___________________
Rosalie POV (Sal)
The 4th of December, 1956
Filling out a form, I jumped in my seat as a thick newspaper smacked against the front desk. The familiar scent of freshly printed ink on paper cast a gust on my face, though I usually wasn't this up-close-and-personal with it. Brazing myself as I looked up, I met the infuriated eyes of my boss, leaving me to feel he would rather have smacked me.
«Do you know how embarrassing it is to have to publish a paper with our own scandalous receptionist fooling around with that Devil boy Elvis Presley? Do you?» Roger's words rushed out of him, spit making its way to my face. His robust, in shape figure, dressed in a grey shirt matching his white and grey slicked-back hair—towered over me, sitting behind the tall front desk.
As I stayed silent, unable even to breathe, he lifted the newspaper for me to see the front page, and the many pages swayed at his rapid move. Dated today, the 4th of December, there's a huge picture of Elvis having a hold of my back and my blinded face partially shielded by my risen arms—but still creating a clear image of it being me.
«Natalie Wood or Rosalie Wood? Elvis's two Wood girls, and the best one, Wood vs. Wood.» He screamed, reading headlines from several slandering tabloids and newspapers at the top of his lungs before throwing the paper into my lap—as if too disgusted to bear holding it longer and wanting to throw what I'd done at me.
Rattled to my core, I got up with the thrown newspaper falling to the floor and off my dark blue pencil skirt with a rustling sound. Swallowing, I got ready to say something, anything. My mouth dropped open as I gestured my hand out in front of me, with Roger stopping me in my tracks.
«I should fire you right here and now, but I won't because, mark my words...» He said, slowly pointing towards me, awfully familiar to my recent visit from Wendell. «People will come around here to interview you, and I don't wanna be the boss of the newspaper that fired your ass, plastered on another front page. It would be a scandal for Madison Next Newspaper.» His about grey eyes pierced through me like needles as he continued.
Shit.
«Now, when they ask you about Mr. Presley, you will deny any relation to him and tell them you were a journalist just interviewing him for our paper.» He said matter of factly, his eyes never leaving mine.
«But... then they'll expect an interview?» My shoulders dropped with my arms falling to my sides. It's the first time he'd given me room to speak, and I'm stunned by how shaky my voice sounded.
«Exactly, Ms. Wood. And you'll get us one with the young superstar. Or else you're fired by next year. This will have blown over by then, and no one will question your removal.» Word by word, he made sure I knew just how much he wanted to kick me out today but was willing to make a deal benefitting our newspaper. «You have three days to make the deal.»
With Roger's grey letting go of me, heading down to the crypt of a press room, I bent down to gently get the paper—now having spots of melted snow from my newly taken steps getting to work this morning just ten minutes ago. The darkened colors and clouded letters spread little by little. Looking at the picture, I had no idea if I could make myself push Elvis to take that interview—knowing how little Roger thought of him.
I would've never imagined my first piece in the Madison Next Newspaper would be slandering Elvis's name. Because I just knew that Roger's questions for him would not be gracious.
◌ ◌ ◌
On the kitchen countertops were today's planned dinners ingredients waiting, untouched. «Mom, I can not ask him to do this,» I said in a muffled voice, leaning over the Greece-blue-colored kitchen table—as I'd seen on the travel postcards at the books store, with my face into my folded arms. My mom caringly stroked my locks, tucking a few strands of my curls behind my ear, as she'd always done since the moment I had long enough hair.
«Oh honey, I wish I could just make this all go away.» My mom's troubled voice uttered, making me burst with the same wish as she took upon comforting me to the best of her motherly abilities. On the other side of the table, there was a whole different kind of energy—far from my mom's soft approach.
«I, for one, think you should have already called the young boy. He got you into this mess, and he's getting you out.» My aggravated father said quietly, smacking his lips at his pipe with smoke rising to the ceiling—no room for any reconsideration. An opened window made the white and red checkered and ruffled kitchen curtains move in waves. Though cold, it had captured the slow-moving cloud of grey coming from my father— cleansing the air.
«Oh, Earny, don't you see that Sal doesn't want to just throw the dear boy to the wolves.» My mom whined, seeing her shaking her head at my dad in the corner of my eyes. «He has been so kind to her, and I like him, Earnest. He has a good heart. I can feel it.» She insisted, pointing to her own heart with a tapping motion as I made glimpses between them.
«Good heart, my sweet Minnie?» My dad scuffled. «The boy is far from good for our Sal. Having her heart just broken by that Wendell boy, and now she's running around with this rockabilly?» He exclaimed in a judging manner—not believing what his wife was saying before he stuttered. «I... I... I don't trust him with my girl.»
Springing my head up, my hands fell flat on the table; I'd had enough. The smacking sound rattled my dad enough for his eye to twist, putting his pipe to rest. «He's not another Wendell dad,» I said as calmly as I could, breathing to keep myself from shouting. But who am I kidding? I had raised my voice at him, and I kept it up. «He's not because he's not my boyfriend, dad.» I continued, desperately wanting him to believe in every word. «Elvis is my friend.» I ended with, as the phone rang. The kitchen fell silent as we all knew who was calling—eyes going in one direction. Getting up from the chair, my legs felt like sluggish jelly.
Reaching the phone, I once again leaned against the wall like I always did when on the phone. Dreading to pick up the phone, I did it like ripping off a plaster on wounded skin.
«Sal? Sal, is that you? Hey, I know it's all blown up in the tabloids now, but it will be forgotten. Just wait a couple of weeks.» Elvis's voice said anxiously but in a caring manner on the other side of the line. It seemed he had no time for the current word he spoke, hurrying to get to the next one.
Closing my eyes hard, I bit my lip, somewhat agreeing. «Mhm.»
«Listen, I've got to go. I'm just on break from the Studio. I just had to call to check if you're alright... So are you?» He said, fast-paced as I could hear him making small talk and comments to whoever he was in the room with.
«Yeah, Elvis... I..» I managed to say before he interrupted me.
«Great! Talk soon.» He exclaimed.
Then he's gone.
___________________
Author's note:
Natalie Wood or Rosalie Wood? Did I name Sal Wood just for this purpose? Yes, yes, I did. If some of you know a little more about Elvis, you know what's coming, but please don't tell the others 😂👀
So, we're officially in the middle 20 chapters of the book (a third into the chapters). And the domino piece standing at the front of the row is slowly starting to tilt as we get into the thick of it.
What are your predictions for what's going to happen next?
I'm turning old tomorrow, so I might be little slow on getting to notifications and reading this weekend 😂 Woo-hoo, 27 here I... climb like a sloth, because I'm turning 🦥 I am only kidding, I actually like getting older (but never wiser, if you know what I mean 😉🌃🎼)
(Chapter 21/64)
This chapter is slightly edited with Grammarly.
New chapters every week (Tuesdays and Fridays)
___________________
YOU ARE READING
Girl of Mine
Fanfiction1956. A girl in the crowd is proposed to by her boyfriend in front of Elvis. It would be a lovely moment if it weren't for the three other girls he also dated. All of them were present at the same time and place, just after Elvis' concert. As the dr...
