Identical

Chapter 1 - The Painting

I think I'm the luckiest person in the world. Not only do I get to do what I love, but I also get to earn a living doing it.

Today, I have an appointment with an undisclosed patron. His assistant called to make the appointment saying I should expect him at 1:00 pm sharp. It's 12:50, and I'm still running around trying to get my loft/home/workspace ready for the appointment. I grumble when I hear the buzzer.

"Yes?"

"Hello. I have an appointment with Cory Mayers," a silky British voice says.

"Come on up," I say, buzzing him in. I look at the way I'm dressed and realize I'm still wearing my work clothes - baggy boyfriend jeans rolled up, an old Stray Cats t-shirt, and Converse, all covered in paint. I sigh knowing that I won't have time to change.

There's a knock on the door and when I open it, I think I'm seeing double.

"Hello," I say, stepping aside so the two men can enter my loft. One of them turns to me after entering, smiling and offering his hand to shake.

"Hello. I'm Tom," he says, never losing his smile.

"Mr. Hiddleston. It's a pleasure to meet you," I say, shaking his hand. At the mention of his surname, he blushes a bit and chuckles.

"I guess I should have worn a disguise. And, please, call me Tom," he says, still smiling.

I turn to the other man who has remained quiet, though his alert blue eyes seem to take everything in, including me.

"Cory Mayers," I say, extending my hand to shake.

"James Hiddleston," he replies, shaking my hand as Tom had, only without the smile.

Tom scowls slightly at James as if to say, "Be nice."  James responds by smiling at me, though I can see that it is somewhat forced. It must be the rumored mental telepathy that twins have.

I've of course heard of both the Hiddlestons. Tom, the acclaimed actor, and James, the private businessman. Both are famous, or infamous, depending on how you look at it.

"Well, gentlemen, I suppose you'd like to see some of the works I've chosen for your viewing," I say.

"That would be lovely," Tom says. James just nods.

"Right this way."

I lead them up the stairs to the loft which is my studio. Though I keep drop cloths around to cover my messiness, there's still paint splatter here and there.

"Okay, so based on what your assistant told me, I've chosen three works. All are pastoral from my time in the Welsh countryside." I allow them to look over my work. Tom spends a great deal of time looking at each piece. James, on the other hand, spends equal amounts of time viewing my works and looking around my loft. As I watch them, I have time to reflect on what I know about each man.

Tom is practically an open book. Educated at the Dragon School at Oxford, then Eton College. This part of his history is shared with his brother, James. After that, their lives diverged. Tom went on to Cambridge and later RADA, whereas James joined the Royal Marines, serving with distinguished honor before becoming a successful businessman. In reality, referring to James merely as a successful businessman is like calling Tom a competent actor. Both would be understatements. Tom is on the verge of winning an Oscar, and James is reputed to be one of the most ruthless businessmen in Europe if not the world.

"What can you tell me about this piece?" Tom asks.

"I love this one," I say, smiling. "You can see Carreg Cennen Castle in the background. I painted this last fall."

Tom studies it a bit more before turning to his brother. "What do you think, James?" James stares at me before turning his eyes to the painting. "It's lovely," he says.

"Do you think Mum will like it?" Tom asks.

"I think you know better what Mum will like than I," James replies which earns another scowl from Tom. Before turning to me, Tom adjusts his scowl to a smile. "We'll take it."

I smile at both brothers and then discuss the price and delivery with Tom. I have to admit that Tom makes me a bit giddy with his polished charm and the fact that he calls me Darling. However, my eyes continue to covertly observe James as he wanders around my studio, looking at such mundane items as my brushes and blank canvases.

As Tom takes his wallet to pay me, James hands me a roll of bills. "I think this should settle things between us," he says. I look at the roll, not doubting that it's sufficient to pay for the piece. Tom rakes his hands through his hair in exasperation as James comes toward me with the payment.

"Would you like a receipt?" I ask.

"It's not necessary. I'm sure you're ethical in your business dealings." I bristle a bit at his demeanor, but when I look in his eyes, I see nothing but sincerity and his straightforward manner.

"Of course. If your mum doesn't care for it, please feel free to return it for another painting," I say, smiling at him though I feel on guard.

James looks me up and down seeming to apprise my appearance in a primal way before regaining his business-like manner. "I'll keep that in mind," he says before Tom intervenes.

"Alright. Well, thank you for your time. Mum raves about your work, and I'm sure she will love it."  With that, I walk both men to the door and bid my goodbyes.

After closing the door, I lean against it. What a heartthrob, I think of Tom. James, on the other hand...well, I don't know what to think.