She drove her car to Hunter’s hotel. It wasn’t the Langham, but it was a nice hotel. A large parking lot underneath, carpeted elevators with upbeat music in the background. She wondered if this was where Hunter always stayed when coming to California for his divorce court hearings. She took the elevator up to his floor and walked out into the hallway. A mirror across the way caught her off guard. The face looking back at her knew what she needed to do.
Chapter 37
Inside his hotel room, Hunter was sweating. He had the air conditioning turned on high, but it wasn’t helping the dripping down his back. He had just gotten off the phone with Bumpy. It would be a complete understatement to say Bumpy wasn’t happy. He was livid. Raged. Fuming. He didn’t like showing up at Hunter’s office to find it closed. Especially when Hunter owed him money.
Hunter would get the money for him. He had to, he didn’t see any other choices. He thought he heard the elevator ding, but when he opened the door, the hall was empty. Where was she? It’s funny how things spiral, Hunter thought to himself as he waited.
To be honest, Hunter wasn’t sure how he got caught up in this mess. He had always been an idealist and moralist. He believed in hard work and taking care of himself and his family. Those things seem so easy when you’re younger. There would be no reasons to stray.
One of his early goals was to be a man his children would be proud of. That’s why he worked hard and bought the landscaping business. He thought he was doing a good job, providing and taking care of his family. But then, one day, a remark from Rhonda made him realize his failure. She was sitting in the kitchen holding a book that their daughter had brought home from the school library. Half the pages were ripped out and the other half had been drawn all over. “What’s the point of going to school in Harlem, anyways,” she said and Hunter nodded.
Maybe the easy solution would have been to move his family Downtown. Certainly they could afford to rent a small place in one of the neighborhoods where his business primmed the fauna. Maybe one of his clients would have given him a good deal. But Hunter loved Harlem and the easy road wasn’t his normal route. So he decided that if he wouldn’t switch neighborhoods, he would change the neighborhood. And that’s when he decided to run for city council.
He could see Rhonda’s disapproval. Sure, she would have liked to live somewhere else, but this was more important. City council also came with a good salary and he promised to himself that he would provide Rhonda and his children the life they deserved, even in Harlem. He’d have to work harder, but it would be worth it.
The election was easy. The previous city council member from Harlem was retiring and had helped Hunter. In fact, no one was even running against him, which made him feel a little like the win was undeserved. But no matter, he would prove himself in office.
His predecessor congratulated him and promised to help him get started at the beginning of his term. Hunter was thankful because he really had no idea what he was supposed to be doing on a daily basis. What did politicians do all day? He briefly thought about Madeline, how she would know the answer, but he wouldn’t talk to her. The last time he saw her—a few years back when she was visiting New York—he made a dreadful mistake. He couldn’t trust himself around her and he didn’t want to betray his wife or family again.
His first year in office, his predecessor came almost every day to sit with him. He’d introduce Hunter with locals that Hunter needed to know and give him insights about dealing with other city council members. Hunter even brought him along to a few introduction meetings he had set up for himself. Everyone seemed to like his predecessor and he appeared to be pretty good at getting things done, so Hunter respected him. He wanted to emulate him and prove he was just as worthy.
And then one day a boy with a green bandana came into Hunter’s office. Hunter recognized the bandana and stood up. He had a gun in the desk drawer, but truthfully, he was afraid to use it. He wanted to tell the Cobra to get out, but his predecessor stood and gave the boy a hung.
“Meet Handy,” his predecessor said. “He’s your liaison.” Hunter wasn’t sure what he meant, but he nodded and shook Handy’s hand. Handy placed a big envelop on Hunter’s desk, a “welcome present” he said and then he left.
“I’m not dealing with gangs,” Hunter told his predecessor. “You have to give this back,” he motioned to the envelope.
“You don’t have a choice,” the predecessor said. “You won’t be able to get anything done without them. You want to represent Harlem? You represent all of Harlem. Not just the pretty parts. The Cobras are Harlem.” Hunter politely asked his predecessor to leave. “You’ll see,” the predecessor said.
Handy came back the next week with another envelope. This time Hunter was alone and he told the boy that he wasn’t interested. Handy laughed, said OK, and left. Hunter was surprised how easy it was and was proud of himself for sticking to his ground. That evening, when he locked up his office, he was attacked by two hooded boys. They weren’t wearing their bandanas, but Hunter got the message.
The next few weeks he accepted the money from Handy. He’d decided to donate it to the community center and reasoned that what he was doing
