The Ultimate Betrayl

His luggage hit the floor, a dull thud. The house was quiet but for the murmur of a television farther back inside. It was too clean; not the way a man would live - and it smelled good, unfamiliar. Gone for just a month, but candles had managed to spring up all over like the weeds in his previously perfectly sculpted lawn.

She had said she'd house sit but this wasn't what he signed up for. She femme'd out his territory. He immediately felt the urge to order pizza with his best friend and eat it in the box on the floor in front of his television with left overs for weeks.

Something else was different. He could deal with being able to easily find his way through his bedroom. He could even tolerate the vacuum tracks visible in the carpet. They were easy enough to scuff out, anyway.

The offensive tracks lead him back into the den, towards the glow of the television. There was still something missing...

"Not even going to get up and welcome me home, hmm?" As he rounded the entrance to face the couch, the camel's back broke. His eyes narrowed and his hands balled up into fists before he realized what was happening.

She was asleep, splayed over the couch, and he was there with her. Both of them, knowing traitors. Accomplices in his absence, taking advantage of his leave.

"Rachel!" He bellowed, and started her awake, making her instinctively wrap her arms around her new found love.

"Frank," the words left her lips a quiet surprise. Sitting up quickly, she dumped the other offender onto the floor. He shook and stared up at Frank evenly.

The air filled with a stuffy discomfort as Frank loomed over them, trying to decide whether to throw them both out or murder them on his favorite couch.

"What was the first thing-" he started at the same time she did.

"I'm sorry Frank, I just forgot-"

"I thought made it clear- forgot!? How can someone for-"

"You don't understand, I was lonely and at least he was here!" Here words echoed into the silence left by Frank, defeated and lost. He turned to the lump on the floor.

"And you...you're my best friend. It's practically your job title," he waited for some kind of response. Instead, brown eyes stared up at him, begging forgiveness. Frank turned and opened the sliding glass door, nodding for him to leave. "Out," and he complied. Frank shut it again, training his gaze on Rachel.

"I swear, Frank, we wouldn't do it on purpose. We both miss-" she stopped when his hand flew up.

"Whatever," piercing silence again. Then, "as long as he didn't get any table scraps."

Her down-cast eyes answered him then, guilty as ever, and that was when he saw the t-bone in his best friend's bowl, next to the bag of Science Diet that was to be his only food. Rachel cleared her throat, and in the hopes of redeeming herself, tried for one last ditch effort.

"Well...I kept the house clean for you?"

Frank's smile and snort lacked any trace of amusement.