9/1/12

Best Friends
By John Laneri


Believe me, the Porsche still handles like a dream. Carla presented it to me on my fortieth birthday, whispering, “I love you.”

Naturally, there was no way to describe my elation – powerful new car, delectable luxury and even a bit of romance. At the time, her motive seemed sincere.

A week later though, she insisted that our Explorer was too masculine and clunky to suit her tastes, so I gave in knowing that baby soft leather seats were more her style. Thereafter, I only experienced the thrill of tires meeting road once a week – not often, but enough to keep life running smoothly at home.

My story began the evening Carla asked me to stop at the market to grab a bottle of wine and couple of steaks for dinner.

Right off, I spotted her best friend, Serena, browsing the chardonnays and looking every bit her gorgeous self.

At first, I remained by the reds, touching a bottle or two, watching as she edged about the area studying various labels. She was wearing high heel sandals, jeans and a revealing white top.

She looked my way, her eyes lighting in surprise. “Why Greg, I never expected to see you in a grocery store.”

Moving toward her, I replied, “Carla asked me to pick-up a few items on my way home from work.”

“I’d love to meet someone as thoughtful as you.” She eased closer and dabbed a kiss on my cheek. “I’m so happy to see you.”

I noticed that she was wearing a luxurious scent, one heavy with musk. To me though, her choice of perfumes seemed wrong for a place sporting Aunt Jamima Pancakes. Nonetheless, it smelled delectable.

“The last I heard, you were in love.”

She smiled playfully. “I was. Now, I’m free again.”

I looked away to study a couple of wine labels not wanting to get overly involved in the details of her love life. From what I knew, Serena discarded men like used toilet paper.

She pointed to a selection. “Carla likes the Stone Hollow wines.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“It’s been weeks. I’ve been meaning to give her a call.”

I reached for a Merlot – one known for its full body and seductive taste – and started away.

“I’ll walk with you,” she said, hurrying beside me. “It’s always good to see you.”

She followed me while I made the rest of my rounds through the store. Then, we walked to the checkout counter lost in small talk.

During those few minutes, she seemed different. I sensed an underlying warmth about her, a characteristic that I had rarely noticed in the past. Usually, she accepted me as Carla’s husband – the guy that mowed the grass and carried out the garbage.

Once outside, we walked to her car. By then, she had attached her arm to mine and was chatting as if we were old friends.

On reaching her car, she bounced to her toes and lightly kissed my cheek. “Greg, it’s been great seeing you. Perhaps, we'll see each other soon. If not, we can always do lunch.”

On arriving home, Senor Poncho, my large friendly Golden Retriever, met me at the door – his tail thrashing in excitement. I stopped to give him a good scratch then looked about and found Carla sitting by the pool reading a magazine.

I took a seat nearby, admiring her luxurious hair and soft, green eyes. Even after five years of marriage she continued to be the highlight of my day.

“You’re running late,” she said as she looked up, smiling.

“I ran into Serena. We talked for several minutes.” I settled onto a recliner and kicked off my shoes. “I take it that you two are not as close as you once were.”

“We talk from time to time. What did she have to say?”

“Not much… but she is single again.”

“She's always looking for someone new. I'll never understand her.”

Senor Poncho moved beside me and nudged my hand. I reached to scratch his ears.

“That dog’s been waiting all day,” Carla said, as she set her magazine aside and started for the house. “I'll get the steaks ready to grill. Take your time. I think he wants to play.”

Turning to Senor Poncho, I reached for the ball and tossed it across the yard, watching him bound away determined to have his time. After several more tosses, we headed into the house playing around like two kids happy with life.

Later, after a change of clothes, I was back outside experiencing the smell of burning charcoal. In the background, I detected a faint scent of Serena’s fragrance lingering through the aroma of the smoke. I took a draw on my drink, patted Senor Poncho on the head, and settled back to consider her luncheon proposition.

When I had finally become relaxed, Carla came outside with the steaks and took a seat near me.

“I didn’t mean to be so vague about Serena,” she went on. “But, she and I had a major falling out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll eventually get over it,” she replied quietly. “We’ve been friends since grade school.”

I noticed her continue to study me, so I asked, “What did I do this time?”

“Not you,” she said. “Your dog.”

Senor Poncho moved near me. I noticed his ears droop.

“What seems to be the problem with Senor Poncho?” I asked, as I reached to give him a scratch.

She hesitated then said, “He left another spot on my favorite carpet. I’ll never understand why he can’t use the grass. Dogs are so nasty.”

“They occasionally have accidents, that’s true. But, for some reason, he seems stressed. Maybe, something is troubling him.”

“I think we should get rid of him. He constantly keeps our house disrupted.”

In the days to follow, I realized that Carla was truly unhappy with Senor Poncho. As a result, our relationship suffered. She seemed content to go her way and not involve me, so I started walking him every evening at the park.

For no apparent reason though, I tended to run into Serena from time to time. One night in particular caught me by surprise. The incident occurred as I was returning to my car.

“Hello again,” I heard her say.

Turning about, I spotted her jogging in my direction.

“Getting your workout?” I asked, as she coasted to a stop beside me.

“Running makes me feel good. I’ve missed seeing you in the park.”

“I didn’t know I was so special.”

“There’s always been an attraction between us. I’ve watched you look at my breasts.”

Surprised by her remark, I started Senor Poncho toward the truck. “Carla is expecting me any minute.”

Once I had coaxed Senor Poncho into the back seat, she moved close and pressed her body against me, her lips seeking mine.

While I like attention, I eased her away, when Senor Poncho began barking. “This is not the place.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But, I expect you to call me and finish what you started. There's always been something special between us.”

Ten minutes later, I arrived home basking in a pleasant sexual aura, my mind flitting from one fantasy to another until the moment Carla opened the door. Right off, I noticed her nose lift to sniff the air. When her eyes turned to my shirt collar, I knew we were going to have a long, difficult night.

Following an intense evening of tossing accusations and explanations back and forth, she went on to pose several threats including an allegation that I was having an affair with Serena. Surprisingly, her comments included Senor Poncho, who she indicated with absolute certainty, had to go.

The following morning, I called my veterinarian for a psychiatric consult regarding Senor Poncho. Later in the day, I went to the gym determined to exercise away the tensions filling my life.

After a basketball game, I stopped to talk with one of my opponents, a fellow in the home security business.

By the time I had finished explaining that I needed to install a video camera to record my dog, he was already laughing. When he had finally calmed down, he said, “That’s a first for me. You want to monitor the family room to watch your dog use the floor?”

“Not exactly for that reason. I think my wife is mistreating him – at least that’s what the veterinarian suspects.”

“I’m a dog person too, and I know how you feel, so when is a good time?”

“Saturday at noon would be perfect.”

“I’ll see you then,” he replied, as he headed to the locker room still laughing. By then, I was beginning to feel foolish, but as I knew, people often do crazy things for those they love.

On Saturday, he had the hidden camera installed in just under an hour. The exercise cost me over six hundred dollars – a sum I had not expected to pay – but as I reasoned, it was a small price, given my affection for Senor Poncho.

A few hours later while testing the system, I heard a car pull into the driveway. Going to the door, I looked out and saw Serena holding a bottle of wine.

“I thought a peace offering was in order. I haven’t talked to Carla for several weeks. Is she home?”

“She’s out running errands. Come in. We'll wait together.”

Serena handed me the bottle then headed toward the kitchen. After a few moments of small talk, I noticed her fingers move to loosen several buttons on her blouse.

“I'm so hot today. Lets fix a couple of wine coolers while we wait.”

As I was opening the wine bottle, she stepped closer and draped an arm over my shoulder.

“You never called.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate,” I replied, setting the bottle aside.

“I'd like to make it appropriate,” she whispered, as her lips again sought mine.

Instantly, Senor Poncho sprang to his feet and charged us, his muzzle striking her leg, the fur on his back bristling.

Serena scrambled away, as he continued making a low-pitched growl from deep in his throat. “That dog scares me. He’s never been friendly.”

“That’s unusual,” I said, reaching for his collar. “Senor Poncho likes everyone. But, I’ll lock him in a back room while we wait for Carla.”

When I returned, I found Serena in the family room.

For a few moments, I watched as she moved about, pausing here and there to admire various decorative pieces. When she settled on the carpet in front of the fireplace and slipped off her sandals, I started to wonder. But when she loosened the final button on her blouse and indicated that I was welcome to join her, I clearly understood her motive.

I took several steps toward her then hesitated knowing the consequences. While she was an attractive woman, I was a happily married man. I’d be a fool to fall for her advance. I took a step back, uncertain.

Suddenly, from behind me, a spine tingling scream electrified the air.

Turning quickly, I saw Carla watching from the doorway, her mouth agape and her eyes emanating fury. For many heart-stopping seconds, we stared at each other.

“It’s not what you think,” I said, backing further away.

When her lips turned into a snarl, I took another step back and stumbled, my fall landing me squarely on top of Serena. An instant later, Carla resumed screaming – pouring out words and obscenities that told me whatever I had to say would never be enough.

A month later at my new apartment, while going through a pile of divorce papers, I remembered the video recorder and tape. At the time, Senor Poncho was napping.

Tossing the papers aside, I started searching for the tape curious to see what, if anything, it contained.

While digging through a box, I recalled the events of the past month.

Carla, as expected, had immediately filed for divorce. She was asking for the house, the new car and everything of value, except Senor Poncho who remained faithfully at my side during that long, agonizing month.

I managed to see her a week later. It was the one and only day her attorney agreed to let me enter the house to gather my belongings. For no particular reason, I grabbed the video recording from the hidden recorder and stuck it in a box of personal items then promptly forgot it in the ongoing confusion.

Later that same evening, after Senor Poncho and I had finished feasting on a large pizza, I switched on the television, inserted the recording and sat back to see what I had paid six hundred dollars to watch.

To my surprise, the hidden recorder had activated the minute Serena walked into the family room and removed her sandals on Carla’s favorite carpet. I remained mesmerized, watching as she went through her seduction routine. I saw Carla enter the room and let out that horrible shriek.

The recording sent my spirit at a new level of low. But then, when I rose from my chair to start the replay, my interest suddenly awakened. I inched closer to the screen and adjusted the volume.

There was more.

“Has he gone yet?” Serena asked.

Carla left the room then a few moments later she returned to the camera’s view. “His car just turned the corner. He won’t be back. He doesn’t have the courage.“

“Did he take the Porsche?”

“He took the Explorer,” Carla replied, laughing. She poured two glasses of wine. “Can you believe… we actually pulled it off just as we planned?”

“Men always fall for sex. Now, you’ll have all the money you want plus a new Porsche and a fabulous house. I can’t wait for us to start traveling.” She touched the carpet beside her. “Come sit with me. It’s been far too long.”

I watched Carla settle on the carpet next to Serena, feeling a range of emotions fill me. Then finally, when they disappeared into another room talking about an elegantly scented soap, I rose from my seat to again start the rewind.

Suddenly, I stopped. There was even more.

With the recorder still running, I began smiling as I watched Senor Poncho come into view and walk calmly to the carpet in front of the fireplace. For a many long, drawn-out minutes, my old-friend sniffed the area. Then in a practiced manner, he circled several times and proceeded to lift his leg exactly on the spot where Carla and Serena had sat discussing their scheme.

In the weeks to follow, life for both Senor Poncho and me became sweeter. With the video in hand, my attorney quickly settled the divorce action with no contest from Carla. And before long, I was again driving the Porsche and experiencing the power.

As a reward for his love, Senor Poncho assumed a stately position to my right where he sat on the baby soft leather seat and pointed his nose to the wind.

Sometime later, I learned that Serena was living in Miami. As for Carla, I never saw her again after that day I retrieved my clothes and my all time, most favorite video.

The recording was something I planned to keep as a reminder that life is not always a luxury car, an expensive home or even an attractive wife. While the amenities are great, a good dog is still – a man’s best friend.


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John is a native born Texan living near Houston. His writing focuses on short stories and flash. Publications to his credit can be found on the internet and in several print edition periodicals.