Honest
Mickey never lied, not even to himself. His honesty was his one saving grace. The virtue that gave him his only value. Because Mickey sold information. To cops, to creeps - as long as they paid it didn't matter. And if he couldn't be trusted, his livelihood – and his next drink – would be lost. He had already lost his family, his home, his dignity. Now he was losing his soul little by little to a putrid underground river of alcohol eating away at his foundation. It was only a matter of time before it all collapsed and he was sucked into a hell he couldn't escape.
Word on the street was that Starsky was missing his partner. Mickey knew he would leave no rock unturned to find him, so he wasn't surprised when Starsky came looking for answers. Information about Hutch would be his miracle. But this time he had nothing to sell. Honest.
"You owe me. You know damn well you owe me." Starsky leaned in close and his eyes blazed through Mickey like blue fire. A dark angel seeking a cleansing confession.
"I ain't heard a thing. Honest."
A Starsky without a Hutch was like a beer without the buzz. But Mickey knew better than to sell him false hope. Desperation shone too brightly in Starsky's eyes. And desperation like that made people dangerous, especially someone like Starsky.
"Honest." The mantra Mickey hoped would someday earn his way to heaven convulsed on his lips. "If I knew anything I'd tell ya."
"I'm gonna find Hutch. One way or the other I'm gonna find him."
Mickey took a shaky sip from his mug. He knew that he wasn't the one who needed convincing. If something bad had happened to Hutch, something even worse would happen to Starsky.
Honest.