Thank you very much for your precious help Becky! Chapter 10-------------- Have you ever felt how sweet revenge can be? Especially when you feel yourself rectified. Well I just can’t express how satisfied I was yesterday when I saw Paul Crimson’s frustrated face as he left the gallery. But first things first. You might want to know who he is. Paul Crimson is a real asshole actually. He went to PIFA with me. He spent two years there then he dropped out of college. He said he was a natural talent and there was nothing new he could learn. He found the teachers and the lessons boring and ridiculous. He liked to call himself a mature artist; but all I thought was that he was a conceited exhibitionist without real talent. He really wasn’t that good. And it’s not envy, it’s just my honest opinion. His work was insignificant and characterless. Nothing original at all. I really don’t know why he thought he was special. His annoying attitude irritated me, so I took every opportunity to give voice to my opinion. Of course he didn’t like that. He told me he was not going to discuss his art with ignorant faggots. So he left PIFA to begin his wonderful career. I haven’t heard too much from him since then. Till last week. I was reading an art magazine when I found an interview with him. He had an exhibition in a small gallery and he was more than proud of it. I’d heard about his exhibition but I didn’t feel like going to see it. I didn’t want to feed his already overfed ego. He was asked about what he thought of other young artists. Much to my surprise I saw my name appearing in the article. I bet he hated to be asked about me but he had to answer. I just knew I wouldn’t like what he was going to say, and I was right. “I know I might sound disrespectful but I’ll be completely honest. Justin Taylor is not an artist in my opinion. He’s just a poor amateur who’s trying to look more important than he really is. He doesn’t have better things to do; though he obviously should try something else. I heard he was kept by a rich older man so maybe he should leave art to the real artists.” The reporter tried to defend me by mentioning the amount of praises I’d gotten. Crimson went on, “I know he’s relatively popular though I can’t see why. I think most of the people simply feel sorry for him. He’s still that poor little blond gay boy whose head’s been bashed. He can’t even use his hand properly. He was allowed to use a computer so that it would help him with his work. But let’s face it; how can anyone call him an artist when he can’t even hold the brush steady? Maybe he’s good enough for comics, but he’s definitely not good enough for art.” “That fucking asshole!” I yelled as I threw the magazine to the opposite corner of the loft. Brian looked up from the computer and asked, “What?” I felt so very angry and helpless, I couldn’t say a word. I got up and went to the corner to pick the magazine up. Then I gave it to Brian and pointed at the article. I stood behind his back while he was reading. A few minutes later he said, “And who the fuck is this?” I told him a few things about Crimson and I didn’t forget to mention the fact that he was a piece of shit. “I see.” Brian said while he was looking up at me, still sitting in his chair. Then I saw a devilish smile appearing on his face and I knew he would come up with some great sarcastic remark, “Maybe he’s just mad at you because you didn’t fuck him in college. Or he’s jealous because your ass is much better than his.” “Nah, it’s not that. He’s straight anyway. And it’s not about asses or fucking, Brian. It’s about art.” Why can’t he think about something other than fucking, just for once? Brian sighed and pulled me down onto his lap. He looked me in the eyes and said, “So many years and you still haven’t learned? Everything is about fucking.” “Whatever.” I said and tried to stand up. But he didn’t let me; he turned my head to face him and said softly, “You don’t care about the shit that fucker said, do you?” I didn’t respond, just looked away. I really was hurt. I knew Crimson didn’t like me, but this…this was just so unfair. “Justin,” He spoke again and made me look at him, “This is how things are going to be. Get used to it. You can’t break down every time someone says something you don’t like. Don’t let them defeat you. Defend yourself. Strike back and do it with dignity. I know you can do that.” He smiled and I couldn’t say anything so I kissed him. His kiss was so caring and protective; he made me forget for a moment why I was so upset. When our lips parted he added, “And don’t you ever believe what others say – you are talented; in more ways than one.” The other day I was working at the loft and I heard someone knocking on the door. I pulled the door open and saw Lindsay standing there with that same magazine in her hand. I didn’t want her to remind me of that article – not that I had forgotten about it. I didn’t say anything, just let her inside. “You read this?” She asked and pointed at the paper. She seemed to be pretty excited. “Yeah. And so did you. Great. Is there anyone who hasn’t seen that?” I asked in an sarcastic way. She didn’t mind my comment. “He can’t be compared to you Justin.” She tried to cheer me up. “Yeah. That’s what he says, too.” I knew I was full of self-pity, but I just couldn’t help it. I was glad that Brian wasn’t at home. He hates when I behave like this. “You know what I mean.” She said and sat down on the couch then continued, “You are exceptionally talented Justin. Crimson is just jealous because he knows it.” “He was talking about me like I was some kind of a cripple.” I couldn’t hide my obvious disappointment. “Because despite your injury your art is much more mature and expressive than his. And I’m not saying it as your friend; I’m saying it as an art-teacher.” She was so sweet, she knew exactly how to talk to people and what to say. I’ve always wondered how she can do that. “But you can get out of this unpleasant situation easily if you want. I mean…you could take revenge.” “What do you mean? Should I force him to apologize in public? No thanks. That’s even more humiliating.” “No…” She said and I noticed a conspiratorial smile on her face, “It’s more of…well, what I’ve been thinking of is kind of a challenge.” “What do you have in mind?” I asked because I didn’t know what she was talking about. “I mean, what’s the point in speaking about who the better is? Your work wins any day. Let’s see what you can do under same circumstances. I thought about giving you two the same subject and supplies and let’s see who the best is. I already asked Sidney about it and he liked the idea very much. He would give us a place for this challenge in the gallery; he seemed to be very excited about this. The only thing he’s asking for is to keep the paintings for his gallery. I think that’s fair enough.” “But…you asked Sidney without knowing what I’d say?” I was pretty confused, but I kind of liked the idea. “I know you’re always up for a challenge, Justin. And it would be a great payback. It’s not a question who the better is anyway.” She winked at me and stood up. “I’ll call Crimson’s manager tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know what they’ve said.” She kissed me on the cheek and left me standing alone in the middle of the loft. I liked her idea. I could show Crimson who he was fucking with. I hoped he would say yes to this challenge. The next day Lindsay called and spoke with enthusiasm, “Crimson said yes! I already talked to two well-known critics and a famous art historian I know. They will decide without knowing who the artists are so that they won’t be accused of being partial. They’ll give you a word and that will be the subject. This whole thing will be based on your imagination. You paint whatever you associate with the subject. Whatever that given thing reminds you of. Whatever it means to you. This way they can see how you improvise and it would mirror your frame of mind. So it’s not just about technique, it’s about everything you are. It’ll be held on the day after tomorrow if it’s okay with you.” I said that’d be fine. “Great. The subject will be given that morning, so that you won’t have time to think about it till then. You’ll work in two different rooms so you can concentrate on your work and not on getting each other pissed. Oh, and you can’t use any models.” “I don’t mind since I don’t really use models anyway.” I said and I could feel my excitement increasing. I wondered what the subject would be and how I could work under circumstances like these. Two days later I felt extremely nervous while I was getting ready. Brian tried to relax me by fucking me in the shower after he’d given me an incredible blowjob, but I was still nervous as hell. He gave me a ride to the gallery; he wished me luck and said that I wouldn’t need that anyway. Then he kissed me and drove off to his office. When I arrived Lindsay and Sidney were standing in the hall and greeted me with a big smile. A few minutes later Crimson arrived too. He didn’t say a word to me just nodded in my direction. We were led into the studios; Sidney went with Crimson and Lindsay came with me. We entered a pretty nice, light room with huge windows. The lights were perfect. There was a canvas in the middle of the room, and a table with all the supplies I would need. I took a deep breath and faced Lindsay. “Relax Justin. There’s no need to worry. You’ll be great, I know.” She smiled at me and added, “Now I have to get back to the office. Mr. Grey, the art historian will tell us the word which we all have been waiting for. Then I’ll come back and tell you. You have the whole day ahead of you, so no need to hurry.” ‘Yeah, right’ I thought to myself. ‘A whole fucking day! When sometimes a whole month doesn’t seem to be enough for a piece. And Lindsay should know that better than anyone else.’ As if reading my thoughts she said, “You don’t have to create the painting of your life here Justin. One day isn’t enough for that. The idea is what matters here. Don’t get lost in details. Make it simple and brilliant. Like you always do.” And with that she left. I stepped to the window and stared outside. It was a beautiful sunny day, ‘At least there would be no problems with the lights’ I thought, but I wasn’t so sure of myself. All I knew was that I wanted to take revenge on Crimson and I knew I would do anything to make it. The question was what the subject would be. My question was answered when Lindsay returned. “Okay, Justin. The word is: ‘Waterfalls’. This is the subject. Do whatever you want with it. If you need anything I’ll be in my office. Good work sweetie!” “Thanks Lindsay.” I said. She turned around and left again. I stood in front of the canvas and stared at it. Waterfalls. Not a very original idea; do they expect me to paint the Niagara or what? Then I thought ‘I don’t care what they expect me to paint; what really matters is what this thing means to me. And it won’t be a common landscape that’s for sure.’ I closed my eyes and thought about the word. Waterfalls…waterfalls…waterfalls… I felt my imagination getting more forceful with every minute. Waterfalls...water...falls…water… And then it hit me. I smiled widely as I started to make a sketch of what I wanted to paint. I got so engrossed in creating I didn’t even realize that I hadn’t left the room for hours. I had to stop a few times to give my hand some rest but the only thing I had on my mind was the picture I’d seen in my head; I wanted to see exactly the same on the canvas. I hardly noticed Lindsay as she brought me something to eat and drink but I couldn’t really care about those things. I left the room only once when I needed to take a piss so badly that I couldn’t take it anymore. My fingers were covered with paint, my hand was shaking from the intense movements, but I couldn’t stop when I saw the picture appearing before me. It was late afternoon when I finished. I took a step backwards and closed my eyes. I stayed like this for a few minutes and I felt empty tiredness and relaxing satisfaction at the same time. I opened my eyes and looked at the picture. I tried to look at it like a stranger. Like it was the first time I saw it. And I was pleased with what I saw. A beautiful, half-naked man was standing in front of me. He held a bottle of water in his right hand, above his head. His head up, his eyes closed while he poured the water down on his face and body. Thousands of shiny little drops were glistening on his torso. I saw Brian again on that first night. This is how I remember him then. The most beautiful creature I had ever seen. This is what I associate with water. For me, this is how water falls. When I’d finished I went out to look for Lindsay. I found her in her office speaking with Sidney. They told me that Crimson had left an hour ago. Sidney told me that the other day the critics and Mr. Grey would come to the gallery to see our work. Sidney asked me not to say anything to anybody about this challenge till the result was announced. He wanted to organize a little party in the gallery for this occasion and invite some important people. I said okay and left soon because I felt so very exhausted, I couldn’t wait to get back home. The next day Lindsay called and told me that they had decided who the winner was. But she couldn’t tell me because they kept it a secret. She told me that everything would get publicity on Saturday evening in the gallery. She’d already invited all of our friends and some journalists. I started to wonder what I would do if Crimson wins. How humiliating would be to hear the professionals stating that I wasn’t good enough. How would I look into the eyes of the people who’d supported me and believed in me for all those years? Saturday evening came and I couldn’t remember if I’d ever been as nervous as then. I was a bit relieved to know that Brian would come with me to the gallery, but on the other hand I didn’t want him to be a witness to my humiliating failure. When I told him about it his reassuring answer was, “Now, would you stop worrying Justin? I’ve already told you what I think.” He smiled and pulled me in a tight hug and whispered softly, “Besides, you are my partner. Therefore you can’t lose.” It didn’t help though. I was happy to know that he believed in me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if I lost. How disappointed he and my friends would be. I probably overreacted about this whole thing a bit, I know. When we arrived at the Bloom gallery, the place was more than crowded. I felt panic overwhelming me when I saw it; I didn’t know that so many people had been invited. Well, it was supposed to be just a personal amends, not such a huge public event. Jesus. As we entered the hall our friends came our way, greeting us and wishing me luck. “Oh baby, I’m so proud of you!” Emmett said as he pressed a kiss on my forehead. “Now that fucker gets to learn what a genius my sweet little Sunshine is!” Debbie kissed me then tried to wipe her lipstick off my face. “Thanks, but we’ll see.” I said shyly. “Come on Justin. You’re one of the greatest and we all know it. You’d beat him easily even with your eyes closed.” Melanie said and Michael and Ben nodded in agreement. “May I have your attention please,” We heard Lindsay’s voice. Everyone turned to her direction, “We all know what we are here for.” But she told the audience about it anyway. She didn’t mention the article though, just explained about the challenge itself. Behind her back the two paintings were hanging on the wall, both of them covered. In her hand she held an envelope with the winning artist’s name in it. The jury already knew who the artists were but they didn’t know that when they’d made their decisions. I felt like they were about to give an Academy Award or something. So fucking weird. Mr. Grey said a few words about what the aspects and the subject had been. He emphasized that the individual mode of expression was extremely important for an artist. I saw Crimson at the opposite side of the room; he looked infuriatingly smug as usual. “So let’s see what waterfalls mean to these talented young men.” Mr. Grey said and stepped back. Suddenly it was dead silence in the room and Sidney uncovered the paintings. Everyone was staring at them for a few seconds without a word. Then everyone began to speak at the same time. I took a look at Crimson’s painting. Just as I’d suspected; nothing original, as usual. He’d painted a boring landscape with too vivid colors. It looked a bit like a sketchy Niagara Falls, but less life-like. Then I looked at my own picture, with Brian on it. It was something different, they had to admit. But I wasn’t sure that the jury had appreciated my more than individual point of view. Brian was standing beside me and he didn’t say a word, just looked at me with his eyebrow raised and his tongue in his cheek. The people who’d known Brian recognized immediately that it was him on the painting. The others who didn’t know him found out quite soon whom I had painted. “That’s very flattering Sunshine.” Brian whispered in my ear when he finally managed to say something. I could see that he loved the picture. And it was more than enough for me. Mr. Grey stepped forward again and spoke, “Though both of the pieces are expressive and high-standard, the jury has decided for Mr. Taylor’s work.” We could barely hear his next few words because of the intense applause that followed. “His originality and special frame of mind, not to mention the brilliant execution helped the jury to make this decision. Congratulations Mr. Taylor.” I saw Crimson’s blank face for a moment then I saw him turn around quickly and leave without a word. I didn’t have too much time for thinking about him; my friends, my Mom and some journalists kept me busy all night. I felt so very satisfied; I knew that no one would ever call me an amateur again. I really don’t remember how many compliments and how much praise I got last night. Sidney told me that he would find a predestinated place for my painting in his gallery. Brian told him that he would have to put it behind a glass wall if he didn’t want all the fags to cover it with their cum. That’s my man. So very modest. We left the gallery late at night. When we arrived home Brian opened the refrigerator and took a bottle of water out. He took his shirt off while he was approaching me. When he reached me he took my shirt off too, and held the bottle above my head. “Now, let’s see how water falls on you Sunshine.” He said as he started pouring the water all over me. I couldn’t wish for a more perfect evening. My art had been acknowledged and Brian was in quite a romantic mood, though he wouldn’t admit it; he was making love to me tenderly and slowly, and I thought there was nothing more in the world I could ask for. Just Brian and my art. That’s all I’ve ever needed. “J” End of chapter---------- Lots of thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing! :)