Hate to Love You [Elvis]

Chapter 22 - Higher on the Famous Meter

That made my heart pulse, and I stepped out of her hold. I hugged myself. "I... No, he's not my boyfriend. I don't want him to be."

"Yes, you do. Go out there and tell him so. You already let him kiss you. Time for the next step."

"I don't want to go steady with a star, especially not him."

Someone else came into the hallway, and of all people it could be... He stood there with sad eyes. I turned to go. I heard Nay say to him, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her."

It was vain to hope that he wouldn't follow me. By the moment I escaped out the door to where my car was, I heard the door open again behind me. I had to have this conversation with him.

"How much did you hear?" I asked him, and I smelled a hint of his perfume in the soft late-morning wind.

"Just the last thing you said. What if I wasn't famous?"

"That's irrelevant since you are."

"Are you sayin' you would go steady with me if I wasn't famous? That's the only thing?"

I said nothing, and birds chirped somewhere. I was jealous of them because they didn't have a care in the world. Footsteps came up behind me.

"Sarah... look, we know how we feel about each other, so... why not just try it out, huh?" I said nothing. "Are you mad that I kissed ya without asking you first?"

I folded my arms over my chest, more for security than the cool wind. "I'm mad at you for a lot of things, but... yes, that's at the top of the list."

"But you wanted it."

My heart raced, and tears stung my eyes again. I whirled around to face him as he still wore his get-up from the number. His blue eyes saddened again when he saw my state. My eyes burned, so they were probably bloodshot.

"Fine," I spat. "Yes, you're right, but you should already know that because I didn't punch you in the face for kissing me earlier, and... what I said before it happened."

A smirk emerged as he remembered. "So... what now?"

"You're famous."

He got the hint with those two words, and his smirk disappeared. And, as to prove my words true, someone shouted, "Look, there's Elvis!"

It took only seconds for a slew of people—reporters from the looks of them—to hound the both of us.

"Elvis, how is filming Jailhouse Rock?"

"Who is this young lady with you?"

"Is this the girl you spoke of on the radio this morning?"

"Is she the maid-turned actress Miss Sarah Paul?"

The questioned hammered, and I stood there, not knowing what to do. Elvis seemed calm as can be and smiled at all the reporters. Before I could hear him giving them any answers to their questions, I pushed my way through, wanting desperately to get to my car. Over the ruckus, I heard my name being called.

Drat. The press already knew my name, but now, they know what I look like. This will not be pretty.

~ ~ ~

Well, I was in the paper the day after, and on to a few days later. Friday came again, and I stood at my front door, not wanting to see the paper, but I knew I had to pick it up from my door mat so people wouldn't steal it. Dixie scratched at the door. I had to let her out, anyway, to do her business.

"Okay, okay, let's get your leash," I told her and got her long pink leash and hooked it to her collar. The moment I opened the door, she zoomed out, but was stopped by the lease. I saw the newspaper. I picked it up, threw it inside, then went on with my little dog. My gaze landed on the white house down the street... Elvis's house. He would be on the set this morning. I was told by Rich that I didn't need to be on the set until the following Monday. This happened - spaces of time where I wouldn't need to be on the set. We were filming one of the last scenes, the one where Vince is in the hospital after getting beaten up by Hunk. Rich wanted me to play a nurse. Filming would cease on the 21st. It was the 14th. Thank goodness. I was ready for this film to be over, and I could move on to something different and work every day. I just needed to find another job to do.