Page 1 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

Forrest

I glance at my watch as I’m jogging down the sidewalk to my daughter’s school. Forty-two minutes. Could’ve been worse.

It’s been exactly forty-two minutes from the time Wesley Prep Academy called me to inform me my four-year-old daughter had an accident.

Her mother, who is the primary contact, was not answering her phone.

Dakota was pulled out of her pre-K class and is currently hiding in the nurse’s office until I can bring her a fresh change of clothes.

In moments like these, I’m pissed I only have my little girl on Wednesday afternoons and one weekend a month.

She doesn’t keep a full wardrobe at my place.

Not that there’d be much room for her clothes in my small apartment.

In fact, the overpriced prep academy she attends is one of the reasons I live in a shoebox all the way in the South Bronx.

Unable to flag an available cab, I had to splurge for an Uber Lux, the only option immediately available. I had the driver drop me off at the drugstore around the corner, praying they had toddler underwear in Koda’s size.

Plastic bag rustling in my hand, I hustle up the concrete steps to the front doors of Wesley. It’s a little anticlimactic that I broke a small sweat racing here just to stand and wait at the locked front doors until Tillie, the elderly front office secretary, can buzz me in.

“Hello. How may I help you?” Her voice sounds through the intercom above me.

“Good morning, Tillie.” I slap on a smile. The security cameras aren’t overtly visible, but I know she can see me. “I’m dropping off a change of clothes for Dakota.”

“Your full name, your child’s full name, teacher’s name, and the family password, please.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Tillie,” I groan. “You know me. I pick up Koda every single Wednesday.”

There’s a small pause. “It’s safety protocol, Mr. Hawkins. I’d like to keep my job, thank you.”

After letting out a short exhale, I acquiesce. “I’m Forrest Hawkins. My daughter is Dakota Hawkins. She’s in Ms. Mazer’s pre-K class. And the family password is ‘Go Giants.’”

Football is the only thing Hannah and I agree upon. I thought I was going to marry and grow old with her. I thought we’d give Dakota several siblings. But now, we tolerate each other. Our only thing in common reduced to our devout loyalty to the New York Giants.

“Thank you,” Tillie replies. “They’re really looking rough this year, huh? Cowboys gobbled them up last week. Take me back to twenty twelve, you know? I don’t even think those boys know what a Lombardi Trophy is anymore.”

I smirk. “Oh, come on now. The new quarterback is just getting his sea legs. This season’s a wash. They’ll look better next year when we pick up a few more linemen. Plus, commiserating over losses is half the fun of being a Giants fan. If they start winning, what’re we going to talk about?”

“Ha.” Tillie lets out a bitter laugh as the buzzer sounds, indicating the front door of the school is now unlocked. “Ms. Dakota is in the nurse’s office. Have a nice day, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Forrest is fine, Tillie,” I remind her as I grab the door handle.

“Protocol,” she answers back.

I walk through the double doors of Wesley and bank a sharp left. I made a point to memorize the school layout during orientation a couple months ago. I didn’t want to look like the clueless dad who only gets to see his daughter ten percent of the time. Although, unfortunately, that’s the truth.

I knock on the nurse’s door expecting to see Ms. Jillian, a sweet-as-pie, retired RN who traded surgical assistance for Band-Aids, thermometers, and ice packs. Instead, a very not elderly, voluptuous blond woman pulls open the door.

“Are you here for Dakota?” she asks, her whisper borderline melodic.

Holding up the plastic bag, I nod. “How is she?”

She glances over her shoulder. “I assure you, the tears are just from a little embarrassment. She’s not hurt. Come on in.”

The nurse closes the door behind us as I make a beeline for my little girl, clothed in an adult-sized T-shirt, sitting on a small wooden chair in the corner of the office. Her cheeks are bright red and there are thick tearstains starting from the corner of her eyes and trailing down to her chin.

“Hey, baby girl.”

Dakota pouts her bottom lip and crosses her small arms. “I’m not a baby.” I try not to chuckle at her little scowl. She’s mad and she wants me to take her seriously.

“Okay, fine. Big girl, then. Are you okay?” I squat down to meet her at eye level, but she turns her head.

“You took so long.” Judging by her sniffle, the tears are about to start again.

“I’m sorry, Koda. I was all the way across town. I got here as soon as I possibly could.” I bolted out of the tailor’s when I got the call, right in the middle of measurements.

She lets out a huffy breath. “Too long. That was mean.”

My daughter is four. She doesn’t understand that I paid triple my normal rideshare fare and sprinted six blocks from the drugstore to her school in very uncomfortable dress shoes, so she wouldn’t have to sit in her soiled clothes a minute longer than necessary.

I don’t care about being reasonable at the moment.

She’s hurting. “Daddy is very sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late.

I’m here now, though. Do you want to change? ”

Dakota turns in her chair and looks me dead in the eyes. Her puckered frown breaks my heart. “I don’t want you. I want Mommy,” she mumbles. “Where’s Mommy?”

Forget the broken heart. That was a knife straight to the gut.

I clear my throat. “Mommy is…” Hell if I know.

Hannah doesn’t work. She’s a trophy girlfriend to a Wall Street guy who put her and my child up in his mega-penthouse in Midtown.

I’m not jealous he’s with Hannah. I’m jealous that he’s giving my daughter everything I can’t.

“I bet you Mommy just lost her phone and couldn’t answer. But I’m here. Is that okay?”

Maybe Dakota sees the sadness in my eyes.

She’s an intuitive one. Suddenly her arms are around me and she’s burying her face in my neck.

I feel her warm tears against my skin. “Brody M. saw and then he told everybody I was a pants-wetter. Nobody knew until he told. Everybody , Daddy. They all laughed at me.” She wails against me.

“But I’m not even wearing pants. I like dresses. ”

“Well, Brody M. sounds like a giant butthole.”

Dakota pulls away and looks at me with bright, wide eyes. “He is a butthole . ”

The nurse chuckles behind us, then quickly clears her throat, pretending like she can’t hear every word of our conversation.

“You know, baby, sometimes little boys are mean to the little girls they like. Does he pull your pigtails, too?”

She scrunches up her face in disgust. “ I’m not a baby . I don’t wear pigtails.”

I stroke her thick, blond hair, curling one tendril around my finger. “You used to.”

There are a lot of competing thoughts going through my mind…

I miss her pigtails. She’s growing up way too fast. Why isn’t Hannah here? She lives just a few blocks away. Shouldn’t she have her phone close anytime she’s away from our daughter? Also, I want to find out who Brody M.’s dad is and kick his ass for raising such a little punk.

“Do you want to get changed and go back to your class?” She’s swimming in the oversized white T-shirt.

A mischievous smile spreads across her face.

“I think my tummy hurts, Daddy.” She’s using her squeaky, overly cute voice because she wants something.

“That means I have to go home.” She even grabs her stomach and tenses her face like she’s in pain, fully committing to the charade.

She’s faking, but you know what? Some miniature jackass just humiliated her in front of her entire class. She’s allowed to play hooky for a day.

Pulling out the pack of size-4T underwear with Belle, Ariel, and Cinderella on the front, I nod. “Good idea. Put on a pair of these and I’ll take you home.” I look over my shoulder at the nurse, who is beaming ear to ear. “Our little secret, right?”

“As far as I’m concerned, Dakota’s belly has been aching all day,” the nurse answers with a big smile.

I wink in her direction. “What would you prescribe?”

“Definitely a big cookie and an afternoon of cartoons and fuzzy pajamas. Oh, and absolutely no homework.” The way the nurse is smiling at me, she might’ve misinterpreted my wink.

“How’s that sound, Koda?”

“Yes, please.” She snatches up the pack of new underwear and proceeds to the bathroom.

“Do you need help?” I call after her, but she slams the door shut.

“Her other clothes are in there.” The nurse points to a tied plastic bag in the corner of the room. “I hope you don’t mind, we put her in an extra T-shirt from the bake sale. It’s brand new.”

“Does she have a change of clothes? When Ms. Mazer called, she said she just needed?—”

“All pre-K and kindergarten students have to have a change of clothes for their cubby. Dakota had everything except underwear. I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but school policy, we’re not allowed to give undergarments?—”

I hold up both hands. “Understood. It’s no problem, really. What’s your name?”

“Kirsten.” She holds out her hand and takes two steps toward me. “I’m subbing in for Ms. Jillian this week while she’s on vacation.”

Before I can shake her hand, something loud crashes from behind the bathroom door. Instinctively, I fly across the office. Jiggling the locked handle, I call through the door, “Koda, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she chirps.

“What was that noise? Do you want me to come in and help?”

“No!” she barks.

More evidence of the fact Dakota’s growing up too fast. I’ve changed her diaper since the day she was born. I helped potty-train her. Now, very suddenly, she’s embarrassed around me during bathtime. The universe took my baby, and gave me a clever, sassy little princess instead.