The top of my head heated from the sun beating down on it. It was a warm spring day, the warmest so far this year. It was the perfect day to leave the mansion and visit Allison at her house. We both sat in her backyard that was free of any trees. I pulled some grass out of the earth as Allison stared at me. And stared.
"Your gaze is gonna to bore a hole in my head," I commented with a smirk.
"I just... how they heck were ya tellin' the truth all this time?"
Her cute drawl came out in a wave. We had the same drawl, but I liked hers more than mine. I always had, ever since we met back when we were both almost six. Our birthdays were almost the same. She was older than me by exactly two weeks, with her birthday being on the 20th of September. "That's simple. I've just been tellin' the truth. Where do ya think Momma has been all this time, huh?"
"Just workin' for some rich family, not The King. I thought you were jokin' the whole time, and when you said you were goin' to that same house, I just thought that it was that same rich family." Her face flushed with pink. She had light skin to go along with her white-blonde hair that was pulled up. She was the picture of a blonde Southern belle. "Oh heavens, so you've been livin' with The King for the past month!"
"I have."
Her face turned more pink, and she put her hands on her cheeks. "Oh my, I can't even imagine it! You're in the same house where he sleeps, where he eats, where he showers..." She squealed. "What I would give to have that opportunity!"
I laughed at my flustered best friend. "Allison, he's just a man. A pretty famous and talented one, but still just a man. He's really nice and has a good heart in 'im." I smiled as I fiddled with the grass some more. "He's really sweet and cares for people... and he's a gentleman."
I recalled the moments that Elvis and I had together, all the times that we locked gazes. I looked up and saw Allison's face right in front of mine, her hands off of her own. I jumped at her sudden nearness. "You've fallen for 'im," she surmised.
My eyes widened, and she gave me a look that dared me to contradict her. "What? No, no. I'm just sayin' that he's a nice man. We're friends. That's it."
"Uh-huh," she said, not convinced. "No woman in their right mind wants to be just friends with Elvis Presley, especially you. I remember you always kissin' his face on the new records you got of 'im. You can't tell me that you're not in love with 'im, because you are."
"It was a celebrity crush, that's all."
"Yeah, now it's somthin' else since you know 'im personally," she argued. "Now tell me, what has happened between the two of ya?"
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Nothin', I'm tellin' ya, Allison! He has just heard me play the piano, sang along with me sometimes, and comforted me when I was down. And he sang to comfort me, mind you."
She sat back in her spot and let out a long sigh. "Well, that's no fun at all. You would think a star would take advantage of having a perty little miss in his house."
Her eyes twinkled, and my chest pinched in annoyance. "Allison, he's not like that, and neither am I! You know that! I wouldn't fling myself at a man like some people I know."
I gave her a pointed look, and she waved a hand nonchalantly. "Aw, c'mon, I'm not like that, either." I quirked up a brow, and I knew she knew I was thinking about how she flung herself at one of the star ball players at school, and that ended in a train wreck and tears. "Okay, well, maybe to some degree. But really, this is Elvis Presley we're talkin' 'about!"
"Exactly. He's a good person, and he doesn't deserve the kind of treatment people give 'im."
"What do ya mean?"
"The fans who throw themselves at 'im. No doubt they injure 'im sometimes."
Her eyes narrowed. She did that when she was thinking about something someone says and didn't really believe them. "You're meanin' somethin' else, aren't ya? Who treats 'im badly? His fans worship 'im, so I doubt it's them. I would know."
I plucked more grass and kept my gaze away from her. She was my best friend. I should be telling her my feelings. "Okay, okay. It's his manager. That man doesn't treat 'im right."
"His manager?"
"Yes, the man who is basically in charge of Elvis's life. He's the one who schedules the events Elvis is in, tells 'im what movies to do, and even says what he should do in his spare time."
"Don't all managers do that?"
"Yeah, but... this man is so strict and a bit mean. So, when I first arrived there, the day after, I met Elvis, and a little later in the day, I met his manager. He was orderin' Elvis to do this and that and slanderin' me for bein' there. He ordered Elvis to fire me, but Elvis, bein' the good man that he is, didn't mind 'im."
She nodded. "His manager sounds unpleasant."
"He's not a fun person so be around. He hammered poor Elvis with a full schedule the day after he came back from Germany filmin' his movie. All he wanted to do was rest, but he couldn't. I have a feelin' he wanted to tell Colonel Parker that, but he just went along with it."
"Colonel, huh? Army guy?"
"I think, but I don't know the whole story. I feel terrible, though, for dislikin' a person I've only met once. I just don't like how he treated Elvis. I think he treats 'im like that all the time and Elvis loses sleep over it. The poor man is sufferin' and it's dad-gum hard to watch. It's always nice to see 'im smile, and that's when he's singin' and playin' music."
Allison came and sat right next to me, and I smelled the perfume that she used, not flowery, but nice. "I think it hurts us the most when we see someone we care about suffer. You care about 'im, and don't you lie to me."
I nodded, not keeping it hidden. "Yes, I do. I admit it. I care about 'im more than I should. I just wanna do somethin' about all this. I think Elvis will be a lot happier if he doesn't have a strict manager. His father helps with the management, and is over the Elvis Enterprises, but he can't be a full manager since it's a conflict of interest. If only."
"How 'bout you do somethin' about it then? Give that Colonel man a good tongue lashin' the next time he treats Elvis badly."
"How I would love to do that, but he's never at the house. It's rare when he's there."
"Even so, do somethin'. I know I would if the man I love was bein' mistreated."
"Man I love?" She gave me a look. "Okay, okay. But I'm not allowed to do anythin', anyway. Momma says I need to stay out of Elvis's business. Watch from the sidelines. I've made the mistake of revealin' how I felt 'bout the Colonel, so I shouldn't do it again."
"You told Elvis what you think of his manager?"
"Yes, and on that day, I met both of 'em. Good thing Elvis doesn't think of me as a hot-head."
"You just care, that's all." She grabbed onto my arm, and I looked at her and saw her hazel eyes gleam. "Do ya think I can visit ya there at the mansion and meet The King?!"
I grinned. "Well first off, he doesn't like to be called a king; and second, he's not even there. He's usually gone all day and gets back late. Plus, only certain people are allowed in."
"Then ask 'im. I wanna meet my favorite star!"
"If I do, will you promise to keep a level head, no matter how much you wanna burst like an excitement-filled volcano?"
"I don't know if I can promise, but I can try my best."
"And promise me that you won't tell a soul about me or Momma workin' there, ya hear? That's why I told no one before. I don't wanna bring any extra commotion."
"I promise. Cross my heart."
We sat there in the grass, talking a little more. I told her about everything that happened to me in that mansion. I certainly shouldn't tell Momma everything, including what I felt for Elvis. He was my favorite star, yes, but he was also a really handsome, sweet man with a velvety voice.
He was off-limits, but that didn't stop my feelings. He was the type of man any woman would fall in love with, famous or not.
~ ~ ~
I came home a lot later than I planned. Momma and everyone else would be in bed. I snuck through the front door and shut it gently. Maybe they wouldn't be asleep yet. It was only a little passed nine. It usually took Momma a half-hour to fall asleep deeply.
I came to the foot of the stairs when I heard glasses clinking. I went into the kitchen but saw nobody. I came out of the kitchen to the room that was off from it and saw someone sitting there at the little bar table, head rested on his hand as he handled a crystal glass of gold liquid. From the single lamp that was on in the room, lighting the dark room a bit, I could see that he looked absolutely worn, with his navy-blue collar shirt open by three buttons and his hair mussed. He had a straight face.
I slowly walked up to him, and he didn't look up at me until I was right at the end of the bar table. He smirked. "Megan."
Now I could see it. His eyes were glassy and his cheeks were flushed. He was drunk.
"Hi, Elvis."
"I'm just warmin' myself up with this." He showed me the glass.
"I can see that." I sat on the cushion stool next to him, setting my purse on the bar.
"You were visitin' your friend today?"
"Yes, I was. It was really great to see 'er. She's a fan of yours also."
He nodded and let out a massive breath. He drained the inch of liquid in the cup and made a face after. "Everyone seems to be a fan of mine. Everywhere I go."
Something happened. Elvis didn't just drink like this. In the month that I had been in the mansion, I had seen him drink only twice, and both those times were because he was celebrating something, a birthday of one of the talk show workers who was a friend of his, and hearing news that a young man was joining the army because of the speech that Elvis made at that airfield. Other than that, he didn't drink at all. The bar there was just for show.
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.
"Nah. But sometimes it can be a hassle."
This was a lot coming from him. I pursed my lips, my question pushing at them.
"It's alright, you can ask," he said and brought the large crystal bottle of whiskey closer to him. He poured some more into his, a little more than what he should drink all at once. "Or I'll just tell ya. I got attacked today."
I let out a gasp. "Attacked? Oh my!"
"Not attacked like you're thinkin'. A fan jumped on me, and this girl was about as tall as you and as bulky as me."
"Oh good Lord..."
"Yes, but I'm fine. Came out with a couple of bruises, though."
"I'm sorry that happened to ya," I said, realizing why he was drinking. Or maybe there was another reason. As was said, Elvis didn't just drink like this, and for a negative reason. "That's not it, is it?"
He smirked sadly. "No." He eyed me, his blue eyes watery and bloodshot. How much had he been drinking? And for how long? I discreetly pushed the large crystal bottle away out of his reach. He didn't seem to notice. "You're pretty intuitive."
"I just know that somethin' must've gone wrong to make you drink like this."
He nodded. "You've been here a month and already know me so well." He became silent for a moment as he stared at his cup, and I was tempted to take it away from him. "That girl jumped on me, yes. She rammed into me, knockin' me over. She was taken away by my detail, but only after the Colonel yelled at 'er." His lips pulled into a frown. "And I mean he really yelled at that poor girl, Megan. He wasn't merciful in the least. I tried to say it was alright, but he yelled and yelled until his face was as red as fire. He made the girl cry, and cry like I've never seen or heard a girl cry before. I wanted to cry myself."
My heart dropped, and my features sagged in sadness. "Oh, no, that poor girl..."
"She didn't deserve that. No woman, man or any person should be treated in such a way. When we were away from people, I really told 'im how I felt 'bout what he did. And you wanna know what he said?" He glared in front of him. I had never seen such a mean look on his face before, not in person or in a picture, just in the movies when he was acting.
"What did he say?" I asked gently, really, really disliking that man, more so than before.
"He said, 'She's just a fan. They're nobodies. They give ya the fame and that's it, and they're good for money.' That made my skin crawl. I couldn't say nothin' after since someone walked into the room. This was only two hours ago, about an hour before I came home."
My throat tightened, and I put a hand on his arm, realizing just how long he had been sitting and drinking. "I'm so sorry, Elvis. It's good that you said what you thought, though."
"Didn't do much good. I was mad, but I didn't let all of it out. I don't think I got through to 'im. I know I didn't. He still thinks the same. All my fans are to him is a big dollar sign. They're not people with feelin's." He looked over at me. "That's why he said what he did 'bout ya that time. You're good for makin' me famous but not good to know on a personal level."
My eyes burned, and I really tried not to let the tears fall. I squeezed his arm. "Hey, we got passed all that. I'm still here. And you can still think that your fans are somethin' special. You see everyone as somethin' special. You can even say good things 'bout the Colonel, despite what he's done."
"I have nothin' good to say 'bout 'im now... and I hate that."
Elvis was human just like everyone else and wasn't perfect. He could have negative feelings towards another person... and at that moment, it was his manager. I really wanted to have another "you should get a different manager" conversation, but Elvis was too far gone with drink. He took his glass and drained the two inches liquid in it. He grimaced again and groaned at the strength of the drink. He reached for the big bottle and got it. I underestimated the length of his arm, apparently. I took the bottle as he had it.
"I think you've had enough. How 'bout we both go to bed, huh?"
I succeeded in prying the crystal away from him and setting it far out of reach this time. I stood up off the stool, and Elvis off of his, but he staggered. He almost fell over, but I caught him and held onto his chest with all my strength. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about how close I was to him, like how close I was when he hugged me in the kitchen, and how wonderful it felt to be held to him. No. He was suffering at the moment, and it looked like it was up to me to make sure he got into bed safely.
"You're gonna have to help me, you know," I said to him as I struggled to keep him standing. "We have to get to your room."
He started mumbling something incoherent. That alcohol had really kicked in. He was sloshed. I could smell it on him, too, mixed with his cologne.
Thankfully, he started walking and we made it to the stairs. "Okay, up the stairs," I said, and we hobbled on up them and into the hallway. "Golly," I exasperated at the weight of him leaning onto me. I had his arm wrapped around my shoulders to stable him, and his head hung down near mine, and his hair constantly brushed my cheek. Again, I tried to not let him being this close get to me.
He continued mumbling some things, and I recognized the mumbling as one of his songs: "Teddy Bear." I smirked at that and went on with him, hobbling. It seemed like an eternity before we got to his room, and I really struggled with him as we came to the door. My whole body felt strained from his weight, and aching, especially my shoulders.
"Okay," I said as we got into his room, and I managed to switch on the light. We didn't need a tumble in the dark. We came to his bed, and I couldn't help but just let him fall onto it, onto his back. I groaned and stretched my limbs and moved my waist every which-way. "Oh boy, ow..."
Elvis had his eyes closed, but they opened to reveal a halting blue. "Hey."
"Hey. Wow, that was somethin', wasn't it?"
I let out a holler when he suddenly leaned up a bit, took my hand and pulled me down next to him. "Hey, what are you...?!" He wrapped his arms completely around me and held me close to him as he lay there, and my nose touched his collar bone. I held my breath as my pulse shot up to the skies.
"Let me be your teddy bear..." he mumbled into my hair.
"It's uh..." I struggled to speak due to how flustered I was. "It's more like I'm the teddy bear at the moment."
"Then be my teddy bear."
He tightened his hold on me, and his hands ran up and down my back. Heat filled my whole face, feeling like it was on fire. I didn't even let the boy I was with before run his hands all over me! But this guy right now had an excuse: he didn't know he was doing it. But it was still making me react.
I felt his chin on the right side of my head, and I felt the heated skin at his collar. It felt so nice. My lips touched that skin, and it felt so good.
"Hey," he said, and he brought me out in front of him. His face was flushed. "Didja' just kiss me?"
I stared at his glassy blue eyes. "Um... I..."
"'Cuz if you did, I'm gonna have to do somethin' back."
Do somethin' back? As in...
He started leaning in, and alarm pulsed through me at knowing what he was going to do. I quickly turned my head, and his lips hit my forehead. I didn't want this to happen while he was in a drunken state. I shimmied out of his hold, even when he was trying to pull me to him again. I stood away from the bed. I stared at him for a moment as he shut his eyes and started snoring. I looked around and found a blue blanket. That was what he used to cover me that time he found me asleep on his bed. I took it and draped it over him. I also took one of his pink fluffy pillows and put it under his head. He snugged to it and smiled.
"Now that's adorable," I whispered. I pulled off his black loafers and left the room after shutting off the light. After I came out, I leaned against the wall and put a hand to my racing heart. Momma had gotten that bad before, so that was how I knew what to do, but Elvis Presley wasn't Momma.
He was really going kiss me, and if he wasn't so sloshed, I would've let him.
But he wouldn't kiss me in his right mind, would he? There was that time in the kitchen when he touched my face... but he was being nice then.
I shook my head and walked on to my and Momma's room. Momma was snoring as I came in. I got ready for bed and climbed into bed, careful to not wake her. I stared at the dark ceiling.
Elvis became that way because of what his manager did. Momma told me to stay out of it, but now, I didn't know if I could. Allison thought I should do something...
Maybe I should. That man needed to be put in his place.