Page 30 of Men or Paws
She smirked. “Don’t tell me—it’s got zero miles on it?”
I chuckled and nodded my head toward Houdini, who was sniffing the machine. “Oh, it’s got plenty of miles on it, but none of them are from me.”
Beth glanced at the dog, then pinned her eyes back on me. “You’re trying to tell me that Houdini uses the treadmill?”
“Yup.”
“Nice try,” she said. “I don’t believe you.”
“I guess this is one of those scenarios where actions speak louder than words.” I whistled. “Houdini, do you want to go for a run?”
He barked, then wagged his tail so hard, his butt shook back and forth.
Beth still didn’t look convinced, crossing her arms and watching.
I reached over and clicked the start button on the treadmill. “Okay, up!”
Houdini jumped onto the treadmill and began walking.
Beth looked incredulously between me and Houdini.
I tapped the speed button multiple times until it went up to 3.0.
Houdini transitioned from a walk to a light jog.
“That is . . . unbelievable.” Beth shook her head in surprise. “How long will he run?”
“He will probably keep running until I tell him to stop, but I usually only let him go for a mile because of his age,” I said. “He loves it, but I don’t want him to overdo it.” I pressed the stop button and Houdini jumped off, immediately pressing a paw against my leg, his way of begging for more. “I know you want to keep going, but not today, buddy.” I scratched him behind the neck. “We need to show Beth the office and the rest of the house. Let’s go.” I snapped my fingers twice.
Houdini barked, then led the way out of the workout room.
Gwen walked toward us in the hallway, carrying the remote control Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Volkswagen Baja Beetle that I had ordered earlier in the week. “This just arrived. I’ll put it with the others.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” Gwen said, entering one of the guest rooms.
Beth sneaked a peek inside the room just before Gwen shut the door. “I see your car collection extends to the toy variety.”
“Once a kid, always a kid,” I said, preferring not to explain why I had a room of toy cars. “That room is off limits, by the way.”
Next, I showed Beth the office, a little embarrassed that it looked like a dump with the scripts piled high on my desk. “Please excuse the mess, but I’m up to my eyebrows in TV scripts I need to read, hence the reason for hiring you.”
Beth scanned the scripts on the desk and pointed to one of them. “May I?”
For some reason, I nodded.
She picked up the script closest to her and read the title. “Surf and Turf.” She flipped through a few pages of the script, looking as bored as I was when I went through it.
“That script was the last one I looked at,” I said. “It’s about an artificial turf salesman who dreams of becoming a professional surfer. They’re convincedSurf and Turfisgoing to be the nextBay Watch.”
“And they want you to play the part of the salesman-slash-surfer?”
“Yes,” I said. “Basically, they want to turn me into a reinvented, regurgitated version of David Hasselhoff, but instead of a lifeguard I would be a surfer. I would prefer Patrick Swayze’s role inPoint Break, if I were to consider something like that.”
“Either way, would you need to learn to surf to give the part credibility or would they use stunt doubles?” Beth asked.
“Technically, Hollywood can make anyone look like they’re experienced surfers, even a ninety-year-old grandma. But to answer your question, I already know how to surf. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because eye candy television is not my thing. Sure, there’s a remote chance of it being entertaining, but more likely it will just be another superficial show.”
