I finally located the department in an abandoned corner of the station. The small room was decorated in Modern American dungeon, with flickering fluorescent lights that gave the scuffed, off-white walls a subterranean pallor. On the other side of the room was a small window where I could make my claim. And between the door and the window was a single piece of furniture: a tired-looking bench with a sign over it proclaiming, "Wait Here." But there was nobody in the room-evidently not peak hour at the lost and found.

As I started to walk to the claim window, I felt a full-body shudder ripple through me, forcing me to a halt. My old phobia again: the dread of bad cons. A deep fear of the repercussions that happen when everything falls apart, when the game blows up, or as Bea would say, when the con curdles. I'd seen one go seriously bad when I was a kid, which filled me with dread and drove me to leave L.A. Now here it was again, reminding me that this was dangerous and just plain wrong. I shouldn't be here.

I needed a moment to process my fears, so I sat down on the bench, leaned back, and closed my eyes. To cover this awkward moment, I brought my phone up and pretended to be in a conversation. Then I let out my breath slowly and tried to relax.

In the dark silence, I noticed faint elevator music attempting to lighten the mood. It took a few seconds before I recognized an old Alejandro song. The juxtaposition of this upbeat, familiar rhythm with the austere little room almost made me laugh.

I shouldn't have been so surprised to hear Alejandro's music-the man was universally popular. His music topped charts all over the world, and he kept pumping out the hits, year after year. Besides writing songs, singing them, and playing guitar, he also happened to be the hottest man on the planet, with a stunning body and a face that melted my heart in every video of his I watched.

Yeah, I was a hard-core fan. I had all of his music and had been to as many of his concerts as I could. But I'd never heard this version of "My Year of Loving You." The song's pounding beat and jangling guitars had been re-recorded in a more mellow style, suitable for police use. I wondered if it was a Los Angeles thing.

After the song finished, I opened my eyes, ready to play my part in this little con game. Even small doses of Alejandro could cheer me up, so I walked to the claim window full of renewed enthusiasm. With any luck, I could get that panda just like a regular person would.




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