Rory frowns. "But what about Martin?"
Martin was Rory's lawyer and had been since her first contract with Saturday Morning Kids. He was really sweet, and we'd met him a couple of times at family parties.
Mom sighs. "Honey, Martin is lovely, but this is out of his league."
"He's so nice, though. I can't…"
"Rory," Asher cuts in. "Right now, you need a lawyer, not a friend. And Martin will understand that."
My mom agrees with him. "And I think you need an agent as well. It's time for your father to retire."
Rory glances over at him. "Dad's always managed me!" But then she takes another look at her father, sitting there, silent, at the dining room table. "Actually, you might be right. I think I've driven him into the ground."
Mom's cell rings, and she whips it from her back pocket. "Oh!" she says, "Speaking of lawyers, it's Bunny! Hello?" she answers the call.
"Who's Bunny?" Rory looks over at me, as Mom ducks into the hallway to take the call.
"Your new lawyer," I tell her. "Who, before you ask, is not of the petting variety."
"Bunny? You mean Bunny Bradken?" Dr. Morgan frowns, looking from Rory, to Mom, to me.
"The one and only," a booming voice calls out as a woman enters the room. And if I'd had an idea what Bunny Bradken might look like, this is exactly it. Black and white vintage-looking suit and heels, a smart red crocodile leather attaché case, a black bob, and red lipstick that wouldn't dare smudge.
"But how did you…" Mom says, following her, having just let her into the suite.
"Get here so fast?" Bunny says. "You called. I came. I look after my clients. And my clients, some of whom have private jets and their own runways, look after me in return."
"I like her already," Allie says to no one in particular, looking impressed.
"And you, my dear, obviously have good taste." Bunny flashes her a smile. "Now, what can I do for you, Aurora?" One hundred per cent of her attention turns to her client.
Rory takes a deep breath. "Well, first, there's something everyone can do for me, including you."
We all look at her, expectantly.
As we watch, Rory stands up and all of us start to race over in case she faints again.
"Really! Guys! I'm fine now! I just need you all to come with me to this meeting."
* * *
By eight o'clock, we're all sitting in the designated boardroom. "We" being Rory, Uncle Erik, Allie, my mom, Dad, me, Asher, Bunny, and Noah. Noah's mom is here as well, having flown in from LA when the meeting was called. She seems really nice—kind of grounded and non-showbusinessy like my dad. The first thing she does when Rory comes into the room is give her a big hug. Noah does, too, having only just heard what's really gone on over the past couple of hours.
When we're finally all seated, Noah's mom looks around the table. "I'm sure this isn't the time or the place, but I can't help myself. Noah's been accepted early into UCLA! He just found out now. I brought it from home for him so he could open it himself!" She couldn't look more proud.
The boardroom erupts with congratulations now, and Noah looks both embarrassed at his mom's outburst and thrilled at the same time.
We chat about his plans until 7:41 p.m., when the door to the boardroom bursts open and Sonja blows in like an unexpected thunderstorm. Dr. Morgan is with her and Melinda, Sonja's assistant, follows in their wake, looking even more twitchy than usual. Sonja takes a seat at the head of the table, with Dr. Morgan and Melinda hovering behind her, then sits in silence, her eyes slowly traveling around the table, taking all of us in.
"I didn't realize this was going to be such a reunion!" she finally says.
"I don't believe we've met," Bunny says. "Bunny Bradken. Rory's lawyer. And I do believe it would be best if we could keep this professional."
Sonja raises an eyebrow at her. "I'd be more than happy to. Speaking of professionalism, I've just met with Dr. Morgan here, and I really do think we should get Rory to a hospital and do that CT scan. We are, of course, responsible for her welfare. Even if she doesn't choose to follow the daily routine laid out for her."
"What? What is that supposed to mean?" Uncle Erik blusters, before Bunny can reply.
Sonja seems unmoved by what's just happened to Rory. "Well, I did tell Rory she needed to eat lunch, and she blatantly ignored my request."
"Obviously, there are some food issues going on. Weight gain, then not eating…" Dr. Morgan adds.
Around the table, mouths drop as we all realize Sonja is trying to extricate both herself and SMD from this situation as swiftly as possible.
"Weight gain?" Rory's face reads disbelief. "Are you serious? Yes, I've gained five pounds in the last three months, but that's because I lost five pounds in the three months before that. I'm the exact weight I was a year ago! You can't say I've gained weight and have 'issues' when I don't. Anyway, my weight's only all over the place because I'm being worked into the ground due to the changes on the show."
"Which is just what I'd like to address." Bunny steps in to take control of the meeting before it spirals out of control. "From what Aurora and her father tell me, she has been asked to work a number of rest days recently. On the way to this meeting, she briefed me on the costume changes that will be made next season and outlined the changes in dance style that are being made. Not to mention, you've already commenced taping in these outfits and in this change of style. Any of these things are obvious breaches of contract. And together? Well, I'm afraid Saturday Morning Dance doesn't have a leg to…pirouette on, as the case may be. I can't see how there will be any problems in dissolving your contract quickly and easily, Aurora." With this, Bunny goes to stand up, as if the meeting's over now that she said what she came here to say.
There's silence until Bunny picks up her case and really looks like she's going to leave the room. And then Sonja calls out, "Wait!"
"Yes?" Bunny glances over at her coolly. "You have something to add?"
Sonja takes a deep breath. She doesn't look impressed with how this meeting is panning out, or the fact that Bunny seems to be running it. Finally, she seems to manage to pull herself together and smiles a very fake smile. "I'm sure this doesn't have to end in an…unfriendly manner."
"It might. Or it might not," Bunny says, candidly. "I'll leave that for you to decide."
Sonja shakes her hair, ignoring Bunny's comment. "Do sit down. I have…something else to place on the table. An offer."
Rory snorts at this. "Nothing could persuade me to work with you again," she tells her.
Sonja's eyes move to meet hers. "Nor I with you, sweetheart."
"We're waiting." Bunny sits back down, but continues to keep things moving. Across the table, Allie catches my eye and mouths "I like her" again, which makes me bite my lip and suppress a smile.
Sonja pauses dramatically. "I'll be frank. We need a replacement, and I'm not interested in having Mara take your place. There is, however, someone else entirely I have my eye on. If I could get her, we'd be willing to let you go very quickly and very easily. No fighting. No questions about timing, or money. We might not have a leg to 'pirouette on' as you put it, but everyone in this room knows we could tie things up for quite some time if we wanted to. But if we could get this person…well, you'd simply be released from your contract."
"Who is it?" Uncle Erik slides forward on his chair, immediately interested. "Between Cassie and myself, I'm sure we could try and talk them 'round if they're at all interested."
"It must be someone famous," Asher says.
"Oh, no," Sonja says, shaking her head. "She's not famous. Not yet, anyway. But she will be. You can be sure of it."
"Who is it, Sonja?" Noah asks.
"I guess it's cruel to keep you in suspense any longer." Sonja smiles her perfect white smile as she glances around the table. "The person I'm talking about? Well, that person would be Thea."
-
28 -
"It would be amazing," Sonja continues. "A whole new
Hartley on the show—handing the baton over from Rory Hartley to Thea Hartley."
I feel the hairs on my arms stand straight on end before I react. "My name is Thea Wallis!" I say, way too loudly, standing up in my seat. "Thea Wallis!"
Sonja seems surprised at my outburst. "Yes, of course it is, Thea. But a stage name is often a good idea. And what better one to use than Hartley?"
My mom stands up beside me now, with a huff. "This is where we leave, Thea. Sonja, if you have any other offers to make my daughter, you can make them through Bunny, thank you very much."
And then Mom grabs me firmly by my arm. Before I can say anything to Dad, or anyone, I'm outside in the corridor with her. She doesn't stop moving until we're right down the other end, near the elevators and out of earshot.
When she ceases moving, her mouth is in the thinnest line I've ever seen. And I can see immediately what she's thinking. But before I can get a word in, she speaks. "Tell me one thing, Thea. And do not lie to me about this. Did you set this up behind my back? Did you set this up with Sonja?"
My mouth falls open. How can she even think that? "No!" I say, loudly, not caring who hears me. "Of course not! I didn't set anything up. Everything that happened, you know about. Everything." I pause, remembering this afternoon and Noah, as well. "Well, except for one thing. Or maybe two things."
"And what would they be?" My mom sounds less than impressed.
I explain how Sonja had made me dance with Noah at the practice session this morning. And how, even though I love dancing with Noah pretty much more than anything in the world, I hadn't wanted to. That it had been awkward and horrible and probably what had driven Rory to ditching the show. And then, cringing, I tell her that I might have accidentally on purpose kissed Noah.
Mom's nose crinkles slightly at this. "I don't think I really needed to know that," she says.
I'd sort of thought that as the words were coming out of my mouth.
Mom's eyes flick up as we see someone moving toward us in the corridor—Dad. "I've got it covered," she tells him quickly. "This is between Thea and me."
Dad checks us both out, uncertain. But as I look from one of them to the other, I get the feeling she's right. I'm always wanting to get Dad in my corner when it comes to Mom, but something inside me knows that this, the final showdown, is going to be about the two of us going head to head. That it has to be this way if we're ever going to get anything between us sorted out properly. "It's okay, Dad," I tell him. "Really."
"Well, if you say so." Dad gives us both one long, final look before he leaves.
When he's gone, Mom's attention turns back to me fully. "And there's nothing else I should know?" Her eyes search mine for the truth.
I shake my head now. Hard. "I know what you're thinking," I tell her. "I mean, this is what I've always wanted. To dance on SMD. Like Rory. And now I'm being offered just that. Her spot. Dancing with Noah. But I never, ever wanted it to be anything like this. I couldn't steal Rory's job, or her partner."
"Or my name?" Mom adds. "I thought you wanted to be a Hartley, Thea. Well, this is a good introduction for you. This is what being a Hartley is really all about. You do whatever it takes. Hurt whoever you've got to hurt. Walk all over whoever gets in your way. It doesn't matter if it's your husband, or your son, or your daughter, your sister or your brother. You do it anyway. Because you're a Hartley."
I stare at my mom in disbelief. I don't know who she's talking about, but she's not talking about me, and she's not talking about herself. My mom would never hurt me, or walk all over me and I'd never do that to her. No, wait, scratch that. I do know who she's talking about—it's just that it's not anyone who's here right now. The person she's talking about doing all the hurting and walking over? It's her own mother.
"Mom, listen to me," I say. "I did not set this up. I'm not like that. I am not that person! I would never hurt Rory. Or you. I know I did the wrong thing the other day, but this is different. So different. I'm not like anyone from your past. I'm me, Thea, the person you brought up, and you need to trust me on this. Just trust me for once!"
Standing above me, my mom stares at me, searching for the truth.
"I mean it. Really, Mom, come on. Sometimes I wonder…do you even want to know the real me at all? Or are you just going to keep on dreaming up the worst that could happen for the rest of your life?"
She keeps right on staring, and in the silence, I start to believe that she doesn't. My own mother doesn't know me. Doesn't trust me. But then, her face suddenly softens. "I do," she says, exhaling. "I do trust you. I do know you. I needed to hear it from you, that's all. I knew you could never do something like that to Rory. I wanted to believe it so much…" She moves forward to hug me now.
I have never felt such relief in my life. For a moment there…well, I think I got a tiny glimpse of what her relationship with her own mother might be like, and suddenly I didn't blame her for holding on so tight to the family that she created and loves.
"Ugh," she says, holding me tight. "That Sonja is an evil witch who cares about nothing but ratings." She pulls back again now and looks down at me, planting a kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. It's just that the other day, then this…"
"I know," I say. "But I would never hurt Rory like that. And as if I'd want to work with Sonja."
"I haven't worked with her, but I've worked with plenty of Sonjas before, and it's never a good experience," my mom replies. "Okay." She takes a deep breath and looks around her, as if taking in her surroundings for the first time. "Let me think for one second." She holds one finger up and stares at the ceiling for a bit. "Right. I can't see any other way. We're through with this show. We've got to get out of here," she adds, suddenly all business. "All of us. Before Sonja pulls any more stunts."
I step back so I can see her properly. "But we are. Tomorrow."
My mom checks her watch. "You know, I think we should head back right now."
"To LA?" I say, confused.
"There's nothing holding Rory here. The live shows are over, and she's supposed to be off for two weeks from tomorrow."
I check the time as well. "But, Mom, it's almost nine. Can't we go in the morning?"
Beside me, my mom hmpfs, then thinks about this. "Oh, I suppose you're right," she finally says. "After the traumatic events of this evening, Rory needs a good night's rest. And before that happens, I think we might all need to hit the dessert buffet. Seriously, the way things have been going here, I'm surprised we haven't set up camp there yet."
* * *
The meeting only lasts a few minutes longer before Rory and company come storming out themselves.
"Looks like we're going to do it the unfriendly way," Bunny tells Mom and me. "But I wouldn't worry about it. She's all bluff. Still, she's gutsy, making you that offer, Thea, I'll give her that much."
We all go up to Uncle Erik's suite for a few minutes to regroup and see how Rory's feeling. She says she's fine, but still hungry, and Mom suggests the dessert buffet. Everyone agrees with her loudly.
As we make our way downstairs again, I can't help think how odd it all is—Rory's just pulled through what will probably be one of the scariest days of her life (not to mention scariest meetings) and everyone's joking and laughing and having a great time. Rory herself is practically bouncing around like Tigger, with a grin from ear to ear, and she leads us into the restaurant proudly, telling the hostess we need, "Ten dessert buffets. Stat."
We have such a great time that we end up staying for ages, even though everyone keeps gawking at us. (And why wouldn't they? We've got my mom, Rory, Noah, and Asher at the table, which is practically groaning with all the sugar and fame.) I've already made my way through a cream puff, a piece of caramel flan, and a chocolate éclair, when Rory speaks up. "I think Asher should make us a sundae."
Fast as a whip, Mom's, Dad's, mine, Allie's, and Uncle Erik's heads turn to see what she's saying here. Even Noah looks over.
"Like, The Sundae?" Allie says, looking
more than slightly freaked out.
"Yes," Rory nods. "Exactly like The Sundae."
Asher glances over at her. "Rory, it's okay…" he says. And that's when I realize that he knows about The Sundae. And if he knows about The Sundae, well, he probably knows everything.
"Well, okay," Allie continues. "I guess. As long as Asher knows I never, ever eat…"
"Walnuts," Asher points at her. "Right?"
"Right." She nods, her eyes wider still as she realizes he does know everything. Still looking like she's in shock, Allie glances over at Uncle Erik, sitting next to her.
"It's fine with me." He doesn't look at all worried by the suggestion. "Go for it," Uncle Erik tells Asher.
We all turn back to look at Allie now. Her eyes move from Asher to Rory and back to Asher again. "It had better be some sundae. And you'd better be good to that sundae. Really good. Really careful."
Asher listens to Allie's warning solemnly. "I will," he says. "I promise."
"And if you want to get on my good side, there better be chocolate syrup on the bottom as well as the top."
* * *
After over two hours, we all end up waddling back to our respective suites. Before I leave, Noah takes me to one side and makes me promise never to make him do The Sundae (apparently it's all too much pressure) and my heart flip-flops at the suggestion that this could even happen—that he thinks we're anything like Rory and Asher.
Mom and Dad head to bed not long after we get back, and I try to as well, except that I'm so sugared up I can't sleep. I try reading, then watching a little TV, but every time I turn the light out, all I can do is toss and turn and regret that second éclair. Or maybe it was the double helping of sundae.
Groan.
To make matters worse, my brain is working overtime, trying to comprehend how I could have been offered everything I've ever dreamt of on a plate this evening and then turned it away. And by that I don't mean all the tempting treats from the dessert buffet (none of which I turned away, which I'm certainly paying for now), but Sonja's offer for a spot on the show. Partnering Noah. Part of me still can't believe I said no to that. But I did. And I haven't regretted that decision for one second, either.
Being Hartley Page 21
