He was here for revenge. I bit the corner of my lips, not knowing what to do. If I backed off and did not compete, I would be seen as despising Jonah. Yet, I was at a loss what to paint. The six years of emptiness in my life had resulted in a lack of knowledge.
“I was not prepared to go onstage.” I rubbed my temples to ease my headache.
“Are you afraid?” Jonah laughed contemptuously. “Remington is a great artist but his friend might not be. Shall we make a bet?”
“I never bet with anyone!” Immediately, I refused. I always lose when I bet on this kind of thing, so I do not bet.
“So, do you admit that you are here by means of the back door?” Jonah shouted.
The environment was noisy but his voice was heard above the din by everyone around us. I frowned. It seemed that he had arranged for the reporter who confronted us just now. He was local and it was easy enough for him to create trouble for me. If I backed off, not only would Remington’s reputation be tarnished, but I would also be looked down upon.
“What are you betting on?” I asked him coldly.
“It’s simple. If you lose, have your painting taken down from the wall and thrown onto the floor and let me stomp on it a few times. That is all I want. This is not too much to demand, is it?” Jonah asked.
I was shocked and it must have shown on my face. This was way beyond too much. It was akin to the assassination of my character and stomping on my dignity. I sneered. “What if you lost?”
“I will leave this circle for good and never return to this field of arts. How about that?” Jonah declared.
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