Alejandro pointed to one guitar on the wall. “This one was stolen from Paul McCartney.”

“George stole it?”

Alejandro blurted out a laugh. “No, he wouldn’t do that. But he bought it on the black market.” He waved his arm across the room. “Every guitar here was stolen. I like rare guitars, but George has a thing for ‘missing’ ones.”

“Isn’t he worried about buying them and getting busted?”

Alejandro rolled his eyes. “George has balls the size of Jupiter. He once boasted to me that he could buy a stolen guitar while cops watched him do it. Claims that as my manager, he can get away with anything. And he thinks the police are stupid.” He nodded toward the guitars all around us. “So far, he may be right.”

I walked to the display case in the middle of the room. The guitar sitting there looked very simple, just a plain old acoustic guitar. “This doesn’t seem so special.”

Alejandro nodded. “You’re right. It’s not that special. It’s just a basic Martin guitar—a Dreadnought, or ‘dread,’ as they’re called. But George had one of them when he was a kid, so he’s got a soft spot for them. This one here is a rare prototype of an original D-1 model—stolen, of course.”

“So George plays guitar?”

Alejandro groaned. “Not very well, but he likes to pretend. Still has his original dread at home. And he’s so sentimentally attached to it that he paid seven hundred thousand dollars for this prototype. They only made eight of them, and four were destroyed in a fire. The others mysteriously disappeared thirty years ago.” He pointed into the guitar’s sound chamber. “See how it’s stamped ‘D-1’ in there? They’ve been making dreads for a long time, and each model gets a new number. The D-27, the D-45, and so forth. But a D-1 is a rarity, and the prototypes are even more valuable. Notice how underneath the D-1, instead of a serial number, it says ‘Prototype 6.’ That’s a true collector’s item.”

“And stolen, too. Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble?”

Alejandro just shrugged. “Not really. Besides, there’s nothing I can do about it. If George wants them here, it’s his business. Also, these are incredible instruments, so I don’t mind too much. I guess my morals are somewhat imperfect. Besides, I appreciate beauty.” He turned to face me with a lusty grin.




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