Come Dancin’

Starsky’s feeling lonely and blue on Valentine’s Day. Can his mysterious date help cheer him up?

Episode related: Deadly Imposter

Hutch glanced over again at his best friend and once more caught him staring off into space with a secretive little smile on his face. “Starsk, if you’re finished with the Henderson file, could you pass it here, please?” he asked. No response. “Starsky?” he prompted a bit louder.

The brunet blinked and focused on him at last. “Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, Hutch. What did ya’ need?”

“The Henderson file…if you’re done with it.”

“Oh. Okay, here ya’ go,” Starsky smiled as he passed the folder across and went back to daydreaming. Hutch shook his head and turned his attention back to the pile of overdue reports they’d been working on. And yet he found he was having a hard time concentrating on his work.

Something was up with his partner. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t get Starsky to talk to him about it. And it was beginning to drive him crazy.

********

Two days before:

“Aw, come on, Starsk. Let it go. I told you I was sorry. But, you’ve gotta admit, it was your own fault. If you’d just gone on out there like a man, instead of hiding in Dobey’s office, you would have been the one to go out with her instead of me.”

Starsky sighed heavily. “You’re right, Hutch. I know that. And, if you wanna know the truth, I’m glad it was you instead ‘o me. You and Abby have a lot more in common anyways.”

Hutch smiled wistfully. “Yeah. Yeah, we do. But it was kind of a dirty trick. Are you all right, babe?”

Starsky laughed. “I suppose I’ll survive. I just wish I could meet someone I got along with half that well. Do ya’ know how long it’s been, Hutch? Do ya’? Since I’ve been out on a real date?” he asked plaintively.

The blond grinned. “Actually, I do. Because you’ve been yowling like a tomcat about it the whole time.” Hutch chuckled at the dirty look his partner gave him, knowing he’d struck a nerve with the jibe. “Really, Starsky! Don’t you have any other hobbies? And, besides, it hasn’t been that long,” he scolded.

“Maybe it don’t seem that way to you,” Starsky grumbled in reply.

Starsky was in the middle of a “dry spell.” It didn’t happen often—neither of the attractive police detectives usually had much trouble in that department—but it did happen from time to time. And right now Starsky was going through a particularly long one. It was making him miserable and apparently he was determined to make his partner suffer right along with him.

Hutch sighed and tossed his pencil down on his desk, realizing they weren’t going to get any more work done that afternoon until they’d had it out. “You know, Starsk, sometimes I really don’t understand you. So you’ve had to go without a few weeks. Big deal. There are worse tragedies in life, you know,” Hutch lectured.

“Oh, yeah? Name one.” Starsky shot back.

Hutch just rolled his eyes and picked up his pencil once more.

“You know what the worst thing is?” Starsky asked after several moments of silence had gone by. Hutch looked up again from the report he was trying to write and raised his eyebrows questioningly. “This Friday is Valentine’s Day. I haven’t spent Valentine’s Day alone since I was in Junior High School, Hutch! What am I gonna do?” the brunet moaned.

Hutch sighed and tossed down the pencil once more. “Look, Gordo. If you’re really that hard up, maybe I could ask Abby if she has a friend we could set you up with. We could all go out together, okay? How does that sound?”

Starsky’s dark eyes flashed angrily. “Now I’m a charity case?” he asked, his voice rising in outrage. “No thank you. Don’t do me any favors, pal. I can manage on my own.”

“Good! Then maybe you’ll shut up for a while so that we can get a few of these overdue reports finished and turned in before the end of the day. Otherwise, Dobey may blow a gasket.”

Starsky picked up his own pencil with a sulky expression and grabbed a file at random from the large stack that teetered on the desk between them. Neither of them spoke to the other again until time to go home.

********

That had been Wednesday. Now it was Friday—Valentine’s Day, as Starsky had reminded him (thank goodness! Hutch had just barely had time to make the reservations at the nice restaurant he was going to take Abby to that evening). Starsky had been in the same dark temper all morning that had held him in its grip all week. And then suddenly, that afternoon, Starsky’s mood had changed. Something must have happened while Hutch and Abby were out at lunch. But what?

The answer came to him like the proverbial light bulb going on over his head: Of course! Starsky had managed at last to find someone to go out with him that evening. Which only left one question…

“All right, Starsk,” he declared, “I know you’re dying to, so you might as well tell me. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Starsky jumped, once more startled out of his trance-like state. “Huh? Oh! Well…about that. I…” Hutch was amused to notice his friend was actually blushing. “I kinda took your advice on that one. She’s a friend of Abby’s,” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

Hutch grinned broadly. “That’s great, Starsk. I’m so happy for you. Listen, I made reservations for Abby and me at that restaurant she’s been wanting to try—that new one with the all-organic menu. It’s a bit late, but I could call and try to change the reservation to four for dinner if you’d like. Or would you rather meet up afterwards?”

“Thanks for the offer, Hutch. But, if you don’t mind, I think it would be better if we each just went our own way this evening. You and Abby are still pretty much in that ‘getting-to-know-you’ phase of things. She deserves a little more time alone with you. If it turns out to be something serious, then you can inflict me on her later,” he quipped.

Hutch had to laugh at his partner’s choice of words. “Okay. If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Now, if you don’t mind, can we get back to work? I don’t know about you, but I have a hot date tonight. And I don’t wanna be late.”

********

Hutch smiled as he looked up over his menu at his date. Abby’s blond hair practically glowed in the restaurant’s subdued lighting, framing her face like a halo. And the dark green satin dress she wore showed off the creamy skin of her bare shoulders to perfection. She was easily the most striking woman in the place. And she was with him.

Abby happened to glance up just then and, meeting his gaze, returned his smile shyly. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“How pretty you are,” he answered her honestly. “And how lucky I am to be here with you. You really are something special, Abby.”

“Why, thank you,” she said, her cheeks going pink from a combination of embarrassment and pleasure at the compliment. “Though perhaps we both really should be thanking you’re partner. After all, if he’d been in that first time I came by the station, I’d probably be spending this evening in his company rather than yours.” She had met Starsky since, of course. He was handsome enough and seemed nice, though she had not had a chance yet to really get to know him. Still, she couldn’t help feeling secretly glad that she had ended up with the blond instead. She glanced up shyly once more and noticed she no longer had her date’s full attention.

“Ken?” she called softly. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry. You mentioning Starsky made me think of him. He’s been down in the dumps all week because he didn’t have a date for tonight. I sure do appreciate you setting him up with your friend.”

Abby had a strange expression on her face. “What are you talking about?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “I didn’t set Dave up with anyone—not that I would’ve minded. I have several friends who’d jump at the chance to go out with someone like him.”

Hutch’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. “I don’t understand. He specifically told me he had a hot date tonight and that she was a friend of yours,” he said. It wasn’t like his partner to outright lie to him. What in the world could Starsky be up to?

********

Starsky paused a moment to adjust his tie in the rearview mirror before getting out of his car. Whistling jauntily to himself, he made his way up the sidewalk to the front door of the neat little house, taking the time to admire the rows of flowers that lined the walkway on both sides. His date was obviously an avid gardener. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him.

He rang the bell and, a few moments later, the lady he’d come to see answered the door. A smile lit her face as she took in his appearance, and grew even brighter as he handed her the small heart-shaped box of candy and the bouquet he had brought for her.

“Oh, David! Daisies. My favorite. How did you know?” she gasped.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I wanted to get you roses, but they were all out.”

“Well, I’m glad. These are just lovely. Please, come in a minute so that I can put them in some water.” She stood back so he could enter the foyer to wait.

“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” She called from the kitchen as she searched in a cupboard for a vase.

“No, thank you,” Starsky declined politely. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather wait until we get to the restaurant.”

“Ah,” she said as she came back down the hallway with the flowers in a tall, green glass vase. “You must be hungry.” She winked at him as she set the vase on a little table near the front door.

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said sheepishly. “Was I that obvious about it?”

“Oh, don’t blush,” she laughed. “It’s all right. A man should have a good appetite.” She finished arranging the flowers and stood back to look at them. “See? I knew they would look good there. Thank you again, David. They’re just beautiful. Speaking of which,” she added slyly. “How do I look?” She turned slowly so that he could get the full effect of her outfit. Though a bit conservative by Starsky’s usual standards, her dress was nice and the color suited her. It was also obvious that she had had her hair done for the occasion.

“Like a living doll,” he told her. “You’re going to be the best lookin’ girl in the place.”

“Flatterer,” she scoffed, though he could tell that he had pleased her immensely. “So, where are we going to eat?”

“I don’t know…I wasn’t sure what you might like.”

“Well…do you like Italian? Or how about Mexican food?” she suggested.

Starsky’s eyes lit up. “Do you like tostadas?” he asked as he held her wrap for her.

“Do I!” she declared enthusiastically as she carefully locked the front door. He gallantly offered her his elbow. She took it and walked beside him to the street. “Oh, my goodness,” she gasped when she saw the Torino. “Is this your car?”

“It sure is,” he said proudly. “Do you like it?”

“She’s a beauty,” she smiled, reaching out a small hand to gently stroke the bright red paint. “You know, I used to own a…”

“Green and black Kaiser Frazier,” Starsky finished for her. “Or is that a Frazier Kaiser? Either way, you came in a couple of weeks ago and reported it stolen, remember?”

“Did I?” she asked innocently, her eyes twinkling mischievously. He fixed her with a stern look and she laughed again. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “That was wrong, wasn’t it? So, what are you going to do, officer? Take me in and book me for filing a false report?”

“Yeah…right,” he said, rolling his eyes. He opened the car door and waved toward the seat. “Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he declared with a courtly bow. She started to climb into the car, but paused.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked softly, her eyes fixed on his.

“Because,” he said with a soft smile, “I found the report form I filled out when you came in to report the theft of your car this morning, and it made me start thinking about you. You know, I’ve been complainin’ to Hutch all week—you remember my partner, don’t ya’?” She nodded. “Well, anyway…I’ve been griping and groaning and generally being a pain in the butt all week long because I thought that, for the first time since I was a teenager, I was going to have to spend Valentine’s Day alone. It was like…like I felt like I was the only person in the world who wouldn’t have someone to be with today. On a holiday that’s all about being with someone special…someone you love.

“And then I found that dumb report, and I got to thinking about how you must feel. And…well, Mrs. MacMillan…”

“David,” she interrupted gently, “I told you the other day that you could call me Maggie.”

“Maggie,” he smiled. “Anyway…here I am. Nobody should hafta spend Valentine’s Day alone,” he finished.

“But, what about Abigail?” she protested. “She’s such a nice girl. What happened? Didn’t you like her?”

“I never got a chance to find out,” he chuckled. “She…she kind of saw my partner first.”

“Oh, too bad,” she commiserated as she climbed into the car at last, primly smoothing her dress across her knees. “But, cheer up, I know lots of nice young women. We’ll find one that’s right for you, David. Don’t worry.”

He leaned on the door a moment before closing it and smiled at her fondly “I’m not, Maggie. Not anymore. And you shouldn’t either. You should be out there looking for some nice older fella for yourself—though it might not be easy findin’ someone who can keep up with you,” he teased. “So, which will it be? Italian or Mexican food?”

“Do you happen to know anywhere where they make really good tostadas?” she asked. “I haven’t had them in ages!”

“Do I ever,” he answered her. He jogged around the car and got in on his side. “By the way,” he said as he cranked the engine. “I hope you’ve got you’re dancing shoes on. ‘Cause that’s what I had planned for after dinner…if that’s all right with you?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “Come on, David. Let’s go boogie!”