New gen Starsky and Hutch zine
- DEADLINE FOR PRE-CON ORDERS
SHareCon, BASCon........past, but will take pre-con
orders for *brand-new* zines only
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If you want to pick up zines at any of these cons,
please place your pre-con orders on our webpage as
soon as possible!
Agent With Style
is proud to announce a brand new
slash Starsky and Hutch novel is available
SEASONED TIMBER 3
Wood that has been stressed and gone through
several years of lashing rain and freezing cold
becomes seasoned timber, proving that it can withstand
the test of time and has the strength to outlast
whatever Mother Nature can throw at it. Likewise is
the bond and friendship between Starsky and Hutch.
They've weathered every storm and have come out the
other side stronger and better for it. These stories
explore that friendship that may bend with the fierce
wind, but will never break.
This *thick,* 260+ paged, full-size zine is
dedicated to Paula Wilshe, a beloved S&H writer and
fan who recently passed away, and is full of stories
she would have loved: from silly to dramatic, and
everything in between, all permeated with the deep
love and friendship Starsky and Hutch have for each
other. Come share the love and laughter in this zine!
* * *
ALL IN THE ASKING by Katie Steuer
The bathroom door opened and Hutch emerged, paler
than before. "Thought you left." He was short of
breath, but kept moving, like if he stopped, he'd
never start again.
I'd come for the money. It hardly seemed the
place or time to mention it. I put an arm around his
waist. "Who's gonna tuck you in?" I asked lightly.
His back was wet with sweat. "Hutch, maybe you should
see a doctor."
"I did, last night." He paused, halfway across
the room. "God, it hurts. Feels like a knife going
right down my leg." He lurched into motion again, his
steps getting shorter.
"Didn't he give you anythin'?"
"What?" The promise of his bed was distracting.
"Yeah. I couldn't get up off the gym floor, so they
called an ambulance. Took me to the emergency room.
Doctor gave me some kind of shot that really knocked
me out. Wouldn't let me drive home. Put me in a
Ambulance? Hospital? I'd been home the night
before and the phone never rang.
Hutch had halted by the bed. I could see he was
girding himself to lay back down, squeezing his eyes
shut in anticipation of the motion. "Why didn't ya
give me a call? I would've driven you home." Then,
belatedly, I thought, And where was your wife?
"Huh?" The worn blue eyes focused briefly on me.
"Didn't want to bother you. And Van was out." He
gave the last words a faint twist, half-mocking,
half-despair, as he sank down onto the edge of the
bed. I swung his legs up and he sagged back on the
Didn't want to bother me.... I didn't need this.
I should've just gotten the twenty and gone. But
instead, I looked at him, at his tired face, ready to
receive pain. At the defeat in his discouraged eyes.
This is where I had come in, Hutch braced against the
hurt in his back and me standing there, feeling
helpless. I had to do something for him, and I bent
over, pulling off his shoes and socks. He wiggled his
toes gratefully, sighing with satisfaction, but the
gesture didn't go far to relieve his discomfort.
"The doctor give you a prescription or anything?"
"Yeah. But the cabbie was on his way home and
didn't want to stop." Hutch gave me a weary
half-smile. "And I was too dopey to argue."
Just a blond pushover at times.... "Is your car
still at Vinnie's?"
"Think so." He waved a hand toward the kitchen,
the motion vague. "Keys are on the table."
I went out into the hall, picking up papers as I
moved. Once in the kitchen, I sorted them into order
and scanned them. Oh, Hutch. Divorce papers,
Vanessa's signature bold on the final sheet of page.
He hadn't signed it. I put them down on the counter,
uncertain what to do with them, my stomach queasy.
Felt like I was wading in way over my head, turning up
things I hadn't wanted to find.
CRIME SCENES by Helene
Hutch threw the Home and Garden section of the
Sunday paper aside and glanced at the clock. It
wasn't noon, but he decided that it was close enough
that he could call Starsky without violating any rules
about sleeping late on weekends. He grabbed the phone
and dialed the number, then waited impatiently while
it rang and rang.
"Come on, Starsky," he muttered when he heard the
eighth ring. Finally he gave up and slammed the
receiver down. His partner had called him on Friday
and assured him that he was fine and getting plenty of
rest, and had told him that he was going to spend
Saturday with Nancy, someone he had been dating
occasionally for the past couple of months. Hutch
thought that was a good sign, but had still driven
past his partner's apartment on Saturday, hoping he
could tell whether anything was amiss without breaking
his private vow not to interfere with Starsky's desire
to be alone. He had seen nothing to either worry him
more, or greatly lessen his concern, other than the
absence of the Torino in front of the building, but
that at least reassured him that Starsky had found
enough energy to get out of the house and enjoy the
sunny afternoon with his date.
Hutch considered his options. He could try to
just forget about it, and wait until the next day when
he would see a well-rested Starsky at work. He
dismissed that idea immediately, knowing that it would
be impossible to relax himself for the rest of the day
until he knew his partner was all right. Or he could
keep trying to call Starsky every hour until he
answered-if he ever did. That would be the logical
choice, and the one by which he ran no risk of
irritating his friend by hovering too closely. But if
Starsky couldn't hear the phone ring, that would put
Hutch in no better position than he would be if he sat
still and did nothing.
His other choice was to drive over to Starsky's
apartment and wait for him to come home. Hutch
weighed the relief he would get from doing that
against the possibility of Starsky's anger at being
disturbed. For all that Starsky insisted that he was
recovering just fine, Hutch knew that he was still, in
many ways, physically and emotionally drained and was
liable to take even a well-meant visit as an
Finally, Hutch stood up and reached for his car
keys. Almost a decade into their rela�tionship, and
having survived other crises of this magnitude, he
knew that Starsky would even�tually come around and
understand his need to meddle.
To find out what happens, get this great zine!
SEASONED TIMBER 3 now available at Agent With Style's
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