Transcript of Interview with REED STEWART by Christina Martinez, Bloomville Herald
CHRISTINA:
Hi, sorry to interrupt, you two, but I’m Christina Martinez with the Bloomville Herald, and we’ve been dying for an interview with pro golfer Reed Stewart, Bloomville’s own pride and joy.
Reed, this interview is being recorded using the new WriteOn device that automatically transcribes voices into text to make transcription on the go even easier. Is that all right with you?
REED:
Uh, not really. I actually don’t have time for an interview right now, I’m just here to enjoy—
CHRISTINA:
Great!
So what is it that brought you to Bloomville a week before what some are calling the most important tournament of your life, after not having won a game in over two years, and your frankly embarrassing losses at Augusta and Doral? Shouldn’t you be hitting the gym—or the greens—in Orlando in preparation for next week’s Golden Palm?
REED:
I’m sorry, it’s really loud in here. I can’t hear you.
CHRISTINA:
Sorry, I’ll speak up.
Is it love for your parents, Reed? A lot of people are saying it’s because you love your parents that you are here in Bloomville at this crucial time in your career.
REED:
I guess you could say that.
Look, even though we’re really grateful and appreciative to all the people here in Bloomville who came out this evening to show their support for my parents, they actually do not need financial help, so—
CHRISTINA:
Right, because the charges against them were dropped by Shenanigans International, Inc., which must have been a relief to you, right, Reed? How much of a distraction has all of this business with your parents been, Reed, going into the Golden Palm, which some are saying is the most important tournament of your golf career?
REED:
Um, it hasn’t been a distraction as much as it’s been a misunderstanding.
I’m just real glad it’s cleared up now, and my parents are doing great, and I’m going to get onto the course next week and hit the ball like I always do. I’ve been working real hard on my swing and my wedge play—
CHRISTINA:
And just what kind of advantage, if any, has growing up in a town like Bloomville given you over other professional athletes in your field?
REED:
Uh, well, I guess . . . the people. The people of Bloomville are unlike any others in the world. They’re so warm and giving and kind and beautiful and . . .
CHRISTINA:
I see that you’re directing your remarks at one particular citizen of Bloomville. May I have your name, miss?
BECKY:
Oh, no, he was kidding.
REED:
Rebecca Flowers. And I’m not kidding. I owe everything to her. We went to high school together. This high school. We both graduated from here ten years ago.
BECKY:
He’s joking. I mean we did go here, but he’s joking about owing everything to me. He practiced very hard to get to where he is today.
REED:
Well, she drove the golf cart.
BECKY:
Reed.
He’s still kidding. I didn’t. Well, I did occasionally, but his success has nothing to do with—
CHRISTINA:
You’re Becky Flowers, aren’t you? President of Moving Up! Senior Move Management Consultants? We did a piece on you last summer.
BECKY:
Yes, but please don’t mention me in—
REED:
You should. You should mention her. Not the thing about the golf cart though. That was a joke.
CHRISTINA:
You two dated in high school. Several people here tonight have already pointed that out to me.
BECKY:
Oh, crap. I mean, sorry. Please don’t—can you erase that?
CHRISTINA:
No. I don’t think so. This device is new, we just got them, I actually don’t know how it works. So, are you two getting back together?
BECKY:
I beg your pardon?
CHRISTINA:
You know, rekindling the flame of your high school romance?
BECKY:
What? No!
REED:
Yes. Ow. Did you see that, Christina? She hit me. Can your voice thingy transcribe that?
CHRISTINA:
Okay, I’ll disregard the personal stuff. But off the record, seriously, how would that even work? Becky, are you considering moving from Bloomville? Because small towns like this can’t afford to lose any more businesses, especially ones offering vitally needed services like yours. Although I would understand it. Running a business in this economic climate isn’t easy, and frankly, this town—
(INAUDIBLE)
Oops. I shouldn’t have said that. How do you rewind this stupid thing?
BECKY:
Um, no, Christina, Moving Up! isn’t going anywhere at the moment, and neither am I. I’m dedicated to growing my client base, and I have family here. I’ve lived here since I was a kid, and it’s the place I love best in all the world.
CHRISTINA:
Really?
REED:
Yeah, really? How do you know? You haven’t been anywhere else, really.
BECKY:
Uh, I know I want to spend the rest of my life where my family is.
REED:
But you’d be open to traveling to other places, right?
BECKY:
I guess. On a short-term basis.
REED:
How short? Because in order to qualify for exemption from personal income tax in the state of Florida, you have to live there six months and a day.
BECKY:
What are you talking about?
CHRISTINA:
Is that true? Because I’ve been offered a job in Florida, and I’m probably going to take it to get away from—
Oh, hold that thought, Reed. It looks like Judge Stewart is climbing to the stage and appears to be preparing to make a speech to his supporters. Rob, could you get a photo? Rob? Rob, seriously, I know it’s impossible for you to concentrate even for one second on your job, but could you actually—
(INAUDIBLE)
REED:
Really? So you’re never going to leave Bloomville?
BECKY:
I didn’t say that. I said I had no plans to leave for the moment. What’s all this business about Florida?
REED:
My financial advisor said it would be more tax advantageous to live there than California or, for instance, Indiana.
And, like you told my parents, just because you live in one state doesn’t mean you can’t visit your family back home.
BECKY:
Oh, what a revelation. So could you, but this is the first time in a decade you ever have.
REED:
Not everyone is like me.
BECKY:
Thank God.
REED:
What was that?
BECKY:
Nothing.
CHRISTINA:
You do realize that this device is picking up everything you two are saying, don’t you?
BECKY:
Oh, sorry.
CHRISTINA:
It’s fine by me. I just thought you should know. Oh, look, the Judge is speaking.
(Applause)
JUDGE STEWART:
Thank you, thank you. Mrs. Stewart and I just wanted to take a moment to say how much we appreciate everything you people have done for us this past week. Why, if it wasn’t for all of you, it’s likely we two would be sitting in the pokey like a couple of jailbirds.
(Laughter)
JUDGE STEWART:
I especially want to thank Mrs. Beverly Flowers for all her work on our behalf getting that restaurant to drop the charges.
(Applause)
JUDGE STEWART:
Guess Connie and I should stay home and order pizza delivery for a while to keep ourselves out of trouble.
(Laughter)
JUDGE STEWART:
Now I want to address why we’re all here tonight. It was nice—real nice—of Rhonda Jenkins to organize all this for us. She’s a kind woman, and an even better friend. I don’t think we could ask for a better one.
(Applause, indistinct chatter)
JUDGE STEWART:
But the fact is, Mrs. Stewart and I are doing just fine financially. It’s true we’ve had a couple of little misunderstandings with the government about our taxes, but who hasn’t in this day and age?
(Laughter)
JUDGE STEWART:
And it’s true the old house may not look as good as it once did. But Mrs. Stewart and I don’t either.
(Laughter)
JUDGE STEWART:
Why, I remember one of the best days in my life was right here in this gymnasium—forty-eight years ago, it was, and this place was brand-new. It was the first time I ever set eyes on a girl named Connie Duncan, and she was wearing something that was considered a pretty risqué style back then—a miniskirt.
(Laughter)
JUDGE STEWART:
I knew then that I was sunk—even though, some of you will recall, I’d just been elected Chug-a-Lug Champ of the Hijinks Club.
REED:
What is he talking about?
BECKY:
You don’t know?
REED:
No. Do you?
BECKY:
No. But I’m loving it.
CHRISTINA:
Shhh, you two!
JUDGE STEWART:
I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to what one had to do in order to be elected to a position of such high authority, but suffice it to say, I was already a little unsteady on my feet. I had attained my champion crown earlier that day at a picnic lunch over at Lake Bloomville.
And suddenly in walked this vision with the longest legs—and the shortest skirt—I had ever seen.
Well, it wasn’t only my heart I lost that day. I lost my head, too. In fact, I keeled right over onto that shiny new floor . . . BAM!
(Clapping noise. Laughter)
And when I woke up, who should be tenderly cradling my head, but the very same angel who’d knocked me unconscious with her beauty in the first place, Miss Connie Duncan.
And I knew right then that I’d be resigning my position in the Hijinks Club, and walking the straight and narrow from that day forward, with Connie Duncan at my side . . . if she’d have me, which luckily for me, she agreed to—after I pulled myself up, literally, from the floor.
(Laughter)
REED:
I can’t believe this.
BECKY:
You never heard this story before?
REED:
No. Have you?
BECKY:
Oh, hundreds of times. He showed me his Chug-a-Lug Champion medal.
REED:
He did?
BECKY:
No! Of course not.
CHRISTINA:
Would you two mind? Some of us are trying to listen.
JUDGE STEWART:
So at the request of Miss Connie Duncan, who—besides getting suspended from school that day for wearing such a daringly short skirt—took a chance on a boy who also got suspended from school that day, for showing up to a pep rally a little bit drunk . . . on love, of course—
(Laughter)
Kids! You see? Even your most esteemed elders have made mistakes.
But Miss Duncan took a chance on a boy who didn’t deserve one, and stuck by him through some very bad times, then provided him with some very, very good ones, including three children of whom I could not be more proud, some of whom have now given me five grandchildren, of whom I’m prouder still.
(Applause)
So I would like to ask, at her request, that all the proceeds from tonight be donated not to us, but a far more deserving organization: the Bloomville Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
(Gasps, applause, cheers)
BECKY:
Oh, my God, Reed. That was so sweet! Your parents are the most—
REED:
Yes. Yes, they are, aren’t they?
BECKY:
And you didn’t know any of this?
REED:
I had no idea. He’s never told that story before.
BECKY:
Your dad’s the Chug-a-Lug Champ of the Hijinks Club. And your mom got suspended for dressing too sexy!
REED:
Kind of makes you think, don’t it?
BECKY:
Well, I guess . . . I don’t know. About what?
REED:
Roads.
BECKY:
Roads? What road?
REED:
The ones that don’t have to lead to the same place.
BECKY:
I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you mean the road less traveled, from the Frost poem?
REED:
I mean the opposite.
CHRISTINA:
Reed, do you have any comment on your father’s speech just now? As you can probably tell from the reaction of the crowd, they loved it. He really is an extraordinary man. Did you know he was the Chug-a-Lug Champ of the Hijinks Club?
REED:
No.
CHRISTINA:
How did hearing that make you feel?
REED:
I’ve never been more proud of him.
CHRISTINA:
Really? Are you more proud of him today than when he allowed the Dumbbell Killer to go free?
REED:
Yes. Dad’s always been a real class act, but I never thought of him as . . . well, tonight he seemed actually human.
CHRISTINA:
I’m not sure I get your meaning.
REED:
Oh, look, there’s Rhonda waving to me. I’m going to go over there and say hi. Look, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?
CHRISTINA:
Sure. I have plenty more questions—
REED:
Sorry, I didn’t mean you, I meant Becky. Can you wait for me here? I have something I want to talk to you about. I think you and I—I think we’ve been misreading each other.
BECKY:
I don’t think so. But okay, fine. I’ll wait.
REED:
Good. I’ll just be a minute. Christina, end of interview, okay? Maybe another time.
CHRISTINA:
I’m gonna hold you to that.
BECKY:
Sorry. He hasn’t seen Mrs. Jenkins in a really long time.
CHRISTINA:
I get it. Let me just finish up here. Well, that was Reed Stewart and Becky Flowers, who are definitely not back together.
So, Becky, let me ask you a question. If I was going to move the contents of a small apartment—say a one-bedroom—from here to Miami, how much would you charge me?
BECKY:
I’m sorry, we’re not that kind of moving company. I can refer you—
CHRISTINA:
See, I got this job offer in Miami, and I’m not sure if I should take it.
BECKY:
Right. But the thing is, we specialize in managing moves for senior citizens, and you’re not a senior, so—
CHRISTINA:
I’m not even sure if I should take the job. It’s only freelance, so there wouldn’t be any benefits. You have no idea how hard it is to find decently paying jobs in journalism these days.
On the other hand, it’s Miami, you know? So I’d get away from this dump. You hear what I’m saying?
BECKY:
Um, I guess. But like I said, we don’t—
CHRISTINA:
Then again, what if I got sick? Paying for your own health insurance blows. It’s so expensive. And so is rent in Miami.
BECKY:
I hear you. But—
CHRISTINA:
But there are a lot of important stories out there that I could be writing about instead of the crap they make me write about here. I mean, look at me, I’m here covering this stupid thing, when I could be in Miami covering, I don’t know, a story on how the glaciers are melting and in ten years the whole place is going to be underwater. You know?
BECKY:
Well, I agree, stories on the environment are important.
CHRISTINA:
Sorry. I mean, stories about pro golfers are interesting, I guess, to some people. But the damn Herald only wants me to do local stories, stuff that makes Bloomville look like a positive place to live and raise your children. Like this thing tonight. Tomorrow I’m supposed to cover some book signing at Bloomville Books. A local author, of course. If I don’t blow my own head off first.
BECKY:
Well, I mean, local stuff is important, too. To the people who live here.
CHRISTINA:
Yeah, I guess. Rob. Did you get a photo of the judge? Rob? Did you? Or did you spend the whole night taking shots of Tiffany Gosling? What do we need more shots of Tiffany for, Rob? The Shenanigans story is over. How many damned shots of Tiffany do we need?
ROB:
Oh my God, will you get off my back, Christina? It was one time!
REED:
Wow. What was that all about?
BECKY:
I have no idea. But it seemed very dramatic.
REED:
Well, anyway. Sorry I was gone so long. You’re never going to believe this. I asked Rhonda where she heard that my parents were broke, and she said she’s known forever and thought we—me and Marshall—knew, too.
When I said I had no idea until this week, she was shocked. She was, too. You could tell.
BECKY:
Maybe we should step outside, Reed. You don’t look so good—
REED:
It all seemed so absurdly obvious once she said it, I felt like a fool for not having put it all together.
Trimble. It’s Trimble.
BECKY:
What about Trimble?
REED:
It’s her. It’s Trimble.
Rhonda says when she was working for my parents, Trimble was always coming around, asking them for money. Rhonda figured we all knew, because it was such a casual thing.
And I mean, I guess in a way we all did kind of know—I know my dad gave Trimble the practice.
BECKY:
What do you mean, he gave her the practice?
REED:
When he retired and started the private practice, he bought the building in Trimble’s name.
But that was to be expected because she’s the only one of us who did what he wanted and followed in his footsteps and went into law.
Mom and Dad were always helping Trimble out financially because she married such a bonehead—Tony—we call him Too Bad Tony because he makes such bad decisions, and couldn’t get a job and was always investing in these dumb business schemes.
BECKY:
Reed, what are you—
REED:
I know they gave her the down payment for her house and probably helped her out financially in other ways, too. That’s why Carly and Marshall came to me for help with their down payment. They couldn’t bear to hit up Mom and Dad for a loan after they knew how much they’d shelled out to Trimble.
But none of us had any idea—
BECKY:
Are you saying—?
REED:
Exactly. Rhonda says every other week Trimble would come by to wheedle them for other stuff, too. Tuition for her kids’ private school. Money for their braces. Rhonda says Trimble even hit up the Judge for the monthly lease on Too Bad Tony’s Audi.
BECKY:
Reed. Wait.
REED:
But get this. My parents are the ones who paid for the restaurant. They bought the restaurant for Tony, not his parents, like we were always told.
And they just bought him a new restaurant, the one up in Dearborn.
For all we know, my parents paid for the ski trip my sister and her family took to Aspen this winter, too!
BECKY:
Reed, you’re shaking.
REED:
Wouldn’t you be? This is where my parents’ retirement savings went—I mean, in addition to the stamps and ceramic cats and judges’ gavels. It all went to my sister.
BECKY:
Reed. Oh, Reed. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go. People are—
REED:
Yeah, damned right we’re going to go. Go get the police and have Trimble arrested for that thing you were talking about—elder abuse.
BECKY:
No, Reed. We can’t.
REED:
Why not? I mean, yes, I know they still shouldn’t have spent all that other money so stupidly—they still should have paid their taxes and the mortgage on their own house and all their other bills, but . . . what she did, that’s elder abuse, isn’t it? Isn’t that fraud?
BECKY:
Well, no, Reed, not technically. It would be very hard to prove.
REED:
What? Why?
BECKY:
Because it sounds like your parents gave your sister that money freely. There’s a witness—Rhonda—who can testify that Trimble wasn’t threatening them or holding them prisoner. She certainly didn’t steal their credit cards or checkbooks.
And like I told you, your parents are eccentric, but they’re not suffering from dementia. It’s their right to do whatever they like with their money—such as buy hundreds of cat figurines and gavels, and, unfortunately, give the rest to your sister.
REED:
Are you kidding me? How is that not illegal?
BECKY:
Because it was their money to give, Reed. Your dad earned it. Trimble asked him for it, and he gave it to her.
I agree with you that it wasn’t a wise decision, and they shouldn’t have done it, because both your sister and her husband are able-bodied adults, and from what I can see, there’s no reason that they couldn’t have gone out and earned that money for themselves.
But that’s what some parents do for their children. They sacrifice everything—everything they have—for their kids. Sometimes they do it for one child over all the others, and in my opinion, it’s often because that child is a master manipulator, like your sister.
It’s not fair, but I’ve seen it happen time and time again, and unfortunately, it’s not illegal.
What your parents did, Reed, they did out of love.
REED:
Love? What you call love, I call a crime. They have nothing left!
BECKY:
That’s why it’s good that you and Marshall and Carly called me. You’re already taking the steps you need to in order to remove your parents from what’s obviously become a toxic situation.
We’ll get your parents away from your sister, somewhere out of her reach, and in the morning you and your brother can make an appointment with an attorney to see if you can have their accounts frozen, and then do what we talked about—try to seek power of attorney to keep your parents from giving any more of their money to your sister.
REED:
Yes. Yes, okay, good. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.
BECKY:
But remember what we talked about . . . power of attorney can only be granted by your parents. You’re not going to be allowed to control your parents’ financial affairs against their will. If you try—at least while they’re still fully mentally competent—it’s only going to drive an even bigger wedge between you and your father. What he and your mother did, giving your sister all that money, they did out of a strong sense of affection . . . and maybe a little guilt, too.
REED:
Guilt? Guilt for what? My parents gave us all the best childhood any kids could ask for!
BECKY:
Reed, I’m not a psychologist. I have no idea. But I wouldn’t drag lawyers into it until I got the full story.
In cases like this, there’s usually something—who knows what—that the child is using as leverage. In my experience, it’s usually something that happened to the child that she keeps reminding the parents of, and making them feel badly about, so they continue to give her what she wants.
REED:
Jesus Christ! I always knew my family was messed up, but I never thought they were this messed up.
So, what would you do about it, then?
BECKY:
Reed . . . are you asking me professionally, or as a friend?
REED:
I’m asking you as someone who allegedly cared about me at one time.
BECKY:
I still care about you, Reed.
REED:
Do you?
BECKY:
Of course. As a friend.
REED:
What if I want to be more than friends?
BECKY:
Well, you might want to start by not dropping out of your friends’ lives without a word and then showing up again ten years later expecting to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened.
REED:
Okay. Good point. I might have a little work to do on my friendship skills—
(Loud music.)
REED:
Oh, Christ, not Harrison and the Fords again. Would you look at them? What are they going to do about those earlobes in twenty years when they’re coaching their kids’ Little League team? Those things are going to be drooping all over the place.
BECKY:
(Laughing.) Reed—
REED:
What? It’s not funny. None of this is funny.
BECKY:
I know. Except that you sound exactly like your dad.
REED:
Great. Just what every guy wants to hear. But seriously, if you were me, what would you do?
BECKY:
I would do exactly what you are doing. Get your parents away from your sister. Then let it go.
REED:
Let it go? How the hell am I going to let it go?
BECKY:
Because there’s nothing else you can do about it now. And if you don’t let it go, it’s going to eat away at you. That’s what things do, you know, if you don’t let them go.
REED:
Well, I don’t agree. I don’t agree with letting things go. Not things I care about. Not anymore. There’s plenty I can do about it.
BECKY:
Reed, there’s not. Unless . . . what—Reed, ow, you’re squeezing my hand.
REED:
Sorry. We’re going to Trimble’s house.
BECKY:
What? Why?
REED:
Because that’s where we’re going to find proof of all this. Remember, Trimble came by the house last night and rooted around through my dad’s stuff. That’s why he was so sore all day, and saying things were missing.
BECKY:
Things were missing. I had all his newspapers thrown out.
REED:
No, other things were missing, too. Trimble took stuff out of the boxes I sorted, but she took papers from Dad’s office, too. I bet some of them were important—like the deed to her husband’s new restaurant, maybe, which probably has Dad’s signature on it.
BECKY:
Reed. This is the opposite of letting things go.
REED:
Even if we can’t sue her for committing elder abuse, at the very least I’d like to be able to prove she’s been lying all this time, saying Tony’s parents paid for stuff that our parents paid for.
BECKY:
But Reed—
REED:
Come on. If we go now, we can get my niece and nephew to let us in. Trimble and Too Bad Tony are at some awards ceremony for the Kiwanis, because he’s such a model citizen.
BECKY:
Well, he might be. Maybe he doesn’t know that your parents are broke.
REED:
Becky Flowers, do you ever think ill of anyone?
BECKY:
Besides you?
REED:
Funny. Come on. Let’s get out of here before Marshall sees us. Carly has some crazy idea that we all have to eat together, to give everyone the impression that we’re one big happy family.
BECKY:
I’m not part of your family, Reed.
REED:
Not yet.
BECKY:
Now who’s being funny?
REED:
Fine. I know, I’m your client, not your friend. Well, I forgot to tell you. You’re fired.
BECKY:
What? You can’t fire me. Do you have any idea how much those Dumpsters cost? You owe me fif—
REED:
Oh, my God, really? You’ll get your money. Now let’s go.
(Music.)
CHRISTINA:
Oh, crap. Why is this—Rob! Did you see that I’d left this here? And that it was still on? Thanks for the help, Rob. No, really, you’re amazing. Did you get enough photos of Tiffany? Did you get any photos at all of—?
(End.)
(DELETE ALL)