“I’d love to meet you, Bess.” —E-mail subject line from the Hillary Clinton campaign, May 24, 2016.

“Have dinner with me, Bess?” —E-mail subject line from the Hillary Clinton campaign, May 26, 2016.

“Bess, I’m personally asking you to help.” —E-mail subject line from the Hillary Clinton campaign, May 27, 2016.

“Today of all days, I need to know if you're in, Bess.” —E-mail subject line from Hillary Clinton campaign, June 16, 2016.

Hi Bess,

Just reaching out again. Did you get my last few e-mails? Since you haven’t replied, I worry that they might have ended up in your spam folder. Do you know how to check that? I can have my campaign’s digital director send you instructions. Anyway, I would love to say hi, or grab coffee, or whatever, if you have time. I’m around. Just let me know when/where works for you! Have jet; will travel! LOL.

XO

H.R.C.

* * *

Hey girl,

I hope you’re O.K. Still haven’t heard back. Did you get my e-mail inviting you to have dinner with me, Pink, and Mariah Carey? My campaign records indicate that you purchased Mariah Carey’s album “Daydream” at Tower Records, in Union Square, in 1995, with your own allowance money, so I know you’re a lifelong fan. Anyway—the dinner’s in L.A.! Could be fun, right? It’s normally twenty thousand dollars a plate, but a few lucky members of Team Hillary can enter a raffle and go for free! I really hope you enter the raffle, because I miss your face. I know we haven’t met, but I feel like, in some way, we’re soul sisters. Does that make sense? Well, “hit me up,” as they say.

Peace in the Middle East (FOR REAL!!!)

Hill

* * *

Hi B.,

In your city! You around? I'm at George Clooney’s for a fund-raiser thingy and it’s super-boring. I’d love an excuse to bounce. Wanna grab a late-night taco? I know where the nationally renowned Guerrilla Taco Truck is at all times because I have a device on it. I’ll be up! Text me: 917-[REDACTED].

H.

* * *

Bess,

Last chance. I’ll be outside your apartment tonight at nine. No motorcade. No Secret Service. Just me, a perfectly chilled bottle of rosé, and a flash drive that contains the unreleased next season of “The Fall,” which, according to sources on my payroll, is your favorite show. I’ll knock once. If you answer, we’ll have a memorable night drinking away our cares and watching a taut, psychological thriller starring Gillian Anderson as a tough yet fragile female detective in a man’s world. If you don’t answer the door, then I’ll go away forever. You’ll never hear from me again.

Please answer the door.

Hillary

* * *

Hey there, Ms. Kalb,

It’s Bill, on Hillary’s computer. Look—I don’t know what you’ve done to our girl, but she’s in pretty rough shape. God knows she’s been through enough this year.

Of course she’s still giving her stump speeches like a trouper, but her heart isn’t in it. She’s worn the same teal-brocade Mandarin-collar jacket all week. Every time she gets an e-mail, her eyes light up. And every time I have to break it to her: “Honey, it’s not gonna be Bess.” It’s never Bess.

Listen, kid, whatever’s going on between you two, you need to be the bigger person and just extend an olive branch. For my sake?

Thank you in advance,

Bill Clinton

* * *

Bess,

What is going on?

I’m going fucking crazy over here. I think we both know that I’ve gone above and beyond to reach out to you and be your friend and invite you to cool shit and just be there for you, but I feel like you’re taking our relationship totally for granted. I saw you donated fifty dollars after my last e-mail, but, honestly, that just made me feel used. I wish you’d never entered your e-mail address into my campaign Listserv.

So I’m writing one last time to say Go to Hell, Bess. And please don’t forget to text HRC to 33422016 to get real-time updates from the trail!

Sincerely,

Hillary Clinton