"Well, how is our darling Mickey now that we have her big brother, Ken?" Francine York purred, and she examined her long and painted red fingernails.
"She cried for a while, Boss. What next?"
"Take the clothes and tell them both to dress up. I've chosen some makeup for the girl. When they are dressed, I will check them out personally. Did you get the guitar, too? Also, make sure the tape recorder and cameras are working."
"Oh course, Boss. What are you going to do?"
"That's none of your business!" The whip cracked as Francine's eyes darkened. "Just see to my orders. I don't want you to hurt either one now. If one doesn't behave, threaten the other. Oh, and tell Mickey I want her hair in long flowing curls. Just like her mother." She turned her chair, dismissing the men.
Ken and Mickey had been searching for any weakness.
"Maybe we should jump whoever comes to the door next," Ken suggested.
"Kenny," Mickey began, then fell silent.
Ken turned to look at her, noticing the dimness in her eyes and a slumping posture. He pulled her into a hug. "Don't give up, little sister. Be strong. You've always been tough and fought for everything you wanted."
"And I just need you to know . . . if I don't make it . . . hush, Kenny," she scolded as he made a protest with his hands, "if I don't make it, I want you to promise to go on and know I would rather go out fighting and have you live – then the other."
"And I would rather you live – even if I have to die for you," Ken said firmly, Hutchinson to Hutchinson stare down.
Mickey smiled briefly. "Always the hero, the fearless, handsome White Knight on his noble steed."
"Always the fighting Princess, standing beside me with sword drawn, ready to do battle with evil. Beautiful, but strong and fearless, too."
The mutual admiration between brother and sister came to an end as the door opened with the familiar warning. "Both of you back against the far wall. If you make a move, we kill one."
One of the goons snickered, "Hey, Ken and Barbie, or should we say Cinderella and Prince, we're here to help dress you for the Ball."
"Like we haven't heard that before," Mickey spat out, eyes flashing. The Ken and Barbie comments had always gotten under her skin.
Ken put a calming hand on her shoulder. "What do you mean?"
"Boss wants both of you to play dress up. Shower and change into the suit and the dress. Barbie, your hair will be curly, and we have included makeup as well. Pretty boy there doesn't need any," the goon snickered again. "You have one hour, plenty of time."
"And if we don't?" Mickey challenged.
"Believe me, neither of you want to find out. Easier to obey the Boss."
Both men left, leering at the two siblings.
Ken raised an eyebrow after they left. "Why do I feel like they are dressing us up for our own funerals?"
"I guess if we go out, we go out looking our best." Mickey's attempt at gallows humor fell flat because there was too much truth in the statement.
TBC