Let Cooler Heads Prevail

48

Is it the end of the road for the Striped Tomato?

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“Whew!” Hutch said, probably for the hundredth time that morning. Starsky glared at his partner, having, with disgust, quit the actual counting of the ‘whews’ hours ago.

“Hutch!”

“Sorry, but it’s hot.”

“No kidding,” Starsky replied, rolling the sleeves up farther on his shirt as he navigated the turn toward the reprieve of Huggy Bear’s air conditioned establishment.

“Maybe you could switch careers and become a TV weatherman.” Starsky wanted to add that with Hutch’s blond good looks and only one word coming out of his mouth all morning that he’d fit right in with the other bubbleheads on the air. But he refrained—it was just too hot to bother with any clever retorts.

“I’m just saying….”

Maybe it wasn’t too hot after all.

“You’ve been sayin’ all morning, pal. ‘S not my fault the a/c’s on the fritz.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Hutch answered tersely, even though he really did think it was Starsky’s fault.

“Well, that’s the way you been actin’ all morning.”

“I just think it’s kind of ironic. You know, considering the way you baby this monstrosity. It seems odd that something like this should happen, that’s all.”

Starsky jerked the car hard to the right and pulled up fast in an open parking space. The horn from the car he’d just cut off reverberated in his ears: it’s noise already aggravating the headache he’d been fighting all morning. Starsky breathed deeply several times before lighting into his partner.

“I think you’ve been waiting a lot of years for an opportunity like this. This vehicle,” he yelled, slamming his hand hard for emphasis on the steering wheel, hard enough to make Hutch wince, “has outperformed all the heaps you’ve been passing off as cars over the years. Finally she’s as old as some of the pieces of shit you’ve forced us to ride in, and she’s starting to show her age. Finally. Huffin’ and puffin’ all morning ain’t gonna change nothin’. So do you think you could hold off on the dramatics for the rest of the day? Please?”

Hutch knew he should have just let it slide, if for no other reason than the desperate tone clearly heard in his partner’s last plea. But it was hot, and all he could think was that if Starsky had been willing to dump this tomato when it started acting up earlier in the year, they would now be riding in something that at least had air conditioning in it. He also held out hope that Starsky’s next car would not be such an embarrassment to be seen in.

“You know, if you’d listened to me….”

“Hutch, don’t even say it.”

“Starsky, don’t you think that your attachment to this car is a little unhealthy?”

Starsky rolled his eyes and whispered ‘fuck’ under his breath. How could they be talking about this? Again. He kept his head down, staring at the steering wheel, hoping that Hutch would get off his high horse soon.

“I mean, this car is due for a funeral. I think it’s time you did something about it.”

Starsky closed his eyes and swiped his hand through his damp curls and his sweaty neck. He wiped the sweat on his jeans, and then turned to Hutch and asked, all sincerity missing, “You do?”

Hutch wasn’t sure what to make of this response. Not the comment, really. It was more the look on his partner’s face. There was something there—a pained expression that looked almost, what? Embarrassed? What was this about?

Not knowing the right thing to say, Hutch opted out of the conversation. For the moment.

“Look, let’s just get over to Huggy’s. We’ll finish talking about this somewhere cool.” Hutch looked expectantly at his partner, hoping that Starsky would agree, knowing that the cool air would help cool down the over-heated exchange.

“‘kay.” Starsky moved the car into traffic, and without another word headed to Huggy Bear’s.

When they walked into the restaurant, Starsky headed straight for the men’s room while Hutch took a brief detour to the bar.

“Hey, my man, what’s up with your better half? Didn’t even get a wave hello.”

“Hiya, Hug. A/C’s out in his car. I’ve been riding him about it all morning. He’s a little pissed.”

“Hm, I thought you were supposed to be the brains of the outfit,” Huggy smirked.

“Apparently not,” Hutch admitted. “He gave me a ration of it about his car a while ago, but now he’s clammed up tight.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he ain’t tried to do something about it,” Huggy said as he placed two iced teas in front of the sweaty blond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hutch asked.

“He’s been havin’ Merl, me, his uncle—we’ve been tryin’ to find him something cheap. You know he’s still behind ’cause of all that sick time. He knows his baby’s on her last legs, but he can only afford so much.”

“Shit, Hug, how come I wasn’t aware of this?”

“Maybe it’s because he knew you’d give him a bunch of crap about finally getting rid of that car.” Huggy eyed Hutch with not a little disappointment. “I guess he was right.”

Hutch was feeling a world of guilt now, mentally kicking himself for being so mean to his partner. Of course Starsky wouldn’t be able to replace the tomato just yet. He was just making his way out of the debt that had piled up during his recovery from the Gunther shooting. Chances were pretty good that his credit had taken a hit over the last two years since the shooting.

Even if he could make the payments, Starsky probably wouldn’t be able to qualify for a loan on his own right now anyway.

What a fool Hutch had been to be so blind to all of this. He recognized that he took great pleasure in chiding Starsky about that car, and Starsky being Starsky, had usually taken the criticisms in stride.

Hutch couldn’t believe what a jerk he had been.

“Shit,” Hutch said.

“Yeah,” Huggy agreed. “Go sit. Two of today’s specials will be comin’ your way in a jiffy.”

“Thanks, Hug. And thanks for the heads-up,” Hutch replied, taking his and Starsky’s drinks to their table.

“Use the info wisely, bro,” Huggy said as he headed for the kitchen.

Starsky came out of the bathroom, a couple of wet paper towels draped around his neck.

“Feeling better?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah. It really is hot out there, Hutch. I’m sorry….”

“No. Don’t. I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk all morning….”

“Just this morning?” Starsky asked, the smile finally back. Hutch was happy to see it.

“Um, no, probably not. Starsk, why didn’t you tell me about looking for a car?”

“Some skinny, black friend of mine’s gonna get his ass kicked,” Starsky said as he saw Huggy approach their table.

“And that would hurt, because I ain’t got no padding. I’m mean and lean,” Huggy started.

“And ya got a big mouth,” Starsky countered, giving Huggy a disgusted look.

“Hey, that’s why you guys pay me the big bucks. Oh, wait, that’s right, you guys pay me nothin’.”

“Hug, I think that’s a slight exaggeration. We pay you. A little.” At least he blushed when he said it, Huggy thought.

Huggy looked to Starsky and said, “Sorry about the slip of the tongue.”

“Nah,” Starsky said easily, tapping Huggy’s hand affectionately. “Hutch’s a good cop. He’d have figured it out. Eventually.” Starsky smiled at Hutch, happy to land the slight dig on his partner’s detecting abilities.

“Thanks,” Hutch and Huggy responded in harmony. All three laughed.

“No problem.” Starsky smiled widely at his partner as he said it. He turned to Huggy and said, “Where’s our food? I’m starvin’.”

“I would have thought with this heat you might have lost your appetite. The boy must have worms,” Huggy said to Hutch as he left to go check on their order.

Hutch snorted, glad that his partner was in a better mood. Starsky was the most forgiving person he knew, and Hutch knew he had given Starsky lots of opportunities where he’d needed that forgiveness over the years.

“Don’t laugh, you just encourage him when you do that.” The good-natured banter was a relief to Starsky after the stressful morning.

“Truth hurts, eh?” Hutch asked.

“Maybe. But dontcha think if I really had worms it would, uh, manifest itself in some other ways, too?”

“Aw, Starsk! Yuck! Let’s not go there. We gotta eat!”

“Okay.” Starsky was happy to score another one on his partner.

“So, what are we gonna do about a car for you?”

“Well, looks like I’m going to have my big red beauty for a while longer.” Hutch noted that Starsky didn’t seem at all upset by this revelation.

“I don’t think so. Remember last week when the electric failed? The mars light and the siren both cut out just before we got to that intersection? We were damn lucky that pick-up didn’t slam into us.”

“I know, Hutch. I know. But the money just ain’t there. And there ain’t no point in buyin’ a junker. Just end up with the same problems, only it won’t look as good,” Starsky grinned, as Huggy’s newest waitress placed their orders down.

“Two specials,” she said, blinking her eyes furiously at the two detectives.

“Got somethin’ in your eye, Miranda?” Huggy asked. Miranda immediately scooted off to another table.

“That was kinda mean, Hug,” Starsky complained. Miranda was a pretty girl, and Starsky hadn’t quite gotten his fill of looking at her.

“Believe me, Starsky. Allah endowed her on the outside, but the inside,” Huggy said, pointing to his head for emphasis, “is frighteningly empty.”

Starsky and Hutch both laughed. “Enjoy,” their friend added as he headed back to the bar.

“So?” Hutch asked just before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“So what?” Starsky answered, talking through his first bite.

Hutch finished chewing and said, “I could loan you some money.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause.”

Oh brother. Hutch hated it when Starsky did this. Starsky often resorted to one-word answers when he decided he didn’t want to discuss a topic any further.

“That’s not a reason, Starsk.”

Starsky cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders. Hutch wanted to pursue this, despite Starsky’s indication that the conversation was over. The fact was that the problem with the car would certainly get worse before it got better. It was clearly having an impact on both their nerves: Hutch knew neither he nor Starsky wanted more blow-ups like they’d had this morning.

“It’d just be a loan, buddy,” Hutch said quietly.

Starsky looked at his partner. He had resolved long ago not to put Hutch out any more. Starsky felt it would already take him a lifetime to pay Hutch back for the love and care he received from him during his recovery from the shooting. Starsky also knew that Hutch had taken on an added financial burden during that time, though he’d yet to ever get Hutch to admit it. Two years had passed since the shooting and Hutch continued to deny what Starsky already knew.

It didn’t take much of a detective to figure it out.

The refrigerator and the cabinets in his apartment had always remained stocked, and he had never wanted for a newspaper or a magazine to help pass the time while he was getting better. Starsky also knew that his bills had been paid throughout that period, though his bank account never dipped to the dangerous levels it should have during that time. That didn’t happen until the bills finally started showing up. But that was in the union’s hands now, though Starsky had been forced to pay some things in order to avoid a bigger hit to his credit than he’d already sustained.

Yes, Starsky owed Hutch a lot. So there was no way he could accept his partner’s offer of a loan, no matter how much his heart knew it would be okay if he did, and no matter how insistent his partner became on the subject.

“No. Thanks, but I can’t keep takin’ and takin’ and not givin’ something back.”

“Starsk, you give back every day. Do you think I care about the money? I care about you. I took care of things for you while you got better because it was something I could do. I would rather have taken those bullets and endured some of the pain, but I couldn’t do that for you.”

“You did. You took a lot of the pain away. More than you could ever know.” Starsky sustained the eye contact with his partner until he felt the tears threaten. But rather than let the moment get too sentimental, he chose instead to take another huge mouthful out of his Huggy Bear’s special.

Hutch knew where he stood. He knew he would not win this argument. Not today. But he would try again soon. Starsky’s last words to him had meant more than any result that pursuing this conversation would possibly provide. He didn’t want to add to the soapiness factor either. Starsky wouldn’t like that, which was evidenced by his whole-hearted enjoyment, at the moment, of his lunch, half of which seemed plastered to his upper lip and chin.

“Here,” Hutch said, handing his partner a couple of napkins. “It’s probably a good thing you still have that old striped tomato. You’ve gotten sloppier in your old age. You’d have to yell at yourself when you dripped grease all over your new seats.”

“Vry fnny,” Starsky answered, continuing to enjoy his lunch.

“I try,” Hutch added, wiping his mouth daintily with his own napkin, then folding it neatly and placing it next to his empty plate.

“Mm,” Starsky replied. “Ya know,” he continued, wiping his own mouth, tossing some money on the table and rising in concert with his partner, “maybe I should be trading you in for a new model. Your jokes are as funny these days as a flat tire.”

“If I remember correctly, buddy, you were laughing the last time we had a flat tire.”

“That’s ’cause it was your car,” Starsky smiled as he slapped Hutch’s back on the way out. “I’ve learned the hard way that traveling in one of your wrecks requires a sense of humor.”

Hutch smiled as he watched his partner’s light-hearted bounce to the driver’s side of the Torino. That sense of humor had worked wonders over the years. He figured it would be coming in real handy over the next while as Starsky’s car came closer to that big junkyard in the sky.

Hutch was silently thankful, again, that it was only the car getting ready to make that exit.

The End.