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their skin color, but nothing so heated as this. Never had Hunter thrown out the words racist or white supremacists.

“Those people want to continue suppressing us!” Hunter yelled. “All they care about is tax breaks for the wealthy, while reducing funding for programs that help people like me! They’re against affirmative action, against funding Medicare, Medicaid and Food Stamp programs! All things that help more blacks than whites!”

“Hunter, that’s not true, you don’t understand their policies—”

“I don’t understand? Why? Because I don’t have a fancy degree? Because I couldn’t pay to go to school?”

“Can you listen for a moment? They want to cut funding because the government doesn’t run those programs efficiently, they could be privatized, there could be better programs—”

“I’m done listening,” Hunter responded, sitting up in bed. “I’ve been listening all night. I think I’ve heard enough.” He stood up and started putting on the clothes he had worn on his way over, before switching into the fancy Brooks Brothers suit—a ripped pair of jeans and polo shirt which he had once believed was expensive and classy.

“Hunter, stop, you’re overreacting.” Madeline sat up. “You’re overreacting. Republicans are not racist. Abe Lincoln was a republican!”

“You all need to stop bringing him up every time someone mentions Republicans are racist. He freed slaves 150 years ago, that’s not a free pass forever.” Hunter gave one last look at Madeline and shook his head. “I just can’t do this.” Then he walked out of her bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. Madeline stayed in bed even after she heard the click of the front door. She sat there thinking about what she should do. Should she go after him? Should she let him calm down? They’d resolve this fight in the morning. She’d invite him to some of the lunches she planned and he could see republicans weren’t racist. Yes, that could resolve things, she thought to herself as she lay back down in bed. But this night, she was tired. Surely Hunter would call her in the morning realizing he overreacted. They’d kiss and make up like they always did and they’d figure out how to work through this issue.

The next day, Hunter didn’t call. Madeline went to work, had lunch with a new friend she had made the night before and then went to happy hour with her colleagues. She kept her phone next to her, hoping it would ring, but it stayed silent. After happy hour, she said goodbye to her colleagues and walked home, thankful she had worn flats instead of heels.

Then the phone rang. Madeline reached into her purse with excitement that dwindled when she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Madeline! It’s Bill, how are you?”

Bill Kensington who ran the New York Republican Committee, the first person she had introduced Hunter to while waiting outside the gallery the previous night.

“Bill, so great to hear from you. I’m wonderful, how are you? Did you enjoy last night?”

“You made quite an impression,” he responded. “Dan from the National Committee called this morning to talk about you. He thinks you’re gold. We have to start priming you for your future.”

His words were everything Madeline would ever want to hear. The National Committee was behind her! With that sort of support, her dreams of changing the world—or at least the US—could be realized.

“Wow, that’s great to hear.”

“It is, Madeline, really, you are something special. But listen, life in the spotlight is not easy. You need to show the right image. You need to be more wholesome, more relatable, who you are seen with is extremely important. You need to be careful who you spend time with. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Madeline understood.

Chapter 18

It had been a long time since Madeline and Hunter had spoken when she called him that afternoon from her California Senate Office. Once the conversation had sunk in, she looked down at the papers in front of her and then Jane popped her head in the door.

“Madeline, it’s time to go,” Jane said. In an hour they would be on a flight to Washington DC for hearings and other important work in the capital. Madeline would even be spending the weekend in DC, attending a few state dinners and other events she couldn’t miss. Then, Monday she would be flying to New York for lunch with the National Republican Committee Leadership to discuss her reelection. Lunch would be followed by an appearance at a YRNF event, dinner and a speech at an AIPAC event and one more late-night appearance at some other charity event that Jane had scribbled in her calendar. Then Tuesday, after her meeting with Hunter, she had a luncheon with the Daughters of the American Revolution, happy hour with a group of women from The WISH List, and then a few more appearances at charity events where she would give a few remarks. She had wanted to take the redeye home Tuesday evening, but Jane had said they wouldn’t make it, so they’d stay an extra night at the Langham and fly back to California on Wednesday. Madeline felt guilty that she wouldn’t see her children that weekend, but she promised Wednesday afternoon and evening, she’d be all there—no phone, no calls, no work.

Her time in DC seemed to tick by as slowly as possible. It was as though speeches in the senate had become slower, with everyone taking their time as they got out what they wanted to say. She met with a few colleagues to go over her SAVER Bill and each one seemed even more focused on the polite small talk that usually only took up a few short minutes at the beginning of conversations. This week, everyone seemed so interested in Brandon and the kids! What were they up to? How was CyTech doing? What did she think of CyTech’s big new release? She

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