The Fixer

Starsky’s history helps with Hutch’s withdrawal.

Missing scene and tag to The Fix.

“You can do this, Starsky. You’re the best there is outside the pros.”

Starsky looked away from the intense confidence in Huggy’s brown eyes. “I don’t know, Hug. I mean, we’re talkin’ about Hutch here. Maybe I shoulda taken him to a hospital. I can’t afford to mess up like I did with…” The memory of Lenny stole his voice, gnawed away at his soul.

Huggy grunted. “You didn’t stand a chance with him. He was beyond desperate, my brotha.”

Suddenly experiencing a phantom ache in the seven-year-old wound, Starsky shook his head. “It was my fault, Hug. I didn’t check him close enough for weapons. We were in-country, for Pete’s sake. We all carried a lot.”

“So you lost one. Out of how many you saved?”

Starsky moved his head in a circle then let his eyes come to rest on Huggy’s. “That’s not the point. The point is I lost Lenny. And I cannot make that mistake again.” ‘Cause if I lose Hutch, I’m lost, too.

Huggy Bear gripped Starsky’s upper arms in his hands. “You doin’ the right thing, Starsky. And you will be successful. Or I’ll kick your honky rump to the neighborhood dump.”

Despite his doubt and sense of impending disaster, Starsky executed a half-smile. “When you’re right, you’re right, Huggy.”

“Hey, the Bear is always right, ya dig? Now I’m off to get you the usual supplies. Unless your recipe has changed?”

“No cola. He hates that. Just coffee and lotsa sugar.”

“Speaking of that beverage, while I’m gone, make yourself useful for once and mop up that spill before it stains my floor.”

This time, Starsky’s smile showed his teeth. When Huggy released him, they performed their childhood gang’s secret handshake.

A feeble croak of “Starsky?” had them turning their heads toward the suffering man in the bed. Starsky was at the bedside before Hutch could draw his next breath.

Starsky’s stomach churned when he saw Hutch, still curled in on himself, hugging his belly, fluttering like a leaf in a hurricane. He wanted to cover his ears when he heard his usually articulate partner muttering nonsense syllables.

Starsky tamed his overwhelming need to rail at this unconscionable situation for Hutch, search for and retaliate against whoever did this to his best friend. Instead, he put that aside, more easily than he thought possible. Hutch was the priority. Always the priority. He hesitated for only a moment to gather the strength to at least exhibit the pretense of control of this situation and of his own terror and fear.

“I’m here, buddy,” Starsky said softly with a reassurance he didn’t truly feel as he climbed back into bed. “I gotcha. Not goin’ nowhere. Not gonna let anything bad happen to you, understand?”

S&HBS

From his vantage point in a booth at Huggy Bear’s, Hutch watched Starsky and Huggy chatting with Diane, the new barmaid. Starsky seemed tired but upbeat, right at home with Huggy’s hand hanging off his shoulder.

Hutch smiled at the camaraderie. Starsky and the Bear had been close for twenty years. He felt privileged that Starsky had introduced them and that Huggy had accepted him as a friend and eventually a brother.

And thanks to the two of them, Hutch had made it through withdrawal. There was not enough thanks in the world to give them.

Especially Starsky, who had taken the brunt of his angry, desperate need.

Calling him a stupid son of a bitch, a major fuck-up, an uncaring human being. Coming very close to slamming Starsky’s head against the wall more than once so he could escape. Taunting him with promises of more nose-burning, gag-inducing malodorous diarrhea if Starsky didn’t help him. Pleading for a just a taste, a tiny fix. Sweating through his and Starsky’s clothes as Starsky held him and rubbed his neck, arms, trunk, and hips to override the sensation of drug-dream ants gnawing their way to his muscles and bones.

And the pièce de résistance meant strictly to manipulate Starsky’s tendency to bow to his wishes: I wanna be like the Angel. So happy, carefree. Nobody wanting anything from me. No pain, Starsky. Just, you know… happy. Don’t you want me to be happy?

To which Starsky had responded with a squeeze so tight that Hutch thought his brain would eject from his skull: Not gonna happen, Hutch, not ever. I’m not gonna let it happen, even if it kills us both.

Hutch shivered at the memory. He wanted to forget it, not only this one but the entire experience, especially how poorly he treated his best friend, yet he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t. It was proof how strong each of them were together, neither one letting himself or the other give in or give up.

Hutch felt a pulse of hope thrum through him. He knew then he’d stay clean because he wasn’t in this fight alone.

<<<|>>>

Huggy Bear and Starsky joined Hutch. “Almost forgot, Starsky. I acquired clean apparel from your humble abode while you and Goldilocks were out gallivanting around this afternoon making the streets safe for peace-lovin’ citizens like me. They’re upstairs.”

“Thanks, Huggy,” said Starsky. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Unless there’s plenty of hot water and I take a longer shower. How about a Starsky special? And a root beer this time.”

“Your order is my command, m’man. Hutch, how’s about some soup? Today, the pot is filled with homemade barley vegetable. Sourdough bread fresh today from Bayard’s Bakery. Right up your alley.”

Hutch smiled wanly and nodded once. “Sounds good, Hug.”

“Thanks, Huggy.” Starsky left for the upstairs room.

Huggy turned to leave but a hand on his arm stopped him. “Got somethin’ on your mind, Hutch?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Hutch paused. To Huggy’s mind, Hutch seemed to be grappling with finding the right words—or maybe just trying to speak at all, given how exhausted and weak he still was.

“Uh, how did Starsky know what to do?”

Huggy slid onto the bench opposite Hutch. “He never tol’ you?” At Hutch’s head shake, Huggy continued, “Figures. Our friend is rather tight-lipped about this unusual talent of his. Before I tell you anything, you have to promise to keep this strictly between me and you.”

Hutch blinked slowly as he gave a peculiar hand gesture Huggy had never seen before. “Sea scout’s honor, Huggy.”

“Okay then. Back when we was in high school, we was in a salt-n-pepper ‘club.’ Only one in Bay City to my knowledge. We got into some minor troubles, nothin’ big, until a horse trader got a few kids in our club and more than a few in other clubs strung out. Me and Starsky—we was about fifteen then—wouldn’t touch that shit. Well, long story short, Puny Petey, a compadre of ours, got hooked. Good thing me and Starsky found him jonesin’ under the football field bleachers.”

“That must have been… frightening.”

Huggy huffed. “Truth. Anyway, we wasn’t about to call the cops or an ambulance. So Starsky had this brilliant idea to ask the school nurse what to do. He made me stay with Petey while he ran off. He fed her some cock-n-bull story about how he was curious what to do to get somebody through withdrawal.“

“That was ballsy.”

“Well, you know Starsky. He got in line at twice more when they was handing them out. And even then, he could charm the ladies outta something they might not want to give, then have them thinkin’ it was their idea.”

Hutch laughed, a beautiful sound to Huggy’s ears, even though it sounded a bit raw. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“So he comes runnin’ back after what seemed like a lifetime to me and the end of Petey’s life. All his pockets were filled with candy bars. Said he left old man Davis, the proprietor of the local grocery store, an IOU.”

“So he stole.”

Hutch’s expression told Huggy that Starsky as a shoplifter rankled him. “Like I said, minor troubles. He did go back later, confessed to the theft, and worked off the debt.”

“Thanks to John Blaine’s guidance, I’m sure.”

Huggy nodded. “Thanks to Blaine, I learned to trust cops. Anyway, Davis was so impressed with Starsky, he gave him fifty bucks after the debt was paid. Starsky kept it in his piggy bank and used it when he needed lots of candy and Coca-Cola.”

“So there were more”–Hutch shuddered–”kids like Petey?”

Huggy shrugged. He let the sadness he felt color his face and words. “Too many. And so many of them repeated. Petey got clean, and he spread the word how me and Starsky saved him. It was really all Starsky. He even had an alias: The Fixer. I was there for moral support and candy and cola runs. We kep’ it all on the down-low. Like these last couple days.”

Hutch looked away. Huggy figured he was probably digesting what he’d just heard. This new info about Starsky no doubt floored him. Huggy stayed quiet, patiently waiting for Hutch to speak. When he finally did, Huggy read pride in his friend’s eyes.

“What was his success rate?”

“One hundred percent. Until ‘Nam. His capitán found out about a couple junkies he got off the horse, and he sent Starsky other junkies to get clean. Became The Fixer there, too. Lost one. Temporarily put Starsky outta commission and ran into a minefield, takin’ a shortcut to his supplier.”

Hutch shook his head as he looked at his hands. “Christ. That had to have torn Starsky up.”

“You got that right. Lenny was his last. By the time our boy got out of therapy for his leg—”

Hutch perked up. The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “The scar on his left thigh?”

Huggy nodded. “His second Purple Heart. Said captain fudged the facts.”

Showing his surprise at that gem, Hutch said, “I didn’t even know he had a first.”

Huggy shrugged. “Starsky ain’t no different from other vets when it comes to talkin’ about the war.”

“So how do you know all this?”

Huggy heard a little bit of temper and maybe some envy in Hutch’s tone. He shifted on his seat to lean in closer to his friend. “He was staying with me when he got back. He had nightmares. Lots of ’em. Only told me about one—Lenny—when I threatened to kick him out if he didn’t talk to me. After that, he settled down a little every day.”

“Thanks for being there for him, Hug.” Hutch then fell into a contemplative silence, which Huggy wasn’t about to disturb, especially with a damp-haired Starsky bouncing toward the booth.

“Hey, Starsky,” Huggy said, jerking Hutch out of his thoughts, “leave any hot water for dish washing?”

“You mean this dive actually washes the dishes?”

Huggy gave Starsky a twisted, sour look. “I ain’t stayin’ where I’m not respected. Hutch, he’s all yours. And good luck.” He took his time scooting out of the booth, knowing Starsky would seat himself next to Hutch even when the opposite bench was open. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Starsky give Hutch a questioning look that wasn’t quite successful in hiding—thanks to their long history—the pride and adoration that were there as well. A glance at Hutch told him why; he read that same pride plus gratitude and affection on Hutch’s features. On second thought, he corrected himself: That’s love.

As expected, Starsky sat next to his partner. Huggy knew, without seeing, that their thighs were touching.

“What’s up, buddy?” asked Starsky, taking a moment to finger-comb Hutch’s mussed-up hair. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

Hutch laughed gently. “Like what?”

Starsky snorted lightly. “So, don’t tell me. Too tired to drag it outta ya.” He turned his attention to Huggy, who lingered at the table’s edge. “I’m starvin’, Hug. Where’s my chow, or do I need to scope out the competition?”

Huggy rolled his eyes. “One of these days, Starsky, I’ll take you to the competition myself, if you keep disparaging my classy eatery. That’s my purview.” As he turned away, he caught Hutch smiling and saying something to Starsky then bumping Starsky’s shoulder with his. Laughing at whatever was said, Starsky put his arm around Hutch’s shoulders in a way that Huggy could only describe as proprietary.

Now that is a singular and righteous love, Huggy thought. Wonder when they’ll finally ice that cake.

the end

July 2019