“I want to tell you a story about an enthusiastic Columbia student I met almost twenty years ago…” he started saying to a roaring crowd.
Madeline knew exactly what he was going to say—he was going to talk about her idealism, her hard work, and how she was the future of this country. She didn’t need to listen. She turned her attention to Hunter and pursed her lips in a smile. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she responded to him. “You probably need to speak with a New York Senator about whatever you’re looking for.” Madeline was used to being asked for favors by city officials. They were always lobbying her for funding in their districts—new freeways that needed to be built, agricultural lands that needed to be reapportioned. Senators often stuck footnotes into bills that appropriated funds for pet projects in their states. It was something Madeline hated doing, but it had to be done. After all, all the other senators did it—why shouldn’t she? Especially when she was representing one of the most populated states.
“This isn’t about politics,” he said quietly, leaning toward her. “I gave you a deadline. Tick tock, according to Jane, there is just under five minutes left.”
Suddenly Madeline woke up. Her ears, like antennas, caught the signal Hunter was sending and everything made sense. It was Hunter. From the beginning. How could she have been so blind?
“You want a million dollars or you’re going to ruin my career?”
“I knew you were smart,” he responded, pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. “You see, this here is my second speech. It talks about how we met: you were a privileged Columbia student, slumming it with me. Dating me made you feel so good about yourself that you could pretend you weren’t racist and you’re still pretending. But you are racists. Once I served my purpose, you dumped me to get ahead.”
“I didn’t dump you—”
“Let me finish telling you about my speech! Then, years later, when you’re busy living your white privileged life in California you come back to me and make love to me. And you act like you really loved me, but then you go back to your white privileged life because you can. And because you chose privilege over love.
“Everyone thinks that Madeline is the perfect woman—beautiful, an amazing mom, wife, politician—but it’s all a lie. She’s a racist and an adulterer and I have the proof. Once I’m finished talking, all the newspapers in the country will receive proof of Madeline’s indiscretions. See the pictures and then decide if this is the person you want to represent you. The person pretending she wants to fix race issues in America, when she is part of the problem. The person lying to you about her perfect marriage.”
Madeline held her jaw closed as she listened to Hunter speak. “How did you take those pictures? And Why?”
“It was pretty easy. I took the picture of you in bed because I wanted to remember the moment. You didn’t even notice when I snapped the camera. The other picture was handed to me.”
“Other pictures,” Madeline said, but she didn’t wait for Hunter to acknowledge her correction. “Is this revenge?” she asked. “Because you think I dumped you? Or that I used you?”
“I guess. You’re so privileged that you think you did nothing wrong.”
“So why do you want the money? If it’s revenge, isn’t destroying my career good enough for you?”
“Well, I need the money now. You can’t imagine what it costs to get divorced, especially when it’s cross country in California. But I guess maybe you’ll find out soon enough, or you won’t because you white privilege people don’t do that. You’re like the Clintons, you stay together because it’s good for your careers.”
“You realize that blackmailing me is illegal. That I have an FBI team investigating this. That one phone call to them and you would go to jail. Another expense trial for you.”
“That was a risk I was willing to take. Because, you see, I know you. If you take me down, I’m taking you down with me. Tell the FBI it was me, and I’ll release everything to the press. I’d go to jail, and you’d be ruined. You’d just go home to your fake marriage—another kind of jail. You wouldn’t do that to yourself. So you see Maddy, we’re in this together. I go down, you go down.”
Madeline’s thoughts swirled in her head. She had loved Hunter so much, truly loved him, and a part of her still held those feelings for him. She had never believed that race was an issue in their relationship—but was there a chance he was right? That she was so privileged that she could believe that race wasn’t an issue? Would news of her infidelity be even worse because it was with an African American? If she could overcome infidelity—there was a slim chance—she could never overcome racism. There was no rectifying that accusation in politics. She’d never make it to the White House. Her heart started to pound, she could feel beads of sweat collecting around her made up face, but she tried to keep her face straight.
“Two minutes!” Jane yelled.
“And if I pay, how do I know you won’t come back in a year and do this again?”
“You’d have to trust me. I’ll give you all the copies I have of the photographs. And I’ll give you my word.” Madeline wanted to believe she could still trust him. Her heart did, her heart always trusted him, that he would always cherish her the way he once had. “What’s it going to be, Maddy?”
Madeline looked to the stage where Mark Waldo was finishing his introduction. “Now, things have been difficult in this country lately, especially in the last 24 hours. And Madeline
