Julia rolled her eyes. “It’s not a radio, chico . It’s a prototype. Digital Theater Sound. Six speakers. Wires everywhere. And the American says if the sound isn’t perfect, he’ll take his business to the Princess Hotel.”

The episode opened with Máximo rushing past the kitchens, where Julia grabbed his arm. “Don Pablo’s in a mood. The gringo in Suite 401 brought his own sound system. Demands we install it by sunset for some private party.”

The bet? Don Pablo had scoffed that no sound system could match the natural acoustics of the Acapulco Bay sunset. The American, Sterling, claimed his DTS rig would make the waves themselves jealous. The loser pays for the other’s New Year’s Eve gala.

Máximo knelt, traced a wire, and found it: a loose ground cable. He twisted it bare-handed, sparking a small shock. The speakers crackled, then bloomed into crystalline sound. Ella’s voice floated over the cliffs, clear as the surf below.

Don Pablo appeared, cigar in hand. “Gallardo, if one wire is wrong, you’ll be cleaning the seagull droppings off the pier for a year.”

Máximo grinned, watching the waves sync with the music. “DTS,” he said. “Doesn’t it stand for Don’t Trust Silence ?”