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hear some music, girls?” Alex asked, walking over to the wall-enclosed Kenwood stereo system to the left of the fireplace. “Let’s see. What are our choices? Ah! Here’s one I know you’re going to enjoy.”
    Alex put in the disc, hit a few buttons on the CD player, and turned the stereo volume up to almost full blast. A few seconds later, Janet Jackson’s “Son of a Gun” began playing.
    â€œHa! Ha! Hoo! Hoo!…thought you’d get the money too… greedy muihafuekas try to have their cake and eat, too, “
    Sam retrieved a pair of seamstress shears from the backpack and cut off Heather’s designer clothing. Completely nude, she lay on the bed without moving, neither crying nor attempting to speak. She knew what was about to happen but believed that if she were a willing participant, she could barter for her life after the deed was done.
    Sandra Rhodes and Paula Stevens had regained consciousness. Consumed with fear, warm tears mixed with mascara ran down their painted faces. The two women were trying to say something, but their words couldn’t be distinguished from their muffled lamentations. They wanted to live, but when they saw the surgical gloves, they realized that they would not survive the night.
    The twins peeled off their clothing and folded them neatly. It was an acquired habit formed in prison. They stood before their captives, proud of their manufactured physiques.
    With every stitch of clothing discarded, the women could see that their pubic hair had been shaved, which confirmed their impending doom. They knew no DNA evidence would be left. There would be nothing to lead the police to their killers.
    Stretching out on the floor, the twins pumped out their customary five-hundred pushups. Beads of sweat began to form on their muscular backs. Their chins touched the floor and they blew out a loud, “One!” Less than two minutes later, they were at fifty. Fifteen minutes after that they said, “Five hundred.”
    The twins stood up. Their bodies glistened with perspiration, and their massive organs protruded outward. Their breathing had increased, but they were far from sucking wind. Having warmed themselves up, the twins grabbed the seamstress shears and cut away Heather’s plastic strapping, but kept her mouth taped shut.
    Sam put the diamond choker around Heather’s neck, and then forcedthe matching diamond studs into her ears. “Hope you like the gifts, Heather,” Sam said. “You can thank Jasper Hunter when you see him, which won’t be too long from now.”
    Heather was trying to say something. Alex removed the tape. “Any last words?”
    â€œPlease don’t do this,” Heather said in a voice full of horror and dread. “I’ll do anything you ask! Anything! I’ll be your woman again, Alex. Please…please…please…let us live.”
    â€œSorry, baby. You’re ten years too late,” Alex said, feeling a little sorry for her. “You gotta go.”
    â€œAlex, did you really expect me not to have anyone for ten years—not even Sandra and Paula?”
    â€œYOU DUMB HO!’ Alex shouted. “DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THIS IS ABOUT YOU FUCKING JASPER HUNTER? YOU INSULT US!” With that, Alex re-taped her mouth.
    â€œDo you believe her, Sam?” Alex asked.
    â€œShe’s got a lot of fucking nerve, Alex,” Sam said.
    Heather, Sandra, and Paula looked at each other strangely, as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Then Heather mumbled something that got the twins’ attention. Alex pulled the tape off again.
    â€œWhen’s the last time you took your meds, Alex?” Heather asked desperately.
    Alex laughed. “Haven’t taken them in over a month. I don’t need them anymore.”
    â€œAlex,” Heather said as calmly as she could. “You need to take your meds. You’re…” Alex re-taped her mouth