Page 81 of Love or Leave

Help him move?

No.

Nothing would make him feel like a bigger piece of shit than having his friend hoisting an eight million pound pullout couch while he told him he dated his sister behind his back, lied to him about it, but now she's his girlfriend.

"Nah," Antonio said, shaking his head back and forth. "I've got it under control—"

"Just take the help, Ant."

Antonio glanced around, searching for any excuse he could use. "I don't have much stuff," he said. "We can meet up for a beer after. Around four?"

"No," Max said. "I'll be at your place Sunday morning. Eight."

"You really don't—"

"Not taking no," Max said. "See you then."

Before Antonio could shut the conversation down, Max hung up.

Antonio ran a hand through his hair and slouched back in his chair. Why did he do this? And why did Max have to be such a good friend?

He shook it off and sat up. He'd just have to tell Max before he lifted a single finger. That way, he could still punch him and walk away, and Antonio wouldn't feel like an even worse friend than he already was.

"Hey, I need you."

Antonio turned in his chair and saw his Ramit standing in the doorway. He was supposed to be doing rounds. "What's up?"

"There's a patient asking for you," he said, looking at the file. "Maybe family?"

Antonio stood, his stomach dropping. Hopefully not his dad. Or mom. "Who is it?"

"Elliot Beebe."

“Ugh.” His lip curled in annoyance.

Ramit smirked. "So not family?"

"Far from it," Antonio said.

"He says his rash is getting worse. He asked for you. Bed three."

Antonio took the file with a sigh and started toward the bed, telling himself to keep it professional. But when he arrived and pulled back the curtain, he saw Elliott there all alone.

Good.

"Hello," Antonio greeted him.

Elliott turned and smiled. "Hey, thanks for seeing me."

Antonio gave a nod. "So, the rash isn't clearing up?"

He shook his head. "Fran refused to help," he said. "I did my best, but I think it's getting worse."

He nodded again, ignoring the mention of his ex-wife and flipped through the file. The prescription he'd wrote was pretty potent and should have gotten the job done, but if he wasn't applying it properly, it obviously wouldn't work.

There was a stronger antihistamine he could prescribe. A course of antibiotics would get on top of any potential infection.

"You need something stronger," Antonio said, pulling a pair of blue latex gloves from the box on the wall.

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