PSEUMINO | VENTO AUREO

19 | discreet.

═ ☆. DOWN IN THE CABIN, RATHER THAN finding him bent over a bucket, you and Bruno found Abbacchio standing beside a radio set on a table. Your eyes darted around, but you didn't see anything amiss.

"Did you touch the radio?" Abbachcio barked.

"I didn't even notice it," Bruno said.

Abbacchio jabbed a finger at the radio. "The handheld speaker should be on top of the radio. Now it's lying on the table. If you didn't move it, who did?" His head jerked to you. "Was it you? Your Stand?"

You looked at the radio. "We're on a moving boat. It could've just slid off."

"There's a hook for it. It couldn't have slid off."

"Are you saying someone's been down here? Whoever used this yacht before us probably didn't put the radio back."

"This yacht hasn't been used today. I specifically asked for it."

Bruno looked miffed that Abbacchio was getting worked up over something so small. So were you, but the way Abbacchio was acting also made you uneasy.

"Are you just a neat freak or something? Here, I'll put it back for you." Bruno reached to replace the speaker. Abbacchio shoved his hand away.

"Don't touch that."

Bruno was known to be easy-going, but you could see that Abbacchio was starting to piss him off. You were glad Mista hadn't come along, seeing as he'd probably have emptied his pistol into Abbacchio by now.

Abbacchio pushed his glasses up his forehead, staring intently at the radio. You saw that his irises were a startling yellow-violet.

"I want you to watch this," he said without looking at you. By now, you were familiar enough with them to know that the figure that shimmered over Abbacchio's shoulder was his Stand. Its body was slim, its upper half glossy blue-purple and its legs and feet white. Something like a dial tone sounded, and the digital timer on its head ticked up to five minutes.

Bruno stiffened beside you.

The Stand seemed to move of its own accord, going to the tiny bathroom in the yacht. The Stand's body flickered like VHS static, and your eyes widened as it shifted, transforming into a man. The digital timer on its forehead began to count down.

The man—Abbacchio's Stand?—unfolded himself from somewhere in the bathroom. The bathroom door was open now, but you could see that he'd edged it open and taken a look around before heading to the radio. With a furtive glance above his head, he'd picked up the radio speaker and began fidgeting with the radio dials, looking for the right channel.

Your entire body went cold. The devious expression, the lime-green ponytail—what was Zucchero doing on the yacht?

"What is this?" Bruno said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Moody Blues can replay events that have already happened. All I need to do is decide what I want to watch, and my Stand will play it out for me. With exact precision, down to the tiny details." Abbacchio went quiet as his playback of Zucchero found the radio channel. Zucchero brought the speaker close to his mouth.

"Sale? Yeah, I'm on. They're all headed to Capri, just like you said. It won't take shit to deal with them and meet you back at Naples."

Zucchero's head whipped around as though he'd heard something.

"I'll be fine. See you then."

You barely had time to blink before he'd disappeared.

"Bastards," Abbacchio growled. "They knew we were following them. This whole thing at Capri was a setup to get us on this yacht. Turn us around," he snapped at Bruno.