Being Hartley (11 page)

"It's my pleasure, Ms. Hartley.
I hope you enjoy your stay very much." He passes her the flowers. And then, with a smile that says nothing at all (and definitely nothing like "all stars are nuts"), the guy turns on his heel and leaves us.

"How sweet!"
My mom looks thrilled to receive the flowers and brings them to her face to take a sniff. "They're lovely. I wonder what your father did that for?"

I give her a look.
"Um, maybe because we're supposed to be on vacation? With Dad. In Tasmania. And he's in Rome. Working."

"Oh."
Mom waves a hand dismissively, and I almost laugh out loud. My mom is a pushover for no one on earth but my dad.

"You guys are sick." I shake my head and take the room card from her hand, because she's obviously in no state to be operating anything
—heavy machinery or even a room card. "Come on." The green light flashes and I push the door open and step inside. "Right, um, I think we'll be okay here," I say, taking in the sumptuous suite. I quickly ditch my bag in the entrance and walk straight ahead to the huge glass windows that give us a wide view of the lake below. "Look, Mom! The fountain's going," I tell her, and behind me, I hear her ditch her bag as well and come over.

"Oh, it's lovely!" Mom says, sitting down on the windowsill and placing her roses next to her.

I glance at her, hiding a smile. That's the thing about my mom—there are a lot of things people don't know about her. I lied about Mom and Vegas on the bus and wasn't surprised when everyone believed me. Everyone thinks she's so classy, and I'm sure people would bet she would hate something like the Bellagio fountain, but my mom doesn't have hidden depths—she has hidden shallows. She adores things like theme parks, oversized sunglasses, novelty caps, huge sticks of cotton candy, and stuff like that—all the things she never got to do when she was a kid. We've been to Euro Disney heaps of times, and believe me, it's not because I love the place. The truth is, my mom is a teacup-ride junkie.

Mom and I sit for a while in the calm of our suite, observing the fountain until a beep from my cell distracts me, letting me know I have a text.

It's Rory.

Quick walkthrough, then some free time before show. Want to watch some TV at yours? Allie up for it.

"It's Rory," I say, looking up. "Is it okay if we watch some TV here with Allie?"

"Of course!" Mom says.
"Anna and Deb have just arrived, and I think Anna wants to do a session with me, so that will work well. Order yourselves up some food if you need to." She stands up from the windowsill.

"Okay, thanks." I text Rory back with our room number and tell her and Allie to make their way down the hall whenever they're ready.

"Better unpack, I suppose." Mom starts back toward the entrance, and suddenly I feel bad for interrupting our fountain viewing.

"Mom." I stop her in her tracks.

She pivots around on the spot to check what I want. "Yes?"

I wave her back over.
"Come back and watch the fountain some more."

She seems a bit taken aback when I say this.
Pleased. Which gives me a quick stab in the chest, because I suddenly realize how easy it is to make her happy and how maybe I don't do it often enough.

She hesitates for a second, taking a half step, before regaining her composure and starting back over again.
"Oh. Okay. That would be nice."

Sitting at the window, we follow the fountain's movements in silence for a few more minutes before I remember something.
"I forgot," I say, getting up. "Rory told me we'd be able to get the music on the TV." I run over and fetch the remote and the TV clicks on to exactly the right channel. "See! It's like our own private show!"

Mom and I watch as "My Heart Will Go On" finishes and "Hey, Big Spender" begins.
"Who needs a villa?" Mom says to me halfway through the song, and I laugh. And she's so excited when "Viva Las Vegas" begins after this, that she claps her hands in delight.

"And you're supposed to be the adult here?" I ask, grinning, and she winks at me.

Of course, soon enough, the show ends. "That was so good," Mom says, looking awfully content. "It's such a shame your dad isn't here. He'd have truly hated that." Just the thought of this makes her smile.

I nod.
"Definitely." He really would have. Dad hates fake stuff and grumbled all the way through each Euro Disney trip, saying fun things like, "It's feeling like an increasingly small world on this inane ride" and "That duck needs to put some pants on before he gets arrested." Vegas would be his worst nightmare. I can just see him outside the fake Eiffel Tower and New York, New York, shaking his head, not understanding the point to building a fake Eiffel Tower when there's a real one in beautiful Paris and moaning about being forced to buy half-rate food in a miniature-sized Greenwich Village.

My mom turns away from the window now that the show's over.
"So, tell me, how was Rory today? Erik's being…well, kind of evasive, to be honest. I don't think I'm getting the whole story."

I know how she feels, because I'm
definitely
not getting the whole story. "Rory hasn't told me that much," I say, then pause. "But she is so all over the place—one minute she's fine, the next it's like her favorite hair de-frizzer is being discontinued. As in, tantrums of epic proportions. It's not really like her."

"She's obviously unhappy," Mom agrees, taking in the view again.
"But it doesn't seem to be about any one thing. She's probably just over the show as a whole. She's grown out of it. But, as Erik says, there's no getting out of that contract for another year. Apparently, their lawyer's already approached the show a couple of times. I'm not sure how effective he is, though."

"Rory and Mara were arguing on the bus," I say, "and I got to thinking
—the only way out that I can see is if they
want
her out." I'd been mulling this over for the past hour or so. If only
SMD
could decide they wanted Mara to fill Rory's spot. It would be the perfect out for everyone. But it didn't look likely. Mara simply wasn't as popular as Rory. If they wanted her to take Rory's place, it would have happened years ago.

"Well, I don't see how that's going to come about," Mom says.
"And she can't force a situation like that by being unprofessional, or she'll be fired and risk not working again. And she does want to work again, I think." She glances at me to confirm this.

"As far as I know," I tell her.

We sit, considering this for a few minutes.

"I feel so useless," I finally say, with a sigh.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, or saying. I don't know how I can help her."

Mom listens to me carefully.
"I know, sweetie. But maybe, right now, just being here for her, being you, is enough?"

I think about this as I regard my mom and realize two things
—from what Rory told me, and from what I've seen so far, it's probably true. And the other thing I realize? It's that maybe changing things up a bit is good for everyone from time to time. Because there's no denying it, this is the best Mom and I have gotten along for over a year.

-
13
-

Mom gets changed into some gym gear and is then whisked away by Anna to be tortured to within an inch of her life.
I spend a bit of time checking out the suite, playing with the blackout curtains, sniffing the fancy bath products, and even hanging a few things up in the closet before Allie knocks on the door.

"Hey, Allie!" I open the door wide
, and she gives me a nudge in the ribs as she enters.

"Hey, yourself.
Rory shouldn't be too much longer. Another half hour or so, maybe."

"Great. Want a soda or something?" I make my way down the hall
toward the huge windows and living area, then turn right to get to the bar.

"Sure." Allie follows me.
"Dad said we should order something up if we're hungry."

"Mom said the same." I pass her a Sprite over the top of the high marble counter.

"Interesting. Think we should order the lobster?" Allie laughs. "Or maybe the beluga caviar, or truffles. Or all three?"

"Doe
sn't sound very us. Maybe they have a caviar, lobster, and truffle nachos special."

"Sounds good."

We spend the next few minutes perusing the room service menu and decide on plain old burgers and fries, with an extra order of fries and some fruit salad for Rory, who I know will say she won't want anything heavy before she performs, but will then proceed to eat Allie's and my fries anyway (thus, the extra order).

"So," I say when we're done with ordering.
"Now that we're alone, what do you know that I don't?"

Allie snorts and goes to open her mouth to say something smart, so I butt in. "I'm talking about Rory."

She snaps her fingers. "Damn. I could have gone on all day, too."

"What was the whole running off thing about?"

Allie just shrugs. "It's not as exciting as it's been made out to be. She's just over
SMD
, that's all. Anyone would be, after that long. And now with Sonja around, it's like a pressure cooker."

"Mom was saying something about a new boyfriend…?"

Allie frowns. "Yeah, I heard a bit about that, too. But I don't know what they're talking about. She hasn't dated anyone since that sitcom guy, and they barely went on…what? Five dates, maybe?"

"So why all the talk?"

"Beats me. I think it might be coming from the show—sniffing around to see if that's what her problem is? Everyone's starting to be a bit more guarded now that other opportunities are starting to pop up—the fact that Rory's contract is ending within the year and she's not happy will already be on a lot of people's radars."

I nod slowly.
This makes sense. I quiz Allie for a while longer, but she genuinely doesn't have anything else to tell me. I finally let the topic go, and she heads for the bathroom, probably sick of my grilling her.

Just as the food's being wheeled into the room, Rory arrives.
"Hi!" she calls out from the open door. "Hope you ordered for me!"

"We did!" I tell her as she enters the living area
, and I sign for the room service. "Thanks." I tip the room service guy, and he leaves. "How was the walk-through?" I ask Rory, who comes over to inspect the trays that have been laid on the dining room table.

"Okay.
Ugh, I'm so jealous. I wish I could have a burger and fries."

"You can.
Later. But we got you some fries for now as well." I wait for her reaction.

"Oh, I won't eat any of those," she says, reaching out and taking one and popping it in her mouth.

"Really?" I grin, watching her. "Not even one?" But as she polishes it off, my grin fades fast. "Rory…" My mouth drops open. Of course I noticed she had a scarf tied around her head when she walked in, but I thought it was to keep her hair up, after the walk-through. I figured she was sweaty or something. Now I see that she's not sweaty at all and that the scarf is for something else entirely. I step forward, twist her around with both my hands and unknot it now, pulling it off. "Rory! Your hair!"

Her hair
—it's gone. Really gone. Gone as in short. Not as short as my mom's cap of curls, but kind of cropped off—choppy and a bit ragged.

"Oh, yeah, like it?" Rory faces me now.
"I did it myself."

"You did it yourself?" I guess this explains the ragged look.
"Why…what…?" I can't get the words out. "What did they say at the walk-through?"

Rory pops another fry in her mouth and takes her time eating it.
"Nothing," she finally answers. "Because I hadn't done it yet. I did it just now."

I contemplate her as she happily throws back fry after fry.
"You did it just now? Um, where?"

"In my bathroom.
There were some nail scissors there, and I thought, I don't know…let's see what it looks like short."

"Right.
Because that's what people do when they're in the bathroom and there happens to be a pair of nail scissors lying about!"

She shrugs.
"I needed a change."

I frown, not really understanding what all this is about.
"Won't you get in trouble?"

"It's my hair."

"Is it?" I seriously doubt anything on Rory's body right now is hers to do with as she pleases, considering the amount of money
SMD
pays her—especially her Hartley hair.

"I kept it.
For charity. I figured someone could sell it or something. Anyway, where's Allie?" Rory asks me, as if hacking off her famous locks is suddenly the most boring thing in the world we could talk about.

"Um…" I say, still in shock.

"Here," Allie says, exiting the bathroom. "Just making myself even more beautiful. Oh, great. Food! I'm starving. Let's eat!" She only pauses for a second. "Hey, what have you done to your hair? Ugh, it's disgusting."

"I cut it," Rory says.
"Myself."

I wait for Allie's reaction.
But when it comes, it's not what I expect.

"How cute are you, going off the rails?" Allie waltzes over to the phone, picks it up and dials one number.
"Is that the concierge? Great. This is Allie Hartley from 4019. We need a hairdresser for Rory Hartley in Cassie Hartley's suite, stat. There's been a home hair homicide incident. Can you get one up here within half an hour? Great. Thanks." She places the phone back down. "Done. Now stop being such an attention seeker and eat your fries, you psycho."

Oddly enough, that's what we do.
For the next hour or so, we hang out. We drink soda. We eat (surprise, surprise, Rory eats every one of those fries). We channel surf, bickering over the remote. And Rory gets a quick hair tidy up, care of one of the hotel's hairdressers, in one of the bathrooms. When she comes out, my jaw drops again.

"Rory, that looks
hot
." I take in her hair. The hairdresser has fixed up the choppiness, taken a bit more off, and she's now sporting a kind of halo of blond curls. "Wow, great job!" I say to the hairdresser, getting up and walking over closer to the bedroom where Rory's standing, so I can survey it properly.

"Smokin’, sis!" Allie comes over as well, to inspect the hairdresser's handiwork.
"It's really cool. Even if it does look a bit like Mara's hair."

Rory's face contorts with this.
"Uh oh. It does a bit, doesn't it?"

"At least hers is black," Allie tells her.
"You've got one point of difference."

Rory wrinkles her nose.
"Yeah, somehow I don't think she'll see it like that."

"Oh, forget about Mara.
Who cares about her? Not me, that's for sure. All you need now is some larger earrings for a bit of bling, and you'll look amazing," Allie tells her. "They're going to go crazy for you at the show."

The hairdresser leaves soon after this
, and Rory takes a quick shower to get rid of all the loose bits of hair. I wait for her while Allie goes back to their suite to take some medication and I make a couple of calls—one to my mom, and after that, to one of the stores downstairs.

When Rory reappears, I take in her hairstyle again, impressed.
I go over, and as I hold her at arm's length, circling her, I seriously consider hacking away at mine at some point in time. But then I come to my senses—knowing my luck, the end result wouldn't be anything like this. It'd probably look more like…well, like I'd hacked away at my hair in my own bathroom with a pair of nail scissors. "It really is a great cut," I tell her, stopping in front of her.

"Thanks."

"But you're scaring me."

Rory looks shamefaced when I say this
, and after a moment or two, I grab one of her hands and lead her over to sit in one of the oversized armchairs. I go and take a seat on the couch and eyeball her. "What's with all the acting out?"

Rory pauses then shrugs.
"I don't know. I'm bored. I'm over it."

So it
is
like Allie had told me. I watch Rory now, wishing she'd try and find a way to explain it. Then again, maybe she can't. Maybe this is how things really are for her—just scraping through day to day? Right now, Rory doesn't seem too worried about performing tonight, or edgy, like she was this morning. It could even be minute to minute rather than day to day.

"The show's at five thirty, right?" I bring up my legs onto the couch, crossing them, keeping one ear out for the doorbell and the package I'm expecting.

"Yep." Rory sticks her own be-socked feet up on the coffee table. "Which means I've got to go soon. I'm due downstairs at four thirty."

"And you're okay with that?" I ask her, studying her face closely for a reaction.

She thinks for a second before responding. "I am, actually. This is the part I like best—interacting with the audience. Seeing everyone have a good time—little kids, teenagers, parents, grandparents. It's what the show's about and…" Her face clouds, and she stops.

"What's the matter?" I sit up a bit, eager to hear anything she has to say.

Rory stares at the coffee table. "Oh, I don't know. I can't really say…"

"Come on, Rory, who am I going to tell?" I don't know anybody to tell, and even if I did, she knows I'm trustworthy.

She keeps staring at a spot on the table for a while before she speaks again. "Hey, it's not like I care anymore anyway. And you deserve some answers…" she says, looking up at me now. "It's the show. It's changing. I can't really say too much about it at this point, but next season? It's going to be different.
Very
different."

"Really?"

Rory stands up decisively. I'm not sure if she doesn't want to talk about it anymore, or can't because of the "hush hush" stuff. "So, I'll see you downstairs?" she says, not quite meeting my eye. "You've got your passes and everything? Both you and Cass?"

I stand up as well.
"Yes, we're fine. We'll be there. Of course, we'll be there."

The doorbell rings, interrupting us.
"Oh, wait," I say to Rory. "I know who it is. Sit down. Just for a minute."

I run over to the door and open it up.
"Great, thanks!" I say, signing for the parcel my mom has okayed. "And thanks for bringing it up so fast."

"Our pleasure, Ms. Hartley," the woman says
, and I open my mouth to correct her, but then I close it again as she retreats.

"It's not Allie?" Rory says after I close the door and am coming back down the hallway, swinging the bag happily around one finger.
I pause in the dining room, take the small box out of the bag, and run the rest of the way over to Rory.

"What's this?" Rory looks confused as I present her with the package, complete with its distinctive robin's egg blue wrapping.

"It's from me and Mom. Think of it as an early birthday present."

Rory laughs, "My birthday isn't until next month!"

"Then think of it as a ‘just because’ present."

Rory's eyes move up to mine.
"A ‘just because’ present. From Tiffany’s. Engagements, yes, weddings, yes. But do they even do ‘just because’ presents?"

"I'm sure they'd agree that they do ‘just because’ presents every day.
Now, quit arguing and open it!" I'm practically jumping up and down now with excitement.

Rory laughs again and tears the wrapping off the small box before slowly opening the lid.
"Oh," she says, as I run behind her chair so we can both stare at the small, sparkling, platinum and diamond star-shaped studs resting snugly in their box. "Oh, they're beautiful, Thea." Her eyes seek out mine.

"Allie said you needed some bling to go with your new haircut
, and I remembered seeing these at an airport last week. Stars for a star. Whatever you end up doing, you're always a star to me and Mom. And Dad too, of course."

Rory gets up now and comes around the back of the chair to give me a hug.
"Thea, they're too much." She hugs me tight for some time before pulling back, and I see that her eyes are watery. "And they're gorgeous, but you know something…?"