Like most twins, Delphine and Collette Mercier had always been close. They did everything together. Only now, in their mid-twenties, had they stopped dressing like one another to prove a point that they could think independently of one another, but still, somehow, managed to show up to any given event with similar dresses and hairstyles, almost as if they shared the same brain. They even chose men together; when choosing men, two heads were undoubtedly better than one. The sisters had been patient all these years, setting their sights on only well-to-do oil and gas men who ran offshore drilling companies. In Houston, oil and gas men were the ones the sisters knew to sink their fangs into and suck. They have found and secured their marks on the Allen brothers, Richard and Reginald, for the past year.
From all outward appearances, the twins were wealthy, living the lives of the rich and famous. Their shared Instagram and TikTok accounts boasted 10 million followers, and brand deals and affiliate marketing schemes had the money rolling in faster than they could keep up. Their family business, an ancient New Orleans perfumery, had been secretly sinking into financial ruin for years. The only wealth they now possessed came from social media.
All of that changed when a recording of the sisters using racist terms in a secret video surfaced, killing their platform almost overnight and canceling them from the social media webisphere. Their sponsorships, brand deals, and followers had dwindled to 25k, which consisted of MAGA minions and bots, not nearly enough of a kickback to fund their lifestyle and image.
The Allen family had bought land and property in Houston since the 1800s. This oilman business was just something to do with their time. “Enough money ain’t enough money,” they would tell the girls on dinner dates in hearty laughter that even sounded expensive. Delphine and Collette had spent many hours researching, taking deep dives into the family’s business, their shares, properties, business accounts, and partners, even getting rid of mistresses that would eventually take a cut out of the bag they had already worked so hard to obtain. The twins’ air of culture and old family elegance attracted the Allen brothers’ snobbish attention. They agreed over a clinking glass of bourbon that the beautiful twins Delphine and Colette would be their brides.
Mama Allen had become worried about her sons, one approaching forty-five and the other almost fifty, still unmarried. She often wondered if the men spent too much time in the River Oaks gentleman’s club and not enough time prospecting for brides. The first time she looked at the Mercier twins, she knew they weren’t what they seemed. They were too stunning, well put together, and meticulous in their appearances; even their teeth were too white. These women were nothing more than swindlers in silk blouses, and she knew it. The only reason she played along with their charade was that she so desperately wanted her sons to be married and to quell the rumors of them being spotted in late-night Montrose Blvd. clubs, rainbow flags flapping from the entry doors.
Yes, the twins were charlatans, but Mama Allen knew a little about that herself, and she didn’t become Mrs. Allen off looks alone. It takes a con to see a con; a woman must use all the charms in her bag to survive. She knew the Merciers and the famous Mercier House of Fragrance, a luxury perfume and apothecary empire founded in New Orleans in the late 1800s, struggling to keep afloat in a dying perfume industry. Once, the fragrance of Kings and Queens was sold in cheap retail shops and mall kiosks. Mama Allen knew why they were there and didn’t blame them.
The wedding went off with a bang, even gracing the cover of the Houston Chronicle. “Twice the Vows, Twice the Fortune: The Allen Brothers Wed the Glamorous Mercier Twins in Society’s Most Lavish Affair.” No expense was spared, and the twins wore Vera Wang wedding gowns gifted to them by the designer herself. The twins had done it; they had set their target and successfully shot Bullseye! The couple vacationed for a month in Bora Bora before returning to Houston, where the Allens had been buying land and property since the 1800s. They had important meetings with the company man and the OIM regarding the purchase of the Allen brothers’ newest offshore rig. The brothers were anxious to see what new toy they had bought and wouldn’t even go home first.
No, they would be dropped off at the helipad and give kisses and hugs to their beautiful new brides, who would seem utterly distraught at the thought of being separated so soon after the honeymoon. Although Delphine and Colette were now married Mercier-Allen ladies, they still could not be parted. The husbands moved their new wives into the palatial Allen estate, as old as the city of Houston itself and now a historical landmark, along with Mama Allen, who never said much. Still, the twins had an idea of what was on her mind, why her eyes cut so sharply on them, and the fake smiles she’d give them from across the dinner table. This was not what Mama Allen had in mind. This had been her home for almost 60 years, and now, these two tramps would take over every inch of it!
“How long do snakes live, you say, Colette?”
“Oh, about twenty-something-odd years; they can live longer if they’re kept indoors in those glass boxes like they do the fish,” Colette says, smiling with pursed lips at Mama Allen.
“Why, Colette, I didn’t know you read anything, sugar.”
Mama Allen is proud of herself for this little dig, having witnessed Colette struggle with even the most basic vocabulary.
“So, are you saying that the longer the snake stays in captivity, the longer it will live, Colette? Delphine’s eyes are as sharp as razors as she watches Mama Allen squirm in her chair. “You mean if it were thrown out in the streets, it wouldn’t survive long? It’d just DIE?” Delphine says, slamming her steak knife into the table.
Mama Allen stands up and places her dinner napkin on her plate, wondering if the food she’s eaten is somehow tainted.
“You know, I don’t feel all that hungry anymore. I think I’ll lie down. If you’ll excuse me.”
Before Mama Allen can leave the room, Delphine grabs her by her forearm, never rising from her seat at the dinner table.
“Don’t tell me you are getting sick now, Mama. I’ll have Collette send you a toddy with a cinnamon stick shortly. How’s that?” Delphine says.
Mama Allen forcibly pulls her arm out of the clutches of Delphine, whose eyes are as black and cold as a demon’s. She said nothing to her and walked back to her side of the mansion. She couldn’t quite place it, but knew they were up to something. Those two were always plotting, always whispering. And now, for the first time, she feared for her sons, led by the devices and schemes of these succubus. This was more than gold-digging; this was something else. While the boys were out of town, she would find out.
Delphine and Collette could breathe without worrying about money and the failing family business. They could even reinvent themselves, rebrand, as the saying goes, and give the House of Mercier a new image and a new start. It felt good to return to luxury, like little girls when their father spoiled them with presents. All before the money dried up, and he placed a shotgun in his mouth. Their mother wasn’t too far behind, her death being the cause of an accident related to schizophrenia, which translated into the twins purposely driving their mother insane to get her out of their way. On the day of their mother’s death, small speakers were set up around the house, playing an old recording of their father’s voice calling their mother’s name. Whenever she’d ask the twins if they had heard the voice, they would emphatically deny and patronize their mother.
Weeks over, they turned the volume up a little more each day, and each time the twins told her she was hearing things. They even called the doctor over, who prescribed the mother a sedative. On the final day, the volume was turned up to the max, and their mother jumped off her second-story balcony, falling some 20 feet, smashing her head onto the stones surrounding the rose garden.
But to make this a reality, it would take more than the meager allowances the Allen husbands gave their new wives. Plans would have to be made, and they would have to be made soon.
The Allen brothers had never been on an oil rig before. They were excited to see what their investment had bought them. The two men had never been this close to real men working: men with dirty faces and black oil underneath their fingernails, roughnecks, and derrickmen. Today, they would be just one of the guys, something they could take back to the country club to brag about during golf. The Company man and the OIM had been more than accommodating, showing them around the rig, introducing them to the men whose oil-smudged faces didn’t greet them with the same enthusiasm, many spitting their snuff, purposely missing their cups.
“Those aren’t the type of shoes a man wears on a rig, boss; a man could slip and die wearing shoes like that,” says one of the roustabouts, looking down at Allen’s brother’s black leather Oxfords. The brothers are taken aback, exchange inquisitive looks, then turn to the company man to ask why they weren’t told to dress appropriately.
“Mind the business that pays you, Jack,” says the Company man, leading the brothers to the platform. A light rain earlier in the day left the platform slick and grimy, smelling of salt and petroleum. The company man and the OIM stayed back, encouraging the Allen brothers to look closer at what their investment had bought them. With one slight push, the company man and the OIM plunged the Allen brothers into the gray waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
“Well, that was easy.” Says the Company Man.
“Easier than I thought,” Says the OIM.
‘You wanna call the twins, or should I?
“No, wait for the news, remember? No calls.”
“Right”.
Within the hour, the news had spread like wildfire about the freak accident on an offshore rig in the Gulf, involving the Allen brothers. MISSING!! PRESUMED DEAD. In the bedroom, Delphine and Collette had practiced how they’d cry and slap each other’s faces to appear bloodshot with anguish and grief. And suddenly, Colette stops as if she has heard something in the closet.
“Did you hear that?” Collette says concerned.
“Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”
“There’s something in the closet. Something is moving.”
“You’re acting like Mother now, Collette. Do you remember what happened to her? Don’t crack up now! Not when we are so close to getting everything we ever wanted!”
Delphine grabs Colette by the shoulders and shakes her like a rag doll, flipping her neck back and forth. And when Delphine’s hand is raised in mid-strike, does she also hear the movement herself in the closet. Just seconds before Delphine was ready to slap Collette, the two sisters clung to each other and backed their bodies up against the room door to get out. The doorknob will not budge.
The closet door opens slowly, revealing the sleeve of one of the Allen brothers’ suits. The entire suit walks out of the closet and towards the twins. The bodyless suit steps out of the closet and waits for another suit to emerge and join it. The two suits, filled with an invisible body, adjust their ties and brush each other’s shoulders off with invisible hands. They apply after shave, which falls to the ground in a splat, and place watches on invisible wrists.
To the relief of the twins, who are now paralyzed with fear, their bodies shaking, the suits didn’t seem to notice them. Collette tries the doorknob again, and the noise of the rattling doorknob turns the suits to face the twins. Delphine’s heart was beating so fast she couldn’t even catch her breath to let out a scream. All the blood had been flushed from her face, and a puddle of urine pooled at her feet. The suits came closer and closer; Collete let out a scream, and a force more potent than any she had ever known grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground.
In the window, Collette could see the image of her mother watching her calmly as the invisible force choked life out of her. Or maybe she had imagined it. Her hands tried to pry the invisible fingers from her throat, but they were too strong to fight. Delphine started to run, slipping on the puddle of urine, bashing her head against the ancient brass doorknob, killing her instantly. The blood and urine merged into one puddle, reflecting the image of Collette’s twisted neck that lay on the wooden floor. The suits face each other and walk back into the closet.
Mama Allen had received a phone call from the Coast Guard letting her know that her sons had been found – alive. The coast guard said it was a goddamn miracle.
