“Here, give me your watch and your barrettes,” Jessica hissed, trying to take the objects without drawing attention to the twins. She quickly pinned back her hair and clipped the watch onto her wrist. “How do I look?”

“Like me,” Elizabeth whispered. She gave her twin a shaky smile. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Jessica said dramatically. “I’m an actress.”

As she walked to the stand, Jessica willed her legs forward, even though they felt like two lead blocks that were holding her down. She and Bruce passed, just inches from each other. He looked into her eyes, searching for some kind of sympathy. Finding none, Jessica could pinpoint the split second he realized it was Jessica and not Elizabeth who was going to take the stand. She could practically feel the fear radiating off of him.

Don’t worry, Brucie, she thought with a smirk. I won’t rat you out. Twin switch in action

Bruce glanced nervously over his shoulder at the twins. It was the most worried Elizabeth had ever seen him. He looks even more worried than that time we saw a hummingbird hovering outside of his office window at Patman Canning, Elizabeth thought. I think he seriously thought it was going to bust through the glass and peck our eyes out!

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ned continued, “I ask you: Would a man afraid of birds be capable of date rape? By the end of this trial, I’m confident you will come to the same conclusion that I have: No, a man afraid of birds doesn’t have the balls to commit date rape.”

Wow, it’s almost like Dad read my mind, Elizabeth thought. That’s kind of creepy.

Jessica giggled a little bit louder and shifted in her seat as their father took his seat back at the defense table. “Birds!” she repeated, laughing. “I lied: This is the funniest shit I’ve heard all week.” An obscure pop culture reference

“BFFs,” Amy repeated. “Is that some kind of code for something?”

“Best friends forever, or best fucking friend, something like that,” Elizabeth said. “But that’s not relevant to the accusations that have been made against Mr. Patman.”

“So you’re fucking?” Amy asked, looking down at her notes and nodding. “…and weeping?”

“For the last time,” Bruce said evenly, “I am not the Sweet Valley date rapist.”

“He’s really not,” Elizabeth piped up. “Officer, I know this may be none of my business, but that’s never stopped me from interfering before. And I can say with about 60 percent certainty that Bruce is not the Sweet Valley date rapist.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. “I’ve been trying to tell this asshole that for the past five minutes.”

“Don’t you know who he is?” Lila demanded of the police officer. “He’s Bruce Fucking Patman!” BPattz, yo

Sure enough, at the next turn, there was Ken’s Toyota wrapped around a tree, smoke pouring out from under its hood. Todd slammed on the brakes, bringing his car to a stop in the middle of the road and jumping out.

He ran toward Ken’s car, the sharp pellets of rain pelting his face. Please be OK, Ken, he hoped. Please be all right.

Todd could feel the heat of the engine fire as he approached the Toyota. Throwing up one arm to shield his face, Todd moved cautiously toward the car. Any second now, this thing could blow sky high, he thought as he choked on the acrid smoke. It filled his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

Reaching the driver’s side door, Todd hesitated for a split second before yanking it open. Ken was slumped over the steering wheel, his eyes closed and his face pale. That “fatal” night

“Thanks for the tip, Caroline,” Amy said, jotting down Bruce’s name in her reporter’s notebook and scribbling down a question mark beside it.

“But, speaking of Bruce — you’re going to be so interested in this piece of gossip, although I’m afraid it’s not actually newsworthy — he’s supposedly fucking Elizabeth Wakefield!” Caroline said, nodding furiously. “Can you believe it? Of course, Todd Wilkins is fucking Ken Matthews, so it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth made some bad decisions, but I really thought she’d give Enid Rollins a go, you know? Elizabeth seems too polite to turn anyone down for sex, regardless of her own sexual orientation. Oh, and I have it on good authority that she cries after every orgasm. Every single one! Can you believe it? I’ve never cried after an orgasm, but you know, my boyfriend lives out of town, so I can’t tell you the last time I actually had an orgasm — well, not one given to me by an actual human being and not something with batteries, anyway—” Hold up, bitch

“Marshall the fifth?” Jessica said into the phone, trying to put on her most sultry voice. “I mean, Stan? It’s me, Elizabeth Wakefield.”

“Elizabeth?” he asked slowly, as if he were trying to place where he remembered her from.

“Yes, Elizabeth,” Jessica said, annoyed, before she remembered that Elizabeth would never take such a tone with anyone, let alone an old man. She cleared her throat and started over, more sweetly this time. “I mean, yes, it’s me, Elizabeth.”

“I don’t—”

“Threesome. Blonde twins. Eyes the color of the Pacific Ocean,” Jessica fired off rapidly. “Crying after every orgasm.” Elizabeth’s Great Idea

Five
Sweet Valley

Jessica had picked out the perfect bikini at the Sweet Valley Mall, a stunning turquoise two-piece that complemented her blue-green eyes and showed off her awesome rack. There’s no way Marshall the fifth can resist me in this little number, Jessica thought. He – and his bank account! – won’t know what hit him!

Jessica applied one last coat of mascara. She knew Marshall the fifth was waiting downstairs in his limo, but, as any woman knew, it was best to make a man wait. I make my living making men wait, Jessica thought, smiling wryly.

“Jessica!” Elizabeth called up the stairs. “Are you ready yet? It’s rude to keep your date waiting.”

“When was the last time I didn’t keep a date waiting?” Jessica shot back. She applied a thick layer of lipstick in a deep, vampy shade of red and pursed her lips.

Elizabeth pulled back the curtain and peeked out at the limo parked across the courtyard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw curtains and blinds quickly snap shut in two of the other condos. Bizarre, Elizabeth thought, shaking her head. Shit’s about to get aaaaaawkward

Four
Sweet Valley

Jessica laughed, a silvery little giggle she sometimes used with clients to make them throw more dollar bills her way. “Oh, Marshall Stanton V, you are just the most fascinating man I’ve ever met in my entire life,” she purred, running a finger up his arm.

Never mind the fact that he’s approaching 70 and has less hair than boring old Todd Wilkins at this point, Jessica thought, shuddering. This fucker is totally loaded!

“As are you,” he replied. “Except you’re not a man. And you’re not even that fascinating. But you are beautiful.”

Jessica caught Lila’s eye and grinned, sticking her tongue out at her best friend as Marshall V turned away to admire one of the many original paintings decorating the walls of Lila Crest. Lila scowled and tipped back her fourth glass of champagne, downing it in one swallow. Indie cred

Winston acted as if he hadn’t heard Bruce’s tirade. “Have you heard the new Droids album?” he asked.

“It’s pretty good,” Bruce admitted.

Winston laughed. “Talk about a joke!” he said. “Their earlier stuff was so much better.”

“They did hit their peak around 1995,” Bruce agreed.

Winston took a heavy drag on his cigarette. “1995? More like 1983,” he said, snorting.

“What’s your point, Egbert?” Bruce snarled, clearly annoyed.

Winston just shrugged.

“I don’t pay you to talk about the latest bullshit indie album,” Bruce snapped. “I pay you to fucking entertain.” Winston is totally cooler than you