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“I don’t think you understand. Your actions have consequences, Elliot. We can’t just buy your way out of trouble. You aren’t a child anymore.”
“Then stop treating me like one. Mind your own business.”
“Oh, good,” she seethes. “You want to talk about business? You could very easily cost your father his seat in the Senate. You could cost us this campaign. Is that what you want?”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
“You need help, Elliot. Consider this an intervention.”
“I’m pretty sure interventions are typically comprised of more than one person, mother.”
“Nathan is on his way, as is your father…and a doctor.”
“This is farcical.”
“We thought you were getting better. It’s clear you aren’t.” She looks like she might cry. I know my mother better than to believe that. “Nathan says if you agree to help, the board will consider letting you stay on.”
“What kind of help?”
“He’s recommended a wonderful place. They’ll treat you for the exhaustion you’re experiencing, and you’ll be out in no time.”
“Exhaustion?”
“You haven’t been sleeping. Everyone can attest to the fact that you’ve been working around the clock on this deal. It isn’t such a stretch.”
My father doesn’t knock. He lets himself in. When I turn, I see my attorney at his heels.
“Wonderful. It’s a party,” I say.
“Elliot,” my father nods, and extends his hand. “I’m going to make this brief. We need you to sign this so we can get you treated.”
“I don’t need to be treated.”
“You are on the brink of losing your company. You have been arrested twice and you are an embarrassment to this family.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“Elliot, this could really help you,” Nathan interjects. “I know it’s hard to see it now, but a little rest and relaxation would do you good. And this covers all our bases. The board has agreed to let you stay on provided you agree.”
“Agree to what?”
“It’s all laid out there,” he says, pointing to the stack of papers.
“I need time to look it over.”
“There isn’t time,” Nathan says.
“You’ve had time,” my mother says.
“This is ridiculous,” my father says.
“The detective called us this morning, Elliot,” my father informs me. “He requested information as to your mental state. He wanted to know whether there have been any… issues.”
I walk over to the window, take out my phone, and start to text Vanessa. I don’t know why, but she seems like the kind of person who would understand my predicament.
“The cameras in the parking garage don’t show what you said occurred the night you were assaulted. They show you getting into your car and exiting onto the street.”
“I drove myself to the hospital.”
