This story was written for the Me and Thee 'liver' challenge.
Temptation
The radio crackled into life.
//All units, there's a 211 in progress at Stein's deli. 169 Fremont.//
"That's a few blocks away." Hutch picked up the mike. "This is zebra three. We are responding."
Starsky exchanged a look with his partner and they agreed to go in silently for it was no use in panicking the gunman or anyone else in the vicinity. They drew up a short distance away and got out of the car. Running to the deli window, Starsky glanced in to see a masked man waving a gun around, whilst terrified staff and customers cowered on the ground.
He crouched down, then after a few short hand signals between them, Hutch made his way around the back. Counting to thirty, Starsky stood up stuck his gun into the back of his jeans and, whistling he entered the deli. The gunman whirled around, and acting surprised and scared Starsky raised his hands in the air then backed away. "Hey don' shoot, Mister."
"Get down on the ground," the man yelled.
"Yessir," Starsky said, kneeling down, and making himself as inconspicuous as possible.
Dismissing him, the robber menaced the elderly bald-headed man behind the counter. "Gimme that money, or else I'll shoot."
Catching a glimpse of familiar blond hair at the back door and knowing the right moment was at hand, Starsky reached for his gun and aimed. "Police, drop your weapon."
Hutch emerged with Magnum drawn. "Don't try anything, punk."
Caught between the two of them the shocked gunman lowered his weapon and was disarmed, unmasked, and handcuffed within minutes.
"Vot can I do to thank you?" the grateful, owner of the deli asked in a strong European accent.
Starsky smiled at him. "That's okay Zayde, just doing our job. I'm Detective Starsky and this is my partner, Detective Hutchinson. Are you Mr Stein?"
The man's face lit up and he replied in rapid Yiddish.
"Slower, please. It's been a while," Starsky requested struggling to understand him.
The man did so and Starsky, to his relief, found his grasp of the language returning to him. "What happened?" he requested, taking out his notebook.
000
As Starsky dealt with Mr Stein, Hutch took details from the other witnesses. Once finished, he listened in fascination to the exchange. He guessed it was in Yiddish but had no clue as to what the deli owner was saying. Starsky seemed to comprehend although his replies were in English interspersed with the occasional Yiddish word.
Finally Starsky shook hands with the elderly man, then turned to Hutch, "Okay, let's go."
As they were about to leave, Mr. Stein pushed a large sealed container into Starsky's hands.
Starsky frowned. "What's this?"
The man lapsed into Yiddish again.
"I'm sorry we can't accept…" Starsky tried, then abandoned his refusal obviously not wanting to offend such a nice old guy.
Mr Stein added a loaf of Rye bread to the container. "Enjoy. Please?"
Starsky sighed, and nodded. "Okay, thank you sir."
"Vot is your Hebrew name?"
"David," Starsky answered.
"Dahvid," Mr Stein said, clasping his hands together. "You are a mensh."
Starsky smiled then followed an amused Hutch out of the store.
"What'd he give you?" Hutch asked.
"Chopped Liver." Starsky grimaced before walking over to a trashcan.
Hutch raced after him. "Hey, don't throw it away."
Starsky glanced at the deli entrance, hesitated, then returned to the car and got in. Hutch seeing Mr Stein standing in the doorway realised why his partner hadn't gone ahead with his intention. With a grin he settled into the passenger seat only to have the container and bread shoved into his lap.
"What's wrong with chopped liver, Starsk? Isn't it some kind of kosher delicacy?"
"I hate the stuff," Starsky replied as he started up the Torino.
"Well I'm gonna try some," Hutch decided.
"Oh yeah! D'ya know what's in it? Chicken livers and schmaltz; that's chicken fat! Heart attack food."
Hutch had to laugh at that considering his partner's usual unhealthy diet. "Aw, c'mon Starsky. This concern from the burrito king?"
Starsky sniffed loudly and didn't comment.
"Hey, where did you learn Yiddish?" Hutch asked, trying to get Starsky off his high horse.
"My grandmother spoke it all the time. I can't hold a conversation in it though."
"It's good to have a second language."
"You ain't gonna eat that stuff are ya, Hutch?" Starsky turned to him as they stopped at a red light.
Hutch opened the lid a fraction. The smell of the chopped liver was enticing and he clutched the container to him. "I like trying different cuisine."
"It's your funeral," Starsky commented with a shake of his head.
000
Home at last, Hutch placed the food down, rummaged in the drawer for a fork and knife, then sliced the bread, and opened the container. The chopped liver didn't look too appetising but under Starsky's knowing stare, Hutch was not going to back down so he dipped his knife in, spread the stuff on some bread and took a bite. To his surprise it was delicious and he finished the slice. Spreading another one he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed contentedly.
"Jeez, Hutch, I'm gonna throw up. Don't tell me you like the stuff?"
"Starsk, it's great. Try some."
"No way. Ma tried for years to get me to eat chopped liver; Aunt Rosie too. It's gross. I hate it!"
"It must be some kind of sacrilege for a Jewish guy not to like this!" Hutch protested.
Starsky rolled his eyes. "I don't believe this! I'm going home."
"You don't know what you're missing, buddy!" Hutch took a forkful of the liver. "This is fantastic!" Not caring if his partner stayed or not, his only thought the chopped liver; Hutch sat down on a chair and tucked into the rest.
000
For three days, almost every time they passed a deli, Hutch insisted on going in to buy chopped liver. Starsky harassed him about it, until Hutch had finally stopped, for even the smell of the stuff made him nauseous. Now though Hutch was acting strangely. For almost a week they hadn't eaten one evening meal together and that in itself was very unusual. Every time Starsky suggested they get a pizza or go out to one of their favorite restaurants, Hutch always had something else to do. He never identified exactly what it was and his secretive behaviour had Starsky worried. There wasn't a new girlfriend, so what else could it be? Was Hutch angry with him or could he be in some kind of trouble?
Determined to find out, Starsky borrowed an undercover car and, after work parked near Hutch's cottage. An hour passed before Hutch opened his door and looked around. Sliding down on his seat, Starsky watched as Hutch got into his old Ford then followed him; a discreet three cars behind.
Hutch stopped outside Mark's Kosher Deli and rushed inside. Parking on the other side of the road, Starsky waited impatiently, his mind running in circles as he tried to figure out what was going on. A few minutes later Hutch came out clutching a brown paper bag in his hands and glanced up and down the street.
Starsky slid out of sight. What the hell's goin' on? What's he hiding?
Waiting until he heard the familiar sound of the Ford struggling away, Starsky sat up and leaned his arms on the wheel. He was going to get to the bottom of this and now!
He arrived at the cottage and hesitated for only a moment, before taking out his key. It broke all the rules of privacy but he would do anything for his partner and if it meant pushing in there and demanding to know what the problem was then he would do it.
Starsky could be as quiet as a mouse when he wanted to and drew on that ability now as he made his way along the pathway to the cottage. Listening at the door, all he could hear was the muted sound of the radio so taking his key out, he placed it in the lock and turned it. He opened the door a crack and looked in, amazed to see his partner sitting on the couch and shovelling chopped liver into his mouth.
"What the freakin' hell is goin' on, Hutch?" he demanded striding in.
Hutch jumped, dropped the container on the ground and stared at him in shock.
Starsky closed the door behind him and leaned against it. "You're being secretive and you've been avoiding me. I don't like it. We share don't we, buddy? It's part of who we are."
Hutch's face reddened and he looked down. Unable to remain annoyed with his friend for long, Starsky sat down beside him. "C'mon, Hutch, you can tell me. You know that don'' ya?""
Hutch glanced up at him with a mortified expression on his face. "I can't help it, Starsk."
"Can't help what, buddy?" Starsky asked, more confused than ever.
"I'm hooked!"
"What!" Starsky exclaimed in despair as all kinds of fears ran through his mind. Heroin, Cocaine…
"I've tried, honest I have but I can't stop it." Hutch replied, his shoulders slumping.
Unable to deny his friend some comfort, Starsky put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. "Hey, buddy, it's gonna be okay. I'll help ya. I promise." He squeezed his partner's arm. "Now what are you addicted to?"
Hutch stared into his face for a long moment before replying, "Chopped Liver."
Scarcely able to believe what he had just heard, Starsky almost reeled with astonishment. "What! You can't be hooked on chopped liver!"
Hutch grabbed at Starsky's shirt. "Ever since I first tasted it, I can't get enough. I go to a different deli each time in case they remember me and think I'm nuts."
Starsky grabbed Hutch's hands. "This is crazy!"
"I know. Starsk, help me. I don't know what to do."
Realising that his partner was actually serious about this, Starsky decided he had better deal with it the same way. "Okay, relax. You just gotta think about what it's doing to your arteries, to your heart, especially in those quantities.
Hutch bowed his head. "I know."
"You got to promise me that you won't buy any more."
Hutch sniffed, chewed at his lip, and looked at the tipped over container on the ground. After a few moments he sighed deeply and replied, "Okay, I promise."
"Terrific, now how about I take you out to that vegetarian restaurant you like?" Starsky bribed. "I'll even pay." Starsky hated the place but he would do anything for Hutch.
Hutch swallowed hard before looking at him. "Thanks, Starsk. You're my best friend. You know that don't you?"
Starsky smiled. "Of course I know. Now I'm gonna put this stuff in the trash and then we're gonna get you some healthy food."
Hutch nodded and didn't look as Starsky got rid of temptation.
000
Hutch was sweating as Starsky drove to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al's house for dinner. It had been difficult but he had kept his promise not to buy any more chopped liver. He had, however, reasoned that calling and asking Rosie to make some for him was not breaking his word. Yet it was such a fine distinction that he wondered how Starsky would react.
"I'm real hungry tonight, Hutch. Rosie's making chicken pie." Starsky broke into his guilty thoughts.
"Yeah!" he answered in a squeak.
"Hey you got a sore throat?"
"No, I'm fine." Hutch looked out the window, wishing now he hadn't accepted the invitation to dinner. Yet he was always included in Starsky's visits to these relatives and welcomed as part of the family.
As they entered the small house where his friend had spent his teenage years, Hutch was struck as always by the amount of photos of Starsky around. The couple had taken their nephew to their heart, raising him as their own son.
Rosie greeted both of them with a hug and kiss while Al shook their hands. For a short while they discussed family news but the dreaded moment soon arrived and they were ushered over to the table. There in the center was the oh-so-tempting chopped liver.
Starsky fell silent as he noticed it.
"Something wrong, David?" Rosie asked.
"You know I don't like chopped liver."
Rosie licked her lips and glanced at Hutch who pleaded with his eyes for her not to reveal his secret. "You don't need to eat it, David. Now sit."
Starsky glanced knowingly at Hutch who couldn't stop a flush creeping through his body. He cursed the fair skin that gave him away but he knew that even without that Starsky could read him like a book.
He shrugged and shamefaced, sat beside his partner.
"What am I gonna do with you, Hutch?" Starsky asked with a resigned sigh.
"It's not Rosie's fault. I asked her. I'm sorry," he replied.
Starsky grimaced, grabbed Hutch at the back of the neck and threatened. "Okay but if you get hooked again…."
"I won't I promise. I'll just take a little bit. Okay?" He looked at Starsky hopefully.
"Mushbrain!" Starsky replied, affectionately.
Hutch chuckled and reached for the plate of chopped liver, knowing that he wouldn't get hooked on it again, for with Starsky by his side he would be able to resist that temptation.
He hoped!
The End
Yiddish words.
Zayde – Grandfather. A term of respect for an older man.
Mensh – A human being. A good man. A decent person.