So sorry for the delay, my lovely readers. I hope you enjoy this chapter 😊
Also, I'm not sure who the costume designer was for the movie, so I just made up one.
~ ~ ~
This was my first time being on a movie set, and no matter what year it was, it was exciting. I found myself staring at what looked to be a palace courtyard with a lily pond in it, and people were walking about in the courtyard and off the set, fiddling with the cameras on the stands. What caught my eye the most, though, was the two women in the set, dressed in what looked like Indian or Arabian attire, like what women wore in Aladdin, and I mean the new live-action movie that came out a few years back. The tops to the outfits were embellished bikini tops, basically. Well, one was. I would have to wear that?! I suddenly wanted to retract my agreement to all this.
"Rebecca, you're here!" I turned my head to see the director Gene Nelson walk up to me. "Welcome to the set of Harum Scarum!"
"Thanks. Um..." I pointed to the outfits the women were wearing. "I have to wear that type of outfit?"
"Indeed. I hope that's not a problem."
Those women had incredible bodies and were pretty well-endowed. Me... well, a woman was her one worst critic. But it was a fact that my chest wasn't all that big. The women in my family had strong facial genes, but we all were lacking in the bosom department.
"I just hope the outfit fits," I said, realizing that I was in this in order to get my story.
"I'll have my costume designer take you to the wardrobe room, and she will help you select the correct size to the costume I would like you to wear. Ah, there she is—Deanne."
A blonde woman about my age, and wearing orange slacks and yellow blouse, come up to us, and Gene told her to lead me to the "wardrobe room." We started heading away from the set after the director conversed with someone else. I followed Deanne. As we were exiting the set to a hallway, I quickly looked around. Elvis wasn't anywhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn't arrived yet? As much as I wanted to avoid him and his blue eyes, I had to get a story out of him. I had questions.
"So, I read about you in the paper," Deanne commented as we headed down the hallway and passed people on our way. "Quite the story."
"Indeed," I said as I wheeled myself. "And there will most likely be more about me and Elvis in the paper."
She clapped once. "How exciting. I'm rather jealous of you, you know, getting tangled up with Elvis like that. I think every woman in America would love to be in your shoes right now."
"Yeah, but not in a wheelchair. They wouldn't envy that part of what I'm going through. At least my arms are alright."
"I think that women would give a kidney to be even in the same room as Elvis," Deanne said with a chuckle. "It wouldn't matter if they were in a wheelchair or not. I'm a married woman, so I shouldn't say my true opinion."
I smirked, seeing right through her like she was made of glass. "He has you hooked, too, huh? I guess he has the effect on everyone."
"Like I said—I shouldn't say." She eyed me with a thin eyebrow quirked up. "You don't seem interested in him, yet I suspect that he has those attractive claws in you, too."
"Psht," I scoffed, and she laughed. I wouldn't let on that the man had a power of hypnotizing the ladies. That was another mental note.
We came into a room that was no bigger than my hotel suite, and it was lined with racks of clothing that looked to be Indy as well as Israeli. They really did a mix of attires from various countries around that area of the world. My mouth formed an O when I saw some rather pretty jeweled outfits that were an assortment of bright colors.
"Ooo, this are gorgeous," I gushed as I handled a teal top that didn't look like a bikini top, but looked like a short shirt, and it had sparkly rhinestones on it like a prom dress.
"Those will be worn later on in the filming process. Here, we have what you will be wearing."
I wheeled myself over to the rack she was next to, and she pulled out an outfit similar to the ones those women wore. It was the bikini-styled one, and the bottoms looked more like a billowy skirt. The whole ensemble was that same teal blue. It was a pretty outfit, but...
"I have to wear that?" I asked, pointing to it. "Isn't that a little revealing?"
"Your long hair will cover up your cleavage."
"I wouldn't have much cleavage. I'm a size B."
Her brows creased. "I'm afraid that I don't know what that means, but I gather that this size of top would be too big."
Not liking that I had to say it, I said, "Exactly."
"Then..." She put away the top on another hanger. "How about this one?" She took out the same top, but smaller in cup size.
"I think that one would do."
A thought came to me—Elvis was a womanizer. Maybe if he saw that I had a smaller bust, he would leave me alone. I took the ensemble.
"Okay, so I can change in here?"
"Since everyone has their costumes, I think that would be fine. You can stand, correct?"
"With difficulty. But I'll be fine. Thank you."
"When you're finished, head down to the hallway a couple doors down to have your hair and makeup done. After, head on to the set where we just were."
"Okay."
She left, and I got to it. I really did have a bit of difficultly putting the outfit on, at least the pants. Very flowy, whimsical light-blue pants to match the teal top. Eventually, I made it out of the room and found the styling room.
"Oh my goodness..." I awed as I stared at myself in the mirror after the stylist was done with my hair and makeup. I looked like I could play in that live-action Aladdin movie. I had that look, not really a look from where my family was from. They got the cultural wear mixed up. But... I had to admit I looked pretty spectacular. Could I wear this in front of people, though? I was normally pretty conservative. The only two-piece bathing suits that I wore were tankinis, and I wore short shorts with them. So basically, a tank top and shorts.
One of the other stylists wheeled me to the set, and when we got there, I saw Elvis on the set. He had on loose seafoam-green pants and an embellished billowy tan shirt. It looked like it could match the setting of the movie. He was talking with the women, more particularly the woman that was well-endowed, but a long brunette tendril was hanging down covering what would be some massive cleavage. Figures. I was right about him. Gene was also with them, talking with them.
I attempted to stand, and I was able to do so on my weak feet that were free of casts since they had to be absent for the shot. That was when both men saw me. Elvis's brows rose, and he let out a whistle.
"Wow! Look at you, Rebecca."
It was a good thing I had olive skin, or else my blushing face would be very prominent. I felt exposed in what I was wearing. I folded my arms over my chest, but when that created some cleavage, I put them back against my sides and discreetly moved some of my long hair so it was covering my chest area. "I appreciate the complement, but don't get any wild ideas. Gene, where do you want me?"
"Over here with the other women," he instructed me, then a man from the crew called for him. I went to where I was told, and I noticed Elvis watched me as I did so. He was called by the director and left after a wink at me... or at the other women with me who were beauties.
"Elvis seems to have taken quite the shine to you," one of the women commented, the woman wearing the orange outfit that had the long tendril covering her cleavage.
"Yeah, don't remind me," I droned.
"I think you may be the only woman out there who's not interested in him," said the other woman with us, one in a light-green outfit that wasn't so revealing. It was one of those shorter shirts. "If that man showed interest in me, I would snag him in a heartbeat."
"But I thought you have a boyfriend, Beverly" said the first woman.
"I do, but Elvis is worth breaking up with him for. Plus, Elvis doesn't mind if the woman he's interested in has a sweetheart, or that he has one as well. He could go on with three women at a time if he wanted to."
"I think he did, in the army. There was Priscilla, Anita back at home, and some other girl, I heard."
Honestly, this was all making me sick, the fact that Elvis could be with literally any woman he wanted. Elvis was a womanizer. Well, he wouldn't go anywhere with me, that was for sure, no matter how hard he tried. And no matter how hard I tried as well.
I sat down on the colorful pillows, and that was when Elvis came back. Gene directed him to lay down on his belly while Minerva, the lady in the orange, pretended to wash his back that had whip wounds on them. Elvis's character was whipped in the scene before, apparently.
"Hello, again, ladies," he greeted us, and I adjusted my forehead embellishment. It was like a necklace that sat on my head, much like the gold one Minerva had.
"Hello," she and Beverly said happily at the same time, and they both were blushing. I said nothing as he lay down on his belly. His shirt was slipped down from his shoulders to reveal fake whip marks that were put there with makeup. Elvis faced me, and he gave me a little smile. Admittedly, he was pretty cute like that, with half of his face hidden in the pillow.
He winked with his one visible eye. I cleared my throat and looked away. Gene came up to us and instructed us ladies on what to do, then he left to speak with one of the camera men. After another minute, he sat down in his director chair next to one of those stand-up cameras.
I still couldn't believe I was doing this.
"You really do look amazin', Rebecca," Elvis told me, and I noticed Beverly and Minerva give me a sly look. Both she and Minerva were on Elvis's other side, so he faced away from them. They were silently telling me to respond to him.
"Thank you. Hopefully this the last time I wear this."
"Hopefully it's not."
I creased my brows. "You're really relentless, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm surrounded by three beautiful women."
I didn't respond to that and looked away at Gene. He gave us last instructions and shouted, "Action!"
There was a man in this scene, and Elvis's character made a deal with him—the older man would help him out as long as Elvis pays him. None of us women had to say anything for this scene, neither the other courtyard scene that we would have to do where Elvis just sings to us. Well, Minerva had to, but the rest of us didn't. I could admit, I was looking forward to hearing him sing.
Minerva and Beverly stood up to help wind a long orange piece of material around Elvis's waist as he talked with the older man. I watched this go on, and the women were instructed to go away.
"Cut!" Gene shouted. "Wonderful, everyone! Let's do it one more time, but we're going to keep going. Rebecca, the camera will be off of you, so it won't show you leaving on your wheelchair."
My cheeks heated in embarrassment as everyone looked at me, including Elvis with his signature smirk. "Okay," I said, and we did the shot again. Elvis, really... he was constantly looking at me. The guy really couldn't help himself. Maybe I was wrong about the smaller chest thing.
Elvis got back into place, as did the other women. Elvis stared at me again as he was on his belly. "It's nice to just sit there and look pretty, huh?" he asked.
"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. Honestly, stop it."
"That was basically an answer," he said in laughter, and my heart pulsed, more in annoyance, but slightly because of the complement.
"You're incredibly irritating."
He chuckled, and the scene started again. He was making this difficult, and probably on purpose. He was like a kid, poking buttons just to annoy someone. Well, I wouldn't give in. I had an article to write.
~ ~ ~
"Alright, we're going to do the other courtyard scene now, the one that will actually come before this one in the finished product," Gene informed the crew and actors. I still sat on my pillows while everyone else stood. "Elvis, you'll be singing 'Mirage,' and you'll be wearing a different outfit."
Elvis only nodded to this. He most likely knew exactly what he needed to do for the scene. "Ladies, you'll be sitting around Elvis as he sings." He paused for a moment, looking as if he was thinking, but his gaze went from me to Minerva a couple times. "Hm, okay. I think I'm going to have Minerva and Rebecca switch roles here, at least, partly."
"Meaning... what?" I asked.
"Meaning, you'll be the one leaning over Elvis right at the beginning of the scene while the camera will be right above you so it looks as if you're kissing him, then Minerva will still say her lines."
I gasped, and my heart lurched. "I sure hope I don't actually have to kiss him."
Many of the people around us laughed heartily, aside from Elvis. He just looked embarrassed. Any guy would be when he finds out a woman doesn't want to kiss him. That was a jab at his male ego. Well, so be it. The man should deflate a bit.
"No, you're not, but you'll be leaning down, then leaning back up, looking like you actually did," Gene told me. "You see, Johnny's out cold, and the palace maiden kisses him to wake him up. Well, this sequence is a dream. It jumps to reality when he is kissed again and wakes up."
I only nodded at that, and Gene commenced telling everyone else what to do. Then we had to get into place. Elvis left to get changed.
"You're one odd woman," Minerva commented as she knelt next to me as I sat next to where Elvis would be. "Do not take offense to that, but any woman would want to be that close to him."
"Well, I'm not any woman. I'm a reporter trying to get a story and doing what I should to get it. Except kiss him. I'm not doing that."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Beverly asked.
I tried to shove the memory of my last relationship away. "No, I just don't like getting close to the people I interview. Also, I don't want to get tangled with a womanizer."
"He may be such, but he's a good man, too. I read in the paper what he did for you."
"Yeah... he's a decent guy, but still a famous one and a womanizer. No thank you."
Elvis came back in, as well two extra women in Arabian garb. Really, they should've done more research with what people wore in that part of the world, if this was supposed to be around where Israel was. Maybe it was farther east. It didn't matter. It is what it is.
Gene instructed the women to get into place, and Elvis lay down right next to me on his back. "You're doin' great," he told me.
"Thanks. Not much to it."
"Okay, ready..." Gene started, and I leaned down close to Elvis's face after Gene instructed me to. I willed my cheeks not to heat or the rest of me react to being this close to a very handsome man. "Action!"
I just remained where I was for a moment, and Elvis whispered as our gazes held, and I couldn't help but notice how blue his eyes were. "You wanna do it, don't chya?"
"Shh."
"Admit it."
"Shh!"
"No one would notice."
"Yes, they would. And stop. A man with a girlfriend shouldn't say stuff like that."
"Cut!"
"Now look what you did," I quipped and leaned back up.
"No talking, you two," Gene told us, and I wanted to tattle on Elvis and say that he started it. "Let's do it again."
Elvis chuckled, and I glared at him. Really! Was this a game to him? "You're not taking this seriously," I said to him. "I thought you've acted in quite a few movies so far."
"I have," he said, lying down again. "But sometimes I like to have some fun."
"Well, stop. You're going to get us in trouble."
"Admit you wanted to kiss me, though."
My eyes widened, honestly in disbelief that he was still going on about it. Heat filled my cheeks as I held in another reprimand. If this went on, I would get kicked off the set for smacking that smirk off his face.
"You're blushin'," he commented, and I still said nothing. "You're gonna have to talk to me later for this article of yours, you know."
Was he trying to annoy me? "Are you always this infuriating?"
"Ready on the set!" a man shouted, and I had to lean down again.
"Only when I wanna be," Elvis answered me in a quiet tone as my face was inches from his. "I can be a gentleman sometimes. Plus, it's fun seein' your reaction. It's relievin' when a woman's not thowin' herself at me but lashes out at me with a streak of fire. I like it."
Of course he would. He would like how any woman was if she was pretty. "Don't expect me to throw myself at you. Now hush!" I demanded in a quiet tone, and Gene shouted "Action!"
His singing was incredibly smooth and lovely. Yes, he was a good man with a good heart in him, and he had a great voice. I would give him that. I would never admit it to him, but I was a tad entranced as he sang.
No wonder so many people went nuts over him, even after he passed. Decades after he passed. How bizarre it was that I was sitting next to him as he was young and alive.
What many Elvis fans would give for being in my position. Maybe I should do better at not letting my hot head get the better of me whenever Elvis was being... well, himself. He was a famous man, and... he liked it when women were hot with him. Yeah, I should watch it.
He finished singing, and I had to lean in and "kiss" him again. This would actually wake Johnny up. As I did so, his eyes were closed, thank goodness. My lips came an inch from his, and I feared I would actually touch him. I leaned back before I moved any closer. Johnny woke up and sat up. He touched my face, then my arm.
"Hey, you're real," he said, looking at me.
"Cut!" Gene shouted. "Wonderful! Let's do that again, and then we'll move on to Johnny asking where he is. Minerva, you're still going to answer his questions, like I said before, and Elvis, just turn to face her when she answers."
"Got it," he said, and Gene went on to give Elvis pointers on things to change in the scene we would have to redo. How many times would I have to get very close to Elvis's face?
Not that I didn't like it. I just didn't like him enjoying it so much. Maybe I didn't like that I was enjoying it, too.
"You got it, Gene," Elvis told the director, and we got into place again. He said to me, "So... when are we gonna talk later, huh?"
The article. "Hopefully after I'm out of this teal outfit."
"I wouldn't mind ya in it." I gave him a look, and he rose his arms in defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll behave. But really, it's becoming on ya. You're family's from the East, right?"
"Yes, Israel. Well, my grandmother is."
"I see. That's really somethin'." He leaned in a little, and he said in a low tone so the other women couldn't hear, "I think you look most the part out of all these girls."
He winked, and Gene told us to get ready. "Action" was called, and the cast and crew again got the wonderful opportunity to hear Elvis sing in person, something that people would pay big money for.
As much as a little twerp that Elvis was, and as insane as this whole situation was, I felt pretty blessed. I was in the presence of one of the best singers of the twentieth century and one of the most famous men in history. It was truly incredible.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Elvis just had to behave himself.