Page 35 of Men or Paws

I winced. “I don’t want to talk about Rocco’s . . .” I gestured south of my waist, waved my hand around, but didn’t want to say the word.

“Fine.” Josh sighed. “So, what are you telling me? You like Rocco now?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, not yet. I will say that I didn’t appreciate him abandoning me during the tour of his house. I thought he was going to follow me down to the bowling alley, but then his housekeeper, Gwen, showed up instead to wrap up the tour with me. Rocco just disappeared.”

“He could’ve gotten called into a meeting with some Hollywood bigwigs. You know everyone wants to work with him.”

“I guess so. I am surprised at some of the things I discovered about him this morning.”

“Like what?” Josh asked.

I shrugged. “Let’s just say he doesn’t seem to be who I thought he was, so I decided to give him a little credit. We can leave it at that.”

Josh leaned closer to his camera and filled up my laptop screen with his head, arching an eyebrow and grinning. “I need more than that.”

“No. Can. Do.” I placed some socks and underwear in the top drawer of the dresser, then turned back toward my laptop. “I signed an NDA, remember? I shouldn’t haven’t even told you about the underground shelter, so now you are one I have to kill.”

“It was nice being your brother while it lasted.” Josh laughed. “And you’re paranoid, in case you’re wondering.”

“Maybe I am.” I pointed to the laptop. “Just promise me you’re not going to repeat any of this in one of your routines because I don’t think it’s public knowledge.”

“We have the same agent and Oliver would drop me in a heartbeat if I leaked anything. Come on, spill the beans. What is it that has you so mystified about Rocco?”

“I’m not mystified, I’m flummoxed.”

“Same thing. Spill it.”

“Hang on,” I said, walking over to the window and peeking outside.

“What are you doing?” Josh asked.

I came back around to the front of the laptop and sat on the edge of the bed. “Just checking to see if Rocco is outside the guesthouse.”

Josh laughed. “Right. Because Captain Clapton has nothing better to do than to eavesdrop on his dog sitter.”

“Actually, he’s going to be dropping off Houdini any minute and I don’t want him to hear me talking about him.” I shrugged. “Okay, maybe I’m a little paranoid.”

“Or a lot.”

“It’s just . . . he’s not who I thought he was. For one thing, what kind of a bad boy wears flip-flops?”

“Seriously, that’s your first clue?” Josh shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I once saw a picture of Joe Pesci in Birkenstocks.”

“Well, even if you’re not making that up, which you probably are, I heard Joe only plays tough guys on the big screen, but in real life he’s a teddy bear. Rocco is always portrayed as Hollywood’s bad boy, but I have yet to see any evidence of that. In all the conversations I’ve had with him so far, he acts like an average person you would meet on the corner.”

“I’ve never met anybody on the corner before.”

I crossed my arms. “You know what I mean. I’m just saying that if you met him in a bar or at a comedy club and you didn’t know he was a famous actor, he might appear normal to you, that’s all. Yes, he’s cocky on occasion, but what man isn’t?”

Josh nodded. “Good point. And that’s what has you flummoxed?”

“Yes, well, that and . . . okay, this is going to sound crazy.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Hit me with it.”

“Okay, well, I think there’s a slight possibility or maybe even a very good possibility that Rocco may be . . .”

I couldn’t get the word out because I didn’t want to believe it.