Page 26 of The Bishop

“I have another event to go to.”

“But…”

“Everything is there and ready to be served,” Gaston said as he trotted off to the back door and out.

“Great,” Bishop said.

“What’s the problem?” I said. “Everything is done. All we have to do is the service.”

As we were notified of the guests that were arriving, Bishop opened bottles of champagne, and we went out with trays laden with flutes of bubbly.

The guests, a who’s who of wealthy elites, strolled throughout the ballroom, chatting about money, yachts, summer mansions in Nice and winter chalets in Switzerland.

They took their flutes of champagne without glancing at the server. We were invisible. We didn’t exist other than to serve them.

While I had expected a degree of haughtiness, I was surprised by the degrading sense it left me with.

After meandering through these elites for half an hour, they were finally seated, and the first course was served.

In the distance, I saw Bishop and Deacon. They had both left the kitchen and had joinedtheir kind.

“How are things going out there?” Trenton asked as I came back into the kitchen. He’d taken the role of orchestrating the service of each course.

“Hard to tell,” I said. “They’re all so cool and aloof. Nothing impresses these people.”

I picked up a large tray laden with bowls of creamy soup and set out to the guests. After setting down three bowls, all while smiling at the patrons, I realized there was no point smiling at all. No one bothered to look up at me.

Right. Invisible, remember?

While a team of three went around clearing the empty bowls of soup, I picked up another tray and prepared to bring it out.

“After this comes the bison,” Trenton said.

“Gotcha,” I said as I walked out for the same routine.

Ignored. Ignored. Oh? A pinch on the ass by an old bugger. Then ignored again.

“And finally the main course,” I said as I returned to the kitchen. “This is insane.”

“That’s the service trade for you.”

“Where’s this bison?”

He pointed to the plates. Thin slices of bison were laid out in a rich and delicious smelling sauce. With the help of another pledge, the main dish was served to all.

Setting down the last plate, I noticed the dean trying to catch my eye. He stood and came to me.

“Brook,” he said. “This is Mrs. Tran, Mr. Manning and Mr. Preston.”

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, wondering why I was being introduced to these people.

“They’re on the committee,” the dean explained.

“Oh.”

“The meal so far is very good,” Mrs. Tran said.

“We’re very impressed with the work your team has done,” Mr. Manning added.

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