of napkins.
A large birthday cake excited the kids. So did the individual ice cream cups to go with it, and they sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sophie with gusto.
The party wound down just after 10 PM. Hutch himself worked with the caterer, overseeing the cleanup and freeing the staff to tend to their families. Starsky and Sophie took Eli upstairs to get him showered and bedded down.
After the caterer and his help left, Hutch turned off the lights and headed up to his room. Starsky was still with Eli. He thought about re-lighting the fire and waiting for Starsky, but the day had started before dawn for Hutch, and he was exhausted. He sat on the bed, telling himself he should take a quick shower. Instead, he laid back on the bed and passed out.
He dreamed Starsky was sucking him, a vivid dream that had him on the verge of orgasm. He opened his eyes as his cock went deep, and he gasped, pouring himself down Starsky’s throat. He came so hard, he couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t want it to stop. He stared at the ceiling, blind with ecstasy.
“C’mon, babe, Let’s tuck you in.” Starsky quickly undressed him and got him under the covers, then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and slip into flannels. He wasn’t gone long, but Hutch was almost asleep when Starsky got into bed and gathered him close. “Goodnight, Hutch.”
“Hmmm…” was all Hutch could manage.
* * * *
The clock on the nightstand read 7:10A when there was a soft knock at the door. “Daddy, can I come in?”
“Yes, Eli. Come in.” Starsky sat up to greet his son. “What’s the matter?”
“I was lonesome. All my books and toys are at my other bedroom. Can you tell me a story?”
“Yes, but let’s go back to your room and let Uncle Hutch sleep a few more minutes. He has to get up and get ready to go to work soon.” Though he was in flannels, Starsky was aware that Hutch was sleeping nude. He leaned over and kissed Hutch’s brow and slipped out of bed.
“You love him, dontcha, daddy?” Eli said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I do.” Starsky picked Eli up and headed out of the bedroom.
“So, tell me a story.”
“Did you know there’s a barn here with cows and horses and chickens? We can go see them after breakfast…”
Starsky’s voice faded as he went into the hall, and a half-awake Hutch snuggled deeper under the covers, a faint smile on his face.
* * * *
He was surprised to be kept on as Mr. Hutchinson’s assistant, but Layne wasn’t surprised at the amount of work his boss handled yesterday morning, prior to leaving to make arrangements for his father’s funeral service. But he was surprised his boss didn’t return to the office afterward.
And he was surprised his boss arrived at the office this morning at a reasonable 8AM, instead of his usual 6AM. His dedication and focus were even more pronounced. But there was a subtle change. The urgency that ruled his life and drove him to complete any list of expectations to the exclusion of all else was gone.
Hutchinson was composed. He worked diligently throughout the day, and by 5PM, he’d cleared everything on his desk and even handled the arrangements for the lavish party his father had insisted on after the Board of Directors announced the company earnings. That meeting had been delayed two weeks out of respect for his father’s death.
He slipped a file into his briefcase and headed out. “We’ve put in a full day, Layne. Time to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Layne blinked in surprise. “Sir? Yessir.” He did as he was told, packed up and followed his boss out.
* * * *
Home! Hutch arrived at the Manor in time to change into casual clothes for supper, something his father never did. And instead of the silence around the table his father insisted on while he ate, Hutch listened to Eli happily prattle on about feeding chickens and sitting on a horse with his daddy.
Hutch nodded to Starsky. “Busy day, huh?”
“We explored the barn. He wanted to see the animals. It gave me much needed time with him and gave Sophie time to settle in.”
“We need to talk about Brooklyn arrangements.”
Starsky looked down at his plate. “We need to talk about more than that. I need to find a job. I have expenses and I want to help support us. I told you I’m not accepting a free ride.”
“I understand. We’ll talk tonight and work it out.”
“Is gramma Ruth coming too?” Eli’s ears perked up when Brooklyn was mentioned.
“That’s the plan,” his daddy said.
“Oh.” Eli wilted a little bit.
“What’s wrong, son? I thought you liked her.” Starsky asked, suddenly concerned.
“I do. Kinda. But sometimes she don’t like you and she’s mean. Will her room be near mine?”
“No. She’ll have her own little house nearby and I’ll take you to visit her like before. She won’t be in here.”
“Okay.” Eli went back to eating.
They finished supper over light small talk, then Hutch led Starsky upstairs to talk. They left the door open and started a fire, then settled together on the sofa.
“Talk to me about Brooklyn,” Hutch said.
“I know you offered to have movers pack up our belongings and bring them here, and that’ll be a big help. But I’ll have to go back and deal with mom. I can’t just send for her.”
“What if she refuses to come?”
“Then she’ll never see Eli again. It’ll speed things up if I leave him here. Is that okay with you?”
“It is. I’ll have to go to the office, but Sophie will be here with him, and I’ll be home by supper time. You wanted me to stop working 90 hours a week, and I’m doing it cold turkey. Layne was stunned.”
They smiled at each other.
“Did your lawyer create the documents naming you his guardian if anything happens to me? I want them signed and sealed before I go. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Yes. I’ll call him in the morning and have them delivered by noon. Can you come to my office then? We can sign them and have them filed.”
“Tell him to add power of attorney and a medical power of attorney allowing you to make decisions for me if I’m unable to do so. Eli’s a minor and I don’t want my mother to have any say over me.” Starsky’s resentment ran deep.
“Would you be okay with medical power of attorney decisions over me? I’d rest easier knowing you’d pull the plug on me if something happens.” Hutch rubbed his brow. “The rest is complicated. I can’t give you power of attorney over company decisions. But I’m changing my will to make sure you and Eli are provided for and have a place to live. I’m leaving you the Manor and the means to afford it.”
“Hutch!!! You can’t!”
“Why not? It’s mine. You and Eli are the only family I have.”
“Dammit, Hutch. Now finding a job is even more important. I’m no gold digger.”
“No, you’re not.” Hutch put his arm around Starsky’s shoulder and kissed him. “The lawyer will explain things to you tomorrow when he brings the documents.”
“Is there a car I can borrow?”
“Johns can arrange it. I know your independence is important to you, Starsk. You’ve made that very clear.”
Starsky heaved a sigh of relief. “Then I’ll be there.”
They watched the fire for a while. The silence should have been comfortable, but Hutch knew better. Starsky still had more to say. Hutch waited.
Finally, Starsky said, “About that job… Know anyone hiring, Hutch? I need to find one soon, and I don’t have a clue. I guess I assumed I’d find something with the police force here. I certainly have the experience, but they only have entry level positions at this time, and those won’t pay me what I need. For anything higher, they promote from within, and they were pretty adamant about that.”
“Would you consider Security at Hutchinson Industries? Maybe personal bodyguard?”
“Yours? Would that be allowed? I mean, if we’re not hiding our relationship, some of your colleagues might stop taking you seriously.”
“Not with my reputation.” The formidable tone was back. “They’re only interested in making money, and that I can do.”
Starsky nodded to himself. “It would be great to work together again after so long. Let me think on it.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“We talked and touched a lot when we patrolled in the Torino. I won’t be able to do that if I’m your bodyguard. I’d be relegated to the background to observe and protect in silence.”
He was right. Hutch hadn’t considered that, but it didn’t matter. “We can make it work.” But it triggered another thought. “What happened to the Torino, Starsk?”
He was quiet for a time, then Starsky admitted, “Merle was storing it for me and I told him to sell it.”
That was something Hutch never thought he’d hear. Starsky loved that car and Hutch just assumed it had ended up in Brooklyn. “Why?”
“Needed the money. I told you I had expenses. It was the only collateral I had, but it wasn’t enough to borrow against.”
Eli came in and crawled into his daddy’s lap and Hutch dropped the subject. He watched Starsky hug him close, as though needing comfort only Eli could provide, and he deduced Starsky’s “expenses” involved Eli’s mother, not his own. They sat in a silence that grew more comfortable as they watched the fire together.
When Eli began to drowse, Starsky took him to his room to help Sophie get him showered and ready for bed. Hutch took the time to shower off his day and prepare himself for bedtime. He came out in a towel as Starsky returned.
“Lock the door, Starsk, and take off your clothes,” he instructed, turning the covers down and spreading the towel on the bed.
“Hutch?”
“It’s time to consummate our relationship. I want you to take me. I wanna belong to you.” Hutch paused at Starsky’s hesitation. “Did I misunderstand? We don’t have to take our intimacy that far. What we do is more than enough.”
Starsky didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“Oh.” Hutch re-wrapped himself in the towel and headed for the closet, came out wearing pajamas in case Eli knocked on the door. He crawled into bed and pulled up the covers. “’night, Starsk. I’ll try not to wake you when I leave. I’ll see you at the office at noon and we’ll get those papers signed.” He rolled over and closed his eyes.
Starsky left the room.
Hutch woke alone. He sighed, got cleaned up and dressed for work, wondering if he’d see Starsky at noon after all, but he couldn’t let it matter.
He was at the office by 8AM. He handled his own messages and added a meeting with his lawyer and Starsky to his calendar, then he called the lawyer and gave instructions for the additional documents to be created and brought to his office at noon. His lawyer agreed.
* * * *
“Mr. Hutchinson, Mr. Cranston is here.”
“I’ll be with him in a minute, Layne,” Hutch re-read the e-mail he was writing to the board, and hit send, then went to his door to greet his lawyer.
“Come in, Scott. Layne, bring us some coffee.” Hutch could see down the hall, but there was no sign of Starsky. He sighed and went into his office where Cranston was laying out documents on Hutch’s desk.
Layne arrived with coffee.
“Are you hungry, Scott?” Hutch asked. “I’d planned on ordering lunch while we signed these, but Starsky isn’t…”
“I’m here,” Starsky said breathlessly, a security guard in tow. “Reception said I wasn’t expected, and Layne wasn’t answering his phone. I insisted on being escorted upstairs.”
Hutch thanked the guard and waved him out, then introduced Starsky. “Scott, Layne, this is David Starsky. He, his son Eli, and his son’s nanny are moving into the Manor. Eli just turned three.” He turned to Starsky. “Starsk, this is Scott Cranston, my attorney, and Layne Reese, my assistant.”
“Shall I order lunch?” Layne asked. “The executive dining room is featuring pork chops and trout today, or I could order in from elsewhere.”
“Trout sounds good. Gentlemen?” Starsky nodded. Cranston ordered the chops and Layne left the room.
By the time lunch arrived, the documents were explained and signed, with Layne as witness and notary.
They ate lunch, then Cranston and Starsky left together and Hutch got back to work, while Layne cleaned up. “Layne, if I was to offer Starsky a position in Security, specifically as my bodyguard, what are your thoughts on the matter?”
Layne thought about it as he cleared away lunch. “Do you want my honest opinion, sir?”
“Please.” Hutch watched him intently.
“When it’s learned he’s living at the Manor, there are those who’ll gossip behind your back.”
“And?”
“He doesn’t have an imposing physique, but the fact that he got Security to escort him up here without a fight says a lot about him. He projects an air that says he knows what he’s doing and can handle himself.”
“He was a police detective for years in California like me. Recently, he’s been a cop in Brooklyn. Trust me. He knows what he’s doing.”
“You were a cop?” Layne said in surprise.
“A police detective in Bay City, California. Starsky and I rode together.”
“Then I think you should do it. He’ll certainly protect you.”
“With his life. Thanks, Layne.”
* * * *
It was 6PM before Hutch left the office, but he got everything done that couldn’t wait. He changed and joined the family for supper, but didn’t say much. When the family retired to the parlor to enjoy a fire, Hutch wandered upstairs to work on the eulogy for his father’s upcoming service.
“Hutch?”
Starsky was looking for him. He didn’t bother answering. The door was open, a reading lamp was on, and he had a fire going in here, too.
“You didn’t answer me,” Starsky scolded. “What are you doing?”
“Putting the final touches on my father’s eulogy. His service is tomorrow afternoon at a private cemetery outside of town.”
“I-I didn’t realize…”
“Doesn’t matter. It’ll just be the Board of Directors and me. He was very specific about what he wanted. Absolutely no viewing, a quick service, and his body interred next to my mother’s. No clergy, no reporters, no refreshments. I gave the employees the day off to start their weekend early. He’d have had a fit, but it didn’t go against his final list of expectations and they deserve the time off. He was a demanding boss.”
He finished the eulogy and set it aside. “Your copies of the documents we signed are in my briefcase. You can get your own fireproof lockbox or have a wall safe installed wherever you want it. Just tell Johns and he’ll get it done.”
“What’s wrong, Hutch?”
“There’s nothing wrong. When are you going to Brooklyn?”
“Sunday. I’ll talk to my mom Sunday afternoon about the arrangements. Movers are coming Monday morning. They’ll ship the stuff and we’ll fly back on Tuesday.”
“Hmmm. Not enough time to complete the work, but they could make a good start,” Hutch mused.
“What work?”
“Privacy for yourself. You’re welcome to take the suite across the hall and make it your own.”
“My own? No more sharing? No more intimacy?”
“Of course we’ll be intimate. We’ll continue to do whatever you want to do. It just gives you a place where you wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not I was naked if Eli wants to crawl into bed with you.”
“So, you were awake when he came in.” Starsky rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll never interfere with how you handle your son.” Hutch took a breath and asked carefully, “Have you given anymore thought to working Security at Hutchinson Industries? Maybe as my bodyguard?”
“If you think we can make it work, I’ll do it.”
Hutch stood and headed for the bathroom. “Contact Layne when you return. He’ll work with Human Resources to expedite the paperwork and get you started. But just so you know, Layne has no instructions from me regarding your employment. Any decisions made are entirely yours.”
“Hutch, stop!” Something had changed, but Starsky didn’t know what and Hutch wasn’t saying. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong. You’ve given me several reminders now, that your independence is an integral part of you. You don’t like being told what to do. You never did. That’s why you’re so angry with your mother and her attempts to manipulate you. I don’t want that to happen to us, and it was beginning to, so I’m stepping back. If I could offer a suggestion, though, when you talk to HR, they will ask you what salary range you’re expecting. You have the experience. Tell them what you want to earn and be generous to yourself. Trust me, you’ll earn it.”
He continued on to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower and get ready for bed. It was a long day, and I need to get some rest. Tomorrow will be busy.”
Starsky watched the door close and heard the shower start, then he went to check on Eli and think about what Hutch said.
Hutch was asleep when Starsky returned. He locked the door, stripped, and crawled into bed, undressing Hutch with gentle hands. “Wake up, babe. I want to show you love.”
Hutch woke, sighed softly and wiggled out of his pajama bottoms. “How do you wanna do it, Starsk?”
“Like you wanted to the other night. Let me bury myself in your body. Consummate our relationship.”
“I’m not…” Hutch stopped himself. “Sure. Whatever you say,” and he rolled to his hands and knees, presented himself and waited in silence.
“You’re not what? Hutch?”
“Let’s just do this, Starsk. I really do have a busy day tomorrow and I’d like to go back to sleep.”
He stroked Hutch and said, “Then go back to sleep. We’ll do this another time.”
Hutch settled. Starsky tucked him in, slipped into Hutch’s pajama bottoms, got up and unlocked the door. He stirred the embers in the fireplace and added a log, then sat in front of the rekindled fire and brooded.
Hutch returned from his father’s service to find Starsky standing in his mother’s suite. “You can do anything you want in here. Make this space completely yours.”
“I want nothing to do with it. I thought we were sharing the other suite. Or did you change your mind?”
“No. I was only providing options. I told you, we will do whatever you want. You wanna share, we share.”
Suddenly, Starsky glimpsed what he thought was going on. “What do you want, Hutch?”
You, Hutch thought to himself. Aloud, he said “I’m good. I have everything I need, Starsk.”
“I didn’t ask what you need. I asked you what you want.”
Hutch sidestepped the question. “I’m going to change, maybe go riding. Would you and Eli like to join me?”
Starsky let him. “He would like that. I’ll go find him and we’ll meet you downstairs.”
They had fun. Eli chased chickens while they saddled the horses, then he rode with his daddy and held the reins. They rode past the cottage where his gramma Ruth would be living, but he didn’t want to go inside. They rode all the way to the pond, where Hutch said he learned to swim and Eli lit up.
By the time they got back to the barn, it was almost suppertime. Eli was tired, but happy and told Sophie all about his ride and the pond. “Uncle Hutch is gonna teach me to swim!!”
He went back to eating, then asked his daddy, “Can we have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow? I like pancakes.”
“We’ll go ask Mrs. Helen after we finish eating.”
Eli put his fork down. “I’m done!”
Starsky smiled. “We’re not! Sit quietly. We’ll go soon.”
Ten minutes later, he and Eli went to talk to the cook. Hutch headed upstairs. Sophie followed, asking to speak with him. He settled her on the sofa in his room and started a fire.
“What’s up?”
“I thought moving here would be a good thing, but now I’m not so sure. I’m worried about you and David,” she began.
Her words surprised Hutch. “How so?”
“Neither of you is happy unless you’re with Eli, and you haven’t dealt with him directly since you sang for him our first night here. Not till you offered to teach him to swim today.”
“I didn’t.” Hutch tended the fire he’d started. “We ended up at the pond when we rode, and I mentioned I’d learned to swim in it.”
“You didn’t correct him.”
“Not my place. He’s David’s son.” He used the name she was comfortable using.
“Yet you agreed to be his guardian.”
“Not at first. I agreed to if he’d supply a list of expectations of how David wanted his son raised.”
“A list of expectations… I’ve heard you speak of those before. They’re important to you. Why?”
She deserved an answer. “Measurable results gave me access,” Hutch stated. “But only if I completed them quickly and successfully. In Eli’s case, I don’t want to get into a legal fight with Ruth Starsky because I’m not related and she is. She doesn’t like me.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Sophie patted the sofa. “Come sit with me, Hutch.”
He sighed, but joined her.
“David didn’t expect this wealth. You never mentioned it and I think it intimidates him, but he stayed. Why aren’t you happy? David’s here. He shares your bed. He’s talking about working with you again.”
“I didn’t mention it because none of it was mine. I left home when I was eighteen and I’ve supported myself ever since. I was shocked my father left me anything at all. I’m seeing rooms in the Manor I didn’t see when I lived here.” He looked around. “But I’m good. I just have to be careful not to tell David what to do. You may have noticed he doesn’t like being backed into a corner. We do better when he has options.”
“What is it with you and your options, Hutch?” Starsky asked from the doorway.
“I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” Sophie patted Hutch’s arm, got up and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“They’re necessary when I use the words ‘I want.’ They give you graceful ways to say no, when I want you to do something you don’t want to do.” He could tell by the look on Starsky’s face he wasn’t explaining himself very well. ‘I want’ were words his father never allowed. Why would Starsky? He gave up and waited for Starsky to tell him what they were going to do.
Starsky locked the door. “Suck me, Hutch.”
“Here or on the bed?” Hutch asked as Starsky approached him and unzipped.
“Just like that?” Starsky hesitated.
“What do you mean? I enjoy sucking you.”
“But do you want to?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Starsky zipped his jeans and left the room.
* * * *
“Hutch.”
He was watching the fire when Starsky returned that night to get ready for bed. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been talking to Sophie. I think it’s best if we move back to Brooklyn. There’s nothing for us here, and you don’t need me lurking around telling you what to do.”
Hutch shut down completely. “Whatever you say. Tell Sophie and Eli…never mind. Tell them whatever you want to.” He left the room without another word.
There was only one place in the Manor he could pretend was home, and he headed upstairs to the room he was exiled to when he was three. It was clean and the bed was still there, but it wasn’t made. It didn’t matter. He locked the door and laid on the bed. He didn’t cry—he had no tears—he just stared at the ceiling, distancing himself from any feelings he had.
* * * *
“Mr. Ken? Sir? Please unlock the door.”
Hutch blinked, aware for the first time in he didn’t know how long. He sat up and staggered to the door and turned the lock.
Johns stood there, his fist raised as though he’d been pounding on the door. “Thank God! We wanted to break it down, but Mr. Starsky insisted we leave you alone and Layne said to listen to him. But it’s been days and I…”
“What day is it, Johns?”
“Wednesday, sir.”
Wednesday. “And the time?”
“Nearly 10AM, sir.”
He needed to get cleaned up and report to work. He headed down to his father’s suite to shower and dress. Johns followed him.
He stopped short when he realized Starsky’s clothing was in the closet, sharing space with his. “Where is Starsky?”
“He’s settling his mother and her companion in her cottage. They flew back yesterday from Brooklyn.”
“Hmm…tell the cook I won’t be home for supper. Please have housekeeping make the bed upstairs and put toiletries and towels in the ensuite. I don’t care what colours. Make sure there’s a working alarm clock next to the bed.” He selected a suit, shirt, tie and undergarments and headed for the shower. “Have my clothes moved to the room upstairs and a car ready to take me to the office in twenty minutes.”
“Sir, yessir.” Johns took a look at Hutch’s face and hurried for the door.
Layne was surprised to see him, but the total lack of feeling was disturbing and made Hutch’s formidable air almost dangerous.
“What have I missed, Layne?” Hutch sat in his office, quickly going through the papers on his desk. Layne gave him a quick summary of the most important items, then waited apprehensively for instructions.
“You told Johns to do what Starsky said, to leave me alone at the Manor. Why?”
“He called me, sir, Saturday morning. Said you were taking a few days off, and wanted to be left alone. Should I have—”
“Did he ask about a job at Hutchinson Industries?”
“No, sir.”
“If he does, it’ll be in Security. Work with HR to find him something, but not as my bodyguard. Pay him whatever he wants, but keep him off this floor. I don’t want him anywhere near me. If I see him, you’ll both be looking for work. Now get out of here. I have calls to return.”
Layne was shocked. “Yessir.” He left the office quickly and closed the door behind him.
Hutch worked till almost midnight, returning calls, catching up on company business and making a list of expectations for Layne to handle. He called for his car and headed home. On the way, he told the driver he’d be taking himself to work from now on. He knew his car was parked in the garage next to the carriage house, stored there since he’d moved into the Manor. The driver nodded; he knew better than to argue.
The Manor was dark, but Hutch went to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich, eating it as he climbed the stairs to his room on the third floor.
“Hutch?”
It was Starsky, at the door to the master suite. Hutch ignored him. He got to his room, closed and locked the door, got into his pajamas, set the alarm and crawled into bed.
He was up and gone by 5:30AM, at his desk by 6.
He worked fifteen hours on Thursday, sixteen on Friday, and another sixteen on Saturday, mostly in silence.
On Sunday, he stayed at the Manor, but kept to himself. As he was headed down to the kitchen, Eli met him on the stairs by the second floor suites.
“Uncle Hutch?”
Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore the little boy. “Eli.”
“Daddy says you’ve been working a lot. I miss you.”
He didn’t say anything. Eli took his hand and led him to the master suite. He hesitated at the door, but Starsky wasn’t there. Sophie was and she was sitting in front of a fire, holding his guitar.
“Hutch,” she said.
He acknowledged her gravely. Eli pulled him into the room, took the guitar from Sophie and handed it to him. “Will you play me a song, Uncle Hutch?”
“Not now, Eli. I’m pretty busy.”
“Oh” The little boy was disappointed. “After dinner?”
“Maybe.”
Sophie frowned. “C’mon, Eli. Let’s let Uncle Hutch get back to what he was doing.”
Hutch waited while Sophie took Eli’s hand and led him out of the room. When they were gone, Hutch muttered to himself, “Or maybe not.” He raised his knee and hit the guitar against it, breaking it in two. He tossed the pieces into the flames and left the room.
He was saddling a horse for one last ride when Starsky caught up to him.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Hutch? You’re back to working 90 hours a week and you’re avoiding us. You’re avoiding me. Why?”
“I’ve been busy.” He finished saddling the horse and mounted it, but Starsky grabbed the reins.
“Doing what?”
“Making preparations. I haven’t told the board yet, but I’m leaving Hutchinson Industries. I’ll announce it next week at the earnings meeting. They won’t like it, but I have nothing more to give. And I’m moving out of the Manor. I’ll be gone by morning. I’m taking what I need. Anything I leave behind, you can toss or burn.”
“Like you burned your guitar? Eli is devastated.”
“He’ll get over it. A little help from you and he’ll forget all about me. You’re good at that,” Hutch said matter-of-factly.
“What are we supposed to do?”
“Whatever you want. You always do. Frankly, I was surprised you didn’t move back to Brooklyn like you told me you were. You said there was nothing for you here. Well, now there is.” He patted the horse, snorting impatiently to go. “The Manor is yours. It comes with an account that will enable you to maintain the place, including paying the staff.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Then sell it. Use the proceeds to buy a place in Brooklyn to keep your family comfortable. But it’s a done deal. It’s yours. Scott will deliver the papers to you. Now if you don’t mind, Jesse is ready for his walk.” Hutch jiggled the reins, and Starsky let go.
Once Hutch left the barn, Starsky burst into tears.
* * * *
Hutch left early the next morning with a single suitcase and a garment bag with two suits. He put them in the executive suite on the top floor of Hutchinson Industries. It was a temporary measure; he had every intention of moving off the grid after next week’s meeting. He wasn’t staying for the party. There was no point.
When Layne arrived at 8AM, he brought in fresh coffee and took the notes and files waiting for him on the corner of Hutch’s desk. It was all done in silence and he left the office as quickly as he could. His boss’s walled off, somber attitude made Layne intensely uncomfortable.
Fifteen hours later, Hutch was ready to call it a day. Layne was long gone, so Hutch called for a sub to be delivered to the executive suite, and he went up to get comfortable and await it. He didn’t bother with the television; he turned on the radio to fill the silence with soft music.
Finally, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find a uniformed Starsky holding his dinner.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Delivering your food. I’m the only one working this late in Security who has access to this floor.” Starsky handed him his sandwich and Hutch started to close the door in Starsky’s face.
“Hutch, please! Talk to me. I’ll do anything to fix this. Tell me what to do!” Starsky begged, with tears in his eyes.
Hutch wasn’t impressed. “Nobody tells you what to do. Goodbye, Starsky.” He shut the door and locked it.
He was rummaging in the fridge for a soda to go with his sandwich, when Starsky used his keys to let himself in.
“We’re going to talk, Hutch.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Then we’re going to do.”
“Do what?”
“Whatever you want to do to me, Hutch. Punch me, fire me, fuck me raw. Hell, throw me out the window and watch me hit the pavement if it’ll make you feel better. For once in your life, do what you want to do.”
“I don’t believe you, Starsky. I’ve tried, but you walked out on me.” He opened a soda he found and took a healthy drink. “Just leave me alone. You’re good at that.”
“When, Hutch?”
He sighed. He was tired and no longer hungry. He tossed the sub into the fridge and finished the soda. “Doesn’t matter. It’s late. I need to be back in the office by six and you need to go.”
Starsky dared to caress his face. “When, babe?”
“Not long after you moved into the Manor. I told you I wanted you to take me. Make me yours. I even prepared myself for you. But when I presented myself, you wouldn’t touch me. You just walked out without a word. I felt so…so cheap. Like you were letting me know you deserved better. I guess that’s the real reason you didn’t come back to Bay City. You wanted better. And you found her. You had Sarah, but you lost her, so you decided to use me to spite your mother. But you don’t want to make me yours. I’m not family material. Not your family, anyway, and I’m only useful when you want to get your rocks off.” He pulled away from Starsky’s touch. “Okay, we’ve talked. Now leave. I’m tired.”
He retreated to the bathroom, locked the door and turned on the shower.
It was delightfully hot and when he finished, he was relaxed for the first time in days. Hutch wrapped in a towel and exited the bathroom to unpack his pajamas and crawl into bed.
Starsky was waiting for him.
“You prepared yourself for me?” Starsky said intently. “How? Show me.”
Hutch should have thrown him out. He wanted to. But he wanted to know how Starsky felt in his body, just once. He went to the suitcase open on the bed and rummaged in his shaving kit for the tube of lubricant he knew was there, wanting…wanting… The silences in his life that followed those words when he said them were suddenly, resoundingly, piercingly loud.
No. He left the tube in his kit and closed it. “Get out, Starsky. Leave now, or you’re fired.” He pulled his pajamas out of the suitcase and went back to the bathroom.
He heard the door close as he hung up the towel and got ready for bed.
* * * *
Starsky’s resignation was on his desk when Hutch came down to work. He tossed it in the OUT basket and dealt with the business at hand, but shortly after 8AM, his private line rang. It was an angry Cranston, wanting to know what the hell was going on.
“What kind of game are you and this Starsky character playing? You called me last week asking me to drop everything and create documents for guardianship, medical powers of attorney and ownership of Hutchinson Manor. I made the time and did it. This morning, I get a call from Starsky, demanding I drop everything and create documents rescinding everything I filed. I can’t drop everything. Not this week. I’m in court, and I just don’t have the time. Not even if you were to ask.”
“Just get to it when you can and give him whatever he wants, Scott. You have my power of attorney and can sign for me if I’m unavailable. I’m leaving town soon.”
There was silence at the other end of the line.
“I have to leave for court, Ken. But meet me for lunch at the Rialto near the courthouse at noon.”
“I can’t. I have too much to do.”
“You can. We don’t have to talk about Starsky, but I need to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m all right, Scott.”
“No, you’re not. I’ve got to go. Meet me. Noon.”
The line went dead.
Layne knocked on the door. “Can I bring you coffee, sir?”
“No.” As Layne hurriedly closed the door, Hutch added, “Thank you.”
He worked till 11:30AM, then decided to meet Scott for lunch. It would be prudent to tell Scott he was leaving the company and moving off the grid, that he trusted Scott to make any necessary decisions that needed Hutch’s signature. He pulled out his wallet and car keys and headed out.
He didn’t make it.
* * * *
It wasn’t the beeping or the voices he dreamed were disturbing his sleep. It was the soft stroking of the hand on his cheek. The hand that smelled like Starsky. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. He moaned.
“Hutch? Hutch! Do you hear me?” This voice was anxious, close, and the hand cupped his cheek. He leaned into it ever so slightly, but was unable to speak.
“He’s aware!
The anxious voice was louder, and the other voices gathered round, touching and asking questions he couldn’t answer. He blocked them out and focused on the hand that smelled like Starsky, but it was an effort.
He tried to remember what happened, but his world dwindled down to a single word: ‘couldn’t.’ He couldn’t speak, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything, and he began to panic.
“Hutch! Calm down! It’s okay! Give me a minute and I’ll explain what’s going on.”
It was Starsky. He listened while Starsky ordered everyone out of the room. “I want fifteen minutes to talk to this man and tell him what happened.” He wasn’t surprised that no one argued. Starsky was like Hutch’s father—no one told him no. It was a memory that saddened him, but he couldn’t remember why.
The room cleared. Starsky picked up his right hand, squeezed it, and began to speak.
“You were in your car, on your way to meet your lawyer, and a speeding van ran a red light and broadsided you. He was dead at the scene.” Starsky swallowed heavily. “He nearly killed you, Hutch.”
Was it his imagination, or did Starsky sound scared?
“You hit your head hard and got a massive concussion. You didn’t wake up and they were afraid there was brain damage. You’re being fed through a tube, and you were on a respirator. That’s probably why you can’t talk, but now that you’re responding, they can run some tests. There was glass everywhere and you got some in your eyes. They flushed out everything they could find and surgically removed the rest, but there was some damage and they bandaged your eyes. There will be more tests for those, maybe more surgery. And your left wrist was severely broken. They rebuilt it and there are screws in it now. They will examine it to make sure it’s healing properly, but it will be in a cast for a while.”
Starsky squeezed his hand. “They didn’t know how far to go when you were brought to the ER in such grave condition. Layne was notified and he contacted me to exercise the medical power of attorney you’d given me. I’m here as much as I can be, but it’s been two weeks and I can’t neglect Eli.”
Two weeks? Not a word about work or how the company was doing. Hutch had no memory of the car crash. In fact, his recent memories were spotty, but he knew who Eli was, and he remembered a promise not to interfere in Starsky’s dealings with his son. Family first. He was surprised he had Starsky’s attention at all. He could easily have phoned his instructions in from wherever he was living. He wondered if Starsky had sold the Manor yet, then decided it didn’t matter. He gave a faint squeeze to indicate he’d heard, then slowly shut down again.
Starsky sighed, released his hand, and let the medical staff back into the room. “I have to go. Call me if you have any updates or need me to sign for any procedures we haven’t already discussed.” As he left the room, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll see ya later, Hutch.”
Hutch paid no attention.
* * * *
Another two weeks had passed. His memories were returning, his wrist was healing and he was beginning to talk, though he said very little. He was eating soft foods again, but insisted on feeding himself. He was refusing to use bedpans now; he used a cane to shuffle to the restroom and an orderly helped him not make a mess. His eyes were still a problem. His sight was returning, but any light hurt them, so they were kept bandaged to keep him from rubbing them, but at his insistence, they compromised and left them uncovered while he ate and used the facilities alone, though he wasn’t allowed to shower. He wanted out, but nobody listened.
* * * *
“Uncle Hutch!” The little boy wiggled out of Starsky’s arms and landed carefully on the hospital bed next to Hutch’s side. He gently touched Hutch’s cheek and fussed over his bandaged eyes. “Do they hurt? I can help.” Eli leaned over and very softly kissed the gauze that covered Hutch’s eyes. “There. All better.” He kissed Hutch’s cheek for good measure. “Daddy said we missed your birthday. Mrs. Helen says she’ll bake a cake and we can sing ‘Happy Birthday’ when you come home. Do you like chocolate cake?”
Home. He had no home and he wasn’t going back to the Manor. Starsky needed to explain that to his son. “No cake,” he croaked in a very hoarse voice. “Your father will tell you why. Now go and don’t come back.”
“Daddy? Uncle Hutch don’t like me anymore. Was I bad?” Eli burst into tears.
“Let’s go, son.”
He felt Starsky scoop up Eli.
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered to Hutch and headed for the door, tenderly consoling the sobbing child.
Hutch had to get out of here.
* * * *
He paid attention and made a plan. A few days later, the nurse arrived to uncover his eyes so he could eat his evening meal. She returned with a tray holding clean gauze, a scalpel and tape to re-cover them and waited for him to use the restroom. While he hobbled toward it, the P.A. called for help.
“I’ll be right back, Mr. Hutchinson. If you need help in there, pull the alert chain. Otherwise, I’ll re-cover your eyes as soon as I return.”
He nodded indifferently and she set the tray down on the bed table and hurried from the room. As soon as she was gone, he went to the table and fussed with the scalpel and tape, then headed for the door.
He didn’t expect the security guard from Hutchinson Industries, sitting just outside in the hall.
“Sir? I’ll have to ask you to return to your room.” The guard stood up and approached him.
“Step back. Leave me alone.”
The guard looked at Hutch’s cane and unsteady gait and dismissed any threat. He didn’t see the glint of the scalpel wedged in Hutch’s cast and securely taped.
“I said step back.” Hutch raised the scalpel to his own throat and a trickle of blood ran down his neck.
The guard backed away, hands up in supplication.
“Now go into my room and close the door.”
The guard did as he was told and Hutch dragged his chair in front to block it, then headed for the bank of elevators nearby. As one of them blinked shut, the guard rushed out, tripping over the chair in his way, hurried into another one that opened, and punched the button to the lobby. As the elevator descended, Hutch edged out of a supply room, dressed in scrubs and the guard’s jacket and hobbled down two flights of stairs to the parking garage and escaped.
The search party Starsky quietly arranged found him two days later in an alley six blocks away, unconscious behind a dumpster he’d been scrounging in, next to rats eating the bodies of two others he had gutted. There was dried blood on his neck and a rat was sniffing at it.
Hutch awoke in a hospital bed in the parlor of the Manor. His eyes were uncovered, but the only light was a fire burning in the room. There was a nurse in attendance, watching him closely. When she saw him awake, she picked up the receiver and murmured into the phone.
Starsky arrived a few minutes later and sent the nurse out of the room. He approached the bed speaking quietly, but didn’t touch.
“We found you yesterday. A doctor examined you carefully. You had a rat bite, but we killed and examined it. You were lucky. It wasn’t rabid. You probably haven’t eaten much, but we can fix that. Soft foods to start, but you won’t have to scrounge in a dumpster to eat.”
“The company?” Hutch didn’t care, but felt obliged to ask.
“The board knows about the accident, but no one was sure whether you would survive. It had already been delayed once, they were afraid to delay it again, so they held the earnings meeting. They don’t know you’d planned to leave, and Scott, Layne, and I kept your escape from the hospital out of the news. As far as anyone knows, you were transferred home and are recovering at the Manor so I guess you have options.”
Options. He snorted silently to himself.
“And the security guard at the hospital?”
“He’s the one who found you. Don’t worry. He wasn’t fired. He got a new jacket and a bonus.”
Hutch said nothing. The man probably saved his life by backing away and letting him go. Hutch would have cut his own throat if the guard had tried to play hero, and Starsky seemed to know it.
“No one will bother you while you recover, but I suggest you restrict yourself to the parlor and the bathroom. Don’t wander around the place. The attending nurses will help you until the doctor pronounces you fit. Helen will prepare whatever you’re able to eat. When you are ready to go outside, let Johns know. He will provide someone to help you.” He looked at the fire. “It needs another log. I’ll see to it. Do you have any questions?”
Hutch shook his head.
“Then I’ll send the nurse back in. Have a good evening.” He stopped long enough to tend the fire, then left the room.
* * * *
He couldn’t read, couldn’t focus on the television, so he slept a lot and it seemed to help, but two days later, he found himself staring at the shadows on the ceiling cast by the fire they kept lit in the parlor. He found them comforting.
“Uncle Hutch? Are you still mad at me?” The voice was timid. Eli had crept into the room holding a book in his hands, and stood next to the hospital bed.
“You’re not supposed to be in here, young man,” the nurse scolded.
“Leave him be,” Hutch rasped. “I was never mad at you, Eli. Come here.” To the nurse, he ordered, “Help him up on the bed.”
She helped him up and withdrew. Eli nestled against him.
“The band-aids are gone from your eyes! Can you see me now, Uncle Hutch?”
“You kissed and made them better, remember? I can see you, Eli.” He hugged the child.
“Can you read me a story? I brought a book.”
“Not yet. I can see you, but I can’t see well enough to read yet.”
“Then I’ll read to you. I only know some of the words, but there are pictures and I can tell you the story.” Eli opened ‘The Little Engine That Could’ and started reading.
An hour later, Starsky came looking for his son. “What are you doing in here?” he said sternly.
“Shh, daddy. Uncle Hutch is sleeping. I came in to talk to him and he said he wasn’t mad at me. That my kisses made his eyes better, but he couldn’t read yet, so I read to him.” Eli proudly showed his book. “I know some of the words!”
“Let’s let him sleep.” He reached to help Eli down off the bed.
“No, daddy! I didn’t get to finish it. I promised I’d be here when he waked up.” He snuggled next to Hutch and Starsky left them alone.
To everyone’s shock, Hutch joined them for supper, dressed warmly in pajamas and a flannel robe, spurning his cane and leaning on Eli. Eli proudly led him into the casual dining room off the kitchen they used and helped him carefully slide into the banquette. “You can sit next to me, Uncle Hutch!” When he squinted painfully in the light, Starsky got up and turned them down. “Is that better, Hutch?”
“Yes, thank you,” he rasped. “What’s for supper?”
“Salad, spaghetti and garlic bread,” Sophie said quietly. “But Helen can make you something lighter. Maybe scrambled eggs?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, that might be best.”
“I’ll go ask her.” Starsky got up and went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he came back with a plate of eggs and a glass of pulp free orange juice.
The others were dishing up their supper and talking quietly. Hutch didn’t talk, but Eli fussed over him, and his silence was comfortable.
After they finished, Starsky told Eli, “Go with Aunt Sophie. I want to talk to Uncle Hutch.”
Eli patted Hutch’s arm protectively. “Call me if you need me.” To his daddy, he said, “Be nice.” He left with Sophie.
They watched him go. “He’s been worried about you,” Starsky said.
Hutch didn’t say anything.
“How are you really, Hutch? Any better? How are your eyes?”
“Light sensitive. I can see, but I still can’t focus enough to read. I’m moving better, but I still have headaches. How’s your mother?”
“Settling in. She’s surprised she likes it as much as she does. She brought a friend with her to keep her company and help her. They sit on the porch and rock. She sees Eli an hour each week if she behaves herself. He told her about the chickens and she asked if she could keep a few in her yard. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Not my call. This is your place now,” Hutch reminded him.
“My place. Yeah, about that…”
Hutch cut him off. “So, when are you moving back to Brooklyn?”
There was silence for a moment, then Starsky said, “That depends on you.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about what happens to you, Hutch.”
“You care…let me ask you something, Starsk. Do you love me?”
Starsky fiddled with a fork on the table. “Why would you ask me that? You know I do.”
“No. I believe you care. A lot, but caring isn’t love and I don’t think you do.”
“Why not?”
“Except for Eli, it’s never spontaneous. You never say it unless prompted. then you hesitate. You’re doing it now. You examine the scenario to see what saying it will cost you, or what you get in return. You’re especially careful with me.”
“No, I—” he lapsed into silence, lost in thought.
“I’d better leave the Manor, Starsky, so you and your family can get on with your lives. Will you authorize Johns to arrange to drive me back to Hutchinson Industries tonight? I can stay in the executive suites, and I won’t be a bother to anyone.”
“No, daddy! Make him stay! I love you, Uncle Hutch! You can sleep in my room!” Eli came running in, dropping the book he carried and climbing up on the banquette to grab Hutch.
“Listen to him, Hutch. Please stay. You’re family, too.”
Hutch gave Eli a hug, but shook his head at Starsky.
“Please, Hutch. I’ll cuff you to the bed if I have to, but I want you to stay because I love you. I love you more than anyone but Eli.”
Eli looked up and kissed his cheek. “Don’t cry, Uncle Hutch. Daddy does love you. He told me so.”
Hutch hugged him hard, wanting desperately to believe.
Starsky reached out and touched a tear running down his face. “Believe it, babe. I do love you.”
Hutch took a deep breath and whispered, “I’ll stay.”
Starsky smiled. “Let’s get you back to bed. Think you can manage the stairs if Eli and I help you?”
“The stairs?”
“Yeah. We share the master suite. You belong there with me. There’s a fire going and we can prop you up with as many pillows as you need to be comfortable.”
“I just need you,” Hutch rasped.
“Let’s go, babe.” He stood and came around to help Hutch slide out of the banquette.
“I can do it, daddy, I helped him before,” Eli scolded. “Just lean on me, Uncle Hutch. I’m big.”
“Yes you are, little man,” Hutch agreed, and he let Eli help.
Together, Starsky, and Eli got Hutch up to the master suite, where Hutch collapsed on the sofa in front of the fire Starsky had going. Eli climbed up next to him and stroked his face. “Are you okay, Uncle Hutch?”
“I’m fine, Eli. Just tired. But I want to watch the fire for a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Eli settled next to him. “Daddy, can we give him his present now?”
“Present?” Hutch asked.
“We missed your birthday. Eli likes to celebrate birthdays with cake and ice cream and presents.” Starsky turned to his son when a frown flickered across Hutch’s face, but quickly disappeared. “Not tonight, Eli. Let’s wait till Uncle Hutch isn’t so tired, okay?”
“Okay.” Eli patted Hutch’s arm.
“In fact, it’s time to shower and get ready for bed. We go see gramma Ruth after pancakes tomorrow. You can help her feed her chickens. Now scoot! Go find Aunt Sophie. I’ll come tuck you in later.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Uncle Hutch!” He kissed Hutch’s cheek and headed for the door.
When he was gone, Starsky said, “Thanks for not making a fuss. He was pretty upset about missing your birthday and you refusing a cake. We can skip the whole cake thing, but he chose the present himself and will insist on giving it to you at some point.”
Hutch nodded tiredly, then yawned.
“We need to get you tucked in, too.” Starsky stood to help him up.
“No. Not yet. I want…” Hutch hesitated.
“Yeah? You want what, babe? Tell me!”
“I want to watch you touch yourself. I’m not up to sex yet, but I’ve been dreaming about it since you moved me back here… please?” he begged.
Starsky walked to the door and locked it, then returned to Hutch and stripped. He spread his shirt on the sofa and lounged on it, running his hands through the hair on his chest, moving down and cupping his balls.
Hutch watched avidly.
“Like this, babe?” Starsky began fondling his cock, moaning in pleasure as his arousal increased and his cock started to leak pre-cum at its tip.
Hutch panted, wishing he could take Starsky. He reached out and gathered the bead of moisture from the tip of Starsky’s cock, brought it to his mouth and began to suck his finger. “Hmmm…”
Starsky cried out in ecstasy and came, spurting all over his hand and stomach.
Hutch didn’t come, but he sighed in delight. “Yeah, like that.”
Starsky lay sprawled in wanton abandonment for Hutch’s enjoyment for long minutes, thrilled he’d done something Hutch wanted him to do. And he found himself eager to consummate their relationship as soon as Hutch was able to. He really did love this man and needed to start telling him without being asked.
“Let me clean up and we’ll get you settled. I’ll go tuck in Eli, then come back and hold you, okay?”
“Sounds good. Don’t be long, Starsk. I’m half asleep already.”
Starsky kissed him. “I’ll hurry back. Love you, Hutch.” He gathered his clothes and hurried to the bathroom. He came out in his flannels and slippers and Hutch’s robe.
“C’mon, babe. Let’s get you to bed.” He urged a half-asleep Hutch into bed and tucked him in. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and he headed for the door to kiss Eli goodnight.
* * * *
When dawn broke, Hutch woke in Starsky’s arms to find Starsky watching him sleep, a pensive look on his face. “Is something wrong?”
“You were right. I never tell you I love you without thinking about it first, do I? It’s like saying it is being unfaithful to Sarah, and I don’t know why. I didn’t love her, Hutch. At least, nowhere near as much as I love you, and I need to let her go. I want to build a life with you. I love you.”
“We could live here until you sell the Manor, then we can live wherever you want, find jobs to support us.”
“I’m not selling the Manor, babe. We’re staying here. And we both still have jobs with Hutchinson Industries. You’re on medical leave, and Layne found my resignation in your Out box and shredded it. I’m your bodyguard, watching over you while you recover in a quiet, familiar place where the press can’t bother you.”
“Hmmm…Then I should probably know what’s going on at work.”
“Well, you’re in no shape to visit the office yet, but we could call Layne if you want.”
Hutch smiled and hugged Starsky. “I’d really like that. Thanks!”
After breakfast, Starsky called Layne and let Hutch talk to him. Layne was delighted, but kept it short, briefing him succinctly on what was happening at Hutchinson Industries. The earnings report had been well received, the party was a huge success and things were running smoothly on the course Hutch had set, under the auspices of a president pro temp, Justin Andersen, elected by the board until Hutch was able to resume control. Meanwhile, Layne and Scott Cranston were keeping an eye on things for him.
He just assumed Hutch was returning, and Hutch let him. He needed to decide what he wanted to do. “Thanks, Layne. I’ll call again soon. Meanwhile, let me know if you need anything from me.”
“If we need anything, Mr. Cranston will be in touch. We’ve got this. Just continue to rest and feel better, sir.”
Hutch handed Starsky the phone. Starsky thanked Layne for his brevity before hanging up, but he frowned worriedly at Hutch’s dismay. “What is it? Did Layne say something to upset you?”
“No. But he assumes I’m coming back to run my father’s company and I’m not sure…”
“It’s not your father’s company anymore, Hutch. It’s yours. You don’t have to return if you really don’t want to, but you can make it your own. You know how to run it, you know how to make money, and you don’t have to work 90 hours a week to do it. As for your employees, you said your father was a demanding boss, but you have the empathy he didn’t. You notice them. Just encourage a better work-life balance and they’ll be loyal to you. You’ve done it here at the Manor. I may own the place on paper, but to them, you’re still their boss, and they’d do anything to help you.”
“Hmm…My company. I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Hutch mused. “Maybe…”
Starsky let him be.
* * * *
More weeks passed. Hutch began to take an interest in what he now thought of as “his” company, and he called Layne daily to get updates and to make suggestions to forward to Justin Andersen. He’d expected resistance and protests of meddling, but Justin was grateful for his encouragement and help.
As his attitude improved and he healed physically and mentally, Hutch wanted the cast off his wrist, but it had been a bad break and it wasn’t coming off any time soon. Eli helped mitigate his aggravation over it, though. With Starsky’s help, he proudly wrote his name on the cast in careful block letters, after practicing for days in a notebook in his room. And he finally convinced his daddy to let him give Hutch the birthday present he’d picked out and had hidden in his bedroom.
It was a new guitar.
“Do you like it, Uncle Hutch?” he asked.
Hutch hugged the little boy. “It’s very special, Eli. Thank you.” He wouldn’t be able to play it until the cast came off, but knowing it was there brought him closer to the family he and Starsky were creating. He leaned it against the sofa in the master suite where he could see it, and Eli crawled into his lap while Starsky started a fire. He was happier than he’d been in a very long time.
* * * *
“Are you ready?” It was Hutch’s first time in a suit since his accident and Starsky admired how polished he looked, even without the vest and tie. Hutch had been doing more frequent outings at the estate and wanted to actually go to the office and see for himself what was going on.
He didn’t tell Layne he was coming.
“I’m ready.” He picked up his cane and headed for the staircase. He didn’t need it to walk anymore, but it gave him confidence when his eyes bothered him. He did his best not to call attention to them, but they still weren’t completely healed. Light was still an issue, and his depth perception could be a bit off. The cane helped.
When they arrived at Hutchinson Industries, a uniformed Starsky accompanied Hutch, but did not touch him. Jaws dropped as Hutch entered the lobby, and applause broke out in the room. Security hustled out to escort him upstairs, and Reception called Layne.
Layne and Justin met them at the elevator outside the president’s office, elated smiles on their faces. “You look terrific, Mr. Hutchison!” Layne enthused. “Are you coming back to work?”
“Not yet, Layne. I’m not 100% yet, but I’m getting there.” He indicated the cane he carried and the cast on his left wrist. “I just convinced Starsky here that I wanted to get out of the house and see for myself how my employees were faring. How are you doing, Justin?” Hutch reached out to shake his hand. Starsky watched carefully, but didn’t move, didn’t say a word.
“I’m doing well. Very glad to see you, sir! Your help has been invaluable to me. Shall we go into your office so you can sit while we talk?” Justin waved his hand toward the office that had been Hutch’s father’s. It hadn’t occurred to him it was now his if he stayed. Hutch nodded. Starsky led the way, opened the door and examined the room before standing aside and letting Hutch enter. They ignored the desk and sat on the leather sofa to talk. Starsky stood to the side, on Hutch’s right. Layne offered coffee, but Hutch refused. “I’m not staying. This is just a visit to get my bearings after so long away.” He studied both men, then said, “You’ve done fine jobs. The company is doing well.”
“We’ve been following the blueprint you laid out. It was masterful and we’ve continued to profit,” Justin said. “No wonder your father was proud of you. He used to wish he had your knack for business.”
Hutch froze imperceptibly, but Starsky noticed and was concerned. “Sir?”
Hutch waved him to silence. “I’ll bet he never mentioned my degree in criminal law.”
“Criminal law?” Justin was surprised.
“Starsky and I were police detectives in California for years before I returned to Duluth and he moved back to Brooklyn. He was on the police force there, too.”
“That explains his experience to become your bodyguard, but if you don’t mind my asking, why does he have medical power of attorney over you? When the accident happened, he was the first person Layne called and he camped out in the ER for days while they worked to save your life. Whenever he left, the hospital staff fretted till he returned.”
“Fretted?” He looked over his shoulder at Starsky, who shrugged, but didn’t speak.
“They said you did better when he was there, holding your hand, talking to you about people nobody knew—Dobey, Huggy, Merle—the list went on, but it didn’t seem to matter who. What mattered was that you seemed to know he was there and it helped.”
“People we knew when we were cops.” Hutch said. “As for medical power of attorney, he has it because he’s my life partner now, something that upset my father. He wanted grandchildren.” He turned to Justin and asked point blank, “What about the board? Will Starsky being my partner be an issue?”
Justin snorted. “I know you don’t socialize, but you and Starsky should come over for dinner sometime soon and meet Craig. He’s been my life partner for nearly eighteen years and he’s a terrific cook. No, it won’t be an issue.”
“Sir, it’s time,” Starsky prodded.
“I know. I’m ready.” To the others, Hutch said apologetically, “I told my driver to return in two hours. I promised my doctor I wouldn’t overdo. But I’ll be back. Thank you, gentleman, you’ve made this a good day for me. Next time, we’ll do lunch.” Hutch stood and followed Starsky out of the room.
He didn’t say another word until they got back to the Manor and he went to their room to change out of his suit.
Starsky found him curled in a corner of their closet, crying softly. Starsky didn’t have to ask why. He knew. “He never told you, did he?”
Hutch shook his head. “Don’t do that to Eli, Starsk. If you’re proud of him, of what he can do, tell him. Don’t talk about him behind his back and leave him wondering.”
“Oh, babe…” Starsky crouched down and hugged him. “What can I do?”
“Make love to me, Starsk. Here. Now.”
“I need to close the bedroom door so we won’t be disturbed.”
“I’ll do it.” Hutch stood, put his robe on over his underwear and walked out into the bedroom as Eli walked in.
“Uncle Hutch? Where’s my dad?”
“He’s in the bathroom changing, Eli.”
“Can I wait here?”
Hutch dropped to one knee and said, “Can it wait, Eli? I need to talk to your daddy right now alone.”
“Did he make you cry, Uncle Hutch?” Eli touched Hutch’s face in concern.
“No, he didn’t. But I want to tell him why I was crying and I don’t want anyone else to hear. Is that okay?”
Eli kissed his cheek. “Yeah. I’ll go find Aunt Sophie.” He walked out and closed the door behind him.
Hutch locked it, as Starsky came out nude and pulled back the covers on the bed. Hutch stripped and joined him. He spread his robe out on the sheets to protect them and started to climb on the bed.
“No, Hutch. I want you to take me. I’m ready.” Starsky got on his hands and knees and presented himself to his lover.
Hutch approached him and rubbed himself against Starsky’s ass. The lube Starsky had inserted into himself coated his cock and Hutch gasped in excitement as the tip slid in.
Starsky moaned. “God, Hutch, I had no idea this could hurt so good.” When Hutch froze, he begged, “No! Don’t stop! Make me yours…”
Hutch stroked Starsky’s ass and slowly, carefully pressed deep, deeper into him. “You’re so fucking tight! I don’t want to hurt you…”
“Move! Please!”
Hutch lost control. He rammed as deep as he could go and moved in and out, aroused by Starsky’s begging. “I can’t wait anymore. Come for me, David! I need to feel you come!” he ordered through gritted teeth.
Starsky shuddered and when Hutch felt his cock begin to spurt all over the robe Starsky was kneeling on, his own cock erupted in a profound orgasm that filled Starsky’s ass and made them one. “You’re mine. All mine forever and I’ll never let you go.”
He leaned over him and kissed Starsky’s neck, then urged him up. Together, they used the robe to do a quick clean up, then held each other under the covers.
“I love you,” Hutch whispered.
“And I love you,” Starsky murmured tenderly. “I always will.”
* * * *
At last! The cast was off. His fingers were stiff and shrunken, but Hutch was thrilled to have use of his hand again and he knew how to recover his dexterity. He spent hours of his spare time in his bedroom, practicing ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ as a surprise for Eli.
Starsky teased him, but loved him dearly for his effort.
Even better, he was back to work full time, with Starsky at his side. He worked hard, and with his celebrated business acumen, Hutch was a financial success, but with care and empathy for his employees, he made the company his own, and a good place to work.
They co-owned the Manor now, and had delight in the family they had put together. Even Starsky’s mom stopped grumbling. There was no love lost between her and Hutch, but it didn’t matter. She lived quietly in the cottage provided for her and she saw Eli more frequently as long as she minded what she said. She learned the hard way Eli had very little tolerance for any “mean things” she said to him about the people he cared about. That included the servants’ kids he played with and his beloved Uncle Hutch.
And Hutch and Starsky were together now, intimate with each other in all ways. It wasn’t always easy, but they made it work and they were happy.
And loved each other dearly.
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1 comment
I really enjoyed this, even if it did make me cry. My heart broke for both of them. Thank goodness Starsky stood up to, and didn’t accept Hutch’s stubborness in trying to turn him away. Poor Hutch though, so alone, and lost and feeling unloved and unworthy of love. I’m glad Starsky, Eli, and Sophie, Layne and the others who worked for Hutch were able to show him just how loved he is.