Being Hartley

by Rushby, Allison

  Oh, yes. Mom. Not to mention Mom is going to kill me over this.

  Kill. Me.

  I stand, stock-still, backstage, as the other audience participants are herded up and given escorts to take them back to their seats and wonder how on earth I can save my skin. I'm not coming up with anything much when a hand lands on my right shoulder and goose bumps immediately shoot up all over my body. Mom's found out already.

  "Thea!" I pivot to see it's not my mom, but pitchfork-wielding Sonja from my other shoulder. "You were fantastic. A true Hartley!"

  "Thanks," I say. They're not exactly the words I'm looking to hear. Now that I think about it, I would have been better off acting more like a true Wallis and indulging in the kind of two left feet old-fashioned dancing I've seen my dad do at weddings. "I don't think…my mom…I…" I start, but Sonja cuts me off.

  "Oh, don't worry about any of that. We'll smooth everything out later with your mother." She waves my worries away. "Now, are you going back out into the audience, or do you want to wait in the green room?"

  I gulp. "I think I might, um…go."

  "Sure, back to your suite? I'll get you an escort out." Sonja spins around and beckons someone over. "This is Cassie Hartley's daughter, Thea. She'd like to go back to her suite. Via the back way, I think."

  "Of course," the escort says, with a nod. This time, someone else again—a brunette with braids. "Are you ready to go now?" she asks me.

  I nod back.

  "This way, please," she says, starting off.

  As I follow her, my feet, so light and responsive on stage, feel awfully heavy and move reluctantly.

  "Joining us for the show tomorrow, Thea?" Sonja calls out as we go.

  "Um," I turn back. "I'm not sure." I don't feel sure about anything anymore. Which is weird, because just five minutes ago, just yards away on the stage, I'd felt so very sure about everything.

  "No problem. There's always room for you. Out front, or backstage. Wherever you'd like."

  "Thanks," I say, sounding more than a little flat, and I follow the escort further backstage. We walk down a long corridor, past the green room, and onward. Waves of dread wash over me, as if I'm being escorted to meet a firing squad, rather than to a luxury Bellagio suite.

  Finally, we get to the bank of elevators that will whisk me back to the suite. And Mom. If she's there. Which she may well be if she's finished with her interviews. "Um, I've changed my mind. I might go for a walk," I say to the escort.

  "Oh," she replies, her brow wrinkling. "Oh, um. I think it would be better if I took you back to your suite."

  "No, really. It's fine," I tell her, seeing that she's freaking out a little. Sonja had handed me over as Cassie Hartley's daughter who was going back to her suite, and now I'm not.

  She bites her lip for a second. "I'd really prefer it if I could take you back to your suite."

  I sigh, realizing it's going to be easier to get in the elevator, get out of the elevator again, stick my card in the suite door, wave goodbye to the escort, close the door, and then do whatever it is I want to do without anyone hovering over me. So, I guess I know how Rory feels now. "Fine," I say, giving in. "Let's go."

  "Thanks," she says. "Sorry."

  "It's okay," I tell her as the elevator doors open. It's not her fault, I know. As we get in, I swipe my card to access the right floor, press the floor number, then grab my cell and text Allie.

  SOS. Have done something stupid.

  Her reply comes zipping back smartly.

  Fantastic! Too boring here. Am in suite. Where are you?

  I text her back, my fingers flying.

  Be there soon.

  The elevator doors swish open again, and I step out and across the hall to Mom's and my suite. "Thanks!" I wave at the escort as I run my card through the door. She holds the elevator doors wide until she sees me open the door to the suite, enter, and close the door behind me.

  Inside, all is quiet. No Mom. And it looks like the maid has been and gone. I'm alone.

  And that's when I change my plan.

  Instead of opening the door again right away and going down the hall to Allie's suite, I run over to one of the couches, grab a cushion, pull it to my face and scream.

  When I'm done, I place it back down neatly on the couch, give it a pat and continue along with my plan—to meet up with the one person in the world who might be able to help me out of this mess.

  -

  19 -

  "You are so dead." Allie shakes her head from the chair opposite the couch I'm sitting on. She's staring at me, eyes wide. "I hope you're not telling me all of this because you think I'll find some miraculous out for you. This is way beyond my skills."

  Now, in another suite entirely, I pick up a replica of the cushion I just used moments before and scream into it again. "I really am dead, aren't I?" I say when I finally release my face from its downy soft luxury confines.

  "Oh, yeah," Allie says, observing me. "And then some. But, do tell, was it worth it?"

  I don't even hesitate. "Oh, yes. Definitely yes," I say, exhaling loudly.

  Allie rolls her eyes. "No surprises there. Though I am amazed you didn't trip over your tongue on stage."

  "My tongue?" I frown, not understanding.

  "Well, it is generally lolling around on the ground whenever Noah's nearby."

  I go to tell Allie this isn't true, then sigh. "Fine."

  "Hey, I can't deny that he's cute."

  "Really," I deadpan. "I hadn't noticed. Maybe they'll let me write him from military school."

  A thoughtful look passes over Allie's face. "Maybe you could tell your mom you were lovestruck and couldn't think straight. So when Noah asked you to dance on stage, in front of a live audience of thousands, on a show that will be aired to millions, you couldn't help but say yes. Even though you've been completely groomed your whole life to fly under the radar."

  I digest this. "Allie, that would be the truth."

  "Yeah, I know. I thought I'd try it out for you, but it's not really going to work, is it?"

  "Not with my mom, it won't."

  "It's the ‘groomed your whole life’ bit where it falls down, isn't it?"

  "Yep." I groan now. "What am I going to do?" I glance around the room for inspiration. Or an escape route. Maybe if I knotted sheets together and threw them out the window, I could jump the rest of the way to the fountain. Too bad that the windows don't actually open.

  Allie scrutinizes me. "What are you going to do? Well, there aren't really many options. As I see it, there are two basic choices—tell, or don't tell."

  I look over at her slowly. "Are you saying I should lie?"

  Allie's eyes widen. "No way. Your mom is too smart for that. I said tell or don't tell. Not lie or don't lie."

  "And the difference is?"

  "It pretty much comes down to delaying tactics. So, you can either opt for the falling on your knees and begging for mercy as soon as you see her thing, or wait."

  "Wait for…?

  Allie shrugs slightly. "I don't know. Divine intervention?"

  I groan. "That's probably the only thing that could save me at this point. So, what do you think I should do? Which is the better option?"

  "Beats me." Allie keeps watching me for a few more seconds before she starts laughing.

  "What?" I say.

  "Oh, nothing. I'm just really, really happy I'm not you right now!"

  I groan again. "Don't be so mean." Then I cover my face with the cushion again.

  "Okay, how about this," Allie says. "We've got the cabana reserved in half an hour. Go grab your stuff now, while your mom's not there. Then come back here and hang out until it's time to go. We'll buy you some time."

  I peek up from my cushion a little more hopeful. Like I may even live to see another day. Or at least another couple of hours. "Now that sounds like a plan."

  * * *

  "I would be enjoying this so much more if I hadn't completely, utterly, and totally messed up my w
hole life," I tell Allie as we view the wonders of the cabana. And it is wondrous. I stand beneath the shade of an umbrella, sandwiched between four large lounge chairs that face the pool, and drink in the view of the crystal blue pool, sparkling in the sun. It's too gorgeous.

  "Hey, check it out!" Allie says, behind me, and I turn away from the pool to see what she's found. She has her hand stuck up in the air in front of something. "Misters!" she says, pointing to the jets that are blowing out streams of coolness in order to keep us from overheating.

  I follow her into the cabana itself now. Inside, a fan whirrs overhead. There's a long bench seat, a changing room, a flat screen TV, and a table and chairs. "Wow," I say. "This is great!"

  "And we won't starve, either," Allie says, pointing out the fruit plate on the table, bowl of snacks next to the sink, and even opens the mini-fridge to point out the sodas and bottles of water stockpiled inside.

  "It's the perfect Mom hideout," I reply, reviewing my surroundings approvingly.

  "Ladies!" a voice calls out, and I practically jump out of my skin.

  "Could you calm down already?" Allie nudges me with her elbow. "It's just Rory."

  "Just Rory?" Rory says, entering the cabana. "That's nice, considering I'm footing the bill."

  "Thanks, sis." Allie comes over to give her a "you're the best big sister ever" hug and sloppy kiss.

  "Yes, yes, that's enough," Rory says, prying her off.

  Allie turns to me. "Come on, dead Hartley walking, show your cousin some sugar!"

  "Thanks, Rory," I groan. Dead Hartley walking is a pretty apt description for me right now. "What am I going to do?" I sob a big sob. I feel weird—like I'm riding a rollercoaster of emotions. One minute, I'm grinning from ear to ear because dancing with Noah was amazing. The next, I remember my mom and my stomach plummets.

  "Come on," Rory says. "Let's grab some snacks, some magazines, some nail polish, and lounge a little. Maybe we'll work something out."

  * * *

  We chat as we work our way through sodas, Pringles, and several bottles from the new OPI summer collection. And I'm starting to calm down slightly when Rory mentions something that practically has me climbing the walls of the cabana. "The thing is," she tells me, "SMD can't use footage of you without your guardian's permission. Which, in this case, means your mom."

  I sit bolt upright on my lounge chair. "What? You mean they'll go straight to my mom?"

  "Well, yes, but…" Rory pauses, thinking.

  "What? But what?" I'm desperate here.

  "Maybe we could ask Sonja not to use it?" Rory says, looking more and more doubtful by the second.

  "Get real!" Allie voices what everyone's thinking. "She'd be crazy not to use that footage. There's no way she'd agree to giving it up."

  Rory wrinkles her nose at this. "True. After all, you and Noah were great together."

  I forget about all my problems with this. "Really? Do you think so?" I ask her, jumping on her words, then almost kick myself. This is my cousin's dance partner I'm talking about here. As Allie put it, I need to roll up my tongue and go home. "No one's better than you and Noah, though," I say quickly.

  Rory ignores this, sticking to her former train of thought. "The thing is, if Sonja goes to your mom, what's going to happen?"

  I know the answer to this one all right. "Mom will pack our bags, and we'll be on the next flight out of the country, that's what."

  "Aha! Exactly!" Rory sits up now, pointing a finger at me. "And that is the one thing Sonja is not going to want. She's loving having you and your mom around. Loving it. She won't want you guys to go."

  I begin nodding in agreement as Rory talks. "That is so true." I turn to Allie for confirmation, and she nods along with us.

  "You might even have yourself some kind of plan there, Ms. Aurora. Until, of course we all leave Vegas and she wants to use that footage."

  "Right now, I'm only looking to buy myself a little time," I say. "Just so I don't get dragged home yesterday."

  "Ugh, here comes trouble with a capital M," Allie says under her breath. I have no idea what she's talking about until I turn my head to see Mara walking toward us, staring straight at me. Like, really staring straight at me. Scary staring. She's wearing a bright yellow triangle bikini, and I'm sorry to say, has the body to carry it off.

  "You're a good dancer, Thea. Better than I expected. Not good enough for SMD, of course, but better than I thought you would be," Mara says, stopping dead in front of my lounge chair, still staring at me. Weird. It's like the others aren't even here. There's really something wrong with that girl. Sometimes she doesn't even seem quite human.

  "Um, thanks," I tell her, not knowing how to reply to her backhanded compliment. I glance sideways at Rory and Allie and the spare lounge chair. "Did you want to, um, sit down or something?" I half expect Allie to throw the empty Pringles tube at my head when I say this and I start to wince, waiting for it.

  But Mara doesn't take my offer seriously. "No, thanks," she replies quickly. And then her eyes finally leave mine, skating over Rory and Allie. She inclines her head in Allie's direction. "Millie, right?"

  Allie snorts unashamedly at this. "It's Allie. You've met me, like, a hundred times now, Mara."

  "Sorry, I'm terrible with names."

  "Not so terrible with Thea's," Allie mutters under her breath.

  Mara ignores her, her focus returning to me. "I thought you might all be interested. TMZ on TV just mentioned Noah. They're going to have a segment on in a minute."

  "Really?" Rory says, reaching for the remote. She flicks on the TV and finds the right station, and the four of us watch celebrity gossip about who is eating with who, seeing who, and breaking up with who, until Noah's name is mentioned once more. His image flicks onto the screen—an image of him beside someone else, heads bent together, talking.

  Of all people, he's with Emme. Emme his ex-girlfriend Emme. Emme his ex-girlfriend in Las Vegas. As in, on this trip, eating in one of the hotel restaurants.

  "Are they on again, are they off again? Who knows with Noah Hoffman and Emme Conroy? As far as we can remember they've been on again, off again, on again, off again and…well, we'll leave it up to you to call this one," the presenter says. "All we know is that a meal that includes dessert says ‘on again’ to us."

  The segment over, Rory flicks the TV off once more. "Pffft," she says. "We all know it's over."

  "Do we?" Mara shrugs slightly. "So what's she doing here, then? Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know. Bye, then.” She turns and walks off.

  The three of us watch her go.

  Rory snorts. "I just thought you'd like to know," she mimics. "Always helpful, that's Mara for you." She turns to look at me now. "Trust me. He's not seeing her again. He would have told me if he was."

  "Okay," I say, but I feel suddenly deflated.

  "She's just trying to get to you…" Allie glares at Mara's retreating perfect backside.

  "Mara?" I frown as I look over at Allie.

  "Um, yes, genius. Mara. You're stepping on her turf," Allie adds. "It's obvious Noah's into you, and she's been into him for years and nothing's happened. Plus, there have been 'Singin' in the Rain' rumors."

  "What?!" I sit up bolt upright. "What rumors?"

  "I saw the footage," Allie says. "Very nice."

  "Footage?"

  Allie shrugs. "The first thing I do at these places is get acquainted with the security guards. They know everything that goes on. And I mean everything."

  "Wait. They showed you footage? From the fountain? Of me and Noah?"

  "What have you been doing with Noah at the fountain?" Rory sits up now.

  "Nothing!" I say. "Not like you're thinking, anyway."

  "Hey, I never said the security guards showed me anything," Allie says, pointing a finger at me. "They're highly trained professionals. They don't just let any member of the public view security footage. Though, I can probably get you footage of his whole lunch or whatever it was with Emme, if you
like."

  I stare at my cousin for a moment or two. "You're a very confusing person, Allie," I finally say. "But, no, thanks. I'm not really into spying."

  "Well, okay," Allie shrugs. "It's up to you. And I know I'm confusing. It's part of my mystery. And charm."

  Rory's expression is weary as she lies back down again. "I don't think I even want to know about the fountain. Or why Emme's here. I've got enough of my own problems to deal with."

  "Sorry," I say meekly.

  Rory sighs. "Here." She picks up her cell now. "I'll give Sonja a call and see what we can do about keeping things quiet for a while until you can find a way to tell Cass yourself."

  "I love you." I reach down and pop the top on a second tube of Pringles before holding it out toward her. "Have a Pringle for sustenance before you dial." But even I can tell I sound way too cheerful. As if I'm hiding my true feelings. Which I am. Because that picture of Emme and Noah at lunch has been burned into my retinas, and I'm not thinking it will fade away anytime soon.

  -

  20 -

  "Thea?" Mom's voice rings out as I open the door to our suite.

  I freeze, halfway inside, and consider for a moment whether it's possible to back slowly out into the hall and make a run for the elevator. Maybe even Tijuana, like Rory had mentioned the other day.

  "Oh, it is you!" Her head pops around the wall. "Good. Because I'm only half decent."

  "Ha ha," I reply, laughing nervously, who knows at what, closing the door behind me with a click. Too late to make a break for it now that she's seen me. I make my way down the hall and dump my stuff on the dining room table. As I do so, my cell beeps at me. I pull it out of my pocket to see I have a text from Rory.

  Spoke to Sonja. Said last thing she wants is for you guys to leave. You're safe for now.

  I breathe a sigh of relief with this.

  "Who was that?" Mom appears from her bedroom, pulling a simple white fitted T-shirt over her head.