Tag Team by SJD Peterson

didn’t have much of a choice, because after a moment he flopped back against the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, call your friend.”
    Bobby smiled triumphantly, and the smile on his partner’s face was just as broad. Now to get Max to agree to come on such a short notice, he’d be calling in all his favors on this one.

Chapter 8

     
    R IG hurriedly tromped down the wooden stairs from Mason’s house. He needed a shower in the worst kind of way and a toothbrush. As soon as he stepped off the last step he jogged toward the path and through the trees. Rig wasn’t real comfortable leaving Bobby alone again, not that he worried that Mason would hurt his partner. Still, Rig had waited until the man fell asleep on the couch. After the last emotional outburst from Mason, it would be unfair to make Bobby have to deal with another one on his own. A quick call to Max, an even quicker shower, and he’d be back in no time.
    As soon as he unlocked the door to their bungalow, Rig kicked his shoes off and threw the keys on the counter on the way to the bedroom. He grabbed his cell from the bedside table and dialed Max’s private number. As soon as it began to ring he started pulling clean clothes out of the dresser.
    “Rig!” Max’s deep baritone voice sounded genuinely surprised. “Good to hear from you. You still in Florida or did you cut your vacation short?”
    “Hey, Max. No, we’re still down here and Bobby is still bitching about the heat,” he said teasingly. He cradled the phone beneath his ear and shoulder, grabbed his shower kit from the closet, and added it to the armful of clothes.
    “Poor, Bobby,” Max chuckled into the phone before his tone turned serious. “Everything okay?”
    Rig rarely called Max. They were friends, good friends, but they weren’t as close as Max and Bobby were, and besides, Rig hated chatting on the phone so Max’s question wasn’t unusual. Rig dumped his clothes on the bathroom counter and headed back to the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’ve run into a bit of a problem,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
    “What happened?” Max asked in an alarmed tone. “Is Bobby okay?”
    “Yeah, he’s fine, but we met a young man who’s not,” he explained.
    Rig spent the next several minutes recounting how they had found Mason passed out drunk, the note, and the outbursts. Through it all Max stayed silent; the only noise coming through the phone line was the muffled noise of Max tapping his finger, a habit he had when listening. Once he had all the events laid out leading up to Rig’s call, he finally asked, “So, Bobby was hoping you would be able to talk to him. It’s either that or we’re going to have to have him involuntarily admitted. We can’t just leave him alone.”
    “Has he agreed to talk to me?”
    “He said he would,” Rig assured him. “He doesn’t put a lot of faith in therapists. Said they always want to talk either about the fact that he’s gay or trying to tell him he needs to stop submitting, so he’s willing to try and talk things out with you since you don’t have an issue with either of those beautiful traits.”
    “Not even a little bit,” Max snorted. “I think those are fine, fine qualities to have in a man.”
    “So you’ll talk to him?” Rig asked again.
    “I have to make a few calls, do a bit of rearranging of my schedule, but I can fly out later this afternoon,” Max said.
    “You’re coming down?” Rig asked, stunned. “We can’t ask you to do that. We thought if you could maybe talk to him over the phone.”
    “You didn’t ask. I offered and I’m good,” Max chuckled. “But even I’m going to need more than a phone call to determine if this poor guy is a threat to himself.”
    “But—”
    “Gotta run,” Max said, cutting off any further protest from Rig. “I’ll call you as soon as I know what time my flight gets in, and Rig?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You two did the right thing by