July 5th, 1954
“Mama, I have to hurry if I’m gonna be there in time!” You call from the kitchen. You finish making your breakfast of eggs and toast and quickly stuff the eggs on top of the toast, shoveling it into your mouth. “Y/n! Be a lady!” Your mother scolded as she walked into the kitchen, hands on her hips and all. “Sorry mama, Elvis said he’s gonna sing at two thirty!” You say, your mouth still full of food. You wipe your hands on your red sundress with sunflowers on it and pull back your hair out of your face into a ponytail as you shove another bite in your mouth, still as boyish as ever, but as a soon to be senior you dress a bit more feminine. You quickly run to the door, your mother swatting your butt with her newspaper. You look back and give her a smile, grab you newest polaroid by the door and run to your car. You relished in your ability to finally drive without your parents supervision and start up the green ‘54 Dodge C Series pickup. It roars to life and you quickly drive to Sun Records.
Elvis was standing outside his own truck that read ‘Crown Electric’ on it, his arms crossed. You look at the time. Two thirty five. Damn! You curse in your head. You can already tell he’s angry just by his stance, always calling it his Elvis angry stance. “You’re late!” He says as you hop out the truck and run to his side. “I brought my camera.” You smile, knowing he would soften up and he does. He gives a warm smile and gives you a tight hug, smelling of sweat and old spice. It’s an oddly appealing smell. He smiles at you, almost looking as if he was admiring your dress. You stand back and hold up your camera in a teasing way, “Elvis, over here! Are you and James Dean going to the Beverly Hills party tonight?” You tease, doing your best Hollywood photographer voice in a deep voice, acting like you were an older man who spent years smoking. Just your voice made Elvis burst into a roaring laughter. “Cmere wittle. Scotty and Bill are already inside.” He said and wrapped an arm around you, leading you inside the small studio. You could see through the glass window, Scotty holding his guitar and Bill holding the large bass, standing in front of a drop microphone. An older man and woman walked out from the studio and into the front area. “Oh, you must be Elvis Presley!” The man smiled widely and shook his hand. “I’m Sam Phillips, the owner of this joint and this is my receptionist, Marion Keisker.” She adjusted her glasses and shook both of your hands. “Honey, you can wait in here with me.” She said and motioned for you to take a seat at the window that peered into the studio. Elvis took his place at the microphone. As he did, Marion pressed a button so then a little box that looked like a radio had their voices coming through. “Alright, whenever you’re ready son.” You heard Sam say and Elvis cleared his throat. You could tell he was nervous, his legs shaking slightly. He began the song, sounding shaky the entire time. As soon as he finished Sam stood up. “Son, I think that’s all we need to hear...you can go.” You perk up and see Elvis’s sweaty face fall from disappointment. “Mrs. Keisker, may I go in? I think I can help him...” You asked. She gives the okay and you walk through the studio door. Elvis looks at you, clearly looking beaten and you walk up. “This’ll only take a second.” You called over to Sam and you walked to Elvis until he stood directly in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay. How bout this...you try singing like your mama’s here. Just close your eyes and picture her.” You suggest. “And for God’s sake, breath Elvis.” You tease and give him a quick hug. You feel some of the tension sink away and go off to the side as you watch him take several deep breaths and then close his eyes.
"Well, that's all right, mama
That's all right for you
That's all right mama, just anyway you do
Well, that's all right, that's all right
That's all right now mama, anyway you do."
He opens his eyes the rest of the time, shaking his legs still, but you notice the rhythmic movement to them now, as if the music was moving his body instead of his nerves. You look over at Sam who now was bursting with a smile as wide as the Mississippi river and you look back to your best friend. You take the quick opportunity to capture him at his greatest and smile proudly.
As Elvis and his buddies finish several amazing takes of his song and as you snap the last of your pictures, Sam walks up to you. “Your friend here has undeniable talent and it seems by those photos, you do too.” He says, motioning to the pile of polaroid’s on the chair next to you. You smile shyly. “I suppose.” Elvis tosses his guitar on his back and walks up to both of you. “You should see the rest she’s done.” Elvis grins proudly. That’s the thing about your friendship with him, he supported you as much as you supported him. “I'd love to hire you to take in studio photos. You’re welcome anytime Elvis is in.” He says and put his hand out to shake in agreement. You look to Elvis who gives a knowing nod and you shake Sam’s hand. “Marion, who knew I’d find two talented folk in one day?” Sam called back laughing. Scotty and Bill walk up and pat Elvis on his back. “Here, your first paid picture, would you get one with us four?” Sam asks and positions himself in front of the recording machine. You snap the photo and he pulls out a crisp ten dollar bill which causes you and Elvis’s eyes to widen.
After the successes of the day you decide to take the gang out for ice cream with the money you had just made. Elvis takes his seat beside you, putting an arm on your chair outside the parlor and Bill and Scotty sit across, beaming from ear to ear, all enjoying cokes and different flavors of ice cream. “Boss, what does this mean for us?” Scotty asks. “I dunno, it happened so fast I don’ think I could even process.” Elvis said, sounding extra southern and running a hand through his hair. You take a bite of your vanilla ice cream and sigh happily. “Watcha thinking, y/n?” He asks, tossing his head to the side to look at you. “How crazy today has been. One minute I’m jobless and you’re a truck driver...the next...” “Next stop Hollywood!” He grins “Well, not quite, but we’ll see!” You laugh. “Well, cheers to Elvis Presley!” Bill says and you all raise your coke bottles and clink them together. Bill and Scotty, being a bit older than both of you are quick to finish their desserts especially once other younger kids come rushing in after a movie had let out, leaving you sitting alone with Elvis. “I’m happy he offered you that job. I don’t know what I’d do without ya there every session. I need you, y/n.” He says and you blush slightly. “Elvis, just promise to stay the same.” You say. and lean against his shoulder as you sip on your coke. He rubs your shoulder lightly, sending tingles to your stomach. You ignore them. You were just being a good best friend, supporting him in his dream. You knew singing was everything to him You and his mama both in fact. “Oh, your mama’s gonna be tickled when she finds out about today!” You say perking up. He continues to grin proudly. “Let’s tell mama together!” He says excitedly. You nod in agreement, excited to see the look on her face.
You make the long hour drive in your truck back to his home in Tupelo. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon as you drove down the dark two lane highway with the windows down. “Lemme drive wittle. It’s too dark.” Elvis pipes up after you had been driving for almost twenty minutes in the pitch black. You nod and pull over, knowing you hated to drive at night anyways. Elvis, no matter how much he teased you, always was protective over you. He had told you once about how his mama felt after she lost his brother Jesse and how he didn’t want your mother going through the same, so he promised your mom from a young age to look out for you. He hopped in the drivers seat and continued driving. The summer breeze drifted through the windows, sending shivers down your spine. Elvis looked over at you. “Cmere wittle. I’ll keep ya warm.” He said opening his arm. You oblige and slide across until you were tucked into him. His warmth enveloped you and in your comfortable state, you drifted to sleep.
“Shh, she’s still asleep.” You could hear Elvis soft voice. Your eyes fluttered open, seeing Elvis and his mother at the truck door. “Oh, gosh. What time is it?” You ask, your voice slightly groggy from the nap. “It’s okay my other sweet satnin, I’ll tell Betsy you’ll stay here. I have a pallet I can make you on the couch.” She offered. You smiled and sat up. Elvis helped you out of the truck and you went inside. You could tell Elvis was still wired from the events of today as he sat next to his mama on the couch. “And they said to come back to record more the next two weeks mama! Oh, and y/n got a job taking photos for Mr. Phillips too!” Elvis said, his mouth running at ninety miles an hour. “Goodness, you kids had quite the day!” Gladys smiled. The night went on with mostly Elvis talking about the song he sang, the amount of takes he had to do, and his overall plans for the future. It was getting late and you and Gladys were both clearly worn out, but Elvis was settling down as well. He decided on singing one of his favorites as you and Gladys relaxed next to him.
"And you know, when all your dreams
When all your dreams of a lifetime
Must, must all come to an end
Yeah that's, that's when your heartaches begin."
You take a quick chance to snap a photo as he serenaded his mother and yourself. You admire the photo and look at the two of them. You relish in the moment, enjoying his peaceful voice, before the rest of the world would inevitably find out about his talent.