Being Hartley

by Rushby, Allison

  "Um, just Rory," I say, quickly deleting the text from my cell. Seriously, my palms are already clammy. I never lie to my mom. I've never really needed to. Not until now.

  "How was the cabana?"

  "Amazing," I gush, glad to land on a neutral topic. "You've got to get one while we're here. But be careful. It's kind of like first class. Once you've been there, you'll never be happy going to the pool without misters, a flat screen TV, and a mini bar again."

  My mom laughs at this.

  "How were the interviews?" I ask her.

  "Oh, you know, same as always," she says sounding a little down. "Anyway, I was going to order something to eat. Hungry?"

  "Always," I tell her, and we spend the next few minutes sitting at the dining room table perusing the room service menu. I decide on a club sandwich within a few milliseconds, but my mom reads the menu over and over again before placing it down on the table.

  "Can't decide?" I say.

  "Let's go crazy," she says. "Let's go downstairs. I've been cooped up on this floor all day long."

  "Okay," I tell her. "Doesn't bother me, if it doesn't bother you."

  "The café is supposed to be quite good. We can go there."

  So, we do. I change out of my swimsuit into shorts and a fresh T-shirt, and Mom and I make our way downstairs to Café Bellagio. "If we could have somewhere quiet, that would be lovely," Mom says to the hostess.

  "Of course, Ms. Hartley," she says, without even blinking, and seats us a few tables away from anyone else, next to a window that gives us a gorgeous view of the pool.

  "It is pretty down there," Mom says, angling her chair toward to the window to a) take in the view and b) make herself less obvious to other diners. "I could be tempted to get one of those cabanas. Thanks for the tip. And for coming downstairs. I think I needed a change of scenery."

  I take a longer look at my mom. She seems a bit…off. "Is everything okay?" I ask her.

  She pauses for a moment before replying. "Oh, you know. I guess I thought I was going to get a vacation. And now your father's off in Rome, and we're here with strange men at our door…"

  And I'm sorry, but I've done something really, really stupid, I want to blurt out, but I'm too scared. "You definitely need to get that cabana," I say eventually, to stop myself from saying the Other Thing.

  My mom smiles a small smile. "Maybe." She shimmies slightly, as if she's trying to break out of her funk. "So, what should we order?" she says, opening her menu.

  "I'm still having the club sandwich," I tell her.

  "Okay," she replies. "And maybe the Bellagio omelette for me."

  As the waitress takes our order, I try and come up with a quick list in my head of safe things to talk about while I somehow work up the courage to break my news to her.

  "And the show was good?" my mom gets in before I do, picking the absolute worst topic possible.

  "Mmm," I say, trying not to wince. "Good. I think Allie's going to the one tonight. She kinda made friends with this girl at the pool and said she'd take her."

  "That's nice."

  I nod. Allie had started talking to this girl her own age in the cabana next to us who was with her parents on a business trip. They'd gotten along really well, and when Allie found out her parents had been trying to get her tickets to the sold-out SMD show this evening, she told her she'd take her along herself. Which was really kind of her, seeing as she wasn't going to go otherwise.

  It's at this point that a woman approaches our table, making us both glance up. "Sorry to bother you," she says. "But I simply had to tell you how wonderful you were this morning."

  Mom and I both start to look slightly confused. Not because this is out of the ordinary—people are always approaching us when we're out. Or approaching my mom, I mean. But, this time, she's not talking to my mom.

  She's talking to me.

  "It's just that I was at the show with my daughter this morning and, well, your daughter's some dancer, isn't she?" she says, looking at my mom now.

  Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe.

  "I noticed you right from the start," she says, turning to me. "We were only a few rows behind you."

  I stare up at her, wide-eyed. Lady, go away. Go away!

  "You're obviously your mother's daughter!" she continues, beaming at me.

  Seeing that I'm not going to break out of my deer in the headlights bit, my mom interjects for me. "That's lovely of you to say so," she tells the woman, kicking my ankle under the table.

  "My pleasure. Enjoy your meal!" she replies, and then, before I can say anything at all, disappears back to the group she's with.

  Across our table, my mom stares at me for a moment or two, more than a little surprised. "What on earth was that about?" she finally asks me.

  Freaking out, I try to look as innocent as possible. "Um. I guess she noticed me? In the audience? Maybe because of my hair?" I have to remind myself to breathe. Wow. I can't believe my mom isn't on to me in second. She really has turned into a space cadet this trip. Usually, she would have worked this all out before the woman had even reached our table.

  Mom thinks about all of this. But when she can make neither head nor tail of what she's heard, she finally gives up with a slight shrug. "Very strange. Still, it looks like you've got your first fan. Well, apart from me, of course. And your father."

  * * *

  As Mom and I eat, there are so many times I want to tell her what happened, when I want to say, "Mom, I didn't think, I did something dumb, and I'm sorry." But I just…can't. Each time I open my mouth to try and get the words out, they dry up in my throat. And I can't see how there's going to be a better time to tell her than this, or a better way. I don't know what I'm waiting for. But I just can't do it. Especially because she starts to cheer up a little as we chat and things seem unusually good between us again. Like they did yesterday when we were watching the fountain from our suite.

  "You know, I think you're right about that cabana," Mom says, as she finishes her omelette. "I might treat myself this afternoon. Want to join me?"

  I check my watch. "I could for a bit. I told Rory I'd go to the charity auction, though."

  "Oh, yes, the auction. I'd forgotten about that," my mom says, with a sigh. "When's that again?"

  "Fifteen minutes from now. On the Grand Patio. I think it's going to be pretty small, because you had to donate quite a bit of money just to be invited. You'll be fine to come if you'd like to."

  "Sounds good! I might have a quick cup of coffee and we'll make our way over. Hopefully, there'll be something nice for us to bid on."

  * * *

  "So glad you could make it, Ms. Hartley," Sonja says, spotting us the second we enter the patio area. Like I'd suspected, nothing gets by her.

  "I'm afraid we don't have an official invitation," my mom apologizes.

  Sonja chuckles. "Oh, that's not necessary at all. Would you like to view the items we're auctioning today? It's a lovely cause. Lucia's choice this year—a charity that offers dance classes to kids in disadvantaged neighborhoods."

  "I'd love to, and I'd like to make a donation, too," my mom says, and Sonja guides us over to a long table with a number of items on it, all numbered. There are signed SMD T-shirts, posters, tracksuits, and other merchandise, and also some really big lots, like a private dance lesson with Lucia and one of the SMD choreographers, and lunch with Rory. "I'll leave you to it," she says to us when Melinda, her assistant, whisks her away for something or other.

  "Would you like me to bid on the lesson with Lucia?" Mom asks, as we check out the table.

  "Um, no. I mean, yes, that would be nice, but it's okay." I'm not sure how to answer this question. Yes, I would love a private lesson with Lucia, and yes, Mom should bid on it because it's for a great cause, but the thing is, I don't deserve it.

  Mom gives me a quick glance. "I'm not quite following you. Is that a yes, or a no?"

  Another perfect opportunity to tell my mom what went on this morning.
But again, I let it slide. "I don't know," I say, looking away, down the table.

  "Ah, I see what the problem is. It's the poolside mocktail with Noah that's caught your eye?" Mom gives me a poke in the arm, and I turn to see her waggling her eyebrows. "Someone tells me you've got a little crush."

  I groan. "I can't imagine who that would be. Allie," I say, as Allie herself approaches us. I really don't need any reminders right now of dining where Noah's concerned. I haven't seen him yet and don't really want to catch up with him right now, sure I'll embarrass myself and blurt out something about Emme. I'd rather do that in private than in front of hordes of his fans.

  "What? What did I do?" she says. "Hey, I'd bid on the lunch with Rory, but I've already had thousands of them and they're not all that, to be honest."

  "Classy, Allie. Way to sell the auction," I hiss, glancing around us.

  Thankfully, someone with one of the charity's logo T-shirts on approaches us then, and we're ushered away from the auction table. "Ladies, if we could all move to the far end of the patio, we're about to get started."

  * * *

  There's a small stage set up outside, and the auction starts with an introduction from both SMD and the CEO of the charity ,and then Lucia and Tobias are brought up to teach the audience a quick dance sequence to the new Nelly Furtado song that's rising through the singles charts. Compared to the SMD show, there's a bit of audience reluctance to dance, which makes my mom laugh. "Not quite as keen as the teenagers, are they? Still, there are some big names here. Hopefully, they'll make quite a bit of money today."

  I look around, but I can't see anyone I recognize. I trust my mom's judgment on this one, though. Over the years, she's met pretty much everyone who's anyone. Also, there's a roving photographer taking a lot of shots of people together who seems to know who's who. The rest of the SMD team are standing off to one side, and I have to force my eyes not to keep skipping over to Noah.

  After Lucia and Tobias have finished, Sonja takes the stage.

  "I'm overjoyed to see the amazing turnout we've had today for such a great cause. So many of our sponsors have been able to join us on this occasion, which is a special show of support in the lead-up to the new direction SMD will be taking after the summer break. There are huge changes in store for us, and we can't wait to get started and bring you an all-new show. Again, thank you so much for coming, and now I'll hand over to our auctioneer to start the bidding on the first lot of the day—a surfboard signed by the entire SMD team all the way from our last live show in Honolulu…"

  * * *

  I guess my mom was right, because the bidding on most items is pretty crazily high. The surfboard goes for $3,700, the mocktail with Noah for $2,350, and the private dance lesson with Lucia for $4,875 (Mom bids up to $4,000 and would have kept going, except Allie told her one of the sponsor's daughters was giving us the evil eye). Even the T-shirt goes for $750. The final lot up for auction is lunch with Rory, and Rory herself signals the auctioneer as he announces the lot. "I think the lot itself would like to say something before we begin," he chuckles and gives Rory a hand onto the stage and the microphone.

  "Before we begin, I'd just like to say how honored I am to be a part of this today and to be able to help out," she starts. "This is a truly fantastic, grassroots charity run by real, working, dancers who know what joy dance can give you even in the toughest of times. I'm amazed at how much we've managed to raise so far and want to encourage those who are thinking of bidding to really go for it on this last lot." Rory pauses for a second here, then a mischievous grin comes over her face. "I might have a small frame, but I can eat. I promise you, I'll be ordering three courses."

  Everyone chuckles at this. Everyone that is, except my mom, who seems kind of taken aback.

  "What's the matter?" I lean over and whisper, all the time trying not to notice that Noah is attempting to catch my eye.

  "I can't believe it. She really is all grown up. Look at her up there. She's a true professional."

  I inspect my mom for a moment or two, realizing there's something she's going through on this trip with Rory. I guess something about what she went through at Rory's age. Something I'll probably never understand, seeing as it's a world I've always been kept from at arm's length.

  "Thank you, Rory," the auctioneer says, taking over again. "Right then, if we could start the bidding at…"

  "Ten thousand dollars," some guy calls out, cutting the auctioneer off.

  "Ooohhh…" the crowd says, as one, and everyone tries to catch a glimpse of who's bidding.

  I can't see who it is because Mom, Allie, and I are in the back, and the guy, whoever he is, is up front. But, on stage, I see Rory's face register who it is, all right, and she realizes she knows him. She seems equal parts embarrassed and thrilled.

  "Here you all are," Uncle Erik says, rushing up beside us. "I've been on the phone all morning. I didn't think I'd make it."

  "Shhh…" the three of us tell him.

  "What? What's going on?" he whispers.

  Even the auctioneer looks shocked. "Any advance on ten thousand dollars? Anyone? No? Then, going, going, gone…to the gentleman at the front."

  "You'd better order three courses and a cheese platter as well, Rory! Make that lunch last for him!" someone calls out, and everyone laughs.

  The chuckles continue until the guy himself moves forward from the group of bidders, walks straight up to Rory, standing left of the stage, and kisses her.

  "Rory!" Mom goes to move forward, then stops, when Uncle Erik grabs her arm.

  "It's okay," he says as, around us, the crowd "ooohhhs" again, then starts clapping.

  Only Allie, Mom, and I stand stock-still.

  "That's Asher Evans," I end up saying, dumbly. Which is stupid, because everyone here knows that's Asher Evans. As in, Asher Evans, Hollywood movie star. Asher Evans who shouldn't even be breathing, because he's too incredibly, unbelievably gorgeous to live.

  Not as cute as Noah, of course. But still really cute.

  "I worked with him once," Mom says, mesmerized. "He's a very nice boy."

  "He's kissing my sister," Allie says, seemingly also at a loss for words that don't involve the obvious.

  Only Uncle Erik seems quite unfazed by all this. "I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I believe he's been kissing your sister for at least six months now."

  -

  21 -

  It takes my brain a moment or two to register what's going on—that Asher Evans is kissing Rory, that Rory is kissing him back, that they've been going out for some time and…

  That there really, truly is a secret boyfriend.

  "What do you mean, six months?" Allie gives her dad a fierce stare. "Rory wouldn't go out with someone and not tell me." But then she swivels back around to face the stage where the crowd is now cheering for a very red-faced Rory Hartley who is currently holding hands with Asher Evans. She shakes her head, watching them. "She didn't tell you, did she?" Allie whips around to ask me, her eyes narrowed and her face pinched.

  I shake my head slowly, frowning. "No. Nothing." I don't move my eyes from Rory, and as I stare at her, I get my first glimpse of what my mom has been going on about. Suddenly, Rory seems different to me up there. Older. With some kind of life going on that I don't know about and can't understand. As I watch her, feeling useless and confused, I start to wonder what I'm even doing in Las Vegas. It's my mom Rory seems to need. Not me.

  The four of us hang around as the crowd starts to thin out now that the auction's over. Finally, Rory gets the opportunity to run over to us, leaving Asher Evans chatting with Sonja by the stage. Thankfully, Noah, I notice, is busy talking to the winner of his auction.

  "Don't freak out!" is the first thing Rory says when she's within talking distance. When she gets close enough, she grabs one of my hands and one of Allie's, too. "It's not what you're thinking."

  "Too late," Allie says, not sounding at all pleased.

  Rory sighs. "Come on, Allie, don't be
like that."

  "Don't be like what?" Allie pulls her hand away. "How could you not tell me you were dating someone? We don't keep secrets like that. We never have." Allie looks truly hurt, her eyes welling up. I don't blame her, either. I mean, I feel hurt enough, and I'm just her cousin.

  Rory takes a deep breath before she says anything. "Look, I love you guys to death, you know that. But this…it's just different. It was from the start. It wasn't something I wanted to giggle about."

  "Oh, so now we're just two silly little girls," Allie blurts out.

  "No," Rory says, quite fiercely. "But it was different, and I didn't know what to say or how to tell you. At first, there wasn't anything to tell. I mean, Asher doesn't even live in the same state as me. We'd only met a few times and…well, I didn't even know what was going on, I could barely explain it to myself, let alone anyone else. Plus, when we first met, you were still pretty sick. I was worried that if I told you, your heart might burst its stitches. Don't be mad at me, please, Allie."

  Allie's face softens slightly, but she still looks like she's in a lot of pain.

  "You'll love him, Allie. You really will." Rory pulls her sister in for a hug.

  "I doubt it," Allie finally says, grudgingly.

  Rory glances around at all of us now. "He's really nice. He understands my screwy life because he's had one, too."

  "Oh, of course," my mom says now, glancing over at Asher. Asher had been a child star as well and had made the transition to acting in adult roles quite smoothly, except for the fact that he'd then made the unpopular decision to take some time off to go to college. "He'd be a very good friend for you right now, Rory."

  Rory nods. "He is. He kind of gives me hope that things could be…different," she lowers her voice at this point.

  "Yes, well, it looks like you're more than friends," Allie says, still sulking.

  "Allie, if I told you anything, you know you would have tweeted about it within thirty seconds," Rory sighs. "Now come and meet him. You know you want to."

  "Then can I tweet about it?" Allie doesn't smile.