In response to the International Writing Challenge on the Me and Thee List. The idea was to put S&H in our individual universes and see what happened.  This story is set in Memphis in 1981. The city has changed a lot. Starsky and Hutch haven't.

Give Me Memphis

By CC

"Sir, what is it you expect me to do? All airports in the New York area are closed due to the storm.  Believe me, if we could get you there today, we would."  The beleaguered ticket agent's smile never reached her eyes, which annoyed Starsky even more.

"But we only have three days before we have to be back at work. I don't want to spend one of them in this backwater town. What am I supposed to do in Memphis?"

"Sir, this is difficult for all of us. No one expected a late season snow storm of this magnitude.  We can get you on the first flight out in the morning, provided the airports reopen. In the meantime, you can try for a hotel room, or you can stay here in the airport. That's up to you."

"Sure, that's fine for you to say; you don't have to stay here." Starsky looked to Hutch for confirmation of his indignation, but his partner was busy counting their bags.

"No, you're right about that. I don't." The ticket agent placed their newly issued tickets on the counter and flipped up her 'Next Window Please' sign. "I'm going to get in my backwater car, drive through my backwater town to get to my backwater little house where I'm going to do my best to forget that places like Bay City and New York exist." She grabbed her bag from beneath the counter and left Starsky standing at the desk open-mouthed and mad.

"Did you hear that?" Starsky fumed as he joined Hutch beside his luggage. "I should find her manager."

"Starsk, you insulted her home. What'd you expect?" Hutch shrugged, then lifted two of the bags to his shoulders. "You wanna grab the rest? Let's see if there are any hotel rooms left."  He turned back to see Starsky still scowling. "Will you come on? Think of it as an adventure."

~ ~ ~

"I'm glad no one back home can see us. This car has no style at all."  Starsky kicked the tire of the not-so-late model Dodge Colt.

"Starsk, we're going to have it for one lousy day. I think you can weather the indignity." Hutch loaded the last bag in the trunk and slammed the lid. "I'll drive if it bothers you that much."

Ignoring his partner's outstretched hand, Starsky marched around to the driver's side of the compact car. "No thanks. I'd like to get to the hotel in one piece. Besides," he added as he slid the seat back, "I don't think you'd ever get those long legs of yours under this steering wheel."

"I think I could survive the ten minutes the rental agent said it would take us to get to the hotel if we took the freeway."

"Fat lot of good that'll do us since the room isn't gonna be ready until two."

"Well, considering all you're doing is circling the parking lot, it's likely to take us that long to get to the hotel. Why are you turning here?"

"The sign said 'Departing Passengers.'"  Starsky picked up speed as he took the wide curving ramp to the airport's upper deck. "That's us."

Hutch tried to plant his legs on the floorboard more securely, but the limited space was making it difficult. "They mean departing on a plane, dummy."

"Oh. They should be more specific."

Hutch looked at his partner just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch. "You goof, you knew what it meant. You just wanted to drive up this ramp so you could throw me against the door."

Starsky smiled but didn't say anything, focusing instead on navigating the serpentine roads of the airport property.  Only when he reached the freeway onramp did he let out a long-held breath. "I've got to bring the Torino back here and do that again someday."

"Told you it would be an adventure." Hutch eased the death grip he had on the armrest.

"You're sure taking all this in stride."

"Starsky, after what we've been through the past year, this is nothing." Hutch reached out and patted Starsky's leg, letting his hand linger there. "It might turn out to be a very good thing."

Covering his partner's hand with his own, Starsky agreed. "I see your point. Can't say as I mind some of the things we went through, though." He turned to smile at his lover of the past six months.

"Eyes on the road, please." Hutch smiled back and tried to relax in the small space the passenger was allotted.  His peace was soon shattered as a car blew by them and almost clipped the front bumper when it cut in front of them sharply.

"Could you believe that guy crossing three lanes of traffic without so much as a hand signal?"

Hutch shook his head. "I must say, though, that it was very nice of you to give him one of yours."

"Well…I try to be helpful when I can." Starsky was about to add something else when a prominent road sign caught his eye. "Oh, my God. Hang on, Hutch."

"What the hell?" Hutch braced one hand against the dashboard and held onto an armrest with the other. "Have you lost your mind? Starsk, we're not supposed to get off the freeway."

Starsky maneuvered the car onto an off-ramp just in time. "I'm not missing this for anything. Didn't you see the sign? This is the exit for Graceland.  I forgot it was here."

"Graceland?"

"Yeah, Elvis's home."

"Elvis doesn't have a home, Starsk. He's dead."

"I know that. But he's buried right there in his backyard, so it's still his home."

Hutch shook his head and looked out the window just in time to see two Elvis look-alikes leaving a dilapidated Mexican restaurant.  From the size of their bellies, he guessed they ate at Pancho's a lot.  "Hey, Starsk. Why don't we find the hotel first, then we'll come back here."

"Oh, no you don't. You'll think of some reason we can't come back. Look, there it is. Oh good, there's free parking." Starsky whipped into a parking lot so fast that Hutch gave thanks that the compactness of the small front seat had him wedged in like a sardine. "Hey, look. They have tours! You were right, Hutch, this stopover is already turning out great."

"Yeah, great," Hutch muttered and began the arduous process of extracting himself from the car.

~ ~ ~

"You think he's really in there?"  Starsky stage-whispered to Hutch as the processional slowly moved toward the gravesite.

Hutch looked at him strangely. "Why in the hell wouldn't he be in there?"

"I don't know," Starsky shrugged. "I just got to thinking. If one of my relatives was as famous as him and he died, I'd bury him somewhere no one knew about.  There is such a thing as grave robbers, you know."

They were approaching the Meditation Garden now, finally near the gravesite, but the line had slowed to a crawl. Soft weeping could be heard coming from ahead. Hutch leaned over to whisper, "If you thought he wasn't here, why'd I just shell out twenty bucks for us to come here? Will you please tell me that?"

The woman in front of them turned and gave them a once-over. Starsky waited until she turned back around before making a shushing motion with his hand. "Quit griping. Besides, the admission covered the tour of the house, too." He took another step forward and peered over the shoulders of the women ahead. "We're almost there," he mouthed and pointed.

"Great," Hutch muttered and kicked a rock off the path.

Starsky leaned back and spoke over his shoulder in a low voice, "I thought it would be bigger."

Trying to look over the shoulders of the crowd without appearing to, Hutch said, "Jesus, Starsk, it's not like the guy needs a lot of space to move around in."

Turning to glare at his partner, Starsky said through clenched teeth, "I was talking about the house, dummy."

"Oh," Hutch whispered. "Sorry."

Starsky simply shook his head and faced forward again.  The line ahead moved and suddenly they were confronted with the gravestone of Elvis Aaron Presley. Both men grew somber and reflective. Elvis's music had been important in both their lives. His was the music that played at their first school dances, and the music they both tried to mimic as they learned to play the guitar. It was music their parents hated, then learned to appreciate as the Elvis legend and style grew.

Flowers and other tributes were scattered across the burial ground of Elvis, his parents and his grandmother. In the stillness of the garden, hushed voices drifted through the air. German, Japanese, Spanish, Italian--the words became one language of admiration and respect.   Leaving the garden, Hutch pretended not to notice Starsky clearing his throat and if Starsky noticed Hutch wiping the corner of his eye, he didn't say so.

~ ~ ~

"What next? We've still got an hour until the hotel room's ready."

"I don't care. You decide." Hutch passed the book on Memphis musicians he'd chosen and a small assortment of post cards to the clerk. He was surprised that Starsky had already completed his souvenir shopping, opting only for an Elvis biography.

"Well, we did miss lunch." Starsky rubbed his stomach. "I'm starving."

"Starsky, you ate a Poptart at home, a pastry at the airport, another one on the plane and a pretzel at the airport here. How can you be starving?"

Starsky waved his hand in the air. "All carbohydrates. I burned it up walking around Graceland."

Rolling his eyes, Hutch sighed and took his change from the cashier. "Okay, you want to try the diner here?"

"Fine with--"

"Excuse me for interrupting." The elderly clerk's voice cut in to their chatter. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Sure," Hutch said, looking to Starsky for confirmation. "We're only here for the day, really, and it's our first visit."

"Then you'll want barbecue," the clerk said with certainty. "You won't find anything like Memphis barbecue anywhere in the world. Did you know people have been known to buy a seat on an airplane just for a rack of ribs from The Rendezvous?" His eyes were round with awe behind the thick glasses.

"No, we didn't know that," Starsky said with a smile. "So do you recommend this…Rendezvous?"

"Well, that depends on whether you like your meat wet or dry." He looked from Starsky to Hutch and then back to Starsky again before he realized they had no idea what he was talking about. "Tell you what, since the Rendezvous only has dry ribs, I'm going to send you to Leonard's. They have a buffet where you can try both dry and wet."

Five minutes later, the partners left the shop with the clerk's hastily drawn map in hand.

~ ~ ~

"Wow, would you look at that!"

"It's an old delivery van, Starsky."

"But it's in the middle of the dining room. That's something different."

"It's different all right." Hutch sniffed the air appreciatively. "It smells good in here, anyway."

After the hostess had seated them, Starsky looked around. Brightly painted murals adorned the walls along with framed reviews of the restaurant. Here and there, autographed photos of celebrities decorated the walls as well. "Looks like a popular place."

Hutch nodded, noting with interest that most people got up from the table immediately after being seated and disappeared into an adjoining room. Others came from the same direction carrying large platters of food.

"Y'all gonna have the buffet?" A tiny woman who was long past the legal retirement age stood next to their table.

"That depends, Miss..." Starsky squinted to make out her name tag. "Miss Thelma. What's on this buffet?" he asked politely.

"Everything," Miss Thelma answered as if that explained everything.

"This is our first time here, Miss Thelma," Hutch said, turning on the charm. "We don't know what 'everything' is."

"Oh, well then…" She dashed across the room and returned with two menus. "You can order from here if you want, but everything on here is on the buffet. Six-ninety-five, all you can eat.

I'll get your drinks while you decide. You want sweetorunsweettea?"

"Excuse me?" Starsky looked at Hutch, who shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Sweet. Or. Unsweet. Tea." Miss Thelma's patience for newcomers wasn't extensive.  "Or you can have Coke. Or water."

"Uh, I'll have tea--unsweet," Hutch said quickly.

"Coke for me," Starsky added.

"What kind of Coke?"

"Excuse me?"

"What kind of Coke? We've got Sprite, Dr. Pepper, Tab, Orange, or RC-Cola, or…there's another one…oh! Just plain Coke."

"I'll have the plain Coke." Starsky managed to say seriously, though the corners of his mouth were struggling to maintain control.  When Miss Thelma had gone, he and Hutch both shook their heads and laughed before settling into the business of ordering lunch.

"Look at this. There's not a green vegetable anywhere on here," Hutch groused. "Barbecue pork shoulder, barbecue ribs, spaghetti, catfish, french fries, potato salad, baked beans, fried corn--how the hell do you fry corn?--it's a cardiologist's wet dream."

"Language, please." Miss Thelma plunked a glass of tea on the table in front of Hutch and added a two-quart pitcher beside it. "Refills," she said when he pointed at the pitcher and opened his mouth to ask about it. She placed a bottle of Coke and a glass of ice in front of Starsky. "What did y'all decide on?"

"Do you have anything not quite so…unhealthy?" Hutch asked.

"Oh, one of those types." Miss Thelma looked at Starsky and rolled her eyes. "We've got barbecue salad." She pointed to the menu.

His mind filled with an image of a head of lettuce slathered in barbecue sauce and roasted on the grill, Hutch glanced at the description in the menu and was surprised to find it was a simple concoction of mixed greens topped with pork. "I'll try that."

"I'm having the buffet," Starsky added.

Miss Thelma nodded approvingly. "You won't be sorry. Help yourself whenever you're ready. Plates are on the sideboard." She pointed to the side room before turning to Hutch. "I'll be back with your salad directly."

Starsky scooted his chair back. "I think Miss Thelma likes me more than she does you."

"Smart-ass."

"Language, please." Starsky laughed as he followed the other diners to the side room.

~ ~ ~

"There it is, Starsk."

"I see it."

"Ol' Man River."

"Yep."

"The Mighty Mississip."

"It's there all right."

"Old Mud--"

"I got it, Hutch. It's just a river, for crying out loud. You'd think you'd never seen one before."

"It's a 2,500 mile river. It's one of the world's largest waterways."

"I took Geography in elementary school, thank you."

"Think about it, Starsk. Four hundred years ago, French and Spanish explorers might have stood on this very spot."

"Hey, maybe that's one of their descendants," Starsky pointed at a towboat emerging from the harbor.

"Funny, very funny."  Hutch moved closer to the river and watched a barge round the wide curve in the river from the south. The barge workers scurried around its surface preparing to join up with the towboat.  Standing to the side watching Hutch watch the river, Starsky saw his face take on a dreamy quality. He could have predicted the next words from Hutch's mouth as easily as he could have predicted that the sun would rise the next day.

"Did I ever tell you I was a Sea Scout?"

Starsky smiled and moved closer. "Yeah. Every time we come within a hundred yards of a boat."

"Oh." Hutch grinned sheepishly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I always wanted to work on a boat." He turned and studied the barge workers again.

"I know." Starsky's throat got tight the way it always did when Hutch's face wore such a wistful expression. "Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"  Hutch's eyes never left the river.

"Why didn't you go work on a boat or a ship? You know, when you first came out to Bay City."

Hutch stayed focused on the river so long that Starsky wasn't sure he would answer.  Finally, his partner shrugged. "Just never seemed like the right time."  Another shrug. "Too late now. Besides, I have a feeling the excitement and adventure are mostly a figment of my imagination. It's probably like any other job."

"Probably."

"It starts in Minnesota, you know."

"What does?"

"This river. The headwaters are at Lake Itasca; that's only a few hours from Duluth."

"Oh yeah?" Starsky eased closer to his partner until they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

He blinked hard a few times when the vantage point showed him the power of the river. "Man, I thought it looked pretty tame. Look at that!"

A floating piece of driftwood was doing battle with an eddy. Once, twice it swirled the surface, before being sucked under without so much as a splash.  All around it, the river rolled on.

"You ever see the river up there?" As the river's motion began making him queasy, Starsky turned back toward the street and Hutch followed.

"Yeah, a couple of times. My grandfather took me camping out there. It's not anything like this. It's barely more than a stream in some places up there." Hutch laughed softly. "One summer Jack went with us, and he and I decided we'd build a raft and float down to New Orleans. We must've been thirteen or so, and we'd both read Tom Sawyer. I couldn't sleep the night before we were supposed to start building it, because I was too keyed up over the possibility of fighting off river pirates and--hopefully, if Jack was right--ladies of ill repute."

Starsky laughed. "So, how far did you get?"

Hutch snorted. "We never even finished the raft. It rained the next day, so we went into town with Grandpa to see a movie."

"Some adventurer you were." They had reached the car, and both men stopped for another look at the river.  "I wish I could've met your grandfather."

"I do, too. I owe him a lot." Hutch smiled. "If it hadn't been for him…well, you know how Mom and Dad were…but when I was with Grandpa, everything was all right. He was never too busy or too angry to listen, and if something went wrong, he'd more than likely hug me first, then chew me out." Hutch laughed quietly. "Without him, I don't know if I'd have ever figured out how to show anybody I loved them."

"Then I guess I owe him a lot, too."

The tugboat's horn sounded then, signaling to the world its mission was underway.

~ ~ ~

"But, Ma, I'd rather you go to Florida with Estelle.  Hutch would, too. We'll plan another trip this summer, or you can come out to California." He smiled as Hutch wildly waved his hands and shook his head. "Go and have fun. Get away from the snow." He listened a few minutes more and then interrupted again. "Ma, this call is costing me a fortune. I love you. Hutch loves you. We'll talk to you next week." He smiled into the phone. "I will. Bye." Starsky hung up.

"Sounds like she took it well." Hutch put his suitcase on the end of the bed.

"I'll say. Estelle Franklin's son offered to take them both to Florida for a couple of weeks." Starsky kicked off his shoes.  "I think I'll buy him a box of cigars."

Hutch snickered. "I'll chip in. I was looking forward to seeing your mother, but I wasn't looking forward to being stuck inside for most of the trip."

"So, what do you want to do? Turn around and go back home?"

Mulling it over for a moment, Hutch finally shrugged. "We might as well. We can save the money for another trip. Somewhere warm."

Starsky nodded. "We can exchange the tickets in the morning, or I bet they'll take care of it at the front desk."

"Speaking of the front desk, can you believe the nerve of that guy?"

"Who?"

"Philip, the guy who just checked us in and practically invited you to come live with him."

"Oh, him. Not my type."

"Starsky, the guy had his eyes glued to your crotch the entire time we were standing there." Hutch wrestled a pair of slacks from his suitcase and tried to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles.

"Really?" Starsky sat up on the bed. "Maybe I'd better have another look. I've always been partial to blond and butch, but blond and fey might be worth trying."

Hutch snorted. "You are so full of shit. If Philip so much as put a finger on you, you'd be yelling, 'Huuuuutch.'"

"Would you come save me?" Starsky leaned back on his elbows.

"You bet I would, although on second thought, it's probably Philip I'd be saving."

"Funny guy.  Hey, what do you wanna do tonight after we go see the ducks?" Starsky had been astounded to learn that the ducks in the Peabody Hotel's lobby fountain were escorted to and from

their rooftop home in a grand processional each day.

"Once we've seen the ducks, is there really anything left?" Hutch carried his shaving kit into the bathroom, then returned to the main room.  "Guess we'll have to wing it." He snorted. "Get it? Wings? Ducks?"

"Oh, I got it all right. It's not funny." Starsky began unbuttoning his shirt. "Too bad we don't know anyone from around here to find out the really fun places to go. It feels weird being somewhere where we don't know anybody and nobody knows us."

"Except Philip. He knows you intimately now."

"Lucky dog. Hey, mind if I get the first shower?"

"Yeah, sure…." Hutch stretched out on the bed. Starsky's 'thanks' went unheeded as Hutch considered his partner's earlier comment. Until now, the implications of being in a strange city in which neither of them knew anyone hadn't occurred to him, and he smiled as an idea took shape.   Slipping his shoes back on, he waited until he was certain Starsky was in the shower before quietly leaving the room.

~ ~ ~

"Is that you, Phil?" Starsky called from the bathroom when Hutch entered their hotel room.

"Yeah, it's me." Hutch began removing his clothes, piling them on a chair. "Come do me before your boyfriend gets back."

Starsky leaned out the bathroom door, toothbrush in hand. "You don't want that. He's liable to shoot you."

"He's got a gun, does he?" Hutch pushed his way into the bathroom, making sure he brushed against Starsky in all the right places.

"Yeah, a big one." Starsky's eyes traveled Hutch's body. "A really big one."

"Well then, why am I here with you?"  Hutch stepped into the shower, grinning and ducking the wet washcloth Starsky threw at him.

"Hey, where'd you go?" Starsky put the toothbrush to work again.

"What?" 

Starsky went to the shower and peeked around the curtain. "I asked where you went while I was in the shower."

"I'll tell you later."

"Tell me now."

"I just found us somewhere to go tonight. I'll tell you about it later."

Starsky went back to the vanity and renewed his vigorous brushing. "Oh yeah? Where?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's a surprise."

"Oh, God. We're gonna go watch some plants grow or something, aren't we?"

"No, smart ass, and you don't have to go with me. You can stay here and watch the ducks."

Through the frosted shower door, Starsky watched Hutch's hands drift lower as he soaped his body. Starsky's toothbrush clattered to the vanity.  He rinsed it and then rinsed his mouth out before going back to the shower. "I'm not sure I like it open like this. What if I don't wanna go where it is you wanna go?"

"Hey, we went to Graceland because you wanted to, didn't we?" Hutch ducked under the spray to rinse his hair.  "And we're going to see those damned ducks because you want, aren't we?  Well, this is what I want to do.

Moving back to the sink and reaching for the shaving cream, Starsky grumbled to himself. "Well, if you're gonna get all fair about it…"

~ ~ ~

"I can't believe we missed the ducks." Starsky stared at the rapidly emptying lobby.

"Well, look. The sign says they walk back in again tomorrow morning. We'll catch it then."

"This is your fault." Starsky scowled and marched down the corridor toward the hotel's side door.

"My fault? Why is this my fault?"  They had almost reached the street, and Hutch pulled Starsky to the side of the hallway.

"Because," Starsky waited for a group of tourists to pass, "if you hadn't been walking around all naked, I wouldn't have gotten distracted."

"Starsk, I was in the shower. You didn't have to come in there with me, you know."

"I was entrapped."

That was when Hutch knew his partner's indignation was entirely put on; he just didn't know why. Yet.

"Okay, it's all my fault you missed the duck show because I took a shower naked. Why don't you tell me how I can make it up to you?"

"I don't think you can; I'm traumatized here."

"Funny, you don't look traumatized." Hutch checked to make sure they still had the corridor to themselves, then adjusted the collar of Starsky's white button-down shirt. "You look pretty damned good to me."

"Well don't let the good looks fool you; I'm cryin' on the inside."

Hutch laughed again and patted Starsky's shoulder. "C'mon, let's walk. You can tell me how to make you feel better."

When they reached the street, Hutch steered them west. He noticed that Starsky wasn't so traumatized he'd lost his strut.

"You know, seeing how I'm feeling so insecure now, don't you think you could tell me where we're going?" Starsky's winsome expression was almost Hutch's undoing, but he resolutely shook his head. Taunting Starsky with a secret was always a treat, since it was so rare for Hutch to keep one from him.

"I tell you what. Out of the kindness of my heart and in deference to your newfound insecurity, I'll tell you our first--." Hutch was dumbfounded as Starsky's outstretched arm suddenly blocked his way. He looked up just in time to see a car turning in front of them, even though they were in the crosswalk.

"Guy apparently never heard of 'right of way'," Starsky grumbled.  "Now tell me where we're going."

"Okay, first we're going to look at this statue up here. I could see it from the hotel room window and it looks familiar."

"Hope I can stand the excitement."

Just then a group of tourists rounded the corner, loaded down with shopping bags, and Starsky and Hutch had to do some fancy sidestepping to avoid a collision. Starsky waited until the group, mostly women, had gone before he said, "Did you see her? It was that woman from Graceland."

"What woman?" Hutch looked over his shoulder, but the group was too far away.

"The one who gave us the evil eye in the garden. She did it again. I hope she's not a witch."

"Starsk, there's no such--" Hutch stopped as the statue came in to full view. "Jesus."

Giving up on seeing the witch woman, Starsky turned to look at the statue. "No, Hutch, I don't think Jesus played the cornet." Hutch's withering look brought a twitch to Starsky's lips.  

"This is W.C.Handy, you idiot." Hutch looked up at the street sign marking the corner. "Beale Street. Do you know where we are, Starsky?" He whirled around and looked up and down the nearly deserted street. "This is Beale Street. Lots of folks consider this the birthplace of the blues. B.B. King, Muddy Waters, Furry Lewis, Albert King, Memphis Minnie--they all sang here at one time or another."

Starsky took in the run-down condition of the area. Most of the buildings appeared to be undergoing renovations. A few storefronts could be seen, but most were vacant.  "I can see why they were so blue."

"I remember reading an article awhile back that said they were trying to rebuild the area, but I had no idea it was this bad." Hutch shook his head.  "We'll have to come back here some day and listen to some music. B.B. King is even going to have a club here."

Starsky made a face. "I'm not crazy about the blues, to tell you the truth. It's depressing."

"Of course it is. They had a lot to be depressed about: segregation, poverty, divorce, death, war."

"This is some fun evening you planned for us, Hutch." Standing with his hands behind his back, Starsky rocked back on his heels.

Hutch was busy reading the sign next to the statue, but when Starsky's words finally registered, he stood up with a sheepish smile. "Oh, sorry. I forgot." He looked around one last time. "I mean it, though, Starsk. I want to come back here some day."

"Okay, I'll come with you. Now, I don't suppose this secret place you're taking me to has food, does it? I'm starving."

~ ~ ~

"Ah, there it is." Hutch motioned down a side street that was little more than an alley. A handful of cars were parked along the curb, but no pedestrians were in sight.

"You're taking me to a warehouse?" Starsky stopped in the middle of the deserted throughway. With no windows and a single door, the beige brick building they approached was so nondescript Starsky wouldn't have been surprised if the locals had never even noticed it. "Geez, I'm glad I didn't overexert myself at the statue."

"C'mon." Hutch nudged Starsky's shoulder. "I think this might be fun."

Starsky stopped again after three steps. "Wait a minute. "You think this might be fun? What kind of place is this?"

"I'm not really sure." A hint of concern crossed Hutch's face as his eyes scanned the empty street.

"Philip said it was--"

"'Philip said'?" Starsky sputtered. "Philip from the hotel Philip?"

Looking at the ground, Hutch nodded. "He said…and I just thought…it seemed like--"

Even in the dim light, Starsky could see the color in Hutch's face. "Oh, my God, it's a gay bar."

Hutch looked up and took a step toward Starsky. "It's supposed to be different somehow, more than just a bar." He laid a calming hand on Starsky's arm. "Bad idea. We can go back to the hotel--"

"Wait a minute." Starsky brushed Hutch's hand away. "Let me think."

"No, Starsk, we tried this scene before and it didn't work. You didn't--"

"I didn't relax. I was too worried about someone we knew coming in there." Starsky looked over his shoulder at the building. "At least it doesn't look very crowded."

"There's supposed to be a parking garage somewhere around here, so people can get in and out without being seen. Look, let's just go somewhere else. This isn't-"

"Since when do you get to be the boss of everything?" Starsky squared his shoulders. "I say we give it a try."

"You're sure?"

"No, but what have we got to lose?" After straightening his jacket and taking a deep breath, Starsky pulled on Hutch's arm. "C'mon, let's go while I'm feeling brave."

As they neared the stoop, Starsky's courage faltered and he stopped again. "How do I look?"

Two steps ahead, Hutch turned around, amused. "Why? Are you planning on meeting someone?"

"No, but I wanna look presentable."

"You're more than presentable; you look great."

"Thanks…um, you, too. In fact…" Starsky reached up to muss Hutch's carefully styled hair.

"Hey!" Hutch backed away and attempted to undo the damage Starsky had done.

"Don't worry about it. You look just as good with it sticking every which way. Somebody'll probably hit on you before the door closes behind us."

"You're nuts."

"Do me a favor, huh? Don't smile at anybody. And keep your eyes on the ground."

"You're a lunatic. Starsky, no one will even notice us. We'll have dinner, a few drinks, and listen to some music."

"I just thought of something else."

"Starsk, at this rate, they're probably gonna close before we get inside."

"Well, this is important. What if someone asks us to dance?"

Hutch looked dumbstruck for a moment, then shook his head. "If someone wants to dance with you and you want to, do it. Look, let's just figure it out when we get in there." 

As Hutch reached for the doorknob, Starsky grabbed his hand. "Okay, but just one thing…no slow dances with anybody else. Please?"

Hutch studied his lover's face, which showed one of the rare traces of real insecurity he'd ever seen. He smiled softly, "Only with you."

~ ~ ~

"Oooh, look at this long, tall drink of water." The bartender reached across the bar to finger the sleeve of Hutch's leather jacket.  "A manly man, too. I love a manly man." He stepped aside to take a drink order from a waiter.

Embarrassed, Hutch smiled and tried to force himself not to blush. Just then a voice in his ear whispered, "Looks like Huggy, talks like Sugar." 

Hutch laughed and made room for Starsky at the bar. The bartender did remind him of Huggy, if only because of the outlandish white leather pants and sleeveless white satin vest topped with a pink scarf.

"This must be your darker half. If you two boys ain't together, you should be."

"We're together," Starsky said curtly. "And we'd like two beers…together."

Hands in the air, the bartender made a great show of backing away from the bar. "Two beers coming up."

"You feel better now, Macho Man?" Hutch asked once the bartender had moved away.

"I go to the john for two seconds and come back to find you getting hit on. I'm gonna have to stick close."

"Yeah, I'm knocking 'em off left and right." Hutch snorted.

"This sure isn't what I expected," Starsky observed. The door to the street had opened to a moderately-sized vestibule with another door on the far end. A large doorman had checked their names against a list and only then were they permitted to enter the building proper. They had expected a nightclub similar to the one they had visited in Bay City, but this building housed a small community.  A short corridor bisected the middle of the building and along either side were shops and offices tailored to the needs of gay men. Clothing, accessories, even sex toys were available. At the end of the corridor were signs for the clubroom and a disco. They opted for the clubroom when Starsky saw a menu posted outside the door.

"Here you go., two beers." The bartender slid their glasses across the surface with practiced ease. "I' m Jerald-with-a-J. You guys are new here."

Hutch lifted his beer in thanks. "Just in town overnight. This place was recommended by a guy at the hotel."

"That the Peabody?" Jerald asked, then continued when Hutch nodded, "Philip sent you then. He'll be here later, I'm sure.  Y'all want to see a menu?"

"What's good?" Starsky asked amiably, trying to atone for his earlier abruptness.

Jerald shrugged. "Can't go wrong with a burger."

"That's fine. Make mine medium."

"Same for me," Hutch added. "Put fries with his."

"I'll put in the order. Y'all can get a table or play some pool while you wait. I'll find you." Jerald's eyes lingered on Hutch's chest for a moment before he sighed and looked into Starsky's hawk-like gaze and sighed. "I know…together."

After locating a table near the back wall, Starsky and Hutch sat back and watched a ball game on the big screen television mounted over the wall.

"This doesn't feel as weird as I thought it would," Starsky said after a few minutes. He openly watched as a man at the table in front of them rested his arm around the back of his companion's chair, then watched from the corner of his eye as a man stood and greeted his date with a kiss. No one seemed to even notice except Starsky.  He turned to check out Hutch's reaction and was surprised to find Hutch watching him.  "What?"

"Just wondering if you're going to make a break for the door," Hutch said. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing, really. I was just thinking…" Starsky looked around the room again.

"I'll alert the media."

"You're a regular comedian tonight, aren't you?"

"C'mon, spill it." Hutch folded his arms and leaned forward to rest them on the table.

Starsky gave him a dirty look. "I'll have you know, wise guy, that I was thinking I know now why you wanted to come here."

Hutch's eyebrow shot up and he leaned forward to rest his folded arms on top of the table. "Oh really? Why's that?"

Looking around the room, Starsky took a few moments to respond. "You remember a few weeks ago, at the bowling alley, when you picked up that 7-10 split?"

Puzzled, Hutch nodded anyway. Starsky-logic took awhile to work its way to the top sometimes. "Not likely to forget that anytime soon.  My back hurt for two days from you whacking on it."

Starsky smiled faintly. "I thought your face was going to break, you were smiling so big. The whole time you were shaking hands and high-fiving everybody else, you were looking at me…and all I could do was pat you on the back when all I wanted to do was kiss you."

"We celebrated later, if I remember right," Hutch said meaningfully.

"Yeah, we did." Again, the brief smile crossed Starsky's face.  "But that's not my point." He leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, elbow touching Hutch's.  "If that had been Babcock's chick-of-the-week, no one would have thought anything at all about them kissing after something like that."

Hutch nodded his understanding and leaned closer so that their shoulders touched, too. "So, are you rethinking our decision to keep…us…private? Is that what this is about?"

"No, at least I don't think so." Starsky looked around the room again. "Even if we were 'out', we still couldn't…act like any other couple. Anything we did in public along those lines would still get noticed and not in a nice way.  Here," he waved at the room at large, "no one would even blink.  I didn't think about that when we went to that bar back home. I was too freaked out that we might see someone who knew us." He toyed with the salt shaker again, spinning it against the bottom of the table. "If we did come out—and I do mean if—we'd still only be able to really be ourselves in a place like this."

With the club room growing more crowded, Hutch had to lean closer to keep from raising his voice. "And when we're alone." He patted Starsky's arm. "I wish that could be enough…"

"It is, most of the time, but it's nice to go out and get to be us…all of us, I mean."

Before Hutch could reply, Jerald was back with their sandwiches and more beer. "I just assumed you'd want refills. It's fine if you want to switch to something else."

"No, this is fine, thanks." Starsky smiled and then laughed when Jerald seemed startled. "Why don't you join us for a minute?"

Jerald looked from Starsky to Hutch and then settled on the edge of a chair. "Well, I can take a short break, I guess. Be the last one I get tonight." His eyes swept the growing crowd.

"We were just talking about what a nice place this is," Hutch said. "It's not like the usual…places we've been."

Jerald laughed. "It's not like the other bars around here, either.  Those are open to straight folks, too. A guy gets to feeling like he's a tourist attraction sometimes.  Terry, the guy who owns the building, opened this club a couple of years ago so we could have some privacy.  The rest of it kind of fell into place later. " He shrugged. "It's a lot easier for some of the guys—the cross-dressers and the trannies—to shop here than it is to go to Goldsmith's or one of the boutiques. Gives 'em a little dignity, you know?" Standing up, he moved the salt shaker back to the middle of the table. "I'd better get back to work. You guys enjoy your dinner, and let me know if you need anything."

"Nice guy," Starsky observed while arranging his burger toppings to his satisfaction.

"Cute, too," Hutch quipped. He reached for one of Starsky's fries only to have it snatched away before he could get it to his mouth.

"Get your own damn fries," he grumbled, grinning at the same time.

~ ~ ~

Hutch leaned on his pool cue and fought off a yawn.  He waited until Starsky finished his shot, then reached for his arm.

"What are you doing?" Starsky looked down at the wrist held in Hutch's grip.

"Where's your watch?"

"I put it in my pocket when you asked me what time it was for the fortieth time."

"That was at midnight, Starsk.  It's probably been a couple of hours since then. Aren't you ready to go yet? We have an early flight home, don't forget."

Starsky looked into Hutch's sleepy eyes and smiled. "Sure, okay. Just let me find Andy and thank him for the tip. I'd've never beat you three games in a row if he hadn't shown me the problem with my grip."

"Yeah, be sure to thank him for me, too," Hutch said sourly.  Andy and his partner, John, had begun chatting with them while playing at the adjoining table, and then Andy and Starsky continued playing when Hutch and John moved on to darts.

Jerald came by soon after Starsky left. "Getting ready for last call. You want another beer?"

"No! Between all the iced tea I drank at lunch and the beer tonight, I'm sloshing." Hutch stifled another yawn. "What time's it anyway?"

"Quarter to four." Jerald cleared the wall counter of bottles and turned back toward the bar. "Be sure to come back if you're ever in town again. Bring you-know-who, if you must."  He winked and walked away. Smiling, Hutch pulled his jacket off the counter stool and tried in vain to get his arm through the sleeve.

"Here, let me," Starsky's arms wrapped around him from behind as he took the jacket in hand, then helped Hutch into it. "One of us is a little drunk, I think. What you need is some coffee."

"What I need is some sleep. Did you know it's almost four?" He turned and tried to stare at his partner accusingly, but another yawn ruined the effect. "We have such an early—"

"Flight, I know. I been thinking about that." Starsky adjusted Hutch's lapels and leaned into him. "I think we should stay here another day.  See the ducks, get some sleep, go back to the river. Maybe we can even go to that deli we passed on the way here and get a picnic lunch."

Hutch blinked in disbelief. "You. Want to stay here? In this—what did you call it?—backwater town or something like that."

"Well, that was before I started having fun. C'mon, don't you wanna go back to the river and watch the Minnesota water float by?"  Starsky batted his eyelashes and grinned.

His expression growing suspicious, Hutch tried to back away but Starsky just pulled him closer. "There's something else to this, isn't there? I mean, there's something you want to do." He pushed back against his partner. "Truth. Now."

Starsky rolled his eyes dramatically. "Okay, but I would appreciate it if you didn't go on and on about it." He took a deep breath. "I was thinking we might come back here—to this place—tomorrow night."

When Starsky's words finally registered in his beer-addled mind, a slow smile inched across Hutch's face. "Oh, you like it here, do you?"

"Quit looking so smug. You weren't sure about it either."

Hutch laughed and put his arms fully around Starsky. "You're right about that. It seemed like a good idea when Philip suggested it, but—"

"I forgot about that. What did you ask him exactly?"

"Oh, I just told him I wanted to take you somewhere to get you all mellow and ready to let me have my way with you." Hutch brushed his lips across Starsky's.

"You didn't ask him that."

"No, not exactly that, but that's what I meant. He understood." Hutch kissed Starsky again. "Let's get out of here before Jerald throws us out. I'm ready to call it a night." He turned and with an arm still around Starsky's shoulders led them toward the door.

"Um, about that…."

Hutch stopped and let his arm fall to his side. "What do you mean?"

"Andy and John kind of invited us to go out to breakfast with them, and I kinda told them we would."

"Stars-ky," Hutch groaned.

"Well, I'm hungry and besides, it's nice hanging out with someone and not having to worry about saying something wrong…you know…about us."

"Okay, I'll try to catch my third--or this my fourth?—wind."

Smiling, Starsky slipped an arm around Hutch's waist. "Thanks. So what's the verdict? Are we staying another night?"

Hutch smiled and shook his head. "Sure, why not? I think, though," he returned his arm to Starsky's shoulder and nudged them towards the door, "that we need to work in another talk about how we want to live our lives when we get back home."

"I think you're right."

~ ~ ~

"I think Elvis woulda had a deli or some sort of restaurant if he hadn't been Elvis."

"Why do you say that?" Hutch grabbed Starsky's arm as a newspaper van turned in front of them.

"Well, we've been here less than a day and already we know of two sandwiches he invented. No telling how many more might be out there."

"I don't know two sandwiches he invented; I only know one—that monstrosity you just ate for breakfast."  Hutch shuddered. The shabby, but clean, Gridiron Restaurant at which they'd just spent two hours was probably the leading cause of heart disease in the city.

"The 'Beefburger Palm Beach' is not a monstrosity; it's a work of art." Starsky made a square of his thumbs and forefingers. "Choice burger, pimiento cheese, lettuce, pickles, onions and the perfect bun."

Hutch snickered. "A veritable van Gogh for only $1.95."

"Laugh all you want. Our days of plain old cheeseburgers are history." Starsky sidestepped a shop owner who was sweeping the sidewalk outside his store.  "But back to Elvis. You must've dozed off or something when John was telling us about the peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Elvis ate 'em all the time. His grandmother would grill them for him almost every day when he was in town."

Hutch clutched his stomach. "Peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Oh, God."

"Sounds pretty good to me. I'm gonna try one when we get home."

"Thanks for the warning," Hutch joked. "Speaking of home, we need to stop at the desk and see if they can get our tickets changed again. If they can't, we've got just enough time for a shower before we head to the airport."

"I hope they can. I really want to get out this afternoon and see what else is here. From the way John and Andy describe it, there's all kind of stuff we haven't seen yet." 

"Tickets first, then sleep, then sightseeing."  Hutch counted off their itinerary on his fingers, then pointed. "There's the hotel." He smiled at the doorman's hearty greeting as they entered the elegant hotel lobby.

"You forgot something." Starsky smiled and pointed to a sign. "The ducks'll be marching out in about ten minutes. I'll hold our place; you go do the ticket thing."

Hutch shook his head and walked away.

~ ~ ~

"Wow, there's quite a crowd."  Starsky looked around at the groups of people gathered in the ornate hotel lobby. One group in particular caught his eye. Five children sat on a bench next to the fountain.  Three were giggling over something one of the ducks was doing, while two sat quietly watching. What drew Starsky's attention was the fact that all of the children were bald.

"Hutch," he said softly, turning away from the scene.

"Yeah?" Hutch heard the solemnity in Starsky's voice and leaned closer. "What is it?"

"Look at those kids. Does that mean what I think it means?"

Hutch nodded. "Afraid so. There must be a cancer hospital nearby."

"St. Jude's."

They turned to see a boy of about twelve. The little hair he had was new growth.  "St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. We're all patients there, but today we're on a field trip."

"Gonna catch the duck show?" Hutch smiled and the boy smiled back.

"I've only seen it about a hundred times, but it beats the hel--I mean, heck outta sitting in the hospital."

"How long have you been…sick?" Starsky asked.

"Four years, seven months and two days," the boy replied matter-of-factly. "I haven't been in the hospital all that time. I was in remission for a couple of years. Then the leukemia came back."

"Sorry to hear that, partner." Hutch couldn't resist putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But you beat it before…."

"I'm gonna beat it again, too.  I've gotta get well so I can go to college." The voice held a note of quiet determination. "I'm gonna study hard and then go to work helping Mr. Thomas raise money."

"Mr. Thomas?" Starsky asked.

"Danny Thomas. He invented St. Jude's.  It's got all the latest technology and research. I know they're gonna find a cure for it some day." The boy's eyes took on a far away look. "They're real close, you know. Ten years ago, kids with my kind of cancer died within a year.  Now, I'm looking at five years and I'm probably going into remission again."

"Good for you," Hutch said. "I hope this one sticks."

"Don't you know you should never say the word 'stick' to a cancer patient?"  The boy laughed, then held up his hand when Hutch tried to apologize. "No, I'm sorry. Chemo humor's not for everybody. It's an old joke from the hospital. The people back home think I'm crazy about half the time."

"Back home? Where's that?" Starsky asked.

"Nashville, but as much as we've been here the last three months, I might as well say Memphis."

"Randy, are you worrying these men?" A young woman joined them and put her arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Not at all," Hutch assured her. "He was telling us about St. Jude's."

The woman laughed. "Randy is destined to become our biggest fund raiser, I think."

"It sounds like a great hospital," Hutch said.

The woman nodded. "It is. Randy and the other kids here are proof of that. None of them should have made it this far, yet here they are."

"Randy said he's from Nashville. Are the other kids from out of town as well?" Hutch asked, the crease between his brows beginning to deepen.

"Most are, but some are local. A few are from other countries."

Starsky tugged Hutch's elbow. "What are you thinking?"

"It must get expensive for these families. The treatments go on for months, plus there are the travel costs."

The young woman nodded. "It is expensive, but the mission of St. Jude is to ensure every child gets treatment, regardless of their ability to pay. Insurance companies pick up the tab for some kids, but the ones not lucky enough to be insured never see a bill." She smiled proudly. "And their hotel rooms and food costs are paid for while they're here."

A squeal from some of the children told of the arrival of the ducks. Two of the little girls stayed on a bench to the side, apparently lacking the energy to move closer even with the encouragement of their chaperone.  Hutch touched her on the shoulder and made a motion with his hand. She smiled and nodded.  Almost in unison, Starsky and Hutch picked the girls up and lifted them high just in time to see the elevator door open. Six ducks walked out and headed straight for the fountain in a processional that lasted only a few minutes.  The girls squealed with joy each time one of the ducks jumped into the fountain pool. On the other side of the fountain, Starsky spotted the woman he'd seen at Graceland and then later on Beale Street. She smiled and nodded, and Starsky smiled back.

Returning the girls to their chaperone, the partners brushed aside the woman's thanks. The shining eyes and flushed cheeks of the young patients as they excitedly compared notes about what they'd seen was thanks enough. They were both quiet as they strolled to the elevator.

"Well, you've seen the duck walk now. Was it everything you dreamed it would be?" Hutch asked softly.

"And then some," Starsky said. "I think I know what I want to do with my part of the leftover vacation money.

Hutch nodded. "My part will be right there with it. We'll get the address before we leave town."

~ ~ ~

You asleep?" Spooned against Hutch's back, Starsky's own eyes remained closed.

"Almost."

"Well, wait a minute."

Hutch opened one eye. "Why?"

"Isn't it weird how we got stuck here, and then we ended up having a great time?"

Hutch patted the arm Starsky had wrapped around him. "Wherever we go together, we'll have a great time."

"Yeah…" The corners of Starsky's mouth turned up in a smile and the room was quiet.

~ ~ ~

In the street below, Todd Larson and Brian Walker showed up for their jobs on the Beale Street Renovation Project. Promptly at eight a.m., they started their jackhammers.

End

Comments or critique welcome at [click on the email button.] I always respond to comments, so if you send a note and don't receive a response, please don't think ill of me. In all likelihood, either I didn't receive your note or my response is floating in cyberspace.

Click here to return to main page.