Katherine

   I knew I was in big trouble when he handed the guitar to Sue Ann. He'd had enough. And when he's had enough, the best idea is to get out of his way. Quick. I jumped up and ran, knowing that he would be right behind me. He had told me to be quiet and listen. But did I? No. So I got a little carried away. I do that sometimes.

   I ran as hard as I could through the parked cars, but he caught me just as I got to the Torino. Those long legs can really eat up the ground, especially when he's agitated. I was diggin' for my keys when he locked his hands around my upper arms just above the elbow, imprisoning my arms at my sides.

   I froze, wonderin’ what he was gonna do. But he just held on, restin' his forehead against the back of my neck. He was breathin' hard, and I could feel his heart poundin' against my back. He'd really been scared up there on that stage. I didn't know he'd be so scared.

   He didn't say anything.

   I waited a little while, then I said, "Ya want me ta take ya home, Blondie?"

   He shook his head against my neck. "No. Just stay here, just for a minute."

   I nodded, relaxing a little. He loosened his grip on my arms, and put his hands on my shoulders, still leaning against me. I relaxed, waiting to see what he was goin’ to do.

   Finally he mumbled, "They were laughing, Starsky. They laughed…"

   "I'm sorry, Blintz. It was my fault…"

   "No. They were laughing at me," he whispered.

   "No they weren't. You were doin' okay. Really," I protested. I hated it when he got his feelin's hurt like this. He hates bein' laughed at. "You sounded good, you just weren't real sure of yourself is all," I told him, trying to sound as sincere as possible. I knew he was good, I just wanted him to know it, too.

   He sighed.

   "Come on, I'll take ya home," I offered.

   But he still didn't move. "No." He said it so softly I almost didn't hear it. "I…I have to go back in there."

   It was my turn to sigh. He was right, and I was proud of him for doin' it, but I hated that he had to do it. Ya know?

   "Are you sure, Blintz?"

   "Yeah." He let go of me then, and turned to lean against the Torino. I turned around, too, and took my place next to him. "I'm sure." He didn't sound sure though. He sounded scared.

   I patted his arm. I could feel how tense his muscles were. "Maybe you should sing something else. You don't know that song real well, do ya?"

   He shook his head. "No, Sue Ann suggested it. She sings it a lot, she says people like it."

   "And you sounded real good singin' it," I assured him. "But I think you'd do better with somethin' you know, something you're more confident about singin' and playin'."

   He looked at me. I could see that the idea interested him. "Like what?"

   "Like somethin' you wrote," I whispered. Hutch's songs are real personal and private things. I'm the only one whose heard most of them. They're really great songs, but he doesn't like playin' them in public. I think he feels like he'd be puttin' his thoughts and feelin's on display if he did that. He's played one or two at the Policemen's Barbecue, just to get me to stop naggin' him, but he usually just goes with popular things everyone knows.

   "No."

   "Come on, Hutch. You know your songs are good. It's about time other people knew that, too."

   "No." He was getting that stubborn look, clenching his jaw and tightening his lips.

   "You need to play somethin' you know, don't ya? Who knows your songs better than you? And what songs do you know better than the ones you wrote yourself?."

   He was weakening. I could see the doubt in his eyes, reflected by the lights in the parkin' lot. "You…you really think my songs are good?"

   I put my arm around his shoulder. "'Course I do, Blintz. Ain't I always askin' ya to play when we're at your place?"

   He nodded. "Yeah, but…"

   I just looked at him.

   "Well, I thought…you've usually had a few beers before you ask…I thought….you just did that…I thought you were just being nice…" he finally said.

   "Not me," I grinned. "Since when I do things just to be nice?"

   He shrugged and hung his head.

   "Now, we gotta decide what you're gonna play. And we gotta do it quick, before this joint closes."

   The blond head nodded. "Okay." He kept his head down. "You got any ideas?" He was sounding more hopeful, anyway.

   "How about that 'Wish' song?"

   "'I Wish I Was?' No, it's not finished."

   "Then, that one you wrote for your nephew. That one's cute."

   He just glared at me. "'Kristofer David?' Starsk, so you seriously think I could go back into that place and stand in front of that crowd and sing about walking 'through daffodils and daisies? Do you think that bunch is waiting for 'cute'?"

   I shrugged. "Well, maybe not."

   He nodded. "Right."

   "Well, there's the one…uh…what is it? Oh yeah, 'The Rider'." I like that one."

   He shook his head. "I don't think going in there and singing "I'm in pain, hold me, I'm not sane, hold me" is a good idea either."

   I couldn't help grinnin'. "Come on Buddy, that's a Country Western bar right?"

   "Yeah," he said, draggin' the word out while he tried to figure out where I was goin' with this.

   "Well, just about every country song is about pain. So they should be used to it."

   "NO!"

   "Well, okay. It that's what you really think." I concentrated for a minute. "I got it. This is perfect. You should sing 'Black Bean Soup'."

   He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, that could work. 'Black Bean Soup.' I like that. It's catchy, and the band should be able to pick up on it pretty quickly. Good idea, Starsk." He started back toward the bar, humming "Black Bean Soup" under his breath as he walked. He actually seemed to be happy to be going back.

   I relaxed and trailed along behind him. "And for your encore, you can sing "Topanga and after that you can do the one you sang for me last week. Uh…'Silver Lady'. Yeah, that's it, 'Silver Lady'."

   He turned around, walking backwards as he looked at me. I wasn't real sure about that. He sometimes doesn't do too well walking front-wards, but I didn't say anything. I was just glad he wasn't upset anymore. He started wavin’ his finger at me. I was really glad to see that. He only does that when he feels like he’s in control, or he’s determined to have his way. "And you keep quiet. Got it?"

   I grinned, trying to look innocent.

   He just shook his head. Then I guess what I’d said earlier finally got through. "You really think they might want an encore?"

   "Sure, Blintz. I bet they want lots of encores," I assured him.

   And I was right.

THE END