Page 50 of Role Play
“And what about your work? Those late-night client meetings? Who’s going to watch her then?”
I tense, wondering how much Hannah knows or suspects about what I really do for a living. If she ever found out, she could use it against me in court. A sex worker isn’t exactly the preferred custodial parent in most judges’ eyes. If I lost custody in a messy court battle, I couldn’t prevent Hannah from sending Dakota away.
“I said I’ll figure it out,” I repeat firmly. “I’m her father. I have rights. You may not want our kid, butI do.”
Suddenly a lightbulb powers on and I see a possible solution. Sora’s brownstone. Four bedrooms, a laundry room, expansive kitchen, even a backyard. Not to mention it’s a stone’s throw from Koda’s school. She’s not even sure if she’ll use it. Maybe we could make some kind of arrangement—my ten grand back in exchange for letting Dakota and me stay there until I find something more permanent.
It’s a long shot, but it’s something.
Hannah’s face grows ruddy as tears fill her eyes. “I do love her. This isn’t easy for me,” she says, her voice cracking at the end of her sentence.
“Then tell Henry to kick rocks.” I cross the room and take her hand, appealing to whatever maternal instinct still exists beneath her ambition. “She needs you. She needs us. If you do this, Hannah—she’ll remember. I still remember my mom leaving. I’ve never forgiven her.”
For a split second, I think I’ve gotten through to her. Then she pulls her hand away. “I want to be with Henry. I think when Dakota is a little older, he’ll come around.”
“And until then?”
She blinks her tears free, staring at me wordlessly. Then, her voice hardens again. “Dorimer would give her opportunities neither of us could provide. And it’s not like we’d never see her. There are holidays, summer breaks?—”
“No,” I cut her off, my decision made. “She’s not going. Not to California, not anywhere.”
Hannah’s eyes narrow. “You don’t get to make that decision.”
“Watch me.” I turn to leave, then pause at the door. “Call the school. Tell them Dakota won’t be attending Dorimer. And if you ever forge my signature again, I’ll take your ass to court and I won’t stop until I see you strutting around in an orange jumpsuit. Understood?”
It’s a bluff, and she probably knows it. I can’t afford a protracted legal battle, and my job would become public record. But something in my tone must convince her, because she doesn’t argue further.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she says instead.
“No. It’s just beginning,” I say before I storm out.
On the elevator ride down, I lean against the wall and close my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. The anger I felt walking in has been replaced by cold determination. I don’t tell Hannah how to live her life. Never pushed back against her decisions regarding Dakota. I could never risk losing what little time I have with my daughter.
But this? I will die on this hill fighting for her. Nothing—not money, not comfort, not convenience—is more important than my little girl.
As I step out onto the street, waiting to hail another overpriced cab, my phone buzzes with a text.
It’s from the last person I expected.
212-555-2929:
Hey, it’s Sora. I forgot to thank you.
Me:
For the cuddle?
212-555-2929:
For turning my night around. I would’ve gone home alone, crying on my birthday if it wasn’t for you. So…thank you.
Me:
You’re welcome, cookie girl. It was my pleasure.
212-555-2929:
For the record, I still need my money back. PLEASE.
