Book #2 of Girl of Mine ✑
1957. It's the things you thought were yours. It's the lack of control and how you ought to make the most of what you have. Love for yourself or passed loves. There isn't a way to take hold of carried feelings, the actions...
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* chapter music * - I Wish You Love - Nancy Wilson
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Elvis POV
The 23rd of August, 1957
The roof's wind was nowhere to be felt outside her door again. The hall held all but Sal, with Red inches behind me. The Colonel had even shown—dressed in a white suit, light blue shirt, and beige hat—always at sight when Colonel Parker entered the scene.
«Colonel,» I uttered calmly but startled by seeing him. I thought he would have been at work to try and get to the photographer. Pay someone to get the film back, anything really. Even though I knew it was a lost cause.
«My boy, I came as fast as I could—there are press people down there, and I have arranged for our own set of photographers to be the counterpart to the other man from the press. United, you'll escort Ms. Rosalie at your arm out the door, but then you'll give her away to your Mama, Mrs. Presley. You'll make a statement, say that you are devastated after the fact of the accident—telling them Ms. Rosalie is like family and that the whole Presley entourage is standing behind her. Show a tight-standing family as you open the car door for her. Wave, give a striking smile, and announce that you and all the Presleys will spend your time taking care of a vital family member until your tour at the end of the month. Be wholesome and talk of family so much so that they can not link Ms. Rosalie to anything but a loving family. Do that, and the credibility that comes from those indecent photos won't have much weight to them. An article has already been written to paint the right picture of what happened, and we'll release it tomorrow. There might be two fighting stories circling, but so be it!»
Holding a whole speech, Parker had a plan, but I didn't know if I trusted this one to fix the issue at hand. People would still see the photos—creating yet another scandal around Sal's name, and she would be violated again. One time for each photographer taking the photos, then again when the public would see them. Some would read our story, and some would read theirs. And at the end of the day, people did not like seeing people without clothes. Not like this, however. I just hoped our story held up enough for it to carry us through this. Get her through this.
«Let's just get this over with.» I tiredly uttered, lifting my hand to stop the Colonel from getting into another speech. Walking past them all, I was about to enter her room when a loud cough from the Colonel reached me. Looking past my shoulder, he nodded toward the room I'd used for sleep. «What?»
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Changed out of what didn't go along the Colonel's eye, I wore Carolina's picked-out set of clothes—matching Sal's. It had nightly blue-colored high-waisted paper-bag pants in luxurious fabrics. The pockets had silk within them, the shiniest and softest quality, even though no one would see them but my feeling hands. The cream-colored shirt had buttons in the same color as my pants and Sal's dots. It felt ridiculous—as if putting on a show. All I wanted was for Sal to feel good when leaving the hospital, but now it had turned into theatrics, and I had to smile like a tool. Rather furious than in the mood to gleam with a smile, I wanted to tell the Colonel to call it all off. To let us go home through the backdoor. Though, if the plan worked, Sal would not have as much of a downfall.
