The Dimpled Twin {✔}

V

"A-Avellino, I-I don't understand... Am I dreaming?" I asked, my childhood stutter returning in a moment of pure anxiety. This was a nightmare. I hoped it was a nightmare. This question only brought a bigger smile to the first Avellino's face and only lowered the second's gaze further.

"Have you ever heard of identical twins?" he laughed. "My name's Ames, pleased to meet you." he said, putting an unsettling emphasis on 'pleased.'

I looked between the two of them, my face full of shock.

"Avellino, you never told me you had a brother. A twin. Why didn't you tell me?"

Avellino, the real Avellino, looked up and shifted. Now, illuminated by the light, I could see what was inside his bags. Paintings and sculptures. And at the very top, was The Lilies. The million-dollar painting I had worried moments earlier was gone was now right in front of me, seven steps away.

"W-why do you have that? W-what's g-going on?" I demanded, on the verge of exploding. Exploding into tears or anger, I wasn't sure.

"My brother's job was to make sure we could gain access to the Musee any way he could, and he did a swell job. Then, we were practically invited to take what we wanted. We saw our chance and a rare painting, and we took it".

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Then, I realized that Avellino's dimple that I loved so much, hadn't been there when I kissed his cheek when we danced in the hallway earlier. Ames was a distraction, Ames was a fake. And I had fallen for it, walking right into their trap. Even further, I was the gateway to getting into the Musee without suspicion. That was why Avellino had taken to me. He needed me, but not like I needed him. I was his tool.

Avellino must have noticed the crushing despair on my face, and he began to walk towards me, but his brother stopped him.

"The paintings are ours now", directing his speech at me, and then to his brother, "We have to go. They'll be here soon.", Ames said, and I noticed the faint scream of police sirens. Someone inside must have called them.

Ames turns around, but Avellino hesitated.

"Je suis désolé," he apologized. "I really did love you, Stella. If I'd known this would happen," he gestures between us, "I would never have accepted the heist. I would never have fallen in love with you". Then, the dimpled twin turned away sadly, dragging his gaze from me like he might never see me again, almost like he did every time he saw me, except this time, I knew he never would. I would go back to Philadelphia disgraced and he would do whatever beautiful thieves do with beautiful paintings. He turned and followed his brother away from the streetlight. They took off running and disappeared around the block, out of sight.

I dropped down on the steps of the museum and stared ahead, seeing nothing. The sick feeling had devolved into a churning stomachache. Sometime later, I lost track, the police showed up, and the Director rushed out to greet him. He was frantically explaining something to the police chief, but it was all gibberish to me. Soon, he came over to me and started yelling about the lost painting and how it was my job to watch the workroom, how it was a simple task, how I needed to alert someone if I saw anyone go in. It was just more disappointment, but at that moment, I didn't care that I'd ruined my chances with the Vose Gallery, or that a million-dollar work of art was gone, or how disappointed my parents would be when I returned home humiliated. I didn't care about the trouble, the aftershocks that I knew would toss my life's path like a boat in a storm. I only cared about myself, in the ultimate act of ego and vanity, how that dimpled, beautiful boy had deceived me.