1956. 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...
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* chapter music * - Only The Strong Survive - Elvis Presley
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Rosalie POV (Sal)
To call the group of girls outside Elvis' towering new gates hysterical would be an understatement. It was two minutes to midnight, and still, twenty girls were waiting for him to come home. I could only imagine they'd stayed there since he left this morning, spending hours in the sun with anticipation. Now underdressed, as the sun had gone down ages ago, it left them with prickly arms and clapping teeth.
It was written in all the papers how his gates were flooded with awaiting fans. To their great enjoyment, Elvis spent at least half an hour each day giving his fans love through signing pictures, shaking hands, and small talk—and it often spread to hours. Enough hugs and kisses on the cheeks were given to reach a world record for the number of social exchanges in a day. That was if he was at home, and it certainly looked like these girls hadn't gotten their half an hour with him today.
Elvis had calmed down since earlier, but he never returned to his usual smirking self. Now, reaching the gates, I could witness a true smile appear as he waved to his fans.
He faced them flourishing in great flatter, with the car slowing down to roll down the window an inch or two. «Thank you for being here, Ma'ams. It is very late, and I have a very important situation at hand. But I promise you; I'll come back for ten minutes tonight and then an hour or two tomorrow. Does that sound good?»
Earning the response of giggling and batting of their eyelashes, they agreed to Elvis's compromise. Devotion and delight inhabited his smile, with the sound of a car coming alive again as guards opened the gates, keeping the girls at bay.
Doing what I'd done best for the months of 1957, I had let silence rule me through it all, but as soon as the screeching sound of gates closing hit us, air escaped my lungs as if trapped. Focusing on not spilling one recollection of Wendell outside of my thoughts, I had kept it together since I saw him leaning up against that wall, giving me the side-eye—spitting that gross toothpick out and kicking himself off the wall.
Not noticing until Elvis' hand held my thigh, I stopped my legs from shaking. «Sal? Are you okay?» A soft-spoken Elvis worried—with darkness slowly passing by the car.
Biting my lip to steady myself, I nodded but immediately flipped my response and shook my head. Hesitantly at first, I felt as though my hand moved through a blizzard when I laid my hand over Elvis', seeking solace in him. A series of actions got played out at my call—and as he wiggled out to interlace our fingers, I felt his caring eyes on me. «Honey.. I'll get you inside quickly.»
