Being Hartley (22 page)

Then, before I can even think about what I'm doing, I pull Noah Hoffman
toward me and kiss him.

And just like that, I don't feel lonely anymore.

* * *

Noah and I sit on some steps beside each other and chat for the next twenty minutes or so until I realize the time.

"Oh, wow," I say, checking my watch. "I'd better go back up. If Mom gets back to the suite and I'm not there, she might really freak out."

"Let's walk," Noah says, standing, then giving me a hand up.
When I'm beside him, he pauses. "Where are Rory and Allie this evening?"

"Allie's with her dad, I guess.
And Rory's going out for dinner with Asher."

"Ah, Asher," Noah says, sounding kind of flat.

"Don't you like him?" I ask.

Noah waves a hand.
"What's not to like? He's a great guy. One of those guys you'd love to hate, but you can't."

"Love to hate?" I'm not quite following.

"You know, painfully good looking, really nice, totally funny, steals all the attention from the girls when he hangs out backstage." He turns to look at me when he says this last part.

"Oh," I laugh.
"Rory asked me to babysit him, that's all."

"All that hair," Noah says, gloomily.
"The girls are crazy about it, aren't they?"

"Well…" I say slowly, not sure what Noah wants to hear.
"It is a bit…luscious."

"See!" Noah runs a hand over his buzz cut now.
"Do you think I should grow mine?"

"No!" I take a half step in front of him now, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
"Don't be crazy! You've got one of those perfect heads for a buzz cut. It's totally hot. Don't grow it."

Noah's eyes move down to meet mine, his dark eyebrows raised.
"It's totally hot?"

I grin back at him.
"Well, yes. Way hotter than Asher's. In my opinion."

Noah laughs at his.
"Uh oh, I may have to change my mind about you."

"Change your mind?" I'm not following.

Noah shrugs. "There are always all these girls hanging around me, telling me bits and pieces of me are hot. But that's what I liked about you from the start—you weren't trying to impress."

Wasn't I?
It was more like I was so impressed I couldn't speak. "Still, lucky you," I end up replying. "There's never anyone hanging around me, telling me bits and pieces of me are hot!"

Noah laughs at this.
"They should be! But, hang on, this is about me, remember? You were telling me my hair's…what was it again?"

"Um, hot," I say, with a cough.

"Yes, that's it. Hot. As in hotter than Asher Evans's hair, you mean?"

I try and look serious.
"Oh, yes. Way hotter."

"I'll just take it as you being really honest, rather than trying to impress me."

Now I can't help but laugh as we stand and stare at each other.

It's Noah who ends up speaking first.
"Anyway, if you need to get back, maybe we should…" he says, gesturing toward the hotel.

"Oh, right.
Yes. Sorry," I say. "It's just that I was mesmerized by your hot hair."

* * *

Noah and I make our way back to the hotel. We then split up when we get to the guest elevators.

And maybe he kisses me again and maybe he doesn't.

Okay, so he does (blushing).

I grin all the way back to the suite, when I remember my mom again.
As it turns out, she isn't back yet, and I text her because I know she'll be fretting about ending her interview. I tell her that I'll wait up. Then I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, throw my pajamas on, and climb into bed, even though it's still early. After the day I've had, I need a rest.

I read for half an hour or so (fine, it's not so much reading as staring at one line of text and replaying the events of the last half hour over and over again in my head), then flick the TV on and channel surf.
I stop when I get to this old Woody Allen movie that has, of all people, my mom in it. For some reason, the moment I see her working, I remember Rory telling me I don't give her enough credit. I also recall how impressed Asher was about working with her, too. Now, I put the remote down on top of the comforter and frown slightly as I take in the story being played out before me, trying to see this person in front of me not as my mom, but as Cassie Hartley—person who is affected by more things than she lets on.

I watch at least an hour of the movie when I hear a voice.

"Thea?" my mom says, poking her head around the door, and I jump slightly. I hadn't heard her enter the suite.

"What are you watching?" she asks, taking a few steps into the room.
When she spots the movie on the TV, her eyes widen. "Goodness. That was a long time ago," she says.

"When was it made?" I ask, interested.

"Well, you must have been…oh, I remember now. You were just a toddler. Maybe eighteen months or so? It was shot over one summer in Manhattan, and it was unbelievably hot. Your dad took you to Central Park every day to escape the heat. We had a fantastic time, that summer. It was really special." She stares at the TV as she says this, reminiscing. "I loved making that movie. In fact, it's probably one of my all-time favorites."

"That's a big call," I say, glancing up at her.

She laughs slightly at this. "I guess so, but it's the truth."

I turn back to the TV for second.

"Well, I'm tired. I guess I should take a shower…" my mom says. I can feel she's testing the waters—should we talk now, or later?

"I'm tired, too," I reply, which is code for "We can talk tomorrow."
"But don't you want to watch?" I ask her.

"Oh, I…" Like the other day, when I'd ask her to watch the fountain with me, she seems quite taken aback by this
, and I realize we have a bit of ground to cover together to make things okay between us again.

"Come on." I shuffle over and lift up the comforter on the side of the bed she's standing next to.
"Get in. We'll watch together." Maybe not everything needs to be broken down and discussed and made sense of.

She gestures at her outfit.
"But…"

"You've been in Deb's suite.
Not rolling around in mud. Come on."

My mom chuckles at this.
"You're right. I guess I'm not that dirty. Actually, that reminds me. You know how I told you your dad took you to Central Park every day when I was filming? Well, there was this one time…" And then, as she gets into bed beside me, she tells me this very my-dad-like story about how they were in the middle of shooting a scene and had to stop because of this emergency phone call. It was my dad freaking out that I'd done something awful in my diaper at the park and that he hadn't brought a change of clothes for me, or him, or baby wipes, or anything he might have possibly needed other than his cell and his wallet. "In the end, one of the other actors told him to make like a caveman and find some leaves and then hung up on him."

We laugh and laugh at the thought of my poor father racing around Central Park not knowing what to do with a suddenly smelly baby as the movie continues playing on the TV in the background.
And as I laugh, I feel the warmth of my mom beside me and know, despite our differences, that everything will be okay. We won't turn out like her and my grandmother. We won't even come close.

-
25
-

I fall asleep at some point during the movie
, and when I wake up, my mom is gone, the side of the bed she'd been on neatly tucked in, and I can see a sliver of light through the blackout curtains. I reach over to the bedside table for my cell and see that it's already eight thirty. There's also a text waiting for me from Rory.

Checking in! TV thing now, signing with the team at 9, appearance at the pool 9:45. Practice with Noah 10:30. Live show at 2. Allie looking for trouble.

This isn't exactly news—Allie is always looking for trouble. I think for a second before replying.

Can't face pancakes again. Need to move. If you're busy, will take Allie to practice room for some fun at 10:30.

Then I text Allie and let her know I'll meet her at her suite in half an hour.

I throw some clothes on and bolt down the fruit plate Mom has ordered for me.
She's left a note saying she's with Anna then has a meeting with Deb. When I'm done, I grab my cell and start down the hall to find Allie.

When I knock on their suite door, it's Allie who opens up.
I don't say anything, but tuck all my stuff under one arm and pull her in for a hug with the other. "Sorry for being an idiot," I say, when I pull back again. "It's just…" I sigh. "I don't know. I guess I'm going through some issues with my mom."

"Hey," Allie says with a shrug.
"Think of it as good timing. This is issue central. Coming in? I've just got to take my medication, and then we can go."

I nod
, and Allie holds the door open for me, then lets it close behind us. We start down the hallway, but then have to move into single file because of all the boxes. "What's all this…stuff?" I frown, looking around. "It looks like you're moving house."

"Oh, it's Rory's," Allie says, not even glancing at it.
"You know, gifts. People wanting her to endorse stuff. Let's see." She goes over to one side of the hallway, where the boxes are stacked halfway up to the ceiling. "We've got sneakers, stationery, makeup, clothes, more clothes, more makeup…oh! And candy. No one told me about that." She plucks the box out and tucks it under one arm. "Thank you very much."

I stop in my tracks.
"Are you serious? All this stuff has arrived just since we've been staying at the hotel?"

"Of course." Allie turns back, giving me an odd look.
"I bet if you go and look in Deb's suite, her hallway will look exactly the same. In fact, there'd probably be more. And better quality. Like racks of Valentino gowns or something."

Huh.
Maybe. I guess she's right. After all, I know this stuff exists. I know it happens. I've just never seen it in real life before. I follow Allie into the kitchen where she takes her medication. She grabs a towel and a water bottle, and we're ready to go. I hold the door open with my foot as she races around, trying to find her wallet and a bag. "You've got tunes?" she yells out at me.

"Yes!" I yell back.

"Great." She comes racing back out again. "We should have about forty-five minutes before Rory and Noah need the room, so let's go."

* * *

In the elevator, I start to wonder if I should tell Allie about Noah or not. The funny thing is, after what happened with Noah, I suddenly get what Rory was trying to tell me yesterday. It's sort of private. And I don't feel like broadcasting what went on between us, because the things Noah told me—I don't think he's told them to many people. But I also don't want Allie to find out herself, either. And with the interesting security contacts she seems to have up her sleeve, it's probably better that I tell her now.

"Um, Allie," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
"What do you think of Noah?"

"Noah?" she says, glancing over at me.
"Noah's great. You know that. Why?"

"What would you think about Noah…and me?"

She jumps around on the spot now, her eyes wide. "What about Noah and you? What are you saying?" She grabs both my arms.

"Calm down!
I was just…asking what you'd think, that's all. It's not like anything's really happened."

"Something's happened?
What? What?! Wait. You're not keeping things from me as well, are you?" The elevator dings and, with the quickest glance ever, Allie reaches over and holds the doors open, but doesn't get out.

"No, of course not.
I'm telling you, aren't I?"

Her eyes narrow.
"I don't know. Are you?"

"All right," I sigh.
"I might have kissed him."

Allie's jaw drops.
"Hang on. This wasn't assault, was it? Did he kiss you back?"

"Well, yes."

"He didn't run away, repulsed? He didn't call security?"

"No! Thanks for asking!" I pick her arm off me.

Allie stands there in silence and shakes her head for a minute or so. "Wow. You and…Noah. That's weird."

"Why?" I frown.

"Because he could have anyone!" Allie says, looking impressed. "And he went for you!"

* * *

"Do you really know where you're going?" I ask Allie as we finally make our way out of the elevator and twist and turn our way through the corridors of the Bellagio.

"Yep. I've been down here with Rory before on another trip.
It's a meeting room, but they fit it out with mirrors and a portable floating floor."

I throw her a look.
"Are you serious?"

"What can I say? It's a serious show.
By the way, just so you know, Dad's got a meeting at ten thirty, but I think I'm supposed to check that Rory's cool with the practice session—that everything seems okay."

I slow down slightly.
"What do you mean?"

"Rory's told you a bit about the new look of the show, right?"

I nod.

"Well, they've got this new choreographer for it
, and they haven't really had a chance to work with him yet. But he's here in Las Vegas, so he's taking everyone through their paces while he's here."

"Oh," I say.
"And Rory's not okay with it?"

"I think the routine he's come up with for them is kind of hammering things home for her.
It's a bit…sexy. Even for the new-look
SMD
. Apparently, it's to go hand in hand with some new dance movie that'll be coming out in the fall."

"Yikes."

"Yeah, I think 'yikes' about covers it. Anyway, the room's just down here." Allie points to the end of the corridor. When we get down there, she pushes open the door. "After you, lover girl…" she says, letting me pass through and then walking straight into my back when I come to a halt immediately inside the door. "Ow," she says. "Hey, what's…" She finally spots the problem herself—the Mara-sized problem in the middle of the room.

Mara crosses the floor and turns the music that's playing down low.

"Sorry," I say quickly, with a wave of one hand. "We didn't think anyone would be here because of the signing thing."

"Yes, well, that's just for the 'real' dancers," Mara replies, giving us a dirty look.
"Sorry about that misunderstanding at the show yesterday." She glances at Allie as if butter wouldn't melt.

Allie hesitates for only a millisecond.
"Oh, that. Yes, it was
awfully
silly of me to think that you were pointing at me, wasn't it!" Allie guffaws. "I'm
such
a moron. Lucky it was you the misunderstanding was with…"

There's a pause before Mara takes the bait. "And why's that?" She tries to sound bored, but fails.

"Well, it would have been even more embarrassing if it was one of the 'real' dancers!" Allie puts on her most sincere expression.

Allie: 1, Mara: 0.

I try not to snort, but I'm sure a small noise must escape, because Mara whips around to face me. "Um, hey, I know that song," I say, changing the topic inelegantly.

"Really," Mara says, obviously not believing me.

"It would have been out, er…two years ago," I add, silently counting backward. "I loved that song. What happened to her? I haven't heard anything new for ages."

Mara stares at me, realizing I do know the artist
, and for a split second, she almost looks impressed. Even, maybe, kind of…human. Like you could have a conversation with her or something.

"You should check her out on YouTube," she says, eventually.
"She does these amazing covers and…" She trails off. "Not that she has a lot of choice. She wasn't popular enough, so she got frozen out of the recording industry. Unlike some people, she understands the ups and downs of working in entertainment. Anyway, I've got to go."

And with that, Mara picks up her towel and her few other bits and pieces and brushes past us, without a backward glance.

When she's gone, I frown at Allie. "What was that supposed to mean?"

Allie shakes her head at me.
"Geez, what do you need? Subtitles or something? She meant that you have it easy, peasy, lemon squeezy because you're a Hartley."

"Ha!" I laugh. It's not feeling like this lately.

"Exactly," Allie replies, looking at the closed door that Mara departed from. "Still, better to be a Hartley than a deranged lunatic. Seriously, I worry when I stay in hotels with her. I always get the feeling I'll wake up in the middle of the night and she'll be standing over me with a knife in her hand. Or maybe a Hartley Oscar, stolen for the specific purpose of beating me to death."

I shudder.
"Anyway, she's gone now. Wanna dance?"

Allie links arms with me and pulls me further into the room.
"You bet."

* * *

Just before ten thirty, Rory and Noah arrive.

"Having fun?" Rory takes in our sweaty, red faces as she breezes through the door.
She gives me a sly wink, and I realize I'm not going to have to confess anything to her like I did to Allie—Noah's already told her what's been going on.

"It looks like it," Noah says, following her into the room.
"What're you guys up to?"

Allie glances at me.
"I'm not telling them, it's too tragic."

I shrug.
Hey, I'm used to embarrassing myself. "You know that guy on YouTube that does the 'Evolution of Dance' thing? The comedian?"

"Oh, yeah!" Noah says.
"He's hilarious. I love that guy!"

"I might have, sort of, a little bit…okay, so I know the whole thing by heart now."

Noah laughs. "The whole thing?"

Okay, now I'm truly ashamed of myself. But I'm also secretly pleased Noah thinks this is funny in a good way. Still laughing, Noah starts
toward me, but then stops as the door opens again, and everyone turns to survey the two people who enter—a super-cool guy dressed in baggy but expensive-looking gray sweat pants, a white T-shirt, and a gray felt fedora.

And Sonja.

Her eyes are on me in a second.

Time to scram.

"Hi, Sonja," I say, acknowledging the other guy with a nod of my head. "I guess we should be going," I say to Allie.

"Of course not!" Sonja booms, all smile and teeth.
Geez, but she reminds me of the Big Bad Wolf. "Why don't you stay and watch? I'm sure you'd be interested in seeing Matt's choreography. It's amazing."

"I…" I glance at Allie, who seems pretty calm about all of this.
Unlike me, she's not quite so scared of Big Bad Sonja.

"I insist." Sonja takes a step closer to me.

When Sonja insists, I don't think saying no is really an option.

"Um, okay then," I gulp.

* * *

Sonja's right.
Matt's choreography is amazing. However, unfortunately, Allie's also right—it's pushing the
SMD
boundaries. The old ones, anyway, because this is hot stuff. The coming months are obviously going to bring a whole new world for
SMD
, with a new time slot and rating to go with it. The routine they're learning today is about as far from old school
SMD
as you can get.

Poor Rory looks really, really uncomfortable with the whole thing
, and the session stops and starts as she seemingly tries to get a grip on her new role. After a while, Allie and I retreat to a corner of the room and try out a few of the more difficult moves ourselves, to keep ourselves occupied and out of the way and to see if we can even get them down.

As the session wears on, Sonja gets increasingly frustrated at all the stopping and starting and begins to intervene.
"Come on, Rory," she says, at one point. "I know you're tired, but we're all tired." She sighs a long sigh, before turning to the choreographer. "Let's take it from the top again and see if we can get something decent out of them this time."

"Sonja…" Noah speaks up now.

But Rory, interjects. "Let's just get it over and done with," she says, and Noah lets the subject drop.