CHRYSALIS

7.

I'm still alive. You're surprised, I'm sure. I am too.

After the very unfortunate air freshener incident, I immediately called Frankie so that he could quite literally talk me off the edge. I spent an hour and a half in traffic while he tried to convince me that Harry probably hadn't even seen it, he probably thought I was just a freaking out a bug or something.

Frankie's tone shifted about 45 minutes in, to a sympathetic but unhelpful, "Well if he did see I'm sure it didn't freak him out. He deals with stuff like that all the time, I'm sure he just thought it was funny."

Frankie's words did little to ease my panic but they at least got me home without any serious bodily harm. I immediately sprinted to the small oasis of my bed and drew the thick yellow curtain around to cocoon myself in my misery.

My bra came off first, no need to further torment myself, and then my pants, leaving me awkwardly lounging in a body suit, so I opted for a full outfit change into my dads shop shirt and a pair of leggings. I pulled some fuzzy socks onto my feet, threw my hair into a loose ponytail and started my pathetic decent into madness.

After the third wail of her name Nicki came oh so gracefully stomping into the living room. She noticed the curtain first and hesitated only for a second before ripping it back and shooting a death glare down to my sad face. "What happened? Why are you whining? Why are you hiding in here?" She hammered questions at my listless form.

"I had an incredible meeting slash hangout with Harry Styles this morning, and then he walked me to my car." I paused there, waiting for the gears in her brain to work fast enough to put the pieces together.

"Ok, and?" she responds.

"My car Nicki...He walked me to my car..." I repeated the tragic sentence into my pillow.

It takes her just a beat more before it clicks. "Oh SHIT THE THINGY ON THE MIRROR!!" She jumped onto my bed, pulling my shoulders until I rolled over. Laughing hysterically at my pain, she pulled me into her lap and petted my head while she settled herself down and tried to reassure me once again that he probably didn't notice, but if he did he wouldn't care.

It takes several more hours of self pitty, an entire bag of goldfish, 2 tequila shots and the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's before I felt like I might be able to face the world again.

That was a week ago. I have since only had one episode where I drank more tequila, which led to me thinking about Marcus, which led to me listening to Two Ghosts, which led to me crying over Marcus while simultaneously crying over the fact that I'll have to face Harry again.

That was a low point, I'll admit, but we've bounced back a tad bit now.

I'm back to the regularly scheduled programming of work, home, work, home, friends, work, home. I have been desperately trying to keep tomorrow out of my thoughts but it simply cant be ignored any longer.

Tomorrow night we begin shooting the new tour visuals. I have my kit packed, and stuffed to the brim with irridecent glosses, chunky glitters, eyeliners of every color I could find, an array of lipsticks, vibrant blush shades, my trusty airbrush machine and some stencils in case we wanna get a little wild.

I took the next four days off of work, with a possible extension if i need a day to rehab after this shoot. Since I've never been a lead artist before, I have been blowing up Tony's phone relentlessley with my questions and concerns about not being ready.

He has told me countless times now that I am more than prepared for this job, that I deserve this job, that I earned this opportinuty by working my ass off and showing what I can bring to the table. He's reminded me that I'm not a new artist, just new to LA, I've been doing this for years. I have more experience than any other assistant he knows.