The One

Opening the door to my house, I spot my best friend, Frankie, sitting on our L-shaped beige couch, wrapped in a horde of blankets, watching a cooking show. She glances at me as I walk inside, and peel off my coat, hanging it on a hook by the door.

“How was work?” She asks, looking back at the tv, grabbing the remote, and pressing pause. She climbs her way out of the mountain of blankets, and stands before me.

Frankie is a gorgoeous woman. Standing at 5 foot 5 inches, shes tiny. She has barely any fat on her whole body, except for her ass. She has ass and hips for days. She’s the girl who can eat a full grease meal from a fast food restaurant, and it travels to her hips.

Her face is small, and round. Her hair is thick, and hangs in black ringlet curls down her back, or wrapped in a bun when we have things to do. Her nose is small, and her lips are full. Her eyes are always wide, and the color changes on her mood, the weather, and the lighting. It swirls from blue like the oceans and the waves, to a green like in the rain forests. When she gets mad, her eyes dull down to a grey storm, and the spark in her gaze flashes a dot of yellow every so often when shes feeling fiery.

As my best friend, I can happily say, I envy her in her physical appearance. However, when it comes to mentally being jealous, I’m not. She isn’t stupid. Far from it. But we both have the same mind, sometimes it freaks us out. As if we were one person, split in half, and put into different bodies.

“Work was work. Sandy hasn’t had her litter yet, so you may be in for a rough day tomorrow.” With my coat hanging up, I walk to the small kitchen we share in our house, and grab a plate from the cabinet. Frankie loves to cook. It’s why when we both got jobs at the local animal shelter, she decided to take the day shifts, and I took the night shifts. That way we get some time apart, and we each are able to do our own things in our alone time. Frankie cooks dinner and helps keep the house straight, and I do the errands during the day, and the deep cleaning.

Frankie made lasagna, and the aroma is making me drool just a bit. Wiping my mouth, I grab a couple slices of the delicious pizza caserole, and start stuffing it in my mouth, standing over the sink.

I finally look over and notice how Frankie is acting. She’s twisting her fingers together, and biting at her thumbnail. She won’t look at me, and keeps glancing out the windows.

I swallow my last bite of the first piece of lasagna, and point the end of my fork at her. “Either tell me what’s up, or go back to your show. You look like you killed a puppy and don’t know how to tell me. It’s fine if you did.” I cut off a bite from my second piece of lasagna, and slowly load it onto my fork. “You know I’ll help you bury any bodies. Lie to the police for you. And if it was a puppy, I know you didn’t mean to. It’ll be okay. We can give it a lovely bariel, with flowers galore.”

Frankie huffs out a breath and drops her hands to her sides, then takes a deep breath. “I have to tell you something.” Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the fire in her eyes. I set my fork down on my plate, and set it on the counter, to the side. I’m not done yet. Her food is to die for. I lean my butt against the counter, cross my arms over my chest, and face her fully.

“What’s up?” I ask. I know she needs serious right now. So, no more jokes. Even if it does help with any pain that lingers in the air.

As Frankie opens her mouth, our doorbell goes off. Frankie and I exchange frowns, and she walks to the door. She opens it a crack, and visibly tenses. I can’t hear what’s being said, but it sounded like the man at the door said..Princess?

Frankie nods curtly, once, then opens the door wider and turns back to me, her hand still on the doorknob.

“Clair.” Her eyes start to well with tears, and as I step towards her, she shakes her head.

“Princess, we need to start heading out.” The man who was at the door is a plain balding man, not too tall or too short, and he looks like someone who could be anyone. He wore a plain black suit, no tie. He looked like secret service.

Frankie gave him another nod. As two men walk into the house, Frankie points to her room. The next couple of men to come in she points to my room.

What the fuck?

The balding man steps towards Frankie. “I will make sure everything you need is packed, Princess. The car is waiting for you outside.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Frankie turns and looks at me. “That thing I had to tell you? Surprise.” Her hands come up and do a jazz hand wave. “I’m a princess.”