CHAPTER 8

After spending a frustrating afternoon with no new leads, Starsky and Hutch decided to join some of the crew members at a bar across the street from the coliseum. The best information could often come from a casual conversation over a few drinks.

The bar was crowded with smoke hanging heavily in the air (and it didn't all come from ordinary cigarettes). The poor lighting and music blaring from a jukebox in the corner only added to the dismal atmosphere. The two detectives and three other men crowded into an empty booth.

Randy was the only one of the three crew members that Starsky and Hutch had more than a passing acquaintance with. A lifelong roadie named Cliff was a rugged looking man in his early fifties with stringy brown hair, squinty blue eyes and a hook nose. He was two inches taller than Hutch with a gangly frame and a three inch scar on his left cheek. The second man was a fairly new crew member named Lonnie. He was barely out of his teens with a baby face, blue eyes and a naïve manner that often led to good-natured teasing from the other members of the road crew. To his advantage, he was tall with a muscular build and was more than capable of handling his share of the work.

A heavyset waitress with bleached hair that looked like dry straw and a heavily made up face that only emphasized the wrinkles appeared at their table.

"Whatcha boys want?" she drawled in a bored tone.

"Give us two pitchers of draft," Randy ordered for all of them.

"I want some food," Cliff cut in rudely. He ignored the annoyed glance Randy tossed his way and told the waitress, "Give me a burger with all the fixing and some fries."

Hutch hid a smile when Starsky's stomach growled. Fixing the waitress with his most charming smile, he said, "Give my friend here the same thing."

Randy raised an eyebrow when Hutch ordered for Starsky, but he didn't say anything. He glanced at the waitress, dismissing her with a thin smile. "That'll be all for now."

Without bothering to write it down, the woman sauntered away with an exaggerated sway of her broad hips.

"That is one big mama," Cliff snickered as he watched the woman walk away. The others ignored his crass comment. Nobody connected with show really hung around with Cliff. He had a well-earned reputation for violence and didn't appear to need or want any friends. But, he had no problem joining the others to toss back a few when the opportunity arose.

"So, things have been pretty quiet for the past couple of days," Starsky said casually. "Do ya think that means this stalker decided to call it quits?"

"I doubt it," Randy said, "He's too obsessed with Mandy. He wouldn't give up that easily."

"I know I wouldn't," Cliff offered with a grin. "She's quite a looker, even if she is just a baby." He glanced at Lonnie "She's more your speed, Ace. Maybe you should try hitting that." He glanced at Hutch with a sneer. "That is unless lover boy over there has any objections to you cutting in on his territory."

"Mandy isn't anyone's territory," Hutch said quietly. "And I don't think any of us needs to be talking about 'hitting' that."

Cliff chuckled. "What's the matter, Blondie? Did I hit a sore spot?" His eyes narrowed as he silently challenged Hutch to make something out of it.

"Back off, Cliff," Randy ordered firmly, trying to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. He glanced across the table at Hutch who held his gaze for several long seconds as a silent understanding passed between them. Cliff grunted but held his tongue, his attention distracted by the arrival of their beer and food.

"I feel sorry for Mandy," Lonnie said as he poured himself a glass of beer. The other men followed suit. "I know she's scared. She's a nice girl. She didn't have to hire me since I didn't have any experience, but she did. I owe her a lot for that."

"It don't take no rocket scientist to load trucks, kid," Cliff said around a huge bite of his burger. "Just a strong back."

Lonnie fell silent, a flush creeping up his neck and into his face. Starsky hated to see the kid mocked like that. He glared at Cliff and snarled "Why don't you do everybody a favor and fuck off?"

"Why don't you make me, Curly?" Cliff challenged the hot-tempered brunet. The tension in the air mounted as the two men stared each other down.

Hutch discreetly dropped his hand to lie on his partner's knee. He could feel the bunched up muscles under his touch and knew that Starsky was coiled and ready to pounce. At his contact, he felt Starsky relax marginally.

"Pussy," Cliff grunted as he shoved himself out of the booth. Annoyed at not being able to start a fight with anyone at the table, he stalked out, leaving his half-eaten meal behind. Everyone at the table breathed a sigh of relief at his departure.

"What a dick," Lonnie said, voicing the thought that was on everyone else's mind.

"I should've kicked his ass," Starsky growled, residual anger still simmering just below the surface.

"That's exactly what he wanted you to do," Randy told him. "He's always spoiling for a fight. I'm glad you didn't let him bait you. I'm surprised he ain't rotting in some cell somewhere."

A pretty redhead in tight jeans and an even tighter sweater came up to their table and leaned in towards Starsky with a fetching smile.

"Hey there, handsome. Would you like to dance?" She asked in a sultry voice that sounded like fine whiskey being poured over cracked ice at the end of a long hard day.

"I'd love to, darling," Starsky replied with his most charming smile. As he slid out of the booth and walked off towards the dance floor with his 'new' friend, Hutch casually rose to his feet and announced to the table, "I need to hit the head." He turned and walked in the opposite direction towards the men's room at the back of the room.

"I'll get us another pitcher of beer," Randy said. He stood up and made his way through the crowd to the bar where he had to wait in line to place his order. When he returned to the table, Lonnie was gone. He had left some bills beside his empty glass to pay for his share of the drinks they'd had earlier.

When Starsky and Hutch returned to the table, the two detectives finished their drinks from earlier.

"It's been a long day," Hutch said with an exaggerated yawn as he sat his empty glass on the table.

"Yeah, we better get back." Starsky added. They excused themselves and took their leave.

Randy shrugged. More beer for him.

As they walked back to the arena, Starsky yawned and said, "Damn, I am tired."

"Now that you mention it, so am I," Hutch said. "I didn't think we had that much to drink."

"Oh, well…we'll get a good night's sleep and start fresh in the morning," Starsky said. He stumbled slightly, reaching out to grab Hutch's arm to keep his balance. He looked at his partner and started to speak but instead, his knees buckled, and he collapsed into Hutch's arms.

Even as Hutch lowered his unconscious partner to the ground, the blond was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of dizziness and a blurring of his vision.

"Starsk…" he whispered as he fell to the ground beside his partner.

A man appeared out of the night. A thin smile tugged at his lips as he bent down and grabbed Starsky under the arms, dragging him into the darkness.

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Hutch groaned as he rolled onto his back and forced his heavy eyelids open. Sunlight drifting into the back of the semi sent a piercing pain through his aching head. He groaned and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to control his rolling stomach. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and he felt worse than he'd ever felt in his life after a night of drinking.

His eyes snapped open, his own discomfort forgotten, as he remembered events from the night before. "STARSKY!" He yelled as he sat up and looked around, frantically searching for his best friend. Starsky was nowhere to be found.