In the dark I'd like to read his mind,
but I'm frightened of the things I might find.
In the end, there was a compromise, as Elon saw it. Kimbal however had learned years ago that as oppositional defiant as Elon was, it was best to let him think he had won. Offering the idea of a 120-day rehab was the best way to give the most extreme and least likely option, to be able to whittle him down to the best one. Was it manipulative? Sure. Enabling? Maybe. Did it work? Hell yes. About eighty percent of the time.
In this case, Elon agreed to a round-the-clock nurse with a ton of stipulations, and regular therapy. He wanted Jordan Peterson, but that was vetoed quickly on account of the fact that Dr Peterson only wound Elon up more and it rendered his "help" questionable at best. It helped immensely that he was not board certified in the States, and with the threat of group therapy looming over him, Elon relented somewhat and chose a male therapist with significant credentials, as well as a nurse whose photo Kimbal shuffled into a pile of resumes. He picked her because she tripped his "limbic system" ...Kimbal knew he liked blondes. Kimbal also reworked her resume to exclude the fact that she served 7 years in the Army before working at the VA as a psychiatric charge nurse. After he tweaked it a bit, it read that she worked at the VA, but did not delineate what capacity. He stifled the guilt on that one, hoping that it meant she was better equipped to deal with Elon than a lot of the other applicants.
As a result, when she finally arrived, sliding out of an older model Corolla, her soft waves swept back stringently into a slick, pragmatic bun, Maye Musk let out a slow breath and said to Kimball sotto voce as Elon walked up to introduce himself, "son what have you done?"
"Relax, Mother, I have his number."
"He'll eat her alive."
"Don't be so sure."
"You must be Tawny," Elon smiled winningly, as if she wasn't here as a glorified baby sitter.
"I am, and yes, you can refer to me by my first name. There's no point in that formality under the circumstances, but I do want to carve out some time today to do a home inspection after I meet the family."
She smiled winningly back, swinging the overnight bag she brought out of the passenger side over her shoulder, knowing he was disarmed by that and caught off guard by the idea that she would be rifling through his things. The control demon reared its head and was quickly tamped down before he could consider the full implications. Tawny had already moved away to introduce herself to Maye, Kimbal and two members of Elon's security team.
"I do need your phone as well," she smiled over her shoulder.
Fuck that, he thought. Nope.
Nonetheless, he watched her saunter up the walkway with his family and felt a very distinct appreciation for the fact that she filled out those scrubs very, very well.
She breezed through as if she owned the place, which rankled slightly. Even the dog, how disloyal, pranced right up to her so she could ruffle his fur. Now watchful and on guard, he wondered what his brother was up to, and seethed internally at the fact that she set about taking over his home and honing in on his family. Out of sheer pique, Elon shambled off to the den where his desk was and cranked up his gaming laptop to tune out.
It was hours before he surfaced again and realized with a slight sense of panic that the house was quiet. He crept out, listening for sounds of voices or activity, but nothing pricked his ears except Floki padding along behind him. He didn't remember bringing the dog but someone may have let him in. The house was clear, save for Tawny kicked back in the main living room with her bare feet propped on the edge of a glass and chrome coffee table. She'd settled a laptop of her own on her lap and leaned nonchalantly into the deep cushioned leather.
"Comfy?" he tried to snark, only it came out as a croak after so many hours of not talking.
She had smiled up at him as he approached, and only cranked up the wattage hearing the sarcasm.
"Of course," she grinned, "thanks for welcoming me into your home."
"Did you find everything you were looking for?" he asked, still not feeling charitable.
"Oh yeah," she laughed, making him feel even more wrathful. "You stash your ketamine where most people hide their porn."
His eyebrow went up. External hard drive? No. Under the mattress, she meant. He rolled his eyes.
"I got the powder version you had stuffed in your car, and I even found some shrooms in the bathroom."
"That was left by an ex.." he started to explain, then trailed off with an eye roll and a shrug.
I don't owe anyone an explanation in my own fucking house, he reasoned, and then walked off.
"So." She started, rising from the couch as he ambled off to the kitchen and whatever might be in the confines of the fridge. She caught up to him there, still talking.
"I thought you might appreciate the idea of a little unconventional therapy as well, since you're on good terms with Joe Rogan."
He threw a confused look over his shoulder at that, and stood, door ajar, waiting for the rest.
"It could kill two birds with one stone, but it would be a little hardcore."
Oh?
"Since you're already detoxing though it might prove to be too much of a challenge."
"Do you even know me?" his upper lip actually curled as he rankled, but the lizard brain was already formulating a desire to rise to whatever "challenge" she might throw.
"You might actually consider doing carnivore for quite a while, and we could calculate the correct macros to kick the carbs for a while and see if it improves your numbers as far as your heart rate and a1c, plus it's a mental health boost because if you lean into beef there are a ton of B vitamins. But...like I said, might be a little too much too fast."
"There's no such thing," he said jutting his chin a bit, "but you just made yourself head chef."
"In that case, how about some ribeyes?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes, which were glass green as he stood peering down at them. What did Kimbal get him into? He wondered again. Sure enough, when he went to fill a glass of water in the sink there was already a package of steaks thawing in water.
She knew he would say yes. He was going to kill Kimbal. He hated being predictable. Hardcore, he snorted and left the room. She knew exactly what to say and he hated knowing someone knew how to push his buttons this easily and this fast.