Being Hartley

by Rushby, Allison

"Maybe," Rory tells her. "Come on." She drags us both in Asher's direction.

  "I won't argue with you," I tell her, trying not to look upset, even though I am. Things are changing. And I can't work out if that's good, or bad.

  As she drags me along, Rory smiles at me. "Favor?"

  "What?"

  "Asher wants to come to the show this evening, but Allie's going to be in the audience with her friend. Would you mind babysitting him backstage?"

  I think about this and try and smile a grown-up "I'm totally cool with you telling me half-truths" smile back at her. "Hmmm…I don't know. That's a hard one. Would I mind babysitting Asher Evans? It's a big ask, but, yes. Yes, I think I can do that for you."

  * * *

  So, I have successfully dodged Noah at the auction and am standing backstage with Asher Evans, which isn't too painful at all, because despite being a secret boyfriend that my cousin didn't tell me about, he is super-nice, and I am starting to get super-excited he is dating my cousin.

  We've been chatting for a while about this and that, waiting for the show to start, when he turns to me and says, "Your mom is so great, you know."

  Yeah, not so super-excited about that. Why do people always feel compelled to talk to me about my mom? Have I spoken to Asher about his mom? No. No, I have not. "Mmm," I say, in return. The truth is, I'm still trying not to think about my mom too much and the thing I haven't managed to tell her yet.

  "She was actually one of the reasons I decided to go to college," Asher says. "When we were working together—those few weeks we had shooting in Madrid—we did a lot of talking. She gave me some great advice."

  My ears prick up at this. "She told you to give up acting and go to college?" Now that sounds like my mom.

  "Well, yes. And no. I'd been thinking about it for some time and really needed some advice on it, that was all. It was great to be able to talk to someone who'd been there and done that."

  "My mom never went to college," I quickly inform Asher.

  "Maybe so, but she's been around this business for a long time. She's seen it all."

  I don't reply to this, busy plugging a small spout of anger that's suddenly risen inside me. What is it with my mom always trying to convince people they should be doing something other than what they're obviously really good at? And if this business is so awful, why is she so entrenched in it herself?

  Maybe Asher sees I'm not exactly comfortable with where our conversation's headed, because he changes the subject now. "Rory tells me that there was a dance, er, incident at the show this morning." His mouth twists as he says this, and he keeps one eye on me and one on the stage.

  "Hmpf," I say.

  "She says you're a pretty good dancer."

  "I won't be after my mom severs both my legs."

  Asher laughs loudly at this. "She wouldn't."

  "Want to put some money on that?"

  Asher eyes me quizzically. "She's not okay with you dancing?"

  "Ballet, yes, hip hop, no. If there was some kind of dance form you could do in the dark, anonymously, with no audience, then there'd be no problem at all."

  "Ah." Asher gets what I'm saying now. "She doesn't want you in the public eye. That must be difficult. The media must be pretty interested in you. I mean, look at you," he says, waving a hand from my head to my feet. "You're all Hartley. And if you're talented, too…"

  "All the more reason to be hidden away forever in a purpose-built tower in Tasmania," I reply, my anger spilling over. "Ugh, sorry." I shake my head. "My mom and I—we haven't been seeing eye to eye on a few things lately."

  Asher nods. "I hear you. What can I do to help? Maybe I could have a word with her?"

  I glance at him, realizing for the first time that he's not viewed as a kid, like me. He's an adult. Rory's in the land of the grown-up people now. I consider his offer and think about how many times my dad has tried to stand up for me and get Mom to see my point of view. "Thanks," I end up saying, "but don't waste your time. When it comes to my mom and me, she decided how things were going to be a long time ago. Before I was even born."

  * * *

  Despite the mom business and the secret boyfriend stuff, Asher and I manage to have a pretty good time together backstage and even a few laughs, which is a good distraction from thinking about Noah. Mostly, we're laughing at Asher trying to dance. "I'm really bad," he tells me as the show starts, and I tell him of course he's not, but the truth is…

  He is.

  Asher Evans is a really, really bad dancer. "Stop thinking about it so hard," I tell Asher as I show him the most basic of steps for about the five-hundredth time.

  "Er, no." Asher doesn't seem to think this is a very good idea. "Believe me, you don't want me to stop thinking about it. That would be even worse." He stops with a depressed sigh. "Check out Allie. She is so good."

  I follow Asher's gaze out to the audience where Allie is dancing with her friend Ingrid. Ingrid, as it turns out, is absolutely stunning, but not a much better dancer than Asher.

  "And Rory's told me all about Allie, too. That she's had lots of obstacles to overcome. I think she's amazing…" He tries the arm movements by themselves now, and for all the world looks like he is trapped in a small room with a demented parrot and is trying to bat it away before it takes his eyes out. Let's just say it's not pretty. "It's probably best if you stand here." He stops again, points at specific spot on the floor, then grabs my hand and pulls me over there when I don't move fast enough.

  "What's so great about this spot?" I ask him, not understanding what's going on.

  "Because this way Rory can't see how badly I'm doing back here," he groans. "She'd break up with me in an instant if she saw me dance. So far I've been able to avoid dancing in front of her. Why do you think I bid on the lunch instead of the dance lessons?"

  I pause. "Well, the dance lessons were with Lucia…"

  "True, but I'm also a way better eater than dancer. I guess I'm lucky it wasn't Rory doing dance lessons."

  "I don't know…" I say, watching as Asher tries to perfect a very simple, very straightforward "kick step kick step kick step ball change" sequence and fails miserably. And that's without the arms.

  I glance out toward the audience and immediately see a kid of about four who has it down, with the arms, and is even getting a little funky with it. That's gotta hurt. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm a terrible skier," I say.

  "Are you dating an Olympic skier right now?" Asher eyeballs me.

  "No. I'm not dating anyone." I get a pang when I say this and can't help but let my eyes slide over the stage to fix onto Noah—something I've been avoiding doing. I mean, what I would give to be dating Noah…but how would that ever happen, with me in Tasmania one week and Vienna, or Madrid, or Paris, or something the next? And then, of course, there's the Emme business. Even if it really isn't on again with them, as Rory seems to think, it just proves to me what I already know—Noah is one of Them. Like my mom is one of Them and Emme is one of Them. Asher, beside me, is one of Them as well. And I'm not. My mom has made sure of that. I shouldn't have let myself dream that anything could ever happen with Noah. It was just a stupid daydream-like fantasy.

  "No Olympic skier? Yeah, well, not feeling much better then. Thanks for trying, though."

  Asher and I take a break after this, sitting cross-legged on the floor until the audience participation part of the show. "Now this," I say, getting up and offering Asher a hand up as well, "is fun. You'll love this."

  "Do I have to dance?" he says, getting up reluctantly. "Because I'd just about mastered sitting on the floor."

  "No, you don't," I tell him. "Other people have to dance."

  "Excellent!" Asher brightens. "That's the best kind of dancing."

  Everything starts out as normal. As per usual, Valentina chooses first, and a dad is brought up onto the stage, Cooper opts for a boy of about eight, then Tobias asks a guy of around fifteen who looks like he's a fantastic dancer. I'm telling Asher about the amazing six
-year-old Rory had chosen for the first show, when Asher puts his hand on my arm, making me pause.

  "Hey, what's going on out there?" he says.

  It's Mara's turn to choose a partner now, and when I focus my attention back on the stage, I don't like what I see. I don't like what I see at all.

  Mara's pointing at Allie. Right at Allie. It's completely obvious that she's pointing at Allie.

  And it's also completely obvious that she's been pointing for some time now and that something's going on behind the scenes. That someone, somewhere, is stalling.

  My eyes move up now, across the stage, to where Sonja is also standing backstage, alternately going ballistic into her headset and shooting daggers at Mara at the same time.

  I watch her for only a split second before I switch my attention back to Mara. Which is when I get to see everything magically resolved.

  Because, with a smile, a slight shrug and a fleeting "oops" expression that I know is expressly for the benefit of Allie, Rory, and me, Mara moves her finger ever so slightly and points at tall, gorgeous, platinum-blond Ingrid, who is pounced on immediately by Sonja and brought up onto the stage.

  -

  22 -

  "Tell me I didn't just see that," I say to Asher, instantly forgetting my Noah woes.

  "You just saw that. We all saw that. I think, however, they might edit it out before it hits the TV. Along with the expression on Rory's face."

  I turn my attention away from Allie, in the audience, to where Rory is standing on the stage. She looks absolutely furious, her arms clenched by her sides, her face taut. She doesn't even respond when her own name is called for her turn to choose a partner from the audience.

  "Rory! If you'd like to choose your partner?" the emcee calls out for a second time, worried.

  It's at this point that Rory responds, her eyes darting over to the emcee. As she runs forward, I see a look pass between her and Allie, and in the audience, Allie shakes her head slightly. Instantly, I can see what's going to happen.

  "Oh, no," I say, quietly, trying to catch Noah's eye. He looks like he's about to strangle Mara himself.

  "What? What is it?" Asher says, beside me.

  I don't answer him, too busy being hit with the realization that this is it. This is what I'm here for.

  "Rory," I hiss, but there's way too much noise for me to be heard. I'd have to scream over the crowd to catch her attention. So, instead, I start jumping up and down and waving my arms.

  Practically everyone on the stage looks my way.

  Except Rory, who is actively ignoring me, busy throwing her career away. When Noah sees me, I know he knows what I'm thinking. He nods quickly, and I know then that he's going to try and help out if he can. "I think this girl is an amazing dancer," Rory says, pointing out into the audience.

  She's pointing at Allie.

  "Lovely!" the emcee says as an escort pounces on a teenage girl behind Allie. The girl's mom holds up her hands as she speaks to the escort, then gestures at Allie who has moved around in her seat to talk to them. I can see Allie tell them it's okay and that she should let her daughter go up on stage.

  "Oh, I saw that. Every last bit of it." I feel sick. Truly nauseous. And then I stop talking as I remember something. Something from the first show—the teenage girl. Valentina had chosen someone and had her choice vetoed. I'd thought I couldn't see properly, but I could. They'd simply brought up someone else. Probably someone who fit the mold better, because the girl I thought I'd seen had been a pretty big girl, but a great dancer. Instead, they'd brought up someone tall and pretty like Ingrid. Someone who couldn't dance as well, but who cared when they looked good on screen? The "perfect package" as Allie had told me, backstage yesterday.

  Sonja isn't interested in how people dance. She's only interested in eye candy.

  As everyone's eyes follow the girl going up onto the stage, my attention remains focused on Allie and Rory, who are having one of those silent conversations that only sisters can have.

  "Don't you dare throw everything in over this," Allie's expression says.

  "I will if I want to. It's worth it," Rory frowns, her lips set in a thin line.

  "Don't make this about me. I've told you time and time again I don't want to be asked on stage."

  "But Mara…"

  Allie makes a cutting motion with one hand and then points a finger. "Mara wants this to happen. Mara wants you to crack."

  I realize that Allie's right. This is exactly what Mara wants. Mara's trying to goad Rory into quitting, and she's getting closer to her goal every day. Thinking fast, I jump up and down again now, and finally, Rory glances my way. "Don't do it," I mouth at her. "Don't," I say. I shake my head. Hard.

  Rory stares at me for a moment or two, our eyes locking. "Don't," I mouth the word again, still shaking my head from side to side.

  She gulps slightly as Noah appears beside her on stage, touches her arm, and whispers a few words. Rory pauses, then nods the tiniest nod at me, then at Allie, before turning to her partner, a fake smile lighting up her face.

  "Way to go, Rory," I say, "we'll get her later." It's only then that I realize Asher is still with me. "It's Mara," I glance up at him now. "She wants Rory's place on the show. And it looks like she'll do anything to get it." Then I remember why Asher's here in the first place, because I haven't been kept completely in the loop. "But I guess you already know that."

  "Sort of," he seems concerned, his forehead wrinkling. "I know she's got to try and get through till next year. That they haven't been interested in letting her out of her contract."

  On stage, Rory is all smiles and professionalism, working away with her partner. "Ugh," I say. "I don't know about you, but I can't stay and watch this. It's just plain wrong. Did you want to stay or leave too?" I pull my cell from my pocket as I talk and start texting Allie.

  Meet you outside

  "Rory'll be busy after this, I guess," Asher says. "I may as well stick with you guys."

  I snort. "Busy torturing Mara," I reply. "Who richly deserves it."

  "Let's go see if Allie's okay, then."

  I nod as Allie's text comes in.

  Meet you by the elevators.

  * * *

  When we get out to the bank of elevators, Allie is waiting for us.

  "Hey, Allie." I run the last few steps to her. "Are you okay? That was…" I can't even find the words.

  "Horrible, unforgivable, disgusting, unbelievable…" Asher says.

  "All of that," I agree. "And more."

  But in front of us, Allie only shrugs. "Mara's just trying to be provocative. I'm glad Rory let it go."

  "But…" I say, not even knowing where to start. "It's not fair. You can dance a thousand times better than Ingrid. Or that girl behind you. You deserve to be chosen."

  Allie laughs at this. Really laughs. "Don't you get it yet, Thea? It's not about deserving anything. It doesn't matter if I can dance a thousand times better. I don't look right. I'm not a real Hartley in Sonja's eyes. This is her gig, and she's decided I'm not right for the show."

  I suck my breath in, shocked that Allie isn't getting as overexcited about this as I am. "You are a Hartley. That's your name, isn't it? And so what if you don't look exactly like everyone else?" I stamp one of my feet slightly, knowing I'm acting like a toddler having a tantrum and not caring one bit.

  Allie gives me a "calm down" frown. "You haven't been in LA very long, have you?" she says, bluntly. "That's the way things are, Thea. That's showbiz."

  "But…" I start again. However, Allie's too quick for me.

  "But, what? There's nothing to argue about. Can't you see it's the same for Mara? Come on, we all know she's a better dancer than Rory. She's the best dancer on that stage today. But is everything fair for her, either? No."

  "WHAT?!" I say now, way too loud, making passersby stare at us. I notice that they double-take when they see Asher, and a couple of them even start to hover, probably hopeful they'll get an autograph. "I can't believe
you're sticking up for her after what she just did to you back there," I say, ignoring them, my mouth hanging open inelegantly.

  "Um, no," Allie says, gazing at me evenly. "I'm not sticking up for her. I'm trying to show you it's the same for everyone. It's not just about me."

  It's taking my brain a long time to register Allie's words, because they don't compute. Instead of replying, I look over and up at Asher who's been standing silently by my side all this time.

  Like Allie, he simply shrugs. "There's not much to say, Thea," he tells me. "Allie's right. Don't get me wrong, I think Mara should be thrown off the show for that stunt, but I know what Allie's talking about. You know I used to model before I was an actor, right? I couldn't count the times I've gone into a room and someone's just said something like, 'too tall, too dark, bad teeth, ugly feet' and then hurled me out of the room. The whole showbiz thing can be pretty degrading. But you must know that because of your mom, right?"

  I'd been ready to jump up and down again and tell Allie how the world works (or should work), but now my mouth clamps shut tight. It's a Them thing again. Mom had let that thing about Uncle Roman slip the other night when she was around Uncle Erik—the thing their mom had said about him not being able to dance, or act (guess he showed her). And the actor at our suite door—that was unavoidable. But the truth is, even though I have a mother who's one of the biggest stars in the business, and even though I pad on after her around the world like some silly lap dog, somehow she manages to keep almost everything from me. Or as much of it as she possibly can.

  I've been held at an arm's length from my mom's working life since I was born and only allowed glimpses inside it when she isn't guarding the red velvet curtains well enough and I've managed to peek through. Every so often I'll get one of those peeks. Like I'll catch Mom talking to Dad about something, or overhear something on the phone when we're in the car, or Deb has to talk to her about a matter right away. And I get that she might not have wanted me to hear a lot of that stuff when I was younger, but I'm fifteen years old now. What is it that she thinks I can't handle? If that actor had turned up at our door when I was on my own, does she really believe I would have invited him in or something? Let him talk me into taking many and varied illegal substances? Of course I wouldn't have! I would have told him my mom wasn't there and maybe to come back later. And now Rory's starting to do the same thing. Why couldn't she tell us about Asher? Why can't she explain what's going on with SMD properly? I don't get it. I don't get it at all.