RESERVATIONS

By

Nikki Harrington

A new woman comes into Hutch's life. Starsky takes an instant dislike to her and based on something Huggy tells him, his cop's instinct makes him not trust her. However, he has to admit he is also jealous of her and wonders if his instinct is playing him false.

A first time story.

Written: May 2015. Word count: 3,460.

Starsky emptied his glass of beer and waved to Huggy to bring him another one. He put the glass down on the counter and sighed. He and Hutch were meant to be spending the evening together; they had agreed earlier in the day. They would go to Huggy's for a drink; then go somewhere for dinner, there was a great new restaurant that served food both of them liked; then go back to one of their apartments for the rest of the evening. That had been the plan.

However, it had all changed within minutes of them walking into Huggy's when a girl Starsky had never seen before, had come in. One of Huggy's other patrons who was somewhat the worse for drink had been on his way out and had managed to bump into her, knocking her off her balance and making her drop her purse.

Of course good old Hutch, blond knight in shining armor had had to go to her rescue and help her pick up the contents of her purse (why did women carry so much stuff?) and then buy her a drink and then stand and chat to her. That had been half an hour ago and they were onto their second drink, while Starsky was stuck all by himself with nothing but a cold beer and a bowl of peanuts for company.

He threw some more peanuts into his mouth as Huggy sauntered over with a new glass of beer in his hand. "Hey, Starsky my man, why the long face?" He put the glass down and wiped the bar in front of Starsky.

Starsky sighed, took a long swallow of beer and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and nodded to where Hutch and the girl sat. Yeah, Hutch had now sat down, which meant he wasn't planning on returning to Starsky any time soon.

Huggy turned around and looked in the direction Starsky had indicated. "Ah," he said. "Hutch found himself a new girl?"

Starsky nodded and drank some more beer. "Looks like it. We'd made plans for tonight and he has to go and play the hero. Do you know who she is?"

Huggy shook his head. "Never seen her here before, Starsky. Must be new in town. Although -"

"Huggy? Phone call for you. Someone called Will Tyler," the barmaid called.

"Sorry, Starsky, gotta go. I've been waiting for this call." He squeezed Starsky's arm and sauntered off; once again Starsky was alone.

He drank some more beer and stared at Hutch and the unknown girl, idly wondering for a second what Huggy might have been about to say. He stared at her and acknowledged he could see what Hutch could see in her. Blonde (natural), petite (she would fit nicely into Hutch's arms), pretty (without being excessively so), well fitting clothes (without being sluttish), she didn't seem to be wearing too much make-up, she had a lovely laugh and she gazed at Hutch as if she was in awe of what he was saying. What wasn't there to like?

He sighed and drank some more beer. Suddenly he realized he was jealous; jealous of the blonde-haired girl who now had her hand on Hutch's arm and was gazing up at him with a 'you're the most wonderful man I've ever met' look on her face. He realized he wanted to be the one sitting next to Hutch; he wanted to be the one laugh at something Hutch said; he wanted to be the one to put his hand on Hutch's arm; he wanted to be the one to gaze at him - okay, maybe not in an awestruck way. But he wanted to be with Hutch; they were meant to be together that evening; they had agreed; they had it all planned, and here he was on his own drinking beer and eating peanuts and getting more and more jealous by the minute.

He drained his glass of beer and made a decision. Standing up he ambled over to where Hutch and the girl sat. "Hey, Hutch. We'd better get going if we're still going out to dinner. You know how the place fills up." He gave his best friendly smile and nodded at the girl.

Hutch looked up at him. "Hey, Starsk. This is Millie Gordon. Millie this is my partner Dave Starsky."

"Ms. Gordon," Starsky said, smiling another best friendly smile and holding out his hand.

She took it; it felt small in his hand, he could only begin to imagine what it would feel like in Hutch's. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Starsky." She smiled; it didn't match the way she smiled at Hutch.

"Call me Dave," he said.

"Thank you, Dave."

"Well now that we're all friends, why don't you join Starsky and me, Millie? That'd be all right with you wouldn't it, Starsk?" Hutch barely looked at Starsky; clearly he fully expected him to say 'yes'.

What else could he say? And at least if they were all together it would be an hour or two when Hutch wasn't alone with her. So he again planted his best smile on his face and said, "That'd be fine with me, Hutch. If, that is, Ms. Gordon would like to join us."

"Millie and I'd love to. But are sure I'm not interrupting your plans?"

Starsky grinned again. "Of course you're not, Millie. I get to spend all day with blondie here. It'll be nice to have something pretty to look at." She giggled and to Starsky's surprise he thought he saw a look of almost pain flash over Hutch's face. However it was gone so quickly he couldn't swear to having seen it in the first place.

"Come on then, let's go while there's still time to grab a table. Allow me," and he held out his arm to Millie, who smiled, giggled again, stood up and put her arm through his and he led her out to the Torino and helped her into the car, leaving Hutch to pay Huggy.

A WEEK LATER

Hutch had seen Millie every night since he had met her at Huggy's and Starsky was really staring to feel left out and his feelings of jealousy had grown and much to his surprise developed. He was no longer just jealous of the fact Millie was seeing Hutch, spending time with him, could put her hand on his arm and gaze at him, he was also jealous that she was in his arms, in his bed, being kissed and made love to. Damn it; he wanted to be in Hutch's arms and in his bed; he wanted to be kissed and made love to.

For a moment he wondered why the realization wasn't troubling him. He had never in his life thought about getting off with another guy. Never. It had never appealed to him; sure some guys did it and if they got a kick out of it, fine; live and let live was his policy. But he had never thought it would be for him. Apparently he had been wrong. Not that it was ever going to happen; Hutch wasn't into guys and even if he was, he certainly wouldn't be into Starsky!

"You okay, Starsk?"

His mind still on what he would like Hutch to do to him, Starsky jumped slightly; he jumped again when Hutch patted his thigh for a moment or two. "Sure, Hutch. Why shouldn't I be?" He silently cursed at his somewhat too bright tone.

Hutch turned to look at him; out of the corner of his eye, Starsky could see that he had a slight frown on his face. "You're a bit quiet."

Starsky shrugged and tried to think of something 'normal' to say. "You seeing Millie tonight?" he asked.

Hutch shook his head. "No, not tonight. She's got something on."

"That must make a change," Starsky quipped and then cursed himself again; now he was resorting to making bad, somewhat tasteless jokes. "What she up to?" He asked quickly, hoping to deflect Hutch's attention away from his first comment.

Hutch shrugged. "I don't know. She wouldn't say. I -" He was interrupted by the radio burbling with a message for them to go and see Huggy; apparently he had some information for them.

As they were leaving with the very useful information, Huggy grabbed Starsky's arm and held it; Hutch unaware that Starsky was no longer by his side, continued towards the door. Starsky glanced at Huggy and frowned. "What is it, Huggy?"

"Need to talk to you, Starsky. Without your blond friend," he added.

"Without Hutch?" Starsky was surprised.

Huggy nodded. "Yeah. Stop by later if you can."

"I - Just coming, Hutch. Dropped my pen." Swiftly Starsky bent down and made the pretence of picking up his pen. He stood back up, nodded to Huggy and hurried after Hutch.

"Well?" Starsky said, as he settled into one of Huggy's armchairs. "What's up, Huggy? Why did you want to see me without Hutch?"

"It's about Ms. Gordon."

"Millie?"

Huggy nodded. "Yeah. Ms. Millie Gordon. If that's her name."

"Hug?"

"I know her, Starsky. I know her from someplace and in that someplace she was not Ms. Millie Gordon."

"Who was she? And where was this place?" Starsky leaned forward and put his hands on his knees.

Huggy slowly shook his head and spread his hands. "That, my man, is what I can't remember. Sorry, Starsky. That's all I've got."

Starsky frowned. "That's okay, Huggy. Thanks for telling me."

Huggy shrugged. "Just thought you should know."

Starsky stood up. "Thanks," he said again. "If you remember anything else -"

"I'll tell you."

"See you, Hug." Starsky turned to go.

"See you, Starsky, and keep an eye on our blond friend."

"Always do, Huggy. Always do." Starsky let himself out. So now he knew; what did he do with what he knew? Except what did he really know? Not a lot; just that Huggy thought he knew Millie from somewhere when she hadn't been calling herself 'Millie'. Huggy could be wrong; Starsky doubted it but he could be.

THREE DAYS LATER

"Where's Millie from?" Starsky asked, keeping his tone nonchalant. It had been a slow morning and they were currently watching a house.

"New York," Hutch said, he sounded somewhat distracted.

"Oh." Starsky made a mental note to ask her a couple of questions related to the city.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment or two, as he went on staring out of the window. "What does she do?"

"She's a secretary in a big law firm." Hutch still sounded somewhat distracted.

"Which one?" He silently berated himself; too much, Starsky.

Slowly Hutch turned and looked at him. "Why do you want to know?" He stared at Starsky.

Starsky shrugged. "No real reason. You're seeing a lot of her; just thought I'd show an interest."

Hutch stared at him hard for a moment or two; Starsky forced himself not to look away. Finally, Hutch shrugged and said, "Harrison, Parker and Johnson. She works for Parker."

"Mitchell Parker?" Starsky asked.

Hutch gave him a grim look. "Yeah."

"As in we-know-you're-corrupt-and-have-dirty-hands-but-we're-damned-if-we-can-prove-it Mitchell Parker?"

Hutch nodded. "Yeah. Him. I suggested, nonchalant like, that she might prefer to look for another job. But she apparently loves working for him." He fell silent and looked away from Starsky for a moment before sighing and looking back at him. "She became more than a bit angry when I pressed her. Stormed out of my place last night; I haven't seen her since."

"Hut-" Starsky started to say. However, he was interrupted when the reason they were watching the house appeared, forcing them into action. As he dragged his gun out and rolled out of the car, all thoughts of Millie Gordon fled from Starsky's mind.

Later that night Starsky was on his way home, having dropped Hutch off, when who should he see walking along the street but Millie. The natural thing, the gentlemanly thing, to do was to stop and offer her a lift. Starsky did that very thing.

Half an hour later when he dropped her off, he was sure of one thing: Ms. Millie Gordon did not come from New York.

He let himself into his apartment, grabbed a bottle of beer from the icebox, kicked off his sneakers, turned the TV on and flung himself down into a chair with his legs over one arm and began to think as he sipped his beer.

What did he really have to go on? Okay, so Huggy knew her from somewhere else under another name, but where that somewhere else was and what the name had been, Huggy couldn't remember. Okay, so she worked for the corrupt Mitchell Parker and apparently enjoyed working for him, but he was known to be a nice man, a fair man, a genial man, a good boss, an all round good guy, why wouldn't she want to work for him? Okay, so she'd failed to answer Starsky's questions about some of the more general areas of New York, as well as a couple of 'folk-lore' questions, but did that really mean anything? Maybe she was just not an observant person, maybe she wasn't the kind of person who took an interest in the where she had lived and grown up. Maybe . . .

Maybe Starsky was wrong; maybe his cop's instinct, an instinct which screamed 'don't trust her' was playing him false because he was jealous of her and her relationship with Hutch. Maybe he just wanted something to be wrong with her so that Hutch would break up with her and then he - But he wouldn't. Even if there was something wrong with her, even if Hutch did break up with her, he wouldn't want Starsky in the way Starsky wanted him.

Starsky sighed. Okay, so he was jealous; that was true. And if he was being honest he wasn't just jealous because he wanted to be in Hutch's arms and bed, but he was also jealous simply because of all the time Hutch was spending with Millie. Time Starsky wanted him to spend with him. But jealous or not, he was a good cop; he was a very good cop; he had a good cop's instinct; a good cop's instinct which had never played him false.

What if he said nothing and something happened to Hutch? He'd never forgive himself. Of course what if he said something and Hutch was so angry he went to Dobey and asked to be transferred to another partner or even another department? If that happened he would lose Hutch anyway. But at least he would be alive; even if he hated Starsky, even if they never spoke again, he'd be alive. But who else could keep him alive? Maybe the solution was to say nothing, but to keep an even closer eye on Ms. Millie Gordon or whoever she was and wait until he had something concrete. Then he could tell Hutch and Hutch wouldn't hate him. Or would he?

Trust. Their relationship, their partnership, was built on trust. Me 'n' thee trust. Absolute total trust. He sighed, put the beer down, grabbed his sneakers and pulled them on, before picking up his jacket and heading back out of the door.

"Starsk!" Hutch was clearly surprised to see him, but he also sounded pleased. "Come in and have a drink."

"Thanks. I'm not disturbing anything am I? Millie isn't here?"

"No. Not tonight. She called earlier to say she was sorry for storming out of here like she did. Apparently she'd had a hard day and hadn't wanted to bother me with the details."

"So you made up?"

"Yeah. I'm seeing her tomorrow. She's washing her hair or something tonight. Now let's get that drink."

"Thanks." Starsky accepted the bottle of beer and sat down on the couch. He sipped his beer for a moment before looking at Hutch and saying softly, "Got something I have to tell you, babe."

Hutch shot him a look. "And why do I think it's something I'm not going to want to hear?"

Starsky swallowed and told him what he knew.

"You're jumping to conclusions, Starsk," Hutch said, when Starsky finished. "So what if she didn't know stuff about New York, not everyone takes an interest in where they grow up."

"Know that. But what about Huggy?"

"Huggy's no infallible, Starsky. He made a mistake. A simple, honest mistake."

Starsky shrugged. "Maybe he did; maybe he didn't. When was the last time you remember Huggy being wrong? Anyway, if he wasn't sure he wouldn't have said anything. You know that."

Hutch got up and began to pace around the room. "Okay. Okay. But so what? So he knew her as someone else. Maybe she didn't like her name. Maybe she had to get away from an abusive boyfriend. Maybe - Oh, I don't know. It could be anything."

"And now she turns up here and ends up working for Mitchell Parker. Mitchell Parker who we are trying to nail."

Hutch glared at him. "That means damn all, Starsky. What about his previous secretary? Do you think she was corrupt, or whatever the hell it is you think Millie is, as well? Well, do you?"

"No. But then as far as I know she didn't lie about her home city nor did she change her name. Come on, Hutch, you're a good cop; you're a better cop than me. You have cop's instincts, like I do. And they're good ones. You've been spending just about every night with her; can you stand there, after what I've told you and tell me you don't suspect nothing?"

"You've told me nothing, Starsky. Nothing. Nothing! Just a load of circumstantial rubbish. Oh, I get it."

"You get what?" Starsky watched Hutch carefully.

"You're jealous, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You. You're jealous. Of Millie; of all the time we've been spending together. You just said as much. What was it you said? Oh, yeah, 'you've been spending just about every night with her'; meaning I'm not spending enough time with you. This is what it's all about, isn't it?"

As he faced Hutch's anger, Starsky was hit with a startling clarity: no, it wasn't about jealousy. It was about him knowing something wasn't right about Ms. Millie Gordon. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, Hutch," he said. "It ain't about jealousy. It's about -" Hutch's telephone silenced him.

Hutch strode across to it. "Hutchinson . . . Yeah, he's here . . . What? . . . When? . . . We're on our way." He slammed the phone down and raced across to the cupboard where he kept his gun. Starsky stood up. "Something's going down at Harrison, Parker and Johnson's. Parker was seen going in a short time ago with," he paused, sighed, clipped his gun harness onto his jeans and said flatly, "a woman."

"I sure know how to pick them, don't I, Starsk? How many does this make? Three? Four? Five? I've lost count." Hutch had a half full tumbler of whiskey in his hand, which he had barely touched. "What's wrong with me, Starsky? Why do I keep picking them?"

Starsky, who had drank most of his glass of whiskey, put his hand on Hutch's thigh and squeezed it. "Nothing wrong with you, blondie," he said. "Nothing wrong with you at all. Picked my share of wrong ones too."

Hutch shrugged. "Not in the same way as I have."

"Yeah. Okay, have to give you that one." Starsky took another swallow of the fiery whiskey and to his horror heard himself say, "Ever thought we should stop looking and just take up with each other?" He suddenly felt completely and utterly sober; stone cold sober; horribly, frighteningly stone cold sober. He looked at Hutch and planted a cheesy grin on his face and winked. Maybe, just maybe, Hutch would take it as a joke; maybe he'd had enough to drink to make him - "Babe?" he managed, as Hutch moved along the couch and took his glass from his hand. "I was only -" He fell silent and bit his lip as Hutch slowly and gently traced his cheekbone with the tip of his finger. He swallowed hard around a tongue which suddenly felt far too large for his mouth. "Hutch?" he whispered. "Babe?"

"How drunk are you?" Hutch's voice caressed Starsky.

Starsky shook his head. "I'm not."

"Good. Because I'd hate you to forget this." The next moment Starsky gasped as Hutch put his arms around him, pulled him nearer to him and began to plunder his mouth with his own.

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