Page 33 of Men or Paws
I pointed to the rooms we passed on both sides of the hallway. “Bathroom, bedroom, bedroom, home theater. Feel free to use it if the door is open. I’ve got the same subscriptions here as you do in the guesthouse, Netflix, Amazon Prime, HBO Max, Apple TV, Disney Plus, and about a thousand other channels. And if you need something else, just let me know and I’ll add it.”
“Thank you,” Beth said.
We continued down the hallway. “Bathroom, bedroom, bedroom.” I flipped back around. “Guest bedrooms. Mine is next.”
The double doors to the main bedroom suite were wide open.
Stepping inside, I gestured around. “This is my bedroom, obviously.”
Beth took a tiny step inside the bedroom and stopped abruptly, her eyes darting back and forth, like she just discovered she was at the edge of an alligator pit. “Okay . . .” She fidgeted again, this time picking one of her fingernails.
Beth obviously had a big problem with me and my bedroom. I was pretty sure I could blame it on the tabloids for depicting me as a ladies’ man, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, I’d had highly publicized relationships with three actresses, but three relationships in five years does not make a Casanova.
Something told me Beth didn’t believe that, unless there was something else about me that was rubbing her the wrong way. If so, what could it be? She didn’t like my movies, obviously, but that was no reason to hate me.
Houdini jumped up on the bed, claiming his usual place on the edge. He lay his chin on top of his paws and sighed.
“This is Houdini’s favorite spot,” I said, walking over and petting him on the head.
Beth nodded. “He looks content.”
“Right now, he’s a happy camper. Okay, next we have my bathroom.” I gestured for her to enter before me.
Beth walked inside the bathroom and froze. “Your bathroom is as big as your kitchen.”
I was used to that response when people saw it for the first time. “Not quite, but yes, it’s quite large. Much more than I need, anyway.”
Beth eyed the marble floor, the walnut-stained vanities, and the limestone countertops, before walking over to the giant bronze statue of a reclining Buddha in the corner.
She rubbed the Buddha’s belly and smiled, turning back to me. “For good luck.”
I nodded. “I do that all the time, actually.”
Beth wandered over to the two spiral columns, walking in between them and up the three steps that led to the huge alcove bathtub. She glanced down into it, then turned around and came back down the steps, walking over to the opposite side of the bathroom.
She appeared to be fascinated with the bathroom, although she wasn’t saying much.
Beth glanced up into the skylight positioned directly over my walk-in shower with the slate-walled waterfall. I admit that the shower was complete overkill and could probably fit ten people, but it wasn’t like I designed it since it came with the house.
Beth turned back to me again and smirked. “What a coincidence, I have the exact same shower in my apartment.” She laughed and shook her head. “Okay, what’s next then?” She didn’t wait for an answer, marching right back into the hallway, like she couldn’t wait to get out of my room.
I whistled, prompting Houdini to jump off the bed and follow me out of the bedroom. “The last stop on the tour includes one of my favorite things in the house, the bowling alley.” I slipped by Beth and headed down the hallway.
She gave an uninhibited but very endearing snort. “Very funny.”
“I’m not joking.” At the end of the hallway, I stopped and flipped back around when I sensed she wasn’t following me. “Are you coming?”
Beth was hanging back, hands on hips, skepticism written all over her face. “A real bowling alley? Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. It’s on the lower level.”
“You mean like, below the ground?”
I nodded, wondering why she doubted me. “The guy I bought the house from was a teensy bit paranoid, so he built an underground shelter designed to withstand a ten-kiloton nuclear warhead. He called it his Doomsday Bunker. I called it ridiculous. Not to his face, of course.” I chuckled. “It does have some cool features, but I made a few upgrades after I bought the place.”
She blinked. “How do you upgrade a bomb shelter? Better cement?”
I laughed. “It doesn’t feel like a bomb shelter. It’s like another area of the house that just happens to be six thousand square feet. It’s completely furnished. The previous owner actually had a three-hole miniature golf course down there, but I had it removed and stuck in a two-lane bowling alley instead. Much more practical.”
