Elvis considered what Loretta and co had said about the Christmas Eve dinner. If there really were such few people present, there was a slight possibility that he could go downstairs and pretend that he was just like everyone else for once in his life. He went back and forth on it and finally decided that he was going to give it a shot.
They arrived to find Loretta's crew already assembled, the two traveling salesmen huddled in a corner. There was also a family of three that no one had mentioned to him.
The woman had done her hair in a Jackie Kennedy type of style, only that it was longer and bleach blonde. A fur coat was thrown over her shoulders, covering a dress that was without a doubt the latest fashion. She might have been a rather attractive woman in another circumstance, but her sour expression marred any beauty she might possess. Her husband wore a suit that was too tight around his beer belly. Though perhaps only thirty, his hair was already thinning. Their chubby, tow-headed son was dressed in a sailor suit which looked ridiculous on a child his age.
Elvis disliked them at once, but they didn't dignify him with so much as a glance.
Loretta grinned at him when he walked in surrounded by the guys. She waved at him, a gesture Elvis returned.
"Come here," Loretta urged. "Sit here with us."
"What about me?" Joe asked with a frown.
"Y'all can take those tables." Elvis gestured. "Plenty of room for you."
The guys trotted off to find themselves seats while Elvis settled down beside Loretta, whose expression was suddenly serious. "Did I hurt their feelins by not askin' them to sit?"
"The Mafia? They're gonna be fine. They're just messing with you." He glanced at her plate, filled with glazed ham, mashed potatoes and peas. "Looks pretty good."
"It is pretty good," Loretta confirmed.
The family of three, however, didn't seem to think so. The woman called over the waiter and asked whether the peas came from a can (they did not, they were frozen) and declared the food inedible. When Elvis received his own meal, he found that he could not agree with her assessment.
Unfortunately it didn't get better from there. The woman complained about the relatives they had gone to spend time with and how they would be stuck here on Christmas thanks to her husband. She complained and complained and complained and whenever she was not complaining, her son was. He cried about missing out on his presents, he cried about having to spend time with daddy's 'poor' relatives, he cried about the TV not working and not having anything to do because he did not bring his toys.
They were spoiling what could have been a pleasant meal. Every time he heard one of their whiny voices, Elvis felt anger rise within him.
"I want to fly back home," the woman said, "I don't understand why we can't fly back home right now. I want to fly-"
"Why don't you fly to Timbuktu?" The words spilled from Elvis' mouth without him really considering. It was what he was thinking, but not what he had been meaning to say.
The woman's mouth dropped open while the boy burst into tears. The guys roared with laughter - both Loretta's and his- and even Loretta was snorting back something akin to a laugh.
"Charles," the woman said upon snapping out of it. She placed a hand on the boy's back. "Charles stop crying. Howard, get the waiter."
'Howard's' face was as red as an overly ripe tomato. Fortunately for him, he did not have to perform this unenviable task as the waiter did become aware of the commotion and came over by himself.
"May I help you?"
"Yes, you certainly may," the woman said stiffly. "I want to be moved away from this person." She pointed a finger at Elvis. "Or better yet, you should ask him to leave." The waiter opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he got the chance she went on. "We were speaking among ourselves and out of nowhere this man yells at me and my son, telling us to fly to Timbuktu. He terrified my son."
"Is that so, ma'am?" The waiter's face gave nothing away.
"I didn't hear anything," one of Loretta's guys piped up.
The woman twirled around faster than one could blink to drill said man with a cool gaze. "Excuse me? It would have been pretty hard to miss. You heard it."
A few others chimed in, all claiming that they hadn't heard a word out of Elvis.
"But he did!" the woman exclaimed. "They're all together and they are lying, I tell you."
The waiter looked rather helpless. "Maybe I could interest you in taking your meal up to your room.
"Why should we be the ones that leave?" she asked with her nose in the air.
"Jean," her unfortunate husband grumbled. "Let's just take it up to the room. We don't need any more trouble."
"It's all your fault anyway," Jean snapped. "If it wasn't for visiting your aunt..."
"Oh hell, Jean, will you be quiet?"
"We'll give you dessert on the house," the waiter offered.
Jean agreed this time, albeit reluctantly. She grabbed her obnoxious son by the hand and they could have a peaceful meal at last.
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Loretta, having had a head start, finished eating before Elvis did. She, along with a few of her guys, meandered down the hall. There was a grand piano in the front room. It looked old and neglected, and somehow that drew Loretta to it. She didn't play very well to say the least since she took it up only because she had been told that she wasn't to play the guitar anymore. A book of sheet music titled 'Christmas Songs & Carols ' lay beside it. Loretta picked it up and went through it though she couldn't read sheet music.
She found the usual- White Christmas, Jingle Bells, Little Drummer Boy. There were a few unexpected ones, such as Brenda's Lee Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree and quite conveniently, Elvis' Blue Christmas. Loretta wouldn't know how to play any of them, though she had been practicing 'Silent Night'.
She perched herself on the bench and began her amateurish playing. Somehow it seemed so much harder than learning the guitar, though she might have forgotten how much of an effort that had been already.
Loretta looked up to see the chubby boy- Charles- standing there. Looking around for his mother, she spotted her walking in a different direction. Whatever she might be up to, Loretta didn't even want to know. Charles held in his hands what looked to be a homemade sweater with a snowflake sewed to the front.
He was a horrible little boy, probably the most horrible little boy she had ever encountered. But he was still a little boy so Loretta pasted on a smile and said, "What a nice sweater you got."
The boy grimaced. "It's ugly. My daddy's aunt gave it to me 'cause they're poor."
Loretta changed her mind. He was definitely the most horrible little boy she had ever encountered. She managed to say, "Is that right?" which was her usual response when she found herself in a state of shock or extreme anger.
"Yes. They live in a nasty tiny house and don't got no TV and just one bathroom. They didn't even have no guest room for us to stay. Their presents are bad." He looked at the sweater in distaste.
Loretta just about exploded. If one of her children ever acted like this she would have tanned his or her hide- and Loretta did not hit her children.
"Don't you think that you made your daddy's aunt sad when she spent all that time makin' you that sweater?"
"I don't care. It's ugly and nasty. You're probably poor too. You talk like a poor person."
That was it. Loretta was about to bend him over her knee on the piano bench, everything else be damned.
"It's better to be poor than to be mean and unappreciative to other people. That's a whole lot uglier than you think that sweater is."
The boy stood there in shock, but it served him right. When his mother reappeared, he ran over to her and grasped her by the hand.
"I thought you were going to throw that horrible sweater away," Jean said. At that moment, Loretta couldn't have even said 'Is that right?'
What horrible, spoiled, arrogant people they were! Here she was, near forty years old after over ten years in the business, certain that she had seen and heard everything already. She had met people who undoubtedly thought very much like this family, but never anyone who was so open about it and allowed their young children to speak and behave the way Charles did. Loretta was downright horrified. Elvis was more than correct- Timbuktu would have been a good place for this deplorable family, who still seemed to have so much to be thankful for. At least they were all together, and still had family who cared enough to invite them, which was quite a feat considering how nasty they were.
There was a trash can, into which young Charles tossed the sweater, right on top of where they emptied the ashtrays. Loretta stood there with her mouth open until they were out of sight. She slowly approached the trash can and pulled the little sweater out. It might fit the twins, but how was she to decide whom to give it to? Perhaps they could share it, or she might find another owner for it.
Loretta went back to her hotel room and first brushed off the cigarette buds as best as she could before washing it with hotel water and the provided soap. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, Loretta hung the little sweater up and went back downstairs.
Very much to her surprise, she found Elvis playing out a little tune she did not recognize. His guys surrounded him, along with a few of hers. It looked as though the two groups became fast friends.
"Hey," Loretta said, smiling when he turned toward her. "I didn't know that you play the piano."
"I do some. Why, do you?"
Loretta considered the question before settling on, "I try to. I was learning how to play Silent Night. I was doin' that earlier but I had to go upstairs. That awful little boy went and threw away a pretty little sweater his daddy's aunt made for him so I gotta it outta the trash and-" Loretta fell silent when Elvis laughed.
"What? He is a real awful little boy. And I don't say that kind of thing 'cause I love young'uns but that family is like somethin' out of a movie show."
"You tell me about it. I couldn't help what I said there, with them spoiling everyones meal with their complaining. Come here." Elvis waved her over. Loretta came, taking a seat beside him when he moved over slightly.
"Alright," Elvis said. "Now go ahead and play it."
"Play Silent Night, you mean?" Loretta's eyes grew wide.
Elvis nodded his head. "We can play it together. How 'bout that?"
Though she doubted that she would do very well at it, Loretta agreed.
"You play the easier part then," Elvis suggested.
It took them several attempts to produce something that sounded halfway decent, but neither was deterred by it. They soldiered on, singing along quietly all the while. That created another problem, as they did not quite agree with each other on what the words of the song were. One of Elvis' guys made a joke about Loretta's thick bluegrass accent, which wasn't any less apparent when she sang than it was when she spoke.
Elvis sounds like a Yankee next to her. Elvis glared at him at response, but Loretta, who had learned to be proud of her heritage and home state of Kentucky, thanked him.
An hour later, they made it through the song without a single mistake.
"Hallelujah!" Lamar Fike exclaimed. "They're done!"
"Says who?" Elvis demanded.
"Can't you play somethin' else?"
Loretta picked up the book titled 'Christmas Songs & Carols and showed it to Elvis.
Elvis grabbed it, dangling it in the air by one corner. "What makes you think I got any idea how to read sheet music?"
"You don't?"
"No. Do you?"
"I thought I might learn but I don't think it's gonna happen," Loretta said. She took the book from him and opened it. "I think that one's an A." She pointed out one of the notes. "But I got no idea. They all look the same to me for the most part."
"It don't look like it sounds," Elvis said.
A few of the guys glanced at each other with raised brows at the way he slipped back into the incorrect speech patterns of his youth in the company of a thoroughly Southern woman.
"I wouldn't know," Loretta said. "I can't read the sheet music." She put the book down and turned back toward him. "How about you give us a round of Heartbreak Hotel."
Elvis stared at her before bursting out into laughter. "Heartbreak Hotel? What the-"
"This might as well be Heartbreak Hotel," she said.
So he sang Heartbreak Hotel for her and then she sang the Coal Miner's Daughter for him. Following that they all sang together. Indeed, they sang their troubles away for a short while.
When the time came to go back to their rooms and try to sleep, reality came crashing back down upon them.
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Told ya that it would be updated quickly. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Go ahead and listen to the video of her singing Silent Night followed by Elvis singing it- he really sounds like he doesn't have an accent next to her when it comes to that song. I actually hate the song unless one of them sings it. And I totally almost titled this Heartbreak Hotel, but I'd already finished the cover when I had that idea and didn't want to start all over again with that.