Chapter Three
It was coming together easier than he could have imagined. Hutch smiled as he lifted a photo out of the developing solution.
Tatiana and her friends were happy to have a paying modeling job – the first for many of them – and one that didn’t require them to take off their clothes. Merle had lined up eleven cars and they’d borrowed a twelfth car, just in case the Torino wasn’t painted in time.
Ginger had not only found an affordable printing company to print the calendars, she’d talked an old studio buddy into letting them use some of the sets for the shoot. She’d saved Merle money on what he normally paid, got a modest fee for each girl, made Hutch a nice chunk of change that would cover the new transmission, and still managed to collect her own commission.
Three other people had hired him to photograph their restoration work, and the Torino was not only not a drain on his bank account, it had ended up making him money. “Better than a poke with a sharp stick, as my grandfather used to say.”
Whistling, he hung the picture on the makeshift clothesline strung across one side of the room. Once word had gotten out that he would shoot a portfolio for a reasonable price and the clothes were expected to stay on – he’d been flooded with calls from budding models and future movie stars.
There was a knock at the door as he hung up the last photo. “You done in there?”
”Yeah, door’s open.”
“The light’s still on.”
“Starsky – “ Hutch reached out and flipped off the switch that controlled the red light outside.
The door opened and Starsky stuck his head in. “Is it safe?”
“I told you to come in.” He put away his supplies. “Would I have told you to come in if it wasn’t?”
“Maybe, I dunno.” Shrugging, Starsky walked into the makeshift darkroom. “The light was still on, so it could’ve been a test.”
Starsky had opened the door one time to see what Hutch was working on and had accidentally ruined several photos. After listening to his friend yell at him, he’d bought a red light to put outside the darkroom to let him know when it was safe to come in.
“Thought maybe you were hiding my Christmas present down here.” Starsky peered around the room.
“There’s no Christmas presents in here.”
“Are you sure?” He pointed to one of the pictures. “’Cos I’ve been a good boy, and I deserve a present like her.”
“Starsky, she’s eighteen.” Hutch gave him a gentle shove toward the door. “Besides, you’d just take her back and exchange her once you got tired of her.”
“I don’t know about that.” He grinned. “It might take me awhile to get tired of her.”
“Come on, you old lecher.” Laughing, Hutch pushed him toward the stairs. “You left your mom upstairs all alone? On Christmas?”
“Are you kidding?” Starsky started up the stairs. “She put on her apron and told me to get out of the kitchen.”
“Why don’t you listen when I tell you that?”
“You don’t threaten to box my ears.”
Hutch paused at the top of the stairs. The kitchen had already been filled with the smell of ham baking, but now there were other, richer scents hanging in the air. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Kenny!” Isabella Starsky put down the potato she’d been peeling, wiped her hands on her apron, and went to him, arms outstretched. “Come and give me a hug!”
“It’s good to see you.” He had to bend to hug her, the top of her head only coming to mid chest on him. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you.” She pulled his head down so she could kiss him on both cheeks. “What were you doing down in the basement?”
“He’s hiding my present.” Starsky picked up a piece of raw potato and munched on it.
“I am not. I didn’t get you a present.” Hutch winked at Starsky’s mom, and she shook her head.
“You boys!” Going back to the table, she picked up the potato she’d been peeling. “Davey, go wash the potatoes for me. Kenny, get me a pot, please.”
Hutch opened the cabinet and pulled out a pot and lid. Setting it on the table, he sat down on one of the chairs and watched her finish peeling the potatoes.
She kept up a steady stream of orders as she worked, telling Starsky to cut up the newly washed potatoes, and smacking his knuckles with the potato peeler when he tried to filch another piece of potato.
Hutch leaned back and watched, happy to be included in this family scene. Three years ago, Starsky’s mom had moved to Bay City after she’d fallen and broken her arm during a particularly cold and icy New York winter. He and Starsky had flown to New York and finally convinced her to move where it was warmer.
Isa had refused to move in with them, preferring a small condo at a retirement village nearby. However, she was a frequent visitor, cooking dinner and playing bridge, and – to their surprise – she was a whiz at Monopoly. Totally ruthless even when Starsky was down to his last dollar.
“There we go. Davey, put that on the stove for me.” Isa patted his back as he set the pot on the burner. Her hand continued to rub his back as he turned the burner on and adjusted it to her specifications. Her hand lovingly tousled the curly hair as he bent down to see exactly how high the flame was.
Feeling suddenly as if he were intruding, Hutch looked down at the tabletop. A soft hand cupped his chin and gently raised his head up.
“Smile, Kenny.” She smiled down at him, affection in the rich coffee eyes. “It’s Christmas.”
“Ah, Hutch’s a Scrooge, Ma.” Starsky put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “He didn’t even get me a present this year – or so he claims.”
They played this game every year. He’d pretend to be all grumpy and bah humbug about the season, and Starsky would pester him until he’d ‘convinced’ him to be happy at Christmas. He also denied having gotten Starsky anything for Christmas up until the moment he handed over the present.
“You don’t deserve a present.” Standing, Hutch tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “You haven’t been a good boy.”
“Actually, I’ve been a very good boy.” Starsky waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, you two.” Isa slipped an arm around her son’s waist. “Let’s go see what’s under the tree.”
The living room was decorated with twinkling lights and garland, and a large tree stood in one corner. A large, and very over decorated tree.
“Wait till you see your present, Ma.”
“Davey, children always open their presents first.” She settled herself on the sofa. “See if you have anything besides coal and switches.”
Hutch laughed as he sat down next to her. “I’m not sure Santa would even bring him that.”
“Shut up.” Starsky dropped down to sit on the floor in front of the tree.
“Davey.” Isa scolded. “Bring Kenny a present. Be a good boy.”
Shooting his friend an evil look, Starsky found a package with Hutch’s name on it. “Here, Ebenezer, this one’s yours.”
“Thank you, Tiny Tim.” Hutch took the brightly wrapped box. It was fairly large, but not very heavy, and he shook it to see if it would rattle.
“No shaking.” She patted his arm. “Open it.”
He pulled the bow and nametag off carefully, setting them to one side. To Kenny, From Ma. That still choked him up, even though she had written the same thing on his gift tags for years.
“Will ya come on?” Starsky said impatiently. “Just rip it open!”
He’d been taught to carefully unwrap presents. Taught by his mother who didn’t use nametags because everyone had their own carefully designated pile of presents. With a grin, Hutch ripped the paper off the box. Flipping open the box flaps, he pulled out a black leather bag. “Wow.”
“What is it?” Starsky leaned forward and tugged on one of the zippers on the side of the bag.
“It’s a camera bag.” Unzipping it, Hutch looked inside. “I can carry my lenses and film – there’s pockets for everything.”
“Davey told me you were taking lots of pictures and using some old bag to carry your camera in.” She patted his arm again. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” He ran his hands over the bag. “It’s real leather. This must have cost you a fortune – you shouldn’t have gotten this for me.”
“Eh…” Isa shrugged. “I win a little at bingo, what am I going to do with it? Who else do I have to spend it on but my boys?”
“Thank you, Ma.” Hutch kissed her cheek. Now he could ditch the old BCPD gym bag he’d been carrying his stuff in.
“All right, my turn.” Starsky grabbed a package from underneath the tree. He ripped it open, tossing paper and ribbons aside, whooping as he found a Game Boy.
“There’s games, too.” His mother said. “The boy at the store helped me pick them out.”
“Thanks, Ma.” He got to his knees and crawled over to her for a kiss. “Just what I wanted.”
“The nice thing about you is that I get to go look at the new toys every year.” She ruffled the dark curls affectionately. “Keeps me young.”
“Get one for your mom, you hog.” Hutch nudged Starsky with his foot.
“Oh, sure, hold this.” He handed the Game Boy to Hutch before crawling back to the tree. He and Hutch had several presents for his mom, with one very special present they wanted to save for last.
The living room was littered with paper and bows by the time they’d unwrapped everything but one box. Starsky eyed it. That was the special one for his mom. He tossed scraps of paper aside to be sure he hadn’t overlooked anything.
“What’s the matter, Starsk?”
He turned to see Hutch peering at him through the new camera lens he’d bought for him. “You really didn’t get me a present this year?”
“I told you – “ Hutch kept the lens in front of his face to hide his expression. There was no way he could keep a straight face. “I did not get you a present.”
“Davey, go check the potatoes.” Isa was looking down at the silver locket her son had given her.
“Ma…”
“Go check, they should be done.” She waved a hand at him. “Go! Vai!”
Slinking into the kitchen, Starsky jabbed a fork at the potatoes in the boiling water. “He didn’t get me a present. The lousy rat. After all these years.”
“Are they done?” His mother called from the living room.
“They’re done.”
“Shut them off.”
“All right.” He turned the burner off. “They’re off.”
“Put the sweet potatoes in the oven.”
“Ma…” Starsky sighed. Getting the dish out of the refrigerator, he slid them into the oven next to the ham.
“Hurry up, Starsk!” Hutch yelled. “I want to give your mom her present!”
“I’ll be right there!” He shut the oven.
Back in the living room, he cuffed Hutch on the back of the head as he walked around the sofa. “You lousy rat.”
“Hey!”
“Davey!”
“What the – “ Starsky stopped. In front of the tree was a huge box wrapped in bright green paper. “What’s that?”
“It’s a present.” Hutch lifted his camera up, the new lens ready for its first shots. “Look at the nametag.”
“Who’s it from, Davey?” His mother bit back a laugh. She’d watched Kenny run through the house and come back with the box while she kept Davey occupied in the kitchen. Even she’d begun to wonder if he really hadn’t gotten a present for Davey this year.
“It says it’s from Santa.” He looked up at Hutch and grinned. “Aw, I knew you’d get me something.”
“Me?” Snapping a picture of Starsky with the oversized nametag, Hutch put the camera down and shook his head. “Not me, some fat guy dropped it off.”
“Whatever.” Starsky ripped the paper off the box and tore it open. He pulled out wads of newspapers, tossing them over his shoulder. Finally he found another box inside. “Ah ha!”
“You’re making a mess.”
“Shut up, Hutch.” He lifted the box out. “Oh my God – this is the joystick I wanted!”
“That macho piece of plastic?” Hutch had done his best to talk Starsky out of buying the fancy joystick for his computer so that he could buy it for him. “You know what they say about men who need things like that.”
“Yeah, we’ve got the b – “ Remembering that his mother was sitting right there on the sofa, he bit off the rest of what he’d been going to say. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“Is that all that’s in there?” He prompted.
“Is – “ Starsky dived back into the box. Another, smaller box was hiding in the bottom. He hauled it up and out. It was the newest version of his favorite helicopter sim. “Hey – they said this wasn’t out yet!”
“Did they?” The guys at Starsky’s favorite software store had been happy to help him out by telling Starsky the release of the game had been delayed.
Starsky set the game down and went over to where Hutch sat on the sofa. “You big, sentimental dope.” Wrapping his arms around Hutch, he hugged him tightly.
“What – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hutch insisted, laughing as he dodged a kiss on the cheek. “Hey – not without dinner and a ring!”
“Stop pretending, Scrooge.” Starsky sat back on his heels and smiled up at him. “You’re just as sentimental and euphoric as the rest of us.”
“Shut up and get your mother’s present.” He put a foot on Starsky’s chest and pushed him over.
“Oh, yeah!” Snapping his fingers, Starsky rolled over and got to his knees. At the back of the tree was the last present, and he picked it up and carried it back to his mother before plopping down to watch her open it.
“It’s so pretty.” Isa ran a finger over the gold and silver foil paper. They’d given her perfume and bath beads and other small gifts, and Davey had given her the beautiful silver locket that had pictures of himself and Kenny inside – but she’d gotten a feeling that they had something very special in this box.
“Come on, Ma.” Starsky urged her. “Open it.”
“It’s just such pretty paper!” For once, she didn’t tear the paper off. Instead she peeled it off carefully and laid it aside to save.
Starsky leaned back against Hutch’s legs, tipping his head up to smile at him. This is gonna knock her socks off. Hutch patted his shoulder and smiled back. Yes it will.
Isa opened the box to find an album with Our Wedding on the front. She cocked an eyebrow at her son. “Is there something I should know?”
“Ma!”
Lifting the book out, she opened it. “Oh – “
“You like it?” Starsky looked up at Hutch again. Did we screw up?
No. Hutch patted his shoulder again. “I made copies of them – Starsky filched them – “
“I put ‘em back!”
She ran her fingers over the photos. A bride in a white dress holding roses with just a touch of pink. The handsome groom in his dark suit, looking at her with dark blue eyes. “How – they’re in color – how did you – “
“Hutch colored ‘em, Ma. But not all the way.” Starsky pointed to the roses. “Just a little, like highlighting.”
“Full coloring looked – “ Hutch searched for the word. “Fake?”
“Tacky.” Starsky agreed.
Isa turned the pages to find all of her wedding pictures there, including ones from her honeymoon in Atlantic City. “Oh, my! How did you know my bathing suit was red?”
“Pop used to say he spent most of his time giving guys dirty looks.” Starsky grinned. “He said he should never let you buy that red bathing suit.”
“I never noticed them looking. Of course – “ She laughed. “I was too busy giving all the girls dirty looks for trying to get your father’s attention.”
“Here, look at this one.” He turned the pages to the last two pictures. One was a close up of her, and the other of his father. “I love these two.”
“Oh, my – “ She blinked away the tears that clouded her vision. “How handsome my Michael was.”
“Did I get the coloring right?” Hutch had used Starsky as his model, taking a close up and then tinting the copy of Michael Starsky’s picture to try and capture the right shade of blue for his eyes. He was planning to give her the shot of Starsky for Mother’s Day because of the startling depth of the close up. “You’ve said his eyes were a little lighter than Stars – Dave’s are.”
“They’re perfect.” Isa handed the album to Hutch and stood up abruptly. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
They watched her rush out of the living room. When the bathroom door closed, they turned to look at each other. This wasn’t the response they’d been expecting.
“Oh, geez…” Starsky rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess it was a bad idea.”
“It’s my fault.” Hutch told him. “I suggested it.”
“Only after I showed you the colored in pictures at the photo shop.” Miserable, he got up and wandered out of the living room.
“We’ll get her something else.” Following him, Hutch found Starsky leaning on the wall next to the bathroom door.
“We can take her to Neiman Marcus or somewhere.” He’d max out his credit cards in a minute. “I didn’t think it would make her sad.”
“She still loves your father.” He smiled sadly. “All these years…”
“Yeah.” He smiled, too. “My pop was crazy about her. They were always kissing and – “
The bathroom door opened and they jumped back. Isa came out, dabbing at her eyes.
“You okay, Ma?”
“I didn’t think the pictures would upset you.”
They looked like two little boys who’d gotten themselves into trouble. Reaching up, she put an arm around Davey’s shoulder and the other around Kenny’s, pulling them down to her for a hug. “It’s a wonderful gift. I love it and I love you both.”
She gave them both a kiss on the cheek. “I’m a silly old woman – “
“No, Ma – “
“ – You’re not!”
“Go on, you boys go play with your new toys.” Patting them on the back, Isa pushed them toward the living room. “I’m going to mash the potatoes and make the gravy so we can eat.”
“You sure you’re okay, Ma?”
Hutch eased away and left the two of them alone. He was part of the family, but there were times Starsky needed a moment alone with his mother.
“I loved your father, Davey.” She stroked his cheek and lovingly ruffled the dark curls. “I still do.”
“I know. Me too.”
“For a minute it scared me.” Laying her cheek against his, she sighed softly. “I thought I’d forgotten how blue Michael’s eyes were. But he’s here in you.”
“Aw, Ma.” He hugged her, rocking her slightly as she’d done for him when he was little.
“Go on.” Straightening, Isa patted his chest. “Go play.”
Hutch was aiming the camera around the room, zooming in on different things. “Starsky, you shouldn’t have gotten this – it’s too damn expensive.”
“Ah, well.” Starsky plopped down in a chair and switched on his new Game Boy. “You spent almost as much on the joystick and game – we’re even. ‘Sides, you’re taking more pictures lately – you need better stuff.”
“True. Smile.” He zoomed in on Starsky with his new toy and snapped a shot.
They played with their toys until Isa called to them that dinner was ready. Hutch set his camera in the new bag and headed for the kitchen.
“You know, they have little lights for these things.” Starsky put the Game Boy on the coffee table and followed Hutch into the kitchen. “I think there’s a Zelda game for it, too.”
“You know, Starsk – “ Hutch shook his head. “I love you, but you’re such a kid.”
“And you’re a sentimental euphoric nut.”
“Davey!” His mother smacked his arm. “Kenny tells you he loves you and you don’t tell him you love him too?”
“Well – it – come on, Ma.” He pulled out her chair so that she could sit down at the table. “He knows, right, Hutch?”
“Yeah.” Hutch smiled at her as he sat down. “I know.”
“See?” Giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, Starsky went around the table and sat down to her left. “Let’s eat.”
“Davey…” She looked from him to Hutch.
“He knows!”
Hutch nodded.
“What do I do with the two of you?” She held a hand out to each of them. They clasped her hands and reached across the table to take the other’s free hand. “Thank you, our blessed Lord, for this meal and for having those we love with us.”
Starsky gave his mother’s hand a gentle squeeze and Hutch’s hand a firm one. “Amen, let’s eat.”
Laughing, Isa pulled her hand free and patted his cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas, Ma.” He picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes and shoveled a spoonful onto his plate. He passed it across the table to Hutch and picked up the gravy boat. “Did you get everything you wanted for Christmas?”
“Almost.” She put a slice of ham on his plate. “I was hoping for grandchildren.”
“I know, Ma. And you know, I’ve been tryin’ – every night – really hard. But – “ Starsky reached across the table and patted Hutch’s hand, ignoring the quizzical look. “But for some reason, Hutch just isn’t getting pregnant.”
Hutch choked, barely getting his napkin over his mouth in time to keep from spitting iced tea all over the table.
“Davey!” Isa slapped her son’s hand. “What a thing to say!”
“Jesus, Starsky!” Hutch wiped his mouth and chin. “Of all the things you – ow!”
“You don’t take the Savior’s name in vain.” Isa warned.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed at the back of his hand where she’d slapped it and glared at Starsky. Of all the outrageous things Starsky had said over the years, this one took the prize.
Starsky was chuckling, safely out of his mother’s reach this time. “Maybe we’re not doing it right?”
Answering would just escalate this into something he couldn’t say in front of Starsky’s mother, and Hutch settled for glaring at him as they went back to dinner.
Hutch looked up at the soft knock on his bedroom door. It opened and Starsky stuck his head in.
“You decent?”
“Why?” He put down the book he’d been reading. “Are you wanting to try and make a baby?”
“I’m sorry.” Laughing, he walked to Hutch’s bed and sat on the end facing him. “I couldn’t resist.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“Wouldn’t’ve been as funny.” He leaned back against the footboard. “Wish Ma would knock it off about grandkids.”
“You might have cured her tonight.” Hutch smacked Starsky’s leg with his book. “I damn near choked to death.”
“It’s never gonna happen.”
“What? You curing her of asking, or her not asking anymore?”
“Me having kids.” Shrugging, Starsky picked at the pattern on the bedspread. “It ain’t happening.”
“Starsky, you don’t know that.” He patted the spot he’d smacked with the book. “You could meet someone tomorrow and end up married and have a kid by next Christmas.”
“What dream world are you living in?” Starsky nudged Hutch’s side with his foot. “I live in a world where I’m forty seven and my prospects are growing slimmer everyday.”
“Did you come in here to depress me?”
“No, sorry. I wanted to tell you thanks for making the pictures for Ma.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Hutch waved the thanks away. “You were the one with the idea to color them.”
“I was not.”
“Were too.”
“I was the one who saw the colored pictures and said you should do that for Ma. You – “ He pointed at Hutch. “Said but don’t color them so much.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Hutch nodded. “You were color and I was make it subtle.”
When Starsky nodded in agreement, he smiled. “She really likes them, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” Starsky smiled broadly. “She’s got them open on the night table so she can see Pop’s picture.”
“We’ll have to put one in a frame for her.” The negatives were downstairs in the lockbox. “A double frame – one for you and one for him.”
“Maybe you can make one for me, too?”
“You?”
“Maybe for my birthday?”
“Starsky, it’s Christmas and you’re already telling me what you want for your birthday?” Hutch laughed and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.” Besides, I’ve already got your birthday present all picked out.
“That’s news?” Swinging his legs off the bed, Starsky stood up. “All these years and you’re just now figuring that out?”
“Get outta here. I left Anita in a very dangerous position.”
“Missionary or doggy style?” He dodged as Hutch reached out to swat at him with his book.
“Go on, you pervert.”
“I’m gone.” Starsky paused by the door. “Hey, what Ma said earlier – about what you said and I didn’t say.”
“Starsk, don’t worry about it.” Hutch couldn’t hold back a smile. “I know.”
“I have trouble with the words, you know?” He ran his fingers over the doorknob, suddenly very interested in the crystal knob. “People say them all the time – toss ‘em around like they’re nothin’. I just have trouble with ‘em.”
“I know that, too.” He said softly. It was rare for ‘I love you’ to cross Starsky’s lips. He told his mother, of course, but the only time he’d heard Starsky say those words to anyone else had been when Terry was alive. And even then he’d only overheard Starsky tell Terry he loved her a few times.
“People say I love chocolate or I love the Angels.” Starsky looked up and met Hutch’s eyes. “I don’t want to lump you in with chocolate, you know?”
“We’re quite a match. You can’t say it and I’m one of those people who say it too easily. Give me five minutes with a woman and I’m dropping I love you in her ear.” Resting his head back against the headboard, Hutch closed his eyes. “And look how well that’s worked out for me.”
“Hey, you’re tender hearted.” Starsky walked back to the bed and sat down on the edge. “Saying I love you makes women happy – and you like people to be happy.”
It makes me feel like I’m loved by them, that’s what I’m really doing. “I know how you feel, Starsk. You put more into a look or a pat on the back than most people do with words.” He opened his eyes and looked at Starsky, smiling at the embarrassed look on his face. “I just hope you know how I feel about you.”
“Oh, I do.”
“Do you? I tell you I love you but I’ve always got something with it.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “But you’re crazy, but I don’t trust your taste in women, but this, and but that.”
“It’s okay.” He reached out and patted Hutch’s leg. “I never listen to the second part anyway.”
“Starsky, doesn’t it seem odd that after twenty odd years we’re talking about our feelings?”
“Not for us.” He laughed.
“Go to bed.” Hutch reached up to clasp Starsky’s hand as he stood up. “I love you, but I’d like to finish my book.”
“’Kay.” At the door, Starsky paused again. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“I know. Now get out.”
“Night. Merry Christmas.”
The door closed and Hutch leaned back against the headboard again. He thought of the Torino sitting in Merle's garage, waiting for her debut. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”