Page 64 of Role Play
I pout, not trying to be cute, but he still looks amused. “Fine. Vulnerable. Share your secrets.”
Forrest leans back in his chair, watching me for a long moment. I half expect him to deflect or offer some sanitized version of his life, the kind of story he might tell a client.
Instead, he surprises me.
“I met Hannah—Dakota’s mom—in college,” he begins, his voice quiet but steady. “Fell hard and fast. She came from money. Old money. The kind of wealth where you never check price tags and summer is a verb.”
I nod, encouraging him to continue.
“I was supposed to go back to Wyoming after undergrad. My dad’s ranch was struggling, and he needed the help. But then I got into Columbia Law, and Hannah…she had certain expectations about the kind of life we’d live.” His lips twist in a self-deprecating smile. “I was young and in love. I would have done anything to make her happy.”
“So you went to law school instead of going home,” I say, filling in the blanks.
“A law school I couldn’t afford,” he confirms. “Hannah’s father had connections. One of them was Sean Colt, a partner at a prestigious firm and the ex-husband of my favorite professor, Rina.”
Understanding dawns. “Rina…Rina…Wait, you’ve mentioned her. Your current boss, right?”
Forrest nods. “Sean offered me a deal. The firm would pay for everything—tuition, apartment, living expenses during school—and in exchange, I’d work for them for fifteen years after graduation. The salary was insane, more than enough to give Hannah the life she wanted.”
“And you signed.”
“I signed.” He drags a hand through his hair, a gesture I’m learning to be a sign of discomfort. “Then Hannah got pregnant during my final year of law school. It felt like confirmation I’d made the right choice.”
“But something changed,” I prompt, sensing the second act of his story.
“I interned at the firm that summer. Saw what they really did—who they represented. Corporations that poisoned water supplies and called it a business expense. Landlords who let children live with toxic mold and lead paint. Executives who sexually harassed employees, then threatened them into silence.” His jaw tightens. “I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be part of that world.”
“Good for you.”
That earns me a teensy smile. “I went to Rina for help. She found a loophole: I couldn’t practice law and fulfill my contract if I never took the bar exam.”
I blink, putting the pieces together. “So you deliberately failed to become a lawyer?”
“I never even took the test,” he confirms. “I graduated, but I walked away from the profession. Sean was furious, of course. The firm demanded repayment of everything they’d invested in me—over half a million dollars.”
“Jesus,” I breathe.
“Hannah was equally furious. We broke up right before Dakota was born.” A shadow of hurt crosses his face. “She’d signed up for a wealthy corporate lawyer, not a…” He gestures vaguely at himself. “Whatever I am now.”
“She’s a money-over-love kind of girl?”
He nods. “Took me a long time to get that through my head. And when I was at my lowest, Rina threw me a lifeline. She’d started this high-end ‘companion service’ as a side business after her divorce from Sean. She needed male escorts who were educated, well-spoken, capable of blending in at society events. I was desperate, drowning in debt with a newborn daughter to support. The rest is history.”
I try to imagine Forrest in that moment—newly graduated, dreams shattered, relationship crumbling, with a baby depending on him. The weight of it must have been crushing.
“So that’s how you ended up where you are,” I say. “And you’re still paying off the debt to Sean’s firm?”
“Every month. Plus Dakota’s tuition at that ridiculously expensive prep school, plus helping my dad keep the ranch afloat.” He shrugs. “The official escort work is completely legal, and pays well, but not well enough to dig out quickly. Which is why Rina turns a blind eye when me and the guys, um…offer additional servicesoff the books.”
“And Hannah has no clue what you do?”
“She’d try to take Dakota from me for good. Simply out of spite for destroying our relationship.”
“Destroying?” I ask, incredulous. “So you make a noble decision about your life and now you’re the bad guy?”
“I could’ve sat down, shut up, and played the part she wanted. Hannah and I would be together, we’d own a yacht, have a penthouse on the Upper East Side, Dakota would be a pretentious little punk, and I could’ve pretended I was okay with all of it.”
“Except you couldn’t.”
