(no subject)
Rob Chuck had just returned from lunch when the secretary greeted him.
“Your one o’clock appointment is here, Sir. I showed the reporter and photographer into your office so that the photographer could set up his lighting equipment.”
Rob nodded, opened the door to his office, and put on his best smile.
“Good afternoon.” Rob touched the edge of his Stetson hat, nodded, and offered his right hand to a young woman who stood upon his entering. He shook her hand.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Chuck. I’m Melinda O’Brien, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. This is Matthew Hart, our photographer.”
“Mister Hart,” Rob extended a hand to shake. The photographer gave a firm grip before asking if Rob would take a seat at his desk for the photo shoot. Rob obliged, and gave a broad gleaming smile while the camera clicked away.
Melinda sat back down, and quietly set out a small tape recorder, two fountain pens, and a crisp steno pad. After she had done this, Matthew gave a thumbs up, said, “Great. We’re all done, Mr. Chuck. Melinda, I’ll just start packing up my equipment, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Melinda said. She paused, and pressed two buttons on the cassette recorder, then addressed Rob.
“First of all, I would like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule for this interview. We at the Scottsbluff Gazette are thrilled to be meeting with you this afternoon. After all, it’s not often that we get to drive down to Gurley. What a quaint town this is!”
Rob raised an eyebrow. These big townie folks always looked down on our farming communities, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Still, an interview was an interview, and Rob was hoping to expand his father’s business to the entire panhandle region of Nebraska.
“Well, what it lacks in populace, it makes up for with heart and good food. You ever heard of the Runza? Well, my Pappy was good friends with the Everett family, and for a while, Bobby Chuck’s was the choice cut for all of the Runza sandwiches in the eastern end. Sometimes, my wife makes a batch for the county fair. They outsell whatever trendy fairground food is popular, every time. We take pride in Bobby Chuck’s meat.”
“I do hope we can take the factory tour?” Melinda asked.
“Actually, the processing plant is closer to Lodgepole, about forty minutes east from here. I reckon you’ll have to come back another time, if you want to get back to Scotts Bluff before rush hour. But do ask my secretary to set up an appointment, and I can take you both for a tour. It’s a hard hat area, and you’ll need to leave your high heels at home. We’ll be in farm territory out in Lodgepole.”
Melinda wrote furiously on her steno pad. “Duly noted,” she said.
“Please tell me a little bit about the Bobby Chuck’s history.”
“Well, Bobby Chuck was my Grandpappy, and he began as a butcher out in Chicago eighty years ago. When Prohibition went into effect, and crime became a problem, he decided to leave Illinois, and he was able to purchase some farmland between here and Sidney. He raised cows, pigs, and sheep, and he grew red wheat, millet and potatoes.
“Thing is, he missed making customers smile in the butcher shop every day. So after the ranch was running smoothly enough, he turned the ranching duties over to Robbie, my Pappy, and opened a new butcher shop down on 1st Street. His customer base grew so much, that he attracted attention from Denver to Omaha. The rest is history. Pappy eventually learned how to run the shop, and I took over the farm when I was sixteen.”
“Does your son run the farm now?” Melinda asked.
“Actually, I decided not to have children. My wife, Tilly, runs the ranching side of the business, but we’re both ready to take the company public. Last summer, the Monforts out in Colorado offered to buy up our land and livestock. We only farm cattle, millet, and winter wheat now, pigs were a nuisance. There are plenty of sheep farmers closer to Dalton, so I stick to what sells for us. But I’m pushing sixty now, and I’d like to call it a day, then move to Acapulco. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine.”
“I see,” Melinda said. She continued to scribble, when the buzzer on Rob’s desk sounded.
“Just a moment,” he said to Melinda, before he pushed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but there is a telephone call for Ms. O’Brien. Is she available to take the call?”
Melinda set her pen down, and stood.
“Do you mind, Mr. Chuck?”
“Please go ahead. I’ll just be finishing some paperwork here at my desk. Just knock before you come in.”
Melinda excused herself to take the phone call at the secretary’s desk. It was her boss from the Gazette. A tornado warning had been issued two counties east of where they were, and they needed a reporter in Sidney right away. After hanging up her phone, Melinda apologized to the secretary.
“I believe we’ll have to finish this interview for the Gazette another time. I have to get to Sidney right away. Can you give me instructions? I can navigate while Mister Hart drives, he’s needed too.”
“Certainly,” said the secretary before adding, “My, it’s a lively interview today. I do hope nothing is the matter.”
There was a loud rumbling sound on the other side of the wall.
“Sounds like the lighting equipment fell over. I should go help Mister Hart,” Melinda said, and made her way quickly to the office door.
She opened it, and proceeded to enter.
“Mister Chuck, you’ll have to excu- “ Melinda gasped, “Oh no. Oh dear, this is unexpected!”
Rob Chuck and Matthew Hart were in the middle of a very tight embrace against the wall. The Stetson hat sailed across Melinda’s view, and the air smelled heavily of sweat.
“For Pete’s sake, O’Brien! Shut the door, I was having a moment with Rob here!” Matthew Hart shouted. Melinda exited the room quickly, and shut the door.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it to Sidney in time,” she said. Melinda sank to the ground in shock. “I think my photographer just assaulted your boss.”
The secretary looked up from her typewriter. “What?” she said with a quizzical expression. “That’s nonsense. Mister Hart visits the office at least once a week. They are, what I like to call, close friends.”
Melinda’s eyes widened. “Close friends? They appear to be lovers! That’s a sin! What does Mrs. Chuck think of all of this? How can she be with a queer man?”
The secretary laughed. “I’m Mrs. Chuck, didn’t you know? I’m Tilly!” she rose from her desk, and proffered her hand to Melinda.
“Rob can choose whomever he likes, I don’t care a lick. We’re terrific business partners, and have been for nearly thirty years. Besides, a woman cannot come out as queer in these parts, even if men can. So we kept our sexuality a secret, and created a public marriage in our business profile to keep gossips out of our business. Oh come now, have a seat, Ms. O’Brien. Your face will be stuck like that forever if you don’t catch a grip. Come sit,” Tilly gestured to a seat.
“So this whole thing is a sham?” Melinda mouthed.
“Absolutely not. I love Rob like a brother. And I love our business too. When we sell to the Monforts this October, I’m moving to Santa Fe with my girlfriend. If I were you, I’d get over your small-town mentality, and become a little more accepting. Rob does adore your photographer partner, Matthew. I think after the sale, they’re planning to move to Mexico together and settle down together. Aren’t you happy for them? For us?”
“Oh absolutely not! And no wonder Matthew never so much as noticed any of the passes I made at him over the last year. I can’t believe I’d become infatuated with a queer man, but-“
“Oh, I’m sure there’s someone for you, just get over it. Someday, we queer folk won’t have to hide in the proverbial closet. At least our beef is 100%, unlike certain fast food chains that cut theirs with corn and sawdust.”
Melinda stood. “I need to get my things. This, I guarantee, is going in the Gazette. This is an abomination to the panhandle of Nebraska!”
The door opened, and Rob Chuck stepped into the office, his Stetson firmly on his head. He smiled warmly at Melinda, and once again offered his hand for a shake. Melinda flinched, and shook her head.
Rob reached into his back pocket, and took out his wallet. “How much can I offer you to keep this to yourself? Matthew took the liberty of stopping your cassette recorder when you left to take your phone call, so I’m afraid there is no evidence that you’ve spied anything out of the ordinary.”
Matthew emerged from the office looking a little disheveled, but very happy. He had his equipment packed and ready to go. He also had a bag, which held Melinda’s belongings.
“Please don’t tell the main office,” Matthew pleaded. “I’m turning in my notice next month anyway, Rob’s asked me to move to Mexico with him, and I said, ‘yes.’”
“What is happening today? We’re supposed to have had a quiet interview, and- WAIT! We’re supposed to drive to Sidney and report on the tornado warning! We have to go! But-“ Melinda hesitated, “why should I not tell? You’re fooling around on the job, and committing a sin, and-“
“Okay, you’re a homophobe, I get it. And to think I actually looked up to you as a colleague, O’Brien.” Matthew Hart shook his head sadly.
Something about that look of desolation made Melinda reconsider. Was she a homophobe? It was 1985, and homosexuality was becoming more accepted. Maybe she was in the wrong. Melinda sighed.
“Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Melinda said. “But I still think you’re wrong!”
Rob held out his hand once more. In his hand rested a thousand dollars’ worth of crisp bills.
“I’m going to have to request that you not print anything about Bobby Chuck’s in the Gazette. I’m sure you heard from Tilly here that we’re selling the business, and then we’re hanging up our hats and saddlin’ on. There’s no point of printing yesterday’s news, and the public doesn’t need to know about the sale just yet, nor of our personal lives. Perhaps this sum will make up for it?”
Melinda nodded, then took the crisp bills. She didn’t care a lick about Bobby Chuck’s meats, but she did respect Matthew Hart. That, and the money, were enough to keep things quiet. Besides, tornado reports sold more papers anyway.
Matthew Hart grinned sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Rob, picked up the equipment, and sailed out of the office. “Call you tonight, my love!” he said as he left. Melinda nodded, and followed behind. Time to go chase that twister.
“Your one o’clock appointment is here, Sir. I showed the reporter and photographer into your office so that the photographer could set up his lighting equipment.”
Rob nodded, opened the door to his office, and put on his best smile.
“Good afternoon.” Rob touched the edge of his Stetson hat, nodded, and offered his right hand to a young woman who stood upon his entering. He shook her hand.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Chuck. I’m Melinda O’Brien, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. This is Matthew Hart, our photographer.”
“Mister Hart,” Rob extended a hand to shake. The photographer gave a firm grip before asking if Rob would take a seat at his desk for the photo shoot. Rob obliged, and gave a broad gleaming smile while the camera clicked away.
Melinda sat back down, and quietly set out a small tape recorder, two fountain pens, and a crisp steno pad. After she had done this, Matthew gave a thumbs up, said, “Great. We’re all done, Mr. Chuck. Melinda, I’ll just start packing up my equipment, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Melinda said. She paused, and pressed two buttons on the cassette recorder, then addressed Rob.
“First of all, I would like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule for this interview. We at the Scottsbluff Gazette are thrilled to be meeting with you this afternoon. After all, it’s not often that we get to drive down to Gurley. What a quaint town this is!”
Rob raised an eyebrow. These big townie folks always looked down on our farming communities, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Still, an interview was an interview, and Rob was hoping to expand his father’s business to the entire panhandle region of Nebraska.
“Well, what it lacks in populace, it makes up for with heart and good food. You ever heard of the Runza? Well, my Pappy was good friends with the Everett family, and for a while, Bobby Chuck’s was the choice cut for all of the Runza sandwiches in the eastern end. Sometimes, my wife makes a batch for the county fair. They outsell whatever trendy fairground food is popular, every time. We take pride in Bobby Chuck’s meat.”
“I do hope we can take the factory tour?” Melinda asked.
“Actually, the processing plant is closer to Lodgepole, about forty minutes east from here. I reckon you’ll have to come back another time, if you want to get back to Scotts Bluff before rush hour. But do ask my secretary to set up an appointment, and I can take you both for a tour. It’s a hard hat area, and you’ll need to leave your high heels at home. We’ll be in farm territory out in Lodgepole.”
Melinda wrote furiously on her steno pad. “Duly noted,” she said.
“Please tell me a little bit about the Bobby Chuck’s history.”
“Well, Bobby Chuck was my Grandpappy, and he began as a butcher out in Chicago eighty years ago. When Prohibition went into effect, and crime became a problem, he decided to leave Illinois, and he was able to purchase some farmland between here and Sidney. He raised cows, pigs, and sheep, and he grew red wheat, millet and potatoes.
“Thing is, he missed making customers smile in the butcher shop every day. So after the ranch was running smoothly enough, he turned the ranching duties over to Robbie, my Pappy, and opened a new butcher shop down on 1st Street. His customer base grew so much, that he attracted attention from Denver to Omaha. The rest is history. Pappy eventually learned how to run the shop, and I took over the farm when I was sixteen.”
“Does your son run the farm now?” Melinda asked.
“Actually, I decided not to have children. My wife, Tilly, runs the ranching side of the business, but we’re both ready to take the company public. Last summer, the Monforts out in Colorado offered to buy up our land and livestock. We only farm cattle, millet, and winter wheat now, pigs were a nuisance. There are plenty of sheep farmers closer to Dalton, so I stick to what sells for us. But I’m pushing sixty now, and I’d like to call it a day, then move to Acapulco. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine.”
“I see,” Melinda said. She continued to scribble, when the buzzer on Rob’s desk sounded.
“Just a moment,” he said to Melinda, before he pushed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but there is a telephone call for Ms. O’Brien. Is she available to take the call?”
Melinda set her pen down, and stood.
“Do you mind, Mr. Chuck?”
“Please go ahead. I’ll just be finishing some paperwork here at my desk. Just knock before you come in.”
Melinda excused herself to take the phone call at the secretary’s desk. It was her boss from the Gazette. A tornado warning had been issued two counties east of where they were, and they needed a reporter in Sidney right away. After hanging up her phone, Melinda apologized to the secretary.
“I believe we’ll have to finish this interview for the Gazette another time. I have to get to Sidney right away. Can you give me instructions? I can navigate while Mister Hart drives, he’s needed too.”
“Certainly,” said the secretary before adding, “My, it’s a lively interview today. I do hope nothing is the matter.”
There was a loud rumbling sound on the other side of the wall.
“Sounds like the lighting equipment fell over. I should go help Mister Hart,” Melinda said, and made her way quickly to the office door.
She opened it, and proceeded to enter.
“Mister Chuck, you’ll have to excu- “ Melinda gasped, “Oh no. Oh dear, this is unexpected!”
Rob Chuck and Matthew Hart were in the middle of a very tight embrace against the wall. The Stetson hat sailed across Melinda’s view, and the air smelled heavily of sweat.
“For Pete’s sake, O’Brien! Shut the door, I was having a moment with Rob here!” Matthew Hart shouted. Melinda exited the room quickly, and shut the door.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it to Sidney in time,” she said. Melinda sank to the ground in shock. “I think my photographer just assaulted your boss.”
The secretary looked up from her typewriter. “What?” she said with a quizzical expression. “That’s nonsense. Mister Hart visits the office at least once a week. They are, what I like to call, close friends.”
Melinda’s eyes widened. “Close friends? They appear to be lovers! That’s a sin! What does Mrs. Chuck think of all of this? How can she be with a queer man?”
The secretary laughed. “I’m Mrs. Chuck, didn’t you know? I’m Tilly!” she rose from her desk, and proffered her hand to Melinda.
“Rob can choose whomever he likes, I don’t care a lick. We’re terrific business partners, and have been for nearly thirty years. Besides, a woman cannot come out as queer in these parts, even if men can. So we kept our sexuality a secret, and created a public marriage in our business profile to keep gossips out of our business. Oh come now, have a seat, Ms. O’Brien. Your face will be stuck like that forever if you don’t catch a grip. Come sit,” Tilly gestured to a seat.
“So this whole thing is a sham?” Melinda mouthed.
“Absolutely not. I love Rob like a brother. And I love our business too. When we sell to the Monforts this October, I’m moving to Santa Fe with my girlfriend. If I were you, I’d get over your small-town mentality, and become a little more accepting. Rob does adore your photographer partner, Matthew. I think after the sale, they’re planning to move to Mexico together and settle down together. Aren’t you happy for them? For us?”
“Oh absolutely not! And no wonder Matthew never so much as noticed any of the passes I made at him over the last year. I can’t believe I’d become infatuated with a queer man, but-“
“Oh, I’m sure there’s someone for you, just get over it. Someday, we queer folk won’t have to hide in the proverbial closet. At least our beef is 100%, unlike certain fast food chains that cut theirs with corn and sawdust.”
Melinda stood. “I need to get my things. This, I guarantee, is going in the Gazette. This is an abomination to the panhandle of Nebraska!”
The door opened, and Rob Chuck stepped into the office, his Stetson firmly on his head. He smiled warmly at Melinda, and once again offered his hand for a shake. Melinda flinched, and shook her head.
Rob reached into his back pocket, and took out his wallet. “How much can I offer you to keep this to yourself? Matthew took the liberty of stopping your cassette recorder when you left to take your phone call, so I’m afraid there is no evidence that you’ve spied anything out of the ordinary.”
Matthew emerged from the office looking a little disheveled, but very happy. He had his equipment packed and ready to go. He also had a bag, which held Melinda’s belongings.
“Please don’t tell the main office,” Matthew pleaded. “I’m turning in my notice next month anyway, Rob’s asked me to move to Mexico with him, and I said, ‘yes.’”
“What is happening today? We’re supposed to have had a quiet interview, and- WAIT! We’re supposed to drive to Sidney and report on the tornado warning! We have to go! But-“ Melinda hesitated, “why should I not tell? You’re fooling around on the job, and committing a sin, and-“
“Okay, you’re a homophobe, I get it. And to think I actually looked up to you as a colleague, O’Brien.” Matthew Hart shook his head sadly.
Something about that look of desolation made Melinda reconsider. Was she a homophobe? It was 1985, and homosexuality was becoming more accepted. Maybe she was in the wrong. Melinda sighed.
“Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Melinda said. “But I still think you’re wrong!”
Rob held out his hand once more. In his hand rested a thousand dollars’ worth of crisp bills.
“I’m going to have to request that you not print anything about Bobby Chuck’s in the Gazette. I’m sure you heard from Tilly here that we’re selling the business, and then we’re hanging up our hats and saddlin’ on. There’s no point of printing yesterday’s news, and the public doesn’t need to know about the sale just yet, nor of our personal lives. Perhaps this sum will make up for it?”
Melinda nodded, then took the crisp bills. She didn’t care a lick about Bobby Chuck’s meats, but she did respect Matthew Hart. That, and the money, were enough to keep things quiet. Besides, tornado reports sold more papers anyway.
Matthew Hart grinned sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Rob, picked up the equipment, and sailed out of the office. “Call you tonight, my love!” he said as he left. Melinda nodded, and followed behind. Time to go chase that twister.