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Chapter 2
"Solid stone is just sand and water, Sand and water, and a million years gone by." Beth Chapman
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As the Torino smoothly threaded through the midday traffic, Bree asked her brother to tell her more about Huggy. She'd never known anyone before with such a distinctive nickname.
"Huggy's been a pretty cool dude. Started out as a snitch—still is, I guess—but me and Hutch don't think of him like that. He's actually saved our butts a few times, and if there's anything happening on the street, he knows about it."
"So how'd you first meet him?" Bree asked, resting her elbow on the door and cupping her hand to catch the wind streaming past the open window.
"I busted him, back when I was just a rookie, running around like a chicken waitin' to get my head blown off." Bree shot him an uncomfortable glare. Starsky bowed his head, looking at her over the top of his sunglasses. "I meant I was still a little green. Anyway, caught Huggy holdin' some hot merchandise, enough for a little time in the joint. The thought of going to jail got him rethinking his options, so he offered me some info on a robbery suspect. I took him up on it, got a good collar, and we've been doin' business ever since."
"Well, I guess that's one way to get to know someone." Bree wasn't sure what she thought about snitches, but since her brother seemed to admire Huggy, she wanted to meet him first before coming to any conclusions.
Starsky steered the Torino into the alley and drove halfway down its length, parking in back of The Pits. He got out of the car, and shuffled over to Bree's side, opening her door like a professional valet. She acknowledged the act with a smile and took hold of his extended arm as he helped her out. They then entered the bar through a back door topped by a large exit sign.
As Starsky and Bree came in, Huggy was definitely up to his neck attending to the lively lunch crowd. Seeing Starsky, though, he nodded towards a booth that had just been emptied of its last occupants. As the two siblings settled into the wooden seats, Huggy came strutting over, his eyes locked on Bree.
"My, my, my and what have we here? Now Starsky, where did you find this lovely lady? And why is she here with the likes of you?"
Bree took her first look at Huggy. While she didn't think he was particularly handsome, his deep brown eyes looked kind and inviting.
"Huggy, this is my sister, Breanna."
Huggy's jaw dropped open, but Bree was getting accustomed to surprised looks concerning her identity.
"Now Starsky, didn't anybody tell you that only us soul people can refer to just anybody as a 'brother' or 'sister'?" Huggy slid into the booth next to Bree. "Your wish today, is my pleasure, and I would treasure any chance to make you a repeat customer in my fine establishment." Bree groaned inwardly at his obvious attempts at flirtation, but she did like Huggy's open, flamboyant nature and felt comfortable in his presence.
"Huggy," Starsky said dryly.
"Uh-hum?" Huggy still had his eyes glued on Bree.
Starsky took hold of Huggy's arm and squeezed it. "Huggy, she really is my sister."
Huggy's eyes opened wide. "Now you're pullin' my leg. There's no way something this beautiful can be related to you!"
Starsky sank back in his seat, feigning a hurt look. Huggy glanced at his reaction, then back at Bree. She smiled broadly at him, shaking her head affirmatively several times.
"So he's not lying! For real? You're his sister?"
"'Fraid so. Dave's parents adopted me when I was ten."
"Well I'd never of believed it unless I'd seen it with my own eyes; Curly's got himself a sister."
"Curly?" Bree glanced at David. "Oh, I get it! That's cute, Huggy."
"Yeah, just one of his many talents…colorful language." Starsky said sarcastically. "Which, speaking of talents, how about takin' our orders there, garçєon?"
"Your wish is my command," Huggy said smoothly, batting his eyes briefly. "And what does the Madame wish to have?"
"Well, what do you recommend?"
"Oh, don't ask him that, we'll be here all day." Starsky said with a groan. Turning to Bree, he asked, "You like burgers?" Instantly he felt embarrassed at not knowing his sister's preferences, but she ended up ordering the same burger plate he usually did. The only difference was that hers wasn't a double.
After Huggy left with their orders, Bree glanced around the place. It typified most bars, with a pool table off to one side, some pinball machines against another wall, and several tables set in the center, all nearly full with hungry patrons. Unlike the name would have implied, its appearance was decent and none of the clientele looked remotely shady. "This is a nice place." she told Starsky.
"Yeah, Huggy runs a decent joint here." Starsky suddenly felt a bit uneasy, not exactly sure how to proceed with their conversation. "So, you married?"
"No, I've stayed single. Seems to be less complicated that way. You?"
"Nah, came close once," Starsky said, thinking of Terri. It had been almost two years now, since she had died. "One of these days though."
"I know there's probably a lot you'd like to know, like what I've been doing for all these years." For the first time, Bree's tone turned serious.
"If you want to talk about it, sure." Before Bree could continue, Starsky added, "But I want you to know, that when I last saw you, I was still a kid. I should've thought about how leaving was gonna to affect you an' Nick." Hesitating briefly, he said, "Just sayin', if there's any blame here—"
"Davey, you didn't leave. Mom sent you away, you know that. Maybe things might've turned out different if you'd stayed, but to tell you the truth, when Pop was shot—" Noticing the two rings on his pinky finger, Bree thought she recognized the silver one and asked, "Is that Pop's signet ring?" When he nodded, she said, "I remember when he gave that to you."
Starsky slowly spun the ring on his finger with his right hand, feeling the engraved pattern. Bree remembered how he had always loved that ring. When he'd gotten it on his thirteenth birthday, the ring was too big for his finger, so he had worn it on a necklace. She was glad to see him actually wearing it now, knowing it served as a daily reminder of Pop's love. Softly continuing, Bree said, "When we lost him, Davey, that was it; our lives were never going to be the same. I'm not using it as an excuse, but just saying we had no control over it."
"You really sure about that? I mean, if I hadn't had this attitude of 'just screw it, if that's how life's gonna be, then the world can kiss my ass...'" He didn't finish his sentence. As his demeanor changed, he brought an arm up and rested his chin on top of a clenched fist. "Maybe I could've gotten along better with Mom." he murmured, but there had been another reason for his rebelliousness. He breathed out a sigh, and sat back in his seat. Clasping both hands together on the table, he said, "I haven't forgotten what happened when Dickie took me—" Bree gave him a look that could have burned through metal. Seeing her angry glare, he paused, then tried to continue. "That monster should've—"
"Don't! Don't say another word!" Bree's voice was tight, every word slicing through the stale air. "That belongs in the past, okay? Just let it go, Dave… let it go."
Starsky still felt the urge to explain, but Bree's reactions clearly indicated the matter was closed. He closed both eyes briefly, acknowledging her request with a smile, and then glanced out towards the bar.
Seeing his reaction, Bree said, "Davey, Mom told me something the other day. She said we can't change the past, that what's done is done and it's silly to waste your energy worrying about something you have no control over."
"Yeah, Mom's always right; I guess it doesn't do any good." Starsky unclasped his hands. "Sorry I got off the subject—you were talking about what you've been up to?"
"Yeah," Bree said, collecting her thoughts. "I'm not sure what you know, but after you left it just didn't feel like home anymore. Nicky, he tried to look up to me, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. I guess you've seen him recently?" Starsky shook his head. "Yeah, well, can't really blame him for how he turned out. Hell, I wasn't much better. Started hanging out with anyone who'd take me in. Eventually I just wanted to go back home, but I thought Mom would slam the door in my face if I tried."
"Bree, you should've known she'd never have done that." Starsky reached over and held onto her hand.
"Yeah, but at that age you think you know everything, and boy did I ever! So, I found work here and there, finally got my GED. Now here I am, trying to pull my life together and see if I still have a family." Well, at least most of what I told him was the truth.
"Hey, you'll always have a family." Starsky squeezed her hand firmly.
"You mean as long as you or Mom are around." Bree wasn't holding her breath where Nicky was concerned.
"Well, don't count Nicky out. Who knows, maybe he'll be the one that keeps the family name going on."
Surprised David would say that, she asked, "What're you saying, that you don't think you'd ever start a family?" Yeah, like you might get shot tomorrow...
"No, I mean probably not anytimesoon. I'd like to have kids, some day…with the right person." Starsky's thoughts drifted back to Terri again. If there had ever been someone he'd wanted children with, it was her.
"Sounds like you've got someone in mind, maybe?"
Starsky took a moment before answering. "There is…was. Long story. Maybe some other time?"
The sad look on his face told Bree that, whoever this woman was, she had been exceptionally close to his heart.
Replying softly, she said, "That's okay…when you're ready." Before Bree could launch into another topic, Huggy arrived at the table with their food.
"Here you go, two burgers a la Huggy! If you two don't need anything else, I have other customers demanding my presence."
"Nah, this is great, Hug. Thanks." Starsky wasted no time grabbing a handful of hot french fries off his plate.
"Davey? Do you like being a cop?" Bree knew the question was a little forward, but she couldn't think of any other way to ask.
Starsky was surprised at the sudden change of subject. Stuck for a moment with a mouthful of fries, he said, "Shur 'a like bein' a 'op." Gulping the warm mass down, he continued. "What brought that up?"
"I dunno, just seems like a dangerous job." Bree picked a solitary fry up off of her plate and held it suspended in front of her mouth.
"Well, it is, but not all the time. We do other stuff."
"Yeah, like what?"
"Catchin' bank robbers, serial killers, people stealing little ol' ladies' purses." Starsky winked and then started in on his hamburger.
"Oh, that's real funny. You've got a weird sense of humor, big brother."
Starsky flashed one of his crooked smiles. "Yeah, 'suppose you're right. But I've got Hutch; he keeps me in one piece."
Oh, really? "Yeah, he seems like the type of guy that can take care of both of you and then some" Bree said, hoping to get a rise out of him.
"Hey! I taught him everything he knows! I've had to save his butt plenty of times. But yeah…he does a good job of watchin' my back."
His attitude softened as the last remark trailed off, and a faraway look settled in his eyes. Bree swore she could hear him thinking out loud. It surprised her how easily she could read him. Maybe those few short years we spent together were responsible, or could it be he just displays his emotions so easily?
Reclaiming his attention, Bree asked, "So, what if Ken—Hutch—hey, what should I call him?"
"Hutch is fine."
"Okay, Hutch. By the way, how come you don't call each other by your first names?" Bree was curious about this strange protocol between the two men.
Starsky thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. I guess it's just what we've always called ourselves. It's what all the instructors do at the police academy. Would just sound weird if we used our first names."
"I see. So anyway, what if Hutch quit for some reason? Would ya still keep being a cop?"
"Never really thought about it." Starsky knew that was a lie. He was sure both of them thought about the fragility of their partnership often. Not that it would end by their choosing, but most likely from one of numerous other possibilities, none of which were pleasant to think about. "Guess we just keep showin' up for work every day and seein' what happens."
"So, Ken likes to be called 'Hutch.' What should I call you? I mean, 'Davey's' not very macho, and I can't call you 'Starsky.'" Bree made the last name sound like a childish nickname. Even if everyone else in his life called him that, there was no way she could.
Starsky gave her a quick smirk. "You call me whatever you like, as long as it's something appropriate in mixed company."
Bree had to chuckle. Her brother always did have a unique sense of humor. "Okay, maybe I'll try to stick with 'Dave.' That doesn't sound too childish, huh?"
"'Dave' is fine, schweetheart."
Bree popped both eyes open. "Was that supposed to be Bogey? Sounded kinda lame if you ask me."
"It wasn't lame; I've been told I do a good impersonation of him."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't believe everything someone tells you, huh?"
Each looked at the other and broke out giggling. They spent the rest of the lunch hour getting reacquainted, talking about favorite foods, music, and what the partners liked doing in their spare time. After finishing their meals, Bree offered to pay, but Starsky refused. "You're the visiting team here, home team always pays." He pulled some bills from his wallet and stuffed the money under his plate. "By the way, where are you staying…or I should ask how long are you staying?"
"I got a room at the Holiday Inn. Wasn't sure of the reception I'd get, so I kept my options open."
"That mean no one's expecting ya back home?" Seeing Bree shake her head, he asked, "You got time off work?"
"Let's just say I'm in between jobs at the moment," Bree replied, hoping he wouldn't press her on the subject.
"Well, I'd hate for you to spend money on a hotel. Why not stay at my place?" he asked. "It's not the Ritz, but I've got hot running water and indoor plumbing."
"Oh, I couldn't put you out like that. It's okay, the hotel isn't that expensive." Bree actually hoped he would press her on this.
"No way. Think about what Mom would say if I didn't offer to put you up. C'mon, we'll go grab your stuff then head out to my place."
Bree quietly let out a deep breath. "Thanks bro'."
As they left Huggy's, both were still deeply engaged in conversation. On any other day, either Starsky or his partner might have noticed the immaculate Oldsmobile parked crookedly at the end of the lane, looking out of place among the other vehicles parked there, all junkers. But today, Starsky was oblivious to his surroundings, giving Bree his full attention. As they took off towards the motel, his concentration was focused on their plans for the evening, instead of the green sedan following indiscreetly behind the Torino.
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"Hutchinson!!" Hutch was so thoroughly engrossed with his report from the drug bust that Captain Dobey's shout actually startled him. The man's size only added to his lung capacity, which afforded his voice the ability to occasionally be heard on adjoining floors.
"Yes, Captain?" Hutch had a good idea what his supervisor was about to ask, but it never hurt to play dumb.
"Where's your report from this morning?" Dobey took a quick glance around the squad room. "And where's that partner of yours!?"
"Well, ah, I'm still working on that, Capt'n, and uh, Starsky's at lunch," Hutch replied casually, hoping his lame response would go by unchallenged.
"Starsky's at lunch? It's almost two-thirty! Instead of making excuses for him, you should be grabbing him by the shirt collar and draggin' his butt in here to help you. Those reports should have been done hours ago!" Dobey shook a thick finger at the detective. "You've got one hour to get that paperwork on my desk. Everyone else is done with theirs, so I suggest you either start typing faster, or get that freeloading partner in here now!"
"Well, we did do most of the work on this case." Hutch raised beseeching eyes to Dobey, seeking a reprieve.
Ignoring the gesture, Dobey said, "Look, don't tell me something I already know—One hour!" Storming back into his office, Dobey slammed the door behind him.
Hutch knew he'd need some help meeting the deadline. He picked up the phone and called dispatch asking them to patch him through to Starsky.
"So Dobey's blowing a gasket, huh?" Starsky was using the Motorola's mike in the Torino.
"Yeah, I think he's serious. How quick can you get back here?"
"Just pulling into my driveway to drop off Bree. About fifteen minutes?"
"Make it five and I'll buy dinner tonight." Hutch glanced up at the clock in the squad room; his hour was going by quickly.
"Okay, but I don't wanna hear any complaints about my driving."
"Just get back here as soon as you can, and don't cause any accidents either!" Hutch hung up the phone and went back to his two-fingered typing.
After parking in front of his apartment, Starsky took Bree's luggage inside and gave her a quick tour of his place. "Just make yourself at home, okay? Shouldn't take me too long to finish up at the precinct. If the phone rings, answer it; it might be me." Starsky had been a cop long enough to know he could never guarantee someone when he'd be off work.
"No problem. I'll see you when you get back." She followed him outside to the landing where he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. He then bounded down the stairs, and jumped into the Torino.
As the Ford peeled out of the driveway and left, the green Oldsmobile parked across the street remained. The two observers sitting inside waited another ten minutes, then started up the sedan and slowly drove away.
"Well, that didn't take too long." Suko said, relieved. "I was startin' to get hungry."
"Yeah, at least we know where this one lives," Lapentz replied, glad to be moving again. Like his partner, he was getting hungry and was tired of sitting in the car. "I think you're right about the chick, she must be his girlfriend."
"No, I don't think so."
"What's changed your mind?"
"If she was his girlfriend, why was she stayin' at the motel? And did ya notice how he acted before he took off? He didn't kiss her like a lover, more like—a sister!" Suko knew he had something.
"Well, isn't that nice to know?" Lapentz leaned back in his seat, allowing himself a smile of satisfaction.
"Yeah, exactly."
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Starsky slid the Torino, locking all four brakes, the last few feet before coming to a stop in an open parking space. Hopping out of the car, he jogged up the steps into the precinct and made his way to the fifth floor.
Seeing his partner busting through the squad room door was a welcome sight for Hutch, but it had taken Starsky over ten minutes to arrive.
"Buddy, I'm glad to see ya, but my dinner offer was based on you getting here in five minutes. Sorry, but you didn't make it."
"What?" Starsky glanced up at the clock, seeing what he wanted to, but knowing his partner was right. "I made it here in plenty of time! You're not welshin' out of your bet, Hutch."
Convinced he'd lose the extra manpower if he pressed the issue, Hutch conceded. "Okay, fine. Just help me get these reports done so Dobey doesn't come back out here again."
"He a little pissed?"
"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. How'd your lunch go?"
"Great! Ya know, she was probably the last person I ever expected to see again. I stopped askin' Mom about her years ago. Could tell it was a sore subject." Starsky settled into his seat and fed a form into the typewriter. "I've always thought about her…where she was, what she was doin'. It feels good having her around again—you can never have too much family." Starsky glanced over at Hutch, hoping to convey he considered him in the same respect.
Hutch returned his partner's look. Yeah, buddy, you deserve another sibling. God only knows that brother of yours doesn't deserve your love, or your respect. I hope Bree is different. "I'm happy for you, buddy. Any idea where we're going tonight?"
"Oh shit! I didn't ask her what she felt like eating. I could call her."
"No, just hold off. We gotta get this stuff done first."
"Yeah, you're right." Starsky's dejected tone mirrored his opinion of paperwork. Looking at the paper in the typewriter, he said, "Ya think I could just say 'I came, I saw, I kicked ass, took names, threw some people in jail,' and call it good?" He eagerly glanced over at Hutch, awaiting his response.
Rolling his eyes, Hutch flatly said, "Starsky—just type."
It took until four o'clock before both detectives were finished with their reports. Dobey had briefly growled at them when the sheets were laid in his inbox, but his anger had subsided substantially from an hour ago. The two quickly hurried out of the office, heading straight for the parking lot. Once back at the Torino, they could sign themselves out for the day.
"Zebra 3 to control." Hutch had the mike clutched in his hand.
"Zebra 3 go ahead."
"Show us 10-10, 10-42 for the day."
"Roger Zebra 3. Have a good night."
"Turn that damned thing off. I don't even wanna know about any calls between here and home," Starsky said. He'd lost count of all the times last minute calls had ruined a planned evening. To make his point, he gunned the Ford out of the lot and onto the boulevard.
"So what time do you want me to drop by?" Hutch asked. How much time do I have to relax before coming over?
"I don't know, maybe seven?" Not sure when she eats dinner, could be early, could be late. "By the way, if she don't got a preference, where do you wanna eat?"
"Doesn't matter. We could be gentlemen and just let her choose." As long as her taste in food doesn't match yours, I'll be thrilled.
"What if she likes weird food?" I don't think I could sit there and eat something I can't identify.
"Ah, c'mon Starsky. A little culture would do you good." You know, there are different food groups out there, besides donuts and pizza.
"Hey, I'm all for culture." Just so long as it doesn't crawl around in my plate and tastes better with ketchup on it.
"Well, I suppose we'll find out." Bree, please don't be let me live to regret this.
When the Torino pulled up in front of Venice Place, Hutch got out and closed the car door. Sticking his head back inside, he said, "I'll be over about six-thirty. Sound okay?"
"Sure. And Hutch? Keep your paws off my sister tonight." Although Starsky's tone was light, there was a thread of seriousness woven into his words.
"Hey, buddy, she's a big girl!" With that Hutch turned quickly away, hiding the smile he had on his face.
"Hutch!" Starsky yelled as loud as he could. "I mean it!"
Hutch halfway turned back around, raising one arm up over his head, and giving his partner a quick flick of his hand. Yeah, I got you buddy. Starsky shot him a villainous look and stomped on the accelerator.
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Bree was glad to have some time to browse around her brother's apartment. She wasn't a snoop, but knew she could learn volumes about someone by seeing what things they chose to possess, and what they displayed out in the open.
After Dave left, Bree had unpacked her things and settled into the bedroom. If she had known her brother's place contained only one bed, she would have insisted on staying at the motel. Though he had been adamant, she felt bad about him sleeping on the couch. Rachel was right—his heart was as big as the ocean. Looking around the bedroom and then strolling out to the living room, Bree took in all the things that made up David's life. The unfinished two-foot model of a clipper ship sitting beside a bookcase drew her attention. The amount of detail in the rigging and sails amazed her, and she wondered how anyone could have the patience to do such intricate work.
The pictures near the top of the bookcase also caught her eye, especially one of a woman who resembled Bree in some ways, namely how her hair was cut, and the upturned nose. Standing out among the pictures of Hutch, Rachel and Nicky, this was the only one of a young woman. Bree thought back to their conversation at Huggy's and wondered if this was the one David didn't want to talk about. If they had broken up, then why keep her picture around? Was her brother one to carry a torch? She didn't think so. Oh, of course. The look on David's face said it all. She must have died. Staring into Terri's picture, Bree sensed the heartbreak clearly. She put the frame back on the shelf, but not until hearing a voice inside her head…'Take care of him.' Although not surprised she was hearing strange voices, she was taken aback at how clearly the message sounded.
As she had gotten older, Bree realized she had a special talent. Many times, when her mind was clear, she could hear quiet mumblings of voices. Usually the words were indistinct and hard to understand, as if listening to a conversation from another room. Occasionally, out in public, she could swear she was seeing what appeared to be cloudy halos around certain people. Sometimes the opaque mists were colorful, other times just a bluish haze.
Once, while standing in line at the grocery store, a middle-aged woman was in front of her. Although Bree could see her mouth wasn't moving, she distinctly heard a female voice say, 'Tell her Maddy is well and the ring is under the dresser.' Since there was no one behind her, and this woman was the only other female in line, Bree thought she'd take a chance.
"Excuse me, but did you just say something?" Bree asked her.
"No, I didn't." The woman seemed a bit surprised.
"Uh, is your name 'Maddy' by any chance?"
The woman looked as if she had seen a ghost. "Maddy? Maddy's my sister—do I know you?"
"No…" Bree didn't know if testing her theory was such a good idea. "I just thought I heard a woman talking, calling herself Maddy." Bree felt a little stupid, but since she was a stranger to this woman, the worst Bree could expect was that the woman would think she was nuts. Deciding to commit herself, she said, "Please don't think I'm crazy, but I just heard a woman tell me her name was Maddy and she said 'the ring is under the dresser.' I'm wondering if that means anything to you."
Tears began to well up in the woman's eyes, but then her expression changed into more of a beseeching look. "Maddy was my sister. She died two months ago." Oh, that's just great Bree, you just ruined her day—dumb ass! "You said something about a ring being under a dresser?"
Sheepishly, Bree answered, "Yeah, that's what I heard…I'm sorry, it's just that…"
The woman cut Bree off before she could finish. "No! That's really what you heard? My goodness, I've got to get home—I've been looking for that ring for a month! It's the only thing I have left from her and she loved that ring. I had it on a necklace because it's too little for me to wear, but it slipped off my neck somewhere at home. My word, I've looked everywhere except underneath my dresser!"
A half hour after leaving the grocery store, Bree got a phone call at her house. It was Maddy's sister. She had gotten Bree's phone number before going home, and was calling to say she had found the ring right where Bree said it would be. After that encounter, Bree didn't test her theories anymore. If dead people wanted to relay messages to their loved ones, she decided, they'd have to find someone else to do it. But she still viewed her talent as a unique gift, just one she chose not to share.
Looking back at the woman's picture in Dave's apartment, Bree ran her fingers around the decorative frame, feeling its etched design. She wanted to hear more from this particular spirit. So, who are you? What's your name? Bree tried hard to listen, but there was no reply. C'mon, I heard you. My name's Bree. I'm David's sister…I love him too. Still nothing. Hey! I didn't call you, you called me! Silence. Great—when I want this thing to work, it doesn't.
Giving up, Bree turned away from the bookcase and started walking to another part of the room. 'Tell him to be careful.' Bree spun around, convinced she would see the person standing right behind her—the voice had been that real. Seeing no one, she yelled, "Who are you?" Nothing. Great! "Hey bro', ya know you got dead people around the house?" Okay, if you don't want to talk to me, fine! Bree felt her attitude change. Yeah, all right. I'll tell him, but a little more information would be nice!
Feeling a bit skittish now, Bree turned the TV on so she could be sure of the origins of any more voices she heard.
An hour later, Bree heard footsteps coming up the stairs and then the front door opening.
"Hey, it's me!" Starsky sounded glad to be home.
"Hi, me."
Seeing Bree lying on the couch, wrapped in a bluish-green knitted afghan and looking very comfortable, Starsky asked, "Been doin' okay? You warm enough?"
"Oh sure, just stretching out a bit. You know, this couch is really comfortable. You sure you want to give up your bed? I could easily sack out on this."
"Nope. Visiting team gets the bed." Starsky slipped his leather jacket off and hung it on the coat rack by the door. "Thought about what you'd like to eat for dinner tonight?"
As Bree sat up and glanced over at her brother, she noticed the shoulder holster strapped to his chest. Earlier, when she'd hugged him, she had felt the hard form underneath his jacket. Seeing the weapon now, she felt an unease flare-up in her stomach. She knew David could take care of himself; she just hated seeing the gun. I don't know how you can do this job, Davey. I've missed seeing you for so long, damn it! I couldn't take it if I lost you now.
"Hey, Bree? Did ya hear me?"
"Huh?"
"I said, where'd ya like to go eat tonight?"
"Oh, I don't really have a preference. Where do you guys usually go out?" Bree could eat just about anything. Just as long as it doesn't crawl around my plate and tastes better with ketchup on it.
"Well, mostly Hutch and I like Italian or Chinese. We're pretty flexible though," Starsky answered, hoping one of those choices would appeal to her.
"Italian sounds good."
"Yeah? Okay, Italian it is." Having rid himself of the jacket and holster, Starsky unbuttoned his blue cotton shirt halfway and pulled it out of his pants. As he walked over to the couch, Bree folded her legs up from under the afghan creating an area big enough for him to plop down. "What ya watchin'?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing really. Just wanted some background noise." Yeah bro', because you got some awful noisy ghosts around here. "Anything exciting happen at work?"
"No. Just a lot of paperwork. We handled a pretty good drug bust this morning. Took a lot of cocaine off the streets."
"Wow, really? Sounds exciting." Bree hoped her faked enthusiasm wasn't noticeable. She was proud of her brother, but didn't like the constant reminders of his hazardous profession. Still, his tone of voice hadn't sounded very enthused. Reaching over to run a finger through a curled lock of hair on his forehead, Bree noticed he looked more tired than before. "You look kinda beat. You feelin' okay?"
Starsky already had his head leaned back on the couch, and both eyes closed, but with a contented smile on his face. "No, I'm fine. Just been up since blondie woke me at five this morning."
Blondie? Oh duh, Hutch. "You've been up since five?" Bree swung her hand out and sharply clipped the side of his shoulder.
The action brought his upper body off of the cushion. "Ow! What'd ya do that for?"
"Sorry." She had really wanted to smack him upside his head. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been up since dawn? Here you are taking me out and you're exhausted!"
"I'm not exhausted! And I'll have you know, I don't do anything I don't want to." Starsky's voice lowered, becoming more soothing. "I'm a big boy now, and I want to go out with you and my partner tonight and have as much fun as I can possibly stand…so there!"
Bree still felt like a jerk. "Okay, since you put it that way. I hope you're just not doing this on my account."
"Of course I'm doing this for you." Starsky reached over and playfully grasped Bree's nose between his middle and index fingers, gently shaking it back and forth. "Haven't seen that cute little face of yours in a very, very long time." Guiding the same hand over to the side of her face, he cupped her cheek and jaw. Bree turned her head slightly and gave the palm a quick peck. Gazing through half-opened lids, Starsky murmured, "'S good to see you again, sis—it's been a long time."
"Right back at cha, bro'."