Many in attendance were waiting for a reason to be provided by Jeremiah Trehoviak in his speech about why they should join and vote for the CWP this election cycle.
From the universal looks of delight on people’s faces as they enjoyed their first and second courses, some might well have voted for the CWP that very evening. Others ogled the Hoviaks as they, both male and female Hoviaks, walked around in uniforms with aprons and responded to requests as guests licked their lips, and the guests pretended to stare at the food rather than at the Hoviaks themselves.
The Hoviaks stood strategically around the room.
They smiled constantly, served, and removed food in unison, and offered light banter to those who wanted it.
We all waited for Jeremiah Trehoviak, Chief Justice Cathay, and the Speaker of the House to arrive.
Hannah and I stood close to the entrance, watching Larry, Amandine, Andy and the other partners weave their way around the room, greet people, and schmooze.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked Hannah.
“They’re good.” Hannah nodded. “You’ve got to give it to them. They’re really good at this.”
“I’m not talking about Larry, Amandine, and Andy,” I told Hannah.
“I know. You’re talking about the Hoviaks. It’s like a symphony—”
“Yep. Beautiful to watch, like a dance.”
“Look at how Mike’s flirting with that couple.” Hannah sighed.
“He’s not the only one,” I said. “They’re flirting with everyone at every table. Nothing will ever come of all that flirting, but that’s how you win votes. It’s all about the show.”
“See?” Hannah asked as she looked at the table closest to us. “The female Hoviaks are talking to certain people only, and it’s the same for the men. It’s like they’re focusing on specific people at each table.”
“Yep,” I responded. “They probably studied that list of who was coming, and they assigned specific people to certain tables. Table 1 over there, the one with the justices of the California Supreme Court, has six Hoviaks waiting on it, and there are only four people seated at that table. Table 1A, with four senators, all male, has only female Hoviaks serving it. Table 1AA, with another five senators, is served by an all-female Hoviak team, and it has both male and female senators. In fact, 1AA has more Hoviaks than most tables, presumably because the senator from Texas has a medical issue, and she needs help sitting and getting up. Table 1AAA has three senators, a representative of the Lethal Weapons League, and a Hollywood agent. There are only tall Hoviak women, six of them, serving that table. The CWP is clearly committed to winning this next election, having lost the two previous ones to Governor Barrow.”
“I’m hungry,” Hannah said.
“So am I. I guess we eat at the end, though.”
“Uh-uh.” Hannah shook her head. “I won’t make it past eight. I only had that expensive bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee at around 8 a.m. I’m starving, and I’ve been telling everyone I’m going to be eating caviar for dinner that retails at around $50,000 a pop. WS&X bills me out at $850 an hour. I billed 2,500 hours last year for them, excluding pro bono. They can afford to feed me a tablespoon or two of caviar and some monkfish.”
“Let me ask where our food is,” I said. “Larry said we wouldn’t sit with the guests, though.”
“Right now,” Hannah said, “I honestly don’t care as long as they feed me.”
Hannah inadvertently licked her lips as she looked at Table 1, where the justices of the Supreme Court of California were scrolling down the screens of their smartphones as they took in large mouthfuls of cream of asparagus soup, and one of them burped.
“I just need to eat before I introduce Trehoviak,” Hannah said.
I instinctively reached for my jacket pocket to get my cell phone so that I could take photos of everyone in attendance as proof that I was actually there when it all began. I remembered that I’d surrendered my cell phone, just like almost everyone else, except the justices. The Hoviaks also required us all to go through metal detectors and security searches, with sniffer dogs and everything, before we entered the conference room.
I walked to the massive kitchen at the back of the conference room, where I was met by two Hoviaks with smiles as broad as summer.
“Janet, hi,” one of them said. “Great to see you. How may we help you?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you all. I know you’re very busy. Is there any food for Hannah and me? Hannah’s going to be introducing Mr. Hovi—Mr. Trehoviak, and apart from the partners, we’re the only two who were selected by the firm to attend tonight. We’re kind of hungry. I’m so sorry to ask, but we’re just standing around watching everything, and we could use some food if that’s OK.”
“Of course,” a CWP member said. “Why don’t you and Hannah come on in, and we’ll make sure you get something to eat before Mr. Trehoviak arrives, which is in about, um, twenty minutes? Would that be OK?”
“Thank you.”
“Here’s the menu, Janet.”
* * *
THE CALIFORNIA WATER PARTY
Appetizer
Mesclun salad with a balsamic-shallot vinaigrette
Main Course
Chicken pot pie
Dessert
Your choice of sorbet
* * *
“Hi, um, I think there’s an error,” I said. “This is not the menu.”
“But it is the absolute, honest, truthful menu,” another Hoviak said. “It’s the one, true menu for the staff, Janet. The nine-course menu is only for the guests who’ve paid and spent money to be here.”
I sighed.
How could I have been so presumptuous as to think that I’d be served caviar and monkfish? I let it go. I thought of my job, of what it might look like for the secretary to argue with the billionaire’s staff over her “right to some caviar and monkfish, glib heifer.”
“This, this staff menu looks great, though,” I said.
I took a deep breath as I stared at the three-course menu.
“I’ve always loved chicken pot pie,” I said, trying to comfort myself. “My parents just love pies like steak and kidney pies, Cornish pasties, and pepper steak pies. Why don’t I get Hannah, and we’ll come back and take a seat at the table over there and enjoy our dinner before the important guests arrive?”
“It’s really and truly a great menu,” the Hoviak said, who enjoyed being redundant and superfluous. “The staff menu was selected because it presents us with an absolute and total balance between a modest water footprint and water-rich foods.”
I didn’t understand a word of what had just been said, so I smiled, rubbed my pregnant tummy, and went to get Hannah.
“You’re kidding, right?” Hannah asked the Hoviak delivering the bad news, whose name turned out to be ‘Louise.’
Louise, I came to realize, had a habit of batting her eyelids at people when she was nervous, and then she’d smile and unconsciously run her tongue over her front teeth like she was licking off excess lipstick. Louise also sat down and panted a little before standing up, batting her eyelids, and panting a little more like she was a celebrity wishing a president happy birthday.
“But it is the honest, true menu,” Louise said. “We talked and chatted about it at Scrimmage today. You know, the expensive, pricey stuff is only for paying guests, who’ve spent money to be here. Everyone else, including us, gets the water-modest meal and not the water-rich foods.”
“The what?” Hannah said. “Did you guys play football before you came here that you were at a scrimmage?”
“No, we did not,” Louise said. “When we all come together and unite as one great, big, giant CWP family that’s fighting and struggling for the heart and soul of California, and we draw a line between us and others by saying our seven postulates and beliefs, that’s ‘Scrimmage.’”
“Whatever,” Hannah said. “Louise, here’s the story.”
By now, three other Hoviak
s stood around us, listening intently.
“I’ve only had a bagel for breakfast with some coffee,” Hannah said. “I’m actually starving right now, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to eat what they get to eat. It kind of comes with working here.”
“I didn’t know, and I wasn’t aware, that you’re starving,” Louise said. “You don’t look like you’re starving.”
“What!” Hannah said in feigned disgust. “How dare you imply that I’m overweight!”
Hannah stared at me, egging me on with her eyes.
“She isn’t overweight,” I said. “She only puts on weight when she’s very stressed, like when she has a major court filing and isn’t taking care of herself. I’m the one who eats all the buttermilk biscuits and the pastries, and I’m not overweight. Even if I were, I’m not ashamed of myself, and I don’t mean to be rude either, but we both work here, and we’re both hungry. We were told we’d have dinner with everyone else.”
Hannah looked at me and smirked.
“Neither of us overeats,” I said, trying to make everything OK, “except when we . . .” I stopped talking because I realized that I was sounding a little silly and insensitive.
“Louise.” Hannah sighed and shook her head. She wiped her forehead. “You honestly can’t be serious. You’re supposed to be the morals party. We respect that. You’re clients of the firm, and our clients mean everything to us. Thank you for your business. But we’re not talking to you as your attorneys now but as fellow Californians, your fellow constituents, Louise. Please serve us the nine courses.”
Louise scratched her left arm, looked at those around her, and appeared to be on the verge of tears. The other Hoviaks had gone back to serving meals and drinks. Louise wiped her eyes.
“It’s just that, um, well . . .” Louise shook her head and panted again. “Well, Mike and Greta said at Scrimmage that we must save the bounty and abundance that the Right Path has given to us, and we shouldn’t be spendthrift or wasteful with our water allocations.”
“Huh?” I said.
“Huh?” Hannah said. “What’s that got to do with denying your fellow constituents a delicious, tasty, mouthwatering meal in these hard times, Louise? Why did you join this party if not to share the bounty and abundance of your great, big water allocations with everyone? Janet and I particularly loved your commandment number six: ‘The Right Path wants us to thrive.’ Caviar, monkfish, and s’mores bars allow us, as fellow Californian voters, to thrive—”
“And veal,” I said, completing Hannah’s thought, “with a dollop of caviar and a blini help us thrive as fellow Californians and fellow Americans who watch the California Homeland Channel. We’re also very interested in Eleena’s Story.”
Hannah gave me a confused look.
I shrugged. I was trying.
We both knew we were treading a very fine line. We could get fired and destroy our careers for pushing our luck. I could see it now, “Lawyer and Secretary Try to Extort Rich Client,” “Overweight African Secretary Who Loves Buttermilk Biscuits and Pecan Pies Demands Nine-Course Meal,” and “‘Please, Louise. We Want Six More Courses’: The Greedy Get Greedier.”
“Of course,” I said to Louise, “we could be mistaken about our right to nine courses, in which case I very sincerely apologize because, as Hannah said, we thank you for your business and, um—”
“It’s just that we positively, totally must avoid death, devastation, and destruction at all costs,” Louise said. “We have a moral duty to keep our waters and our morals intact and unbroken.” Louise batted her eyelids. “It’s also because we believe in private property and in our constitutional right to defend and protect it, which includes our monkfish and our lobster medallions.”
Louise then stared at us as if she were shocked by what she’d just said.
“It’s positively, truly why I joined the CWP,” Louise continued undeterred. “I’m from the Great Plains, and I moved here many years ago, which is a long time ago. It was so tough and hard and difficult for people like me, and the CWP gave me a meaning and a purpose to respond to water impacts on a global and worldwide scale. We all joined and became members because we’re one great, big, giant CWP family, who care for each other and look after each other in these times. So many migrants, people who’ve moved around, even in the kitchen here, are from all over, everywhere, and we all love and adore the CWP because—”
“Louise, sweetie,” Hannah said, “could you get your supervisor?”
“We don’t have supervisors. So, there aren’t any supervisors,” Louise said. “We only have a ‘First’ and a ‘Second’ in the kitchen.”
“Louise, sweetie, whatever you call them, please get them for me,” Hannah said.
Louise brought two Hoviaks.
“I hear you wanted to talk to the First,” said the first lady, whose name tag said “Sheila.” Sheila had seven gold stripes on her shoulder board; Louise had two. Sheila was elegant, but she looked insatiable—like her hunger could only be sated by humiliating people.
I told myself not to be afraid.
She couldn’t outdo me.
I, after all, had a gap in my teeth and Sheila had none.
“Hey, Sheila,” I said as I gulped a little air. “I’m a proud pregnant mother of two beautiful, um, California babies.” I rubbed my tummy and smiled. “Louise may be trying to deprive me of nutrients to which I may be entitled, or not—”
“That can only be found in monkfish and lobster medallions,” Hannah said.
“Have you guys been, um . . . ?” The second lady, whose name tag said “Miriam,” and who also had seven gold stripes on her shoulder board, made the sound of someone smoking and choking on marijuana. Miriam wanted to know if we’d been smoking some reefer.
“What!” I said in feigned shock. “I would never, even if it’s legal!”
“I have never,” Hannah said, “even when it was illegal!”
“Look,” Sheila said, “you both want some expensive caviar with your dinner. You want the soup, the appetizer, some salad, fish, the main course, the palate cleanser, some dessert, and the little bites. We all get that.”
“We really do get it,” Miriam said. “But there are paths you have to travel before you can eat with those who’ve arrived. Most are at the bottom of the pyramid, and they spend their lives there. We love our state, and we love our country. But there’s something to believing in a meritocracy in which those who work harder than everyone else get to eat nine-course meals while others get to eat three courses (or fewer) until they deserve four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine courses. They are over there because they belong over there with their own kind whom the Right Path has blessed. The Right Path is everything.”
“So, if we allowed you to eat the nine courses,” Sheila said, “we’d be going against our beliefs. We would be in violation of beliefs two, three, five, six, and seven. Anton wouldn’t like that.”
“We’d also be in violation of postulates one through five,” Miriam said. “Anton wouldn’t like that at all.”
“But we aren’t without mercy,” Sheila said. “As First in hospitality tonight, my Second and I will take a few moments to discuss if we could take into consideration the fact that you both work here, that you’ve both contributed to the CWP through your work, and that you’re pregnant.”
“Great,” Hannah said sarcastically.
The two Hoviaks walked away and drew all the other Hoviaks in the kitchen to them for another “Scrimmage” during which they repeated their beliefs and postulates. A brief discussion followed, and the “First” and “Second” returned with their verdict.
“Sorry, we truly appreciate everything you’ve done for the CWP,” Sheila said. “But we just can’t allow any violations of Scrimmage. It’s three courses or nothing.”
7
Three Stories
Lobster medallions with a lemon butter sauce were now served. So were the third courses of every specially ordered m
eal. The CWP received requests for wines like Zanzivahl Cabernet 2011, Zanzivahl Vineyard 1976, Zanzivahl Estate 1994, and Zanzivahl Grand 2026.
“They get wine that goes for up to $7,000 a bottle.” Hannah folded her arms. “And we get bupkis.”
Two justices of the California Supreme Court, almost in unison, requested what we later saw was Zanzivahl Bubbly 2014. Another justice asked for Zanzivahl Cognac 1980 (presented in a crystal carafe), and the other wanted a gimlet with mint. Three senators asked for a cosmopolitan, two an amaretto sour, four a vodka martini, and one for sparkling water.
At around 7:30 p.m., all the Hoviaks in the room looked at their watches. They smiled with the excitement of children during the holidays. Alternating male and female, the Hoviaks from the kitchen filed into the conference room and lined the walls.
Well over a hundred Hoviaks were in the room, and there was some lechery at the senators’ tables as some licked their lips at particular Hoviaks. A senator from California winked at a female Hoviak, who nodded politely in return and shuffled about uneasily. Mike walked up to her and said something. She nodded, smiled, and nodded again at the senator. She was wearing a wedding band, and from the way a male Hoviak standing close to her responded, he was her husband, and he wasn’t impressed. His Adam’s apple moved up and down like it had its own dance routine, even as he tried to remain tall and expressionless.
“See that?” Hannah asked.
“Yep. Naughty senator.”
At 7:35, CWP women with earpieces, a baton on one hip, and a firearm on the other, entered the room. The Lethal Weapons League representative stood up and applauded as they walked in, and others in the room joined him, clapping energetically and smiling, including a few senators. The Speaker of the House, Raphael Imaga, entered the room to general applause, followed by seven more armed CWP women with earpieces. Then came a tall unarmed and stern-looking man, who, if he smiled, might have been photogenic. Some Hoviaks tensed up as he entered the room.
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