FlyGirl - The First Edition

Chapter 28: Compromise is an indoor sport

The first thing I did when we got home was head for the kitchen. I was starving. Useless came in and sat on my feet, mindful of his floor cleaning duties.

I was mildly surprised that Alex didn't say anything, like 'sit down' or 'we need to talk'. He didn't even follow me. I went to the kitchen, he went upstairs, and that was that. Or so I thought.

I got out some bread and cheese, warmed up a skillet, and made a grilled cheese sandwich. This I garnished with some chips and a pickle. Useless followed me as I carried it out to the dining room. I sat down and tossed him a chip.

After a few minutes, Alex came downstairs, carrying a manila file folder. He sat down across from me and slid the file so that it was between us. Useless got up and sat by him. Somewhere along the line Useless had decided that Alex was the alpha here. Silly dog.

"Do you understand what you did tonight?" he finally asked.

I shrugged. "Sure. I saved my friend from sex trafficking." I ate a chip. "It was harder than I thought it would be."

"The House of the Vettii was an extremely lucrative investment property." He folded his arms and stared at me. "Cesare is angry."

"Jenny is my friend," I countered.

"I told you to call the police."

I ate another chip. "They were busy. I figured I'd help them out this one time."

"Alright." He pushed the folder over to me. "You should know you brought this on yourself."

"Brought what on myself?" I asked with a full mouth. It was a good sandwich. Rachel Ray had suggested switching the butter for olive oil. I considered making another. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

He ran his hand through his hair, then reached for my plate and threw it across the room. I watched as it shattered against the wall, shards of china and potato chips flying all over the place. I stared at it for a moment, then turned back to him. "Hey, I wasn't done with that," I told him. Useless whined and sat closer to my feet.

"Read," he said.

I ignored him and turned back to the shattered plate. "I'm serious. I wasn't done with that." Useless whined louder. I petted him on the head.

"Read. The. File." He crossed his arms and glared at me.

"Fine," I huffed and opened it up. Inside was a form titled Application for Involuntary Admission on Medical Certification Section 9.27 Mental Hygiene Law. Underneath the title, I read I hereby apply for the admission of Mary Siobhan McIver to the Creedmore Psychiatric Center in Queens, New York.

I stopped reading and looked up. "What is this?"

"It's an undated involuntary commitment form," he answered, a small smile playing on his lips. "Do I have your attention now?"

I started laughing. "You're going to commit me? You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious, Siobhan." He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "Look around you. This is an Upper West Side, five story, fully renovated townhouse complete with indoor lap pool and two car garage. Your clothes, your food, hell, even the dog – " he laughed "- are things 99.9% of the people in this city only dream of having. But you...you could give a shit." He locked eyes with me. "So therefore, I think you're out of your mind."

I blinked. "What, I'm not shallow, so therefore I must be crazy?"

"You lack impulse control," he countered, and ticked off on his fingers, "you demonstrate narcissistic and psychopathic behavior. You're violent, destructive, and have an unhealthy obsession with fire."