Blood, Sweat & Ink

Nobody was particularly sad to see Mystical Mike go, especially Jackie, Allie and Lydia.

The elimination tattoo had been to do an anatomical tattoo in such a way it looked realistic. The contestants had endured endless boasting from the cocky young man about his-in Mike's own words-"superior knowledge of the human body" because he had worked as an EMT all through college.

Lydia rolled her eyes and ignored Mike. Her Canvas had wanted a tattoo on his ribcage that made his skin look like it had stitches on it that were coming apart and bone was peeking out.

It was true the young woman didn't have actual experience with such an injury-unless you counted the client in her drug-dealing days who came to her with a bloodied hand. But she was very, very good at finding reference material.

She had come across a website long ago that had pictures of people with all these nasty, disgusting injuries (bones broken in odd positions, weird mutant skin diseases, that sort of thing). Surely there must be a guy with stitches pulled out.

Bingo. The next day, she had shown the drawing to her Canvas, who was delighted at getting exactly what he wanted and gushed about how he couldn't wait to get that piece tattooed onto his skin. She had finished early, but, remembering what happened to Sarah Miller the season before, decided to use that extra time to correct any mistakes she might have made in the tattoo.

When Dave told the contestants to put their needles down, Lydia sighed in relief as she wiped her Canvas down and shook his grateful hand.

"I have no doubt in my mind you'll fucking win this thing," he said, admiring his fresh tattoo.

"I know," Lydia said, smiling. And she was right.

The Canvas Board had declared her Best Tattoo of the Day.

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The next day, the contestants found themselves in a lingerie shop where a group of models dressed in skimpy outfits awaited. The judges were to test their ability to do texture, Dave announced, by tattooing a garter on one of the models.

Great, Lydia thought. Just what she needed right now, a reminder she wasn't getting laid anytime soon, if those papers that she'd been served last week were any indication. And now she would have to basically try not to look at the splayed crotch of a sexy young thing, probably what Jamie was doing right now-

Focus, Lydia chided herself. It's not the first inappropriate body part you've tattooed. You once tattooed barbed wire on a guy's penis. It's only a woman's inner thigh you're doing, not her crotch. You can handle this.

The tattoos finished four hours later, they went to be judged. Chris Nunez slammed her garter, commenting on how shaky the linework was.

"What's happening to you today?" Chris asked. "You usually are at the top of your game when it comes to texture."

"I promise you it won't happen again, sir," Lydia said, having learned from experience not to give excuses.

"You bet your ass it won't," Oliver snapped. "Or you might get eliminated."

"Yes, sir," Lydia repeated. Kyle gave her a questioning look and Lydia gestured that she'd explain later. Thankfully, James Danger did much worse-to save time, the idiot decided to forego a stencil and draw freehand. She silently hoped he pull something good out of his ass for the Elimination Tattoo. They were dismissed and sent back to the loft, but before she could leave Dave grabbed her.

"A word, if you don't mind?" Dave asked.

"Um, ok," Lydia said, scared of where this was going.

"Relax, the producers say you're not disqualified," Dave assured her. "You've been estranged from my wife until recently so they declared you had no, shall we say, inside knowledge. Oh, and you're gonna be an auntie again. Vanessa is three months pregnant."

"That's great!" Lydia said.

"Though it might be a good idea to wait until after the finale to throw a baby shower," Dave warned.

"Obviously," Lydia said, laughing.

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Lydia waited until she was safe in the loft before bursting into tears.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked, concerned.

"My sister is having a baby," she sobbed.

"Those don't look like tears of joy," Kyle pointed out.

"Because she's the one pregnant, not me," Lydia admitted.

"So?" Kyle asked. "S'not you and Jamie can't get cracking on the baby-making once you leave the show."

Lydia started crying harder.

Kyle sighed. "Look, Lyd, I don't exactly speak speak the language, so to speak, so you're gonna have to translate for me. What's wrong that you can't have kids with Jamie?"

Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she took a deep, calming breath, and said, "First of all, I need to explain a few things."

"Go on," Kyle urged.

"I agreed when I married Jamie that we wouldn't have kids," Lydia said.

"Did he say why?"

"No," Lydia admitted. "He was very emphatic about it, though. I wish I had demanded he explain himself before we married."

"Why?" Kyle asked.

"Because then I would have learned what he really meant was that he didn't want them with me," she explained. "I got served divorce papers last week. I went to call him up after Frank got kicked out, and a woman answered his phone, then hung up."

"And I take it it wasn't his sister, mother, or female friend?"

Lydia shook her head. "He was an only child and both his parents are dead. Plus, I know all his female friends, they're all fellow tattoo artists. None of them have a heavy Brooklyn accent."

"Jesus Christ," Kyle swore. "Let me guess: he knocked her up?"

"Bingo. And I know the woman; she's our next door neighbor. That woman is so fat her legs are about as big as my entire body. He's going to do the right thing and marry her, hence the divorce."

"How on earth did he manage to have sex with her anyway?" Kyle wondered out loud.

"I'm not sure I want to know, quite honestly."