Beyond Drunk

A rough week finds Starsky drunk in a bar.

Author’s Note: Linda, ask and ye shall receive.

“Hey, how do I look?” My partner looked ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He needed to have the release, and if getting a little drunk was going to make him feel better, then I’d just make sure I was available for him the next day to help him through the hangover. We’d had a rough week, with some frustrating cases, including the death of a retarded youth, and Starsky had taken that death pretty hard. He loved kids, and he held the emotionally and physically challenged kids near to his heart. Terry may have gotten him involved with these kids originally, but Starsky continued working with them because of his own unbounded love and concern for them.

“Hug, who do I look like?” I looked toward Huggy and he caught my eye and said, “Hutch, are you gonna let your partner continue on like this? He looks like Carmen Miranda on steroids.”

“No, no Huggy. I’m not Carmen Mermanda, Mirrar, whatever. I’m the Pope. See?” At this point, I cringed at the spectacle Starsky was making of himself. And if he really thought he looked like the Pope, then he was beyond drunk.

“Yeah, very nice Starsky. That’s a beautiful performance,” I said as several of Huggy’s customers provided faint applause at my partner’s act. He took a bow, and nearly toppled before I caught him.

“Hutch, let’s sing.” And before I could get him to sit down and take a break, he moved over to the microphone that had been set up for the small blues band that was going to play later in the evening and started to sing, not realizing that the mike wasn’t on. It didn’t matter, he was singing loud enough to raise the dead.

I CAN’T STOP LOVING YOU
I’VE MADE UP MY MIND
TO LIVE IN MEMORY
OF OLD LONESOME TIME

Oh no. Damn. This wasn’t good.

I CAN’T STOP WANTING YOU
IT’S USELESS TO SAY
SO I’LL JUST LIVE MY LIFE
IN DREAMS OF YESTERDAY

Okay. I had to nip this right now. I actually thought that getting drunk would make him feel better. Why didn’t I think that the events of this week would make Starsky sadder, maudlin even, and think more about Terry. And in this state, thinking about Terry could not make him feel better.

“Starsky.” He was really getting into the song and didn’t hear me. “Starsk, hey buddy, the mike’s not on. Why don’t you save the performance for later, huh?”

He looked me in the eyes and I’d never seen him look more like he needed a hug than at that moment. I grabbed him and pulled him into a great big bear hug. He held tight for a long time, I thought I felt a slight shiver, but that might just have been me letting out a long breath. Starsky and I held each other for a while, but he was the first to pull back.

“I think I need another drink, partner.” He walked to the bar and I saw the bartender approach him. Fortunately, she saw me shadowing my partner. I shook my head, and she picked up on it.

“Sorry, honey. I think you’ve had your fill.” She was a pretty girl; Huggy knew how to pick them. But I could see Starsky wasn’t going to stand for being cut off. He turned on the Starsky charm, and he was good, I have to admit. She was just about convinced that I didn’t know what I was talking about, when we heard a ruckus going on over near the pool table.

Starsky and I turned in unison and saw the two guys going at each other with the pool cues. And my very drunk partner stumbled toward the combatants, ready to break it up. I hurried along behind him, hoping that we would not have to get into it with these guys.

Starsky ambled up to the duo and sounded a little less drunk than he really was. “What’s happenin’?” The larger of the two gave Starsky a look, sizing him up, and said, “Mind your own business, shrimp.” Well, the guy was pretty big, but I’d venture to say that was the first time in his adult life that anyone ever called my partner a shrimp.

“To be honest, I think my coloring is more olive-toned. Hey, Hutch, what could this dummy call me that would have a more olive color to it?” Oh, brother.

“Who’s callin’ who stupid?” The big guy asked, sounding angrier by the second.

“You sound like an owl. Hoo, hoo.” Starsky was asking for it now. I stepped in to break up this less than friendly tete-a-tete.

“Look, pal, my friend’s had a little too much to drink. If you and your buddy over there feel the need to bash each other’s heads in, why don’t you take it somewhere else?” The “buddy” decided this was a chance to get out while the getting was good, but the big guy wanted a fight; unfortunately, the object of his attention was now clearly Starsky.

The big ox took that moment to push me hard, which sent me flying back against the pool table. My back felt like it was bending in two from the force of the shove. Starsky came to my rescue, jumping onto the guy’s back and grabbing for his neck. My back was feeling a little numb and I watched helplessly as Starsky tried to subdue the big oaf. He was doing pretty well, considering his condition and size disadvantage. The chokehold finally did the trick, and the big guy fell down hard and fast, taking Starsky down with him. He landed on my partner, and they were both eerily quiet.

Again, more applause for my partner. I have no doubt that he would have taken another bow if he’d been able to move. As I headed over to check on the two of them, I heard the sirens of the uniformed backup just outside of The Pits. That was good, as we could leave it to the uniforms to take care of the situation. The big guy seemed to be coming to, and Starsky was squirming to try to get out from under him.

“Hutch, get this house offa me, will ya?” He raised his hand to me and I dragged him up; the jerk that had landed on him fell back hard on the floor, moaning slightly. He would be fine; I wanted to check to make sure Starsky was okay.

“Had enough fun for one night, Starsk?” I could see the roller coaster night, combined with the stresses of the week, was finally taking its toll. He didn’t look too steady, the alcohol taking over where the adrenaline rush was beginning to ease up.

“Let’s go home.” He grabbed at my back, remembering the hit I had taken earlier, and rubbed it soothingly as we headed to say goodnight to Huggy.

“Sorry, Hug,” I said as we saw our friend talking with one of the uniforms.

“Hey, nothin’ to be sorry about, Hutch. Wasn’t your fault. Besides, Curly there kept the customers entertained through the evening. Hope he’s feelin’ better.” Huggy could tell that Starsky was done for the night, too.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I steered Starsky to the passenger side of the Torino and he slouched into the seat, staring straight ahead. I knew he was thinking about that kid again.

“Starsk, there was nothing you could have done.”

“I know. But there was something someone could have done. He shouldn’t have been in a situation where that punk could have killed him. He should have been at home, or at school. He shouldn’t’ve been out on the street.” He had me there.

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. But the world isn’t perfect, life’s not built to your specifications. I wish it were. Because I know that if it were, kids like Mark would live better lives.” Starsky was still drunk, and his mind was drifting a little.

“I keep thinkin’ what his life mighta been like if he’d had Terry in it.” He was getting tired, the sadness from the week having come back full force, sapping the last of his energy.

“You know it would have been different. You know that because of the difference you continue to make in the lives of these kids. I don’t think you should feel bad about this one kid. I doubt that if Terry were here she’d let you dwell on it.” I know it was risky to go down this route. We didn’t talk much about Terry anymore. I knew my friend still ached for the loss of his special lady. I didn’t like him being in pain, so I tended to not bring the subject up.

Starsky chuckled, which was such a relief to hear. “Yeah, she’d have hit my arm enough to make it bruise to try to get me out of this, I don’t know, state I’m in.” He finally looked my way, and though his eyes were slightly wet with tears, he had a big smile on his face. Thank you, Terry.

“Yeah, and then she would have challenged you to a game of Monopoly and whooped your butt.” I could see him start to think of a comeback for that, but he chose not to go there. He sat back, smiling, probably thinking of the numerous times where Terry beat him mercilessly at Monopoly. He was quiet for a long while as we drove to his place. He finally spoke, softly.

“You’re my rock, Hutch. You’re my best friend. I know I useta call Terry my best friend, but that’s wrong. She was special. She was my angel.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep it together, no doubt.

“There are some days when I don’t know how I can move on to the next one sometimes. And every time I start to think that, I think about you, or you talk me through some tough time and I can’t imagine not goin’ on, because of your friendship, our partnership. You’re really special to me, Hutch. I know I don’t tell you that, but I want you to know, I love ya, buddy.”

I knew that was true, but I also knew that Starsky was feeling overly sentimental, the alcohol combining with the reminiscences to make him say things that we both knew but rarely spoke out loud. It was nice to hear, though. I glanced over at him, noticing the closed eyes and even breathing. He was falling asleep. But I wanted him to know how I felt before he did that.

“I love you too, Starsk. And the only reason I’m your rock is because you made the mold.”

The End