Chapter two
Gutters and Alleys
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading along. I hope you enjoy this little tale. I will post a chapter every night. Be well and safe, Sunshine even in rain, Karen
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10-7b Out of service (personal)
"Starsk?" A voice rang in my ears.
I slowly raised my chin off my chest, rubbed my burning eyes, and glanced over the at the direction of the voice.
"Sorry," I muttered, realizing it was Hutch I had heard. I looked at the car clock, then remembering it was broken I eyed my wristwatch for what seemed like the thousandth time. I'd dozed off not even halfway through our patrol. "How long was I actually out?" I questioned sleepily.
"Only forty minutes. Don't worry, buddy, all's quiet on the Western Front."
"Terrific. That only leaves three other fronts to --" I snuffled. "To confront."
Hutch gave a light chuckle. I shifted stiffly, looked out my window, and listened to the sound of a train whistle somewhere in the distance. It was quiet and I felt more relaxed after my little nap. Only thing was, I know all too well the truth about this city. Something… somewhere… was about to go down, and sooner or later Hutch and I would be there. In a warehouse or down some dark alley where shadows fall eerily, and stray bullets have an intended path -- us.
I glanced over at Hutch, he didn't look as pale as before, and I noted the peaceful look on his face. He was daydreaming about something good. I could see a small smile playing on his lips and a sinful gleam in his eyes. Man, Hutch amazes me. Even with all his quirks. Even in the middle of this snake-house, he has an incredible way of keeping his head about him. Guy even gets drunk with dignity. I got lucky when I landed him as a partner -- he brings balance to an unbalanced world -- even if he does drive me nuts.
Hutch happen to catch my eye. "What?" he asked.
"What?" I parroted.
Smiling, I went back to looking out my window. I didn't want to disturb the serenity of the moment. We both knew all too well we were like a traveling circus and any moment a spectacle could begin in any one or all three rings at once. For a while, I drowsily listened to the hum of the engine and my own stuffy breathing. Watching dilapidated buildings whiz past, my eyes began to feel like lead curtains again and my body became even more stiff and achy.
Scary images filled my head. A refrigerator in a dark corner that dispensed hotdogs. Not the kind that you eat, but the kind that like to eat you.. Man-eating blenders. Fire and flames. Blood spattered crime scenes. Me, blasting my way through a maze littered with killers, rapists and thieves -- only everyone I shot, no matter how many times, wouldn't drop. A gargantuan Dobey pointing a pencil the size of a redwood at me and screaming at the top of his lungs. "Starsky! What were you thinking? Those reports needed to be done in triple time. You tell your partner to --"
"Wake up." Something gripped my shoulder, and shook.
My body jerked, and I reached for my gun. I felt like a stuffed bear -- my brain filled with fluff. I glanced to my left expecting to be eaten alive by an oversized Dobey looming over me like Godzilla. I stopped short when I came face to face with someone else.
"Hutch?"
Swiftly, I realized where I was and that I had fallen back to sleep.
"Easy, tiger," Hutch said, closely watching me. "You dozed off again for a few minutes and were dreaming. You okay?"
A brick in the head would hurt less than the pounding that was going on in my brain right now.
"I'm fine." I muttered my lie.
"You going to survive that cold, partner?" Hutch asked again with the underlying tone of motherly concern that I really hated.
"You going to spend our whole shift wearing out those words?" I shook my head of the bizarre dreams I was having. No more cold meds for me.
"Starsky, maybe --"
"Experience tells me that means yes," I cut Hutch off.
"Starsk, maybe I should call you in sick and take you --"
"Dobey's orders. If you can stand upright, you're on duty. Besides, Hutch, I'm fine. Not wind, nor fever, nor potential threat of pneumonia can keep me from my appointed destination."
"What are you a sick mailman?"
"Something like that," I replied, deadpan. "I hold through all kinds of weather." I smirked. "That's more than I can say about your car."
"What's my car got to do with it?"
Hutch glared at me like he wanted to cut off my balls. I'm reasonably found of my balls so I took a calming breath and said, "Sorry." Trying not to cough. "I'm okay, Blondie. Just cranky and tired."
"Yeah?" Hutch questioned softly, and gave my shoulder a squeeze before releasing his hold.
"Yeah, I was having the weirdest dream about Dobey." I changed the subject.
"Want to tell me about it?" Hutch asked.
"Let's just say I'll never look at him the same way again." I struggled to maintain the snicker that wanted to escape.
Hutch laughed. "How about some coffee, pal? That might help. Where's the thermos?"
I rubbed my eyes, before clumsily twisting around and reaching into the back seat. After digging through the grime, I found the thermos Hutch's grandfather used to take to work with him everyday. I guess everyone keeps something personal that belonged to the person you loved so much. For me, it was my Dad's pinky rings. For Hutch, it was a tall red plaid thermos that he liked to fill with coffee.
"Here you go." I shook the thermos, making sure it was empty, and placed it on the seat between us.
A few blocks later, Hutch pulled up to an all night convenience store, and it wasn't long before he pushed a hot styrofoam cup filled with hot coffee into my hands.
I took a few sips. It tasted like cardboard, but I could feel some of the ache leave my body. I glanced at the thermos that Hutch held between his thighs as he put the car back onto the road.
"Shoeless Joe?" I gestured toward the container.
Hutch turned to me, his smile looking as bright as a Christmas window display at Macy's.
"Shoeless Joe," he affirmed.
I gripped Hutch's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Where so many folks ignored the existence of the homeless - my partner went out of his way for them.
Shoeless Joe was an old down-and-out man Hutch had befriended last year. Joe had thought outside the cardboard box and found a cozy place to live. He'd cocooned himself inside an old abandoned truck in a grassy field behind Weasel's Pawnshop. Within that block of space, the man had made himself a nice little setup. An old mattress to sleep on, an old bookcase filled with books he'd found. Even a small cabinet he kept canned goods he got from the Salvation Army. Weasel, the owner of the pawnshop was even good enough to let Joe use the facilities and shelter him indoors when the weather got too bad. A few times per week, my big-hearted partner would bring Joe fresh blankets, a thermos of coffee, hot soup, or a clean shirt.
Hutch had long since given up bringing the guy shoes. Seemed Shoeless wanted to remain – well, shoeless.
We pulled into the parking lot and with flashlights in hand made our way across the grassy field to the truck. I stood a few feet back watching. Joe wasn't fond of people. Somehow, he and Hutch had made a connection, though.
I watched Hutch rap his secret knock on the door, and it immediately opened.
"Ahoy, Matey!" Joe smiled that sort of smile that started at the top of his head and went straight down to his curled bare toes.
Joe always did remind me of a sailor man. Maybe it was his sun-wrinkled skin. Or maybe it was his straggly white hair and beard, and the way he sometimes smelled of spiced rum and pure maple syrup. Or maybe it was the leather patch over his left eye and the tobacco-filled pipe held tight in the corner of his mouth. Or maybe it was the depth of his one blue eye that seemed to splish-splash when it glared at you; almost as if it was telling you the story of sailing the high seas. I laughed inwardly wondering if the guy ate spinach out of a can.
"Hey, Joe, brought you some coffee," Hutch said, holding up the thermos.
"You're too good to me, Ken," Shoeless said, shakily reaching for the thermos, and clutching it between both hands
Joe's hands were withered and dried and always shook, but not with fear. They shook with age.
I remembered last year when Hutch had found the aged man on a cold Sunday morning, huddled in his truck. Weasel had tipped Hutch off, telling him about an old man out back and how he thought the guy was dead. Hutch found Joe sick, apparently suffering from pneumonia. Hutch had raced him to the hospital. Joe's ship seemed dead in the water, but he had survived the virus, and Hutch had pulled a lot of strings finding Joe a permanent bed at the East Side homeless shelter. But Joe would have nothing to do with that. He'd been homeless for over twenty-five years. He had said poor choices and bad luck had landed him out on the streets, and he figured that was where he belonged -- and where he would die. He had told Hutch not to worry, that life had outlived its welcome anyway. I remember how sad Hutch was for days when he told me what Joe had said to him.
That was a year ago and Joe was still kicking, even though he continued to chant that same phrase.
Hutch and I figured it was that very phrase that kept the man fighting -- for deep down, Joe really didn't believe those words.
Joe seemed grateful as he sipped the hot liquid. "Someday, Hutch, I'm going to buy you a cup of coffee for your troubles," he mumbled then took another sip of coffee.
"Someday, Joe -- I might just let you," Hutch chuckled.
I watched on while Hutch chatted to Joe, and he gently patted the old sailor's chest. I smiled to myself, as I realized my compassionate partner had nonchalantly slipped a few bills into the man's shirt pocket. Joe finished his drink and handed the thermos back to Hutch and they said a quick goodbye.
As my partner and I walked back across the grassy field under the clear night sky, I felt a sappy moment coming on. Hutch never did have that 'it's not my problem' attitude, and I was compelled to sling an arm over his shoulder and draw him near. Kiss him even. I resisted the urge -- for obvious reasons.
Instead, song lyrics filled my head: Something about clowns to the left of me, jokers to my right -- but here in the middle of my world was Hutch, and he had a colossal sized heart that made me proud to call him friend.
TBC