"Yelena Sandoval. She works for a hair product company. Are you serious, dude?"

"Very. Can you find stuff on her?"

"I can't believe you asked me that." I heard keys clicking in the background, rapid tap tap tapping that meant Alex was getting me what I needed. "Did you try googling her?"

"Yeah, but I didn't find much. Lots of work stuff, all of the articles she's written for the company.  I didn't find anything personal. No pictures. No Facebook. No duckface Instagram selfies. No blog. It's like she doesn't exist when she leaves the office."

"Uh huh. Yeah, that is weird."

More key clicking and a bored sigh came through the phone. I hated to call in a favor but if anyone could find a random woman in LA, it was my buddy, Alex. We actually called him HackerAlex. Got a girl's name and number but the last two digits are smudged? HackerAlex can probably figure it out. Need to know some high level intel about someone you used to date? Or want to date? Don't even think about it, give HackerAlex a call. The only payment he ever required was perks- concert tickets, movie tickets, free music, red carpet and seat filler invites. He was all over that shit.

"So, what kind of information are you looking for?"

"You know, the usual. Is she crazy? Has she ever been arrested for stalking? Has she fucked an unusually high number of my friends and told the internet about it?"

"The Crazy Starfucker Investigation? You've gotta meet some more interesting ladies. I'd love to dig up some real dirt one of these days." He chuckled to himself. "Okay, let me work on this. If there's something out there, I'll find it."

"Thanks, man." I ended the call and slipped the phone into the pocket of my shorts, adjusted my shades and pulled my cap low over my eyes before I approached the entrance to Runyon Canyon Park. I hadn't been out here in a while and something about the big 4-0 staring me in the face made me feel like I only had a few days to live out my youth.

An hour later, my t-shirt was dark with sweat and clinging to my skin. I stood at the top of my favorite trail and took in the view of Hollywood down below. I pulled a set of earbuds from my ears just in time to hear deep, loud barks on the trail behind me.

I love dogs, but I wasn't prepared for the massive paws that landed on my chest, pushing me backward down the hill. A long, pink tongue furled out and swiped my face from neck to cheek. I lost my footing and tumbled backward, landing on my ass.

Hanging over me, paws resting on my chest, tail wagging furiously and panting hot dog breath in my face was a beautiful, golden, heavy Mastiff.

"I'm so sorry! He's totally harmless! Barksdale, come!"

The dog barked and released me from his hold, bounding over to his owner, tail still wagging wildly like he didn't just knock over a complete stranger.  I sat up, trying to get my bearings. My t-shirt was covered in muddy paw prints.

"I'm so sorry about your shirt, sir. I'll pay to have it cleaned. Please don't report this to animal control; he's big, but he's just a puppy. I'll run and grab my wallet and pay for your shirt, I swear. I live right over--"

She froze, a finger in the air. She stopped talking. Stopped apologizing.

I stopped being concerned about the mud on my t-shirt and the dog and the heat and the canyon and... everything but her. Standing right in front of me.

"Hey," she said, dropping her hand while a slow smile spread across the pretty lips I remembered from a few nights ago. "Are... did you follow me here?"

I laughed. "From the Roxy, two days ago? Yeah. And then I put myself in the path of your dog so he could knock me on my ass."

Lena laughed, gripping a thick leather leash while the dog sniffed the grassy area around us. She wore a simple tank top and shorts, but the sight of all that golden skin, those toned arms and long legs and curly hair pulled up into a ponytail was making parts of me very happy.

"I'm so sorry. I let him roam around the park where dogs don't have to be on leashes. He loves the little pond over there but it's really muddy. We were heading home and I didn't think I needed this-" She waived the useless leash in the air. "He must have seen you and got excited. A new toy to play with. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride," I answered.

"And your shirt." She cringed, giving me the once-over glance.  "I hope it wasn't expensive."

"Cost me $30 four years ago. It's practically an antique."

"Antiques usually appreciate in value, though."

"This shirt is valuable to me, actually. It's very near and dear to my heart."

"Right. That's why you're out here running in it. In the middle of the day. In August."

"Are you trying to say this shirt is worthless?"

"Well..." She gave the shirt another wincing glance, then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I mean... if you really want me to pay for - "

"I'm bullshitting you, honey. It's a plain gray shirt from Old Navy. I have twenty shirts in this exact same color."

"Are you sure?"

I waived her off, then bent to give the dog a friendly pat. He wound himself around my legs, muddying my socks and shoes with his paws.

"Barksdale! Sit! You're so rude!"

"He's okay. I'm a big fan of dogs." I gave him a good rub behind the ears and some pats along his rump. He whimpered and wagged his tail. "He's an English Mastiff, right? How old is he?"

"Eight months. He was so tiny and adorable when he was a few weeks old And then three months later he was fifty pounds. And now he's a hundred pounds of overly excited, energetic puppy."

She shook her head, hands propped on her hips. "And he's filthy. I'm really sorry about your shirt. And your socks. And now your shoes."

"Forget about it. I already have."

A quiet moment passed, where it was just me and her and the dog, alone on that hill, the vista behind us, a blessedly cool breeze wafting over our shoulders. I wasn't sure I'd ever see this woman again. I wasn't sure I wanted to, until she just showed up. Well, she and her dog that didn't know his own strength.

"Listen, I-" she started.

"I wanted to-" I said, at the same time. Then I chuckled and gestured for her to continue.

"I uh... I wanted to apologize for that guy the other night. At the Roxy. He's one of those music industry types. You know, thinks he's really important but he's really the Chief Gopher. He's way over the top, all the time. And all of the product had arrived, so I didn't even really need to go back there."

"I know the type. I tried to wait for you, so I could get your number. Maybe see if you wanted to go out sometime?"

Her smile was... off. It was polite, not bright like a few nights before. She tipped her head up, using the palm of one hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I tried to find you when I had everything cleared up, but I didn't see you."

"Well, the band devolved into some kind of crazy mix of Prince songs and I couldn't take it anymore. I had an early morning yesterday. I'm sorry I missed you, but we're here right now."

"Yeah. We are." She smiled. A real smile, this time. "So, you're covered in mud and it's totally my fault. Would you at least follow me home and clean yourself up a little? I just live up the road, in those condos over there."

She pointed at a grouping of buildings that I never had a reason to notice before. "Your scene, you mean?"

"Where there's good beer. And a lot less purple. But there's a big stupid dog..."

"And a really cute girl." I hadn't meant to say that. Too late, I realized that I'd said it anyway. 

"Uhm...so, follow us?"

I nodded, then whistled for the dog. Happily, he caught up to us, his tail whipping the hot, stale air and his ears flopping as he bounded down the trail.