And They Told Me I Couldn't Act

Take 4

HAVING TIME TO THINK is never a good idea.

Think about it - if someone drops down on one knee to propose and you need like a minute to think if it's a good idea to say yes.

Straight off, those are the weddings that never happen, or the bride runs away with the best man or something equally horrific.

It's these miniscule things that drastically change the flight path you might have set on because these are the things that you shouldn't think about. There are things you just do.

That's how I've tried to live, in the absence of thinking, I'll save myself from any regret. I'll just do it. Get it done with. Let's not harp on the road not travelled by.

I'm all fake confidence, and probably prettier than I've ever looked before. Not that I don't try on a day to day basis but because I actually hired a professional to tame my hair and also do my makeup for me. The bruise had been long gone and unsurprisingly, the makeup artist doesn't even recognise me.

To be fair, after she's done with me, I don't recognise me either.

I'm in thrifted Prada. An old vintage long sleeved blue fuzzy top paired off with jean cut-offs and wearing a classy blue Louis Vuitton heel. The make up she's done is minimal. I've got a modern Princess Diana eye look going on with a pale pink lipstick.

I feel pretty.

But also nervous.

Priscilla is nervous too but she hides it behind a ruby lip smile, and dark Gucci glasses. We meet in... get this... a private room! I almost feel like a real celebrity when the waiters lead me to a secret room in an very expensive Chinese Restaurant.

And when we enter the very red and gold room, I see him sitting there.

He's not looking at me. Well, not yet, his jaw his hard, is he grinding his teeth? It's hard to tell but I've never seen his jaw look like that. He's wearing sunglasses indoors and his eyes are facing his agents. A slender man with blonde hair and pale eyes. He stands when we enter, and Harry Wolfe's eyes turn to meet us.

Do I regret not wearing sunglasses? A bit. I feel bare, and put on display, more so since I can't see Harry Wolfe's eyes but by the downward tilt of his stunningly shaped lips. It's not a far stretch to say he didn't look pleased to see me.

"I see your bruise is gone," he says as the waiter walks out.

Oh. My. Goodness. Harry Wolfe remembers. Or maybe he's not given the opportunity to forget with tabloids and heaven knows how many talk show hosts badgering him to give them an exclusive on whether he'd hit me or not.

On the head.

"I'm Charles," The blonde man introduces himself sweetly, "I trust you're familiar with Harry."

Harry. I can't imagine calling him just Harry. He's Harry Wolfe, the man with a voice of an angel and looks that would put Lucifer to shame.

"I'm Priscilla, Vanessa's agent." She smiles at the two of them and takes a seat across Harry and his agent on the rounded table. "Have you ordered yet?" Priscilla is cotton candy sweetness. I don't know how she can be so calm when my tongue just feels so heavy and the tell-tale prickling of tears begins to form behind my eyes.

I have no other choice to sit across from Harry Wolfe even though I'd rather be beside him but it feels a little strange to sit so far from my agent. I also can't pull my eyes away from him even though his agent must be saying something.

Harry Wolfe just has this presence about him. Like the thing you hear on America's Next Top Model but it's real and it's so very present when he's around. Is this why Tyra goes crazy when someone has this energy? This magnetic field that makes time feel meaningless when he's not looking at you.