Page 26 of Idle

The judges murmur amongst themselves, with the word “brilliant” clear as day. We’re going to make it to the next round. I sneak a glance at Paige, who’s sporting a secretive smile, and know she feels the same way.

We give the judges a tour of the rest of the furniture I built, plus the tiled patio, and then they leave the apartment. Remaining behind, Quinn says, “Nice job, Jesse and Paige. I think your artwork was the highlight of the room. I’ll be back soon to pick you up for the elimination round. Ta!” She flips her long, brown hair and leaves us with a swirl of her brash perfume of raspberries and gardenias.

Paige sprawls across the sofa I built. “That went well, don’tcha think?” She crosses her ankle over her knee.

“I guess so. Depends on how the other teams did.”

Her foot moves in circles. “This place isn’t so cavernous anymore. When we do the kitchen and dining area”—she uses her foot to point in their direction—“it’ll be opened up and spacious. The choice to use the dark floors will make more sense then.”

Knowing she’s stinging from one judge’s comment about the “interesting” floor choice, I bolster her confidence. “I’m sure of it.”

Paige sits up. “What do you think is going to happen at the elimination ceremony? I mean, we’re not getting roses. Think they’ll give a hammer out to the team getting kicked off?” She starts laughing at her rather ingenious quip.

Chuckling, I admit, “I have no clue. But if they want to reward contestants who did a good job, I would think they’d choose a nail.”

She stops laughing. “Nailed it! Oh my God, that’s better than mine.”

She holds up her fist, which I bump. It’s nice not being at each other’s throats.

Someone knocks on the front door. “I’ll get it.” Treading across the newly stained dark wood floors, I turn the lever on the black doorknob I installed. “Quinn.”

“We’re ready for you guys now. Leave all your things here and come to the ViewPad. First elimination round starts in thirty.” She swirls out over the threshold.

I catch Paige fiddling with her hair. “Let’s get this over with. Remember, the judges loved your artwork and seemed impressed with the sofa we created.”

Her hand flicks across the sofa’s back. “I only designed it. You built it.”

She needs a lot of confidence boosting.I can do that. “Wouldn’t have had anything to build but for your brilliant design.”

Her hand forms a fist, and she knocks on the sofa’s back. “Let’s do this. I’m rooting for Nancy to get kicked off. She never shuts up.” She walks over to the window area and picks up her tote bag.

“Can’t argue with you there. Although, this is a television show. They may want her to stick around for ratings.”

“Ugh. I hope not.”

“Me, too.”

I allow Paige to precede me and lock up. In the ViewPad, we join the rest of our competitors to wait for the elimination round. Bo paces across the room, alternatingly flipping his hat and running his fingers through his hair. Paige ducks into her room to get rid of her tote bag, then reappears sucking on a lollipop. Where did she get that?Why does her sucking a candy have to be so erotic?I adjust my stance and indicate she should stand next to me.

Quinn, trailed by a couple of cameras, enters the apartment, which decreases in size as if they used a shrink wrap machine on it. I shake my arms in a failed attempt to expand the room. Paige taps me with her lollipop stick and leans over. “I overheard Marion apologizing to Peyton about not finishing something in their room. I bet they go home.”

I find solace for myself in her words, although I like the sisters. “Wish it was Nancy you overheard,” I whisper.

“I hear you.”

Quinn gets our attention and describes how the elimination rounds will work. The show’s host, Miss Antonia Banks—a famed designer who has several shows on the network—is escorted in and runs through her lines. Turns out, neither hammers nor nails are given out. The losing team—this time, Marion and Peyton for the reasons Paige shared—are simply asked to pack their tools.

After we’ve said our goodbyes and they’ve left the ViewPad, Quinn says, “Get a good night’s sleep. Round two starts in the morning!”

Down to eight, we wander into the kitchen. Nancy, of course, breaks the ice. “Well, that sucked. But we’re still here. This calls for a celebration.” She dives into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of sparkling wine and holds it up high. Dan provides glasses and we each take ours.

Nancy lifts her flute. “To making it to Round Two!” Glasses clink to exclamations of “Hell, yes!”

Realizing I lost my “Nancy Buffer” when the sisters left, I withdraw from the group and retrieve my whittling block and knife. I’m ready to start a new project, so I flip the wood in my hand several times. Paige asked for a mermaid, but I’m not up for such a challenge—on any level. I decide on a housecat, in a more subtle nod to my partner—skittish yet fierce when the need arises. Wandering into the main area, I take a seat on the sofa and focus on what’s in my hands rather than the actual fact that two of us are gone.

Mary Ellen sits next to me. “Hey. What are you doing?”

“Relaxing.” I hold up the beginnings of a cat.

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