"The judges couldn't come up with a winner for this round." Rebecca says calmly. My face scrunches up, confused, I look to Gear. It doesn't help.
He looks disgusted with the judges, his nose crunched up like he's tasted blood. The sentence slowly starts to make sense; the judges were going to make us pick who was going home, or something like that based on Gear's reaction.
"There is going to be a paint off to decide the person who goes home for this round." Rebecca continues, her face shows concern but her voice is cold and calculating. They're doing this on purpose; they must know what had happened.
"Now?" I ask disbelievingly, we've been painting for twelve hours already and have been carted around for at least two or three of them, my arms and muscles ache already at the thought of picking up another paintbrush.
Rebecca nods and I looks over at the judges, they don't give me any view of what their emotions are, they are doing it for the show. They know that Gear and I got close, they must. Why else would they do this? They're just trying to push buttons. The lights shut down and florescent ones take their places and I know that the cameras have been cut, two men come out from behind the curtains where the cameras are and usher us away from the stage.
Gear and I are filled into a smaller room with black walls and black couches that line the sides, in the middle a grouping of temporary supplies are sitting on moveable tables. The chairs next to the table are occupied by our models nametags. The cameras leave for a few minutes and tell us that when they come back we are allowed to start.
After the door shuts behind them a gasp falls out of my mouth, "Do you think they know?" I can hear Gear pacing the room behind me. "Someone must have told them; why else would they put us up against each other? We let the cameras see that we were friends and now they want to make the show as interesting as possible right? That's why."
"This is outrageous, it's disrespectful to the both of us." He silently fumes next to me, as he paces I am hit with little drafts of wind every time his shoulder almost hits mine or each time he spins around of his heel.
I turn and place a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "We should just give it our best, and I know what they are doing is wrong and selfish but we just have to play along. Right? Just paint. Let's just paint." His dark eyes meet mine and it calmed him instantly. "Just try your hardest and we can do this fairly."
He breaths out exasperatedly, "If that's what you want."
I think about it for a second and say, "Of course, either way, I'm happy with who they will choose. Both options are pretty good, huh?" I ask him, he nods but drops my gaze and won't look at me anymore. I lace my arm around his neck and pull him closer, my lips touch his gently and I try to kiss him out of his anger.
It is a gentle kiss filled with sorrow and guilt and forgiveness, and only broke because we could hear the camera men coming back to the room. We let go of each other and took our places next to our models, now sitting in their chairs. The cameras came in and got set up, within twenty minutes we heard the buzzer go off and knew we were on camera. I grabbed the nearest paintbrush and started mixing up blues, I could hear Gear next to me, shuffling around his work station.
After twenty minutes had gone by I was still watching Gear as he focused on one part of his piece, he must be really trying hard, he hasn't stopped staring at that one section, it must be really good. I focused myself back to my model and continued painting. Gear sighs next to me, it isn't a frustrated sigh that he usually does whenever painting, it's a different one. All of the sudden I am aware of Gear's eyes on my back, I look over my shoulder at him and he smiles, something is up with him, I just don't know what.
When the buzzer rings again I am exhausted and slump into one of the couches. Two people come in to bring our models to the stage and we are left alone again. Now I realize that this is the last time I'll see Gear until the end of the competition, whether I go home or he does. He has to go back to his girlfriend and I have to go back to my boyfriend. We have to try and explain things to them both, or just try to lie enough to go back to how things were. Gear was telling me that his girlfriend was suspicious of his relationship with me, she said that he wasn't to even act like he was friends with me because if he did, she would dump him. Rude if you ask me, but it's not my girlfriend so Gear is allowed to do what he pleases, I was just a 'competition-fling' type-thing, I'm not his actual girlfriend after all. And my boyfriend was getting kind of suspicious of our relationship too, I think I can smooth things over with him when I get home, I'm just not sure if I even want to go back to him at this point though. Flashes of our previous nights at the competition flood back to me, 'Gear's and my first kiss out in front of my room, how we had to hid outside on the porch to get away from prying eyes in the house'. But apparently we weren't sneaky enough, because someone must have slipped it to the producer and now they are forcing us to do this stupid one-on-one shit.
We are shoved on stage and our models come out soon after, the lights turn on and the cameras are rolling. The judges stare at our work for a long time, what I don't understand is Gears piece. Nothing has changed, I can't see anything new on it at all. He must have something different that I just can't see, but that means the judges can't see it either.
"This is unacceptable…" the judges continue to chastise Gear about his work and I realize he isn't going to make it. He is going to go home.
As the critique goes on I can barely hear a word they're saying, my eyes find Gears and they well with tears, I'm never going to get to team up with him, or go up against him, or have him teach me any new onomatopoeias. Once the judges have finished wringing us dry the lights flicker and turn red, but my brain is still fuzzy with the fact that Gear is going home.
It only makes it worse when his name rolls out of their mouths like they're executing him. The barrier bursts and rivers flow down my cheeks, I try to cover up my face, hoping it will go away, hoping it was all a dream but the bright red lights stay and the judges don't vanish when I open my eyes again. Eventually I look at Gear and he looks like he's struggling to stay in control of his emotions, I have lost it, all control has left my body and I hold out my arms and Gear steps into them. He bear hugs me, I can feel his cut off leather jacket surround me along with his large tattooed arms, I bury my face in his scarf and take in his smell one last time. "Finish this, Kitten. Kick some ass for me."
The judges are thanking me once again and that is my cue to leave, but I never see the contestants after they are told to go home, so here, on camera, in front of everyone, is where I will last see him. Gear must read the desperation on my face and he keeps me grounded one last time by slowly letting go of my waist and reaching up and moving the scarf off of his neck to mine. I am sobbing openly now and my face drops into the scarf to hide it. He gives me a playful smile and wipes a tear from my cheek, but it is short lived because more fall into its place immediately after. As I walk back to the lounge I can hear him being told how great he was and how the judges are sorry he has to go.
As I open the door Shannon looks back at me, Dutch looks away from the TV monitor that has just flashed from Gear's face, to the emblem of the show. Nicole looked teary eyed as well and Shannon motioned for me to come and sit by her. But my whole body felt numb and all I could do was slide over the back of the couch to land onto the pillows next to me.
Once we got back to the van Dutch was off in his own world, saying how "Well if it makes you feel any better I thought that Gear's was way better than yours." Which didn't, however, make me feel any better. Then something that came out of his huge mouth caught my attention, "He was trying to make the honorable choice, but by throwing in the towel he just disrespected the 'competition' part of the show."
I glared at him, "What do you mean 'threw in the towel'?" I yelled.
"He was sitting there, mixing paint for half of the time, then the other half he just went over shit he'd already done." Dutch yelled back, "he threw the game for you."
I lost it again, tears burst over the edges of my eyes once more; Gear had given up the chance at the 100,000 check at the end of the show. He had let me go on to finish the competition. From now on I vow to make the judges pay for what they put him through and I will kick everyone's ass.