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This must be what it’s like to stage a jail break, you thought to yourself.
There was a prison cell, as nice and big and plush as it was. A judge…actually several judges. So-called friends with their prying eyes and greedy hands and darkened hearts. Only out for themselves.
The jury. That was a tricky one. The fans were wonderful and the prisoner adored them, but all of their love and devotion ultimately put his fate in their hands.
Then there was the executioner. The one determined to work the prisoner to his very last breath. One Colonel Tom Parker.
Just the name sent a wave of nausea through you.
Two weeks prior, Elvis had woken you in the middle of the night and begged you to help with setting him free from the Colonel and from this never-ending cycle. At that moment, Elvis’s happiness became your life’s sole mission.
He had two shows left at The International for the season and then he was scheduled for a week off before being dragged and drugged through a 26-city tour with rarely any days off between dates.
Your bags were all packed and stashed away days ago, only leaving the very essentials to be hastily shoved into a suitcase as soon as the show was over.
Jerry was the only person either of you trusted to help with the mission. The evening of the last show, Jerry was to load up the car and have it waiting at an exit very few were privy to. He would then drive just over the border into Utah to St. George Regional Airport where you and Elvis would board a private plane to Hawaii. Jerry would stay behind and handle the fall-out.
As far as you knew, the Colonel was completely unaware of your plans. Because of his close proximity, his office and room located just below the penthouse, it was difficult to keep anything from the treacherous man.
This should all be so easy. Tell the Colonel that you and Elvis would be returning to Graceland for a few days before starting the tour and then just disappear that way, but the Colonel didn’t trust either of you and had instructed his minions and the staff of the International to not allow Elvis to leave. You on the other hand could fall off the face of the earth and he would not possibly care less.
The Colonel hated the very sight of you and had tried so many times throughout the years to persuade Elvis to leave you. It was the one area that Elvis was absolutely defiant about. You were his calm in the middle of everything. His lifeline. The only anything he truly cared about.
Late at night when, in the quiet of the suite you shared, in the cocoon of your bed, he would gently caress your face and whisper that you were the only reason he kept living.
When you first met Elvis, you were working as a page for NBC. The year was 1968 and Elvis’s career was less than stellar. When word around the studio began to buzz about this hour-long Christmas special, you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes.
“Aren’t you excited?” Jenny, a fellow page, would ask as the two of you sat in the commissary having lunch. You would just groan on about why would you care about some has-been singing crappy Christmas songs. But, really, deep down, you felt sorry for the singer.
He was a beautiful man with so much talent who had been relegated to cheesy movie after cheesy movie. He needed to do something radical and get back out on the scene in a way that would leave his name on everyone’s lips and keep him in their minds. Something new. Something old. Something from when he was a real musician and not some puppet.
You had heard stories about his manager having his claws dug so deep into his client that there was no way he would be able to spread his wings even just a little bit. As the days leading up to the filming began to wane, you wished you would cross paths with the tyrant so you could give him a piece of your mind.
When the day arrived, you were assigned to greet Elvis and his entourage and bring them to the management offices. If you pressed your uniform a little crisper and put on a little extra make-up that morning, it really was no one’s business but your own. Jenny had just smirked knowingly at you when she met you by the time clock that morning.
When the cars pulled into the lot, a funny feeling took over your insides. That fluttering, almost numb sensation of nervousness.
You were first approached by a tall, long-haired gentleman wearing aviator sunglasses. He removed the glasses, tucking them away inside his leather jacket, as he extended his hand to you. “Hi, I’m Jerry, Elvis’s assistant.”
“Best friend, bodyguard, cigarette lighter, Pepsi fetcher…” a deep voice drawled from behind him. Jerry leaned forward a little, thumb pointing over his shoulder, and loudly whispered, “I put up with this pain in the ass.”
A giggle passed your lips before you looked at the other man. It would be a cliché to say that it felt like time stopped, but it did. Those blue eyes dancing with amusement as he smiled at you warmly. He extended his hand to you. Every sense in you heightened. You could feel every callus dotting his fingertips. The smooth softness of his palm. The gentle grip. He turned your hand over in his and brought your knuckles to his lips. Those famous blue eyes gazing at you the entire time. Jerry clearing his throat broke the two of you from your revere. “Ok, Casanova, we have a meeting to get to.”
A blush sat high on your cheeks as you turned on your heels and began walking toward the glass double doors. You swore you could still feel Elvis’s eyes boring into you. A clattering of footsteps fell behind you as Elvis and his entourage followed you.
“Here we are.” You knocked on the office door, waiting for permission to enter, then held the door open as the group of men piled into the room. As you turned to leave, Elvis gently placed a hand around your wrist. “Will you be here the rest of the day?” His voice was impossibly tender. Sincere. Your eyes moved between the fingers around your wrist and the blue eyes sparkling at you. “Yes, I’m your guide for the day. I’ll just be waiting outside until the meeting is finished.” That famous sideways smile took over Elvis’s face. With a light squeeze to your wrist and a wink of the eye, he turned to take a seat at the conference table.
Once the door closed behind you, a deep, shuddering breath rushed from you lips. Your trembling frame finding purchase on the bench along the wall. What had just happened? Was love at first sight actually a real thing?
A feeling deep within your heart told you that one day you would be looking into those dreamy eyes as you exchanged vows. It sounded absurd, but nothing had ever felt more real.
That night, Elvis had taken you out on the town, then to his house, and that was it. You had been inseparable ever since.
There had been times when you had fought each other to the brink of goodbye, but neither of you ever fell over the cliff’s edge. You and he were each other’s everything and you always would be.
Lately, however, you had begun to worry just how long always would actually be.
Elvis was sick. He was tired. He was…dying. You knew it and it killed you. Something had to give. The night he pleaded for your help, you had wept tears of joy because he was finally taking a step towards his own happiness…not everyone else’s.
You had begged him countless times to take time off to rest, but until he made that decision for himself, you knew that all the begging was moot. So you wished, and hoped, and prayed.
You had called Jerry that next morning to begin planning. You told Elvis not to worry, that you would take care of everything, unless he wanted to be involved. The last thing he needed was someone else taking away his agency. Elvis had just wrapped his arms around you tightly and murmured into your hair that he loved you and trusted whatever you decided to do.
Jerry was immediately all in. He wanted Elvis out of this hell just as much as you did. He told you that he had been talking to Parker’s assistant Diskin, trying to find out just what the Colonel’s deal was – why was he so controlling? Why did he turn down offers that would further Elvis’s career? Why was he so opposed to an international tour? Jerry said that he felt certain that Diskin hated the man as much, if not more, than anyone else and that he could break at any moment.
You and Jerry both knew something was off but had never been able to put a finger on it. So, while you secured the car and the private plane and made arrangements for accommodations, Jerry kept working on Diskin.
Around two years into your relationship with Elvis, the Colonel had called you privately to arrange a meeting. He informed you that if you told Elvis, he would make sure you were on the next flight back to LA and that you would never see Elvis again.
Usually, you attended Elvis’s concerts unless you were feeling unwell or had a prior engagement. The Colonel scheduled for your meeting to take place during the dinner show one night. You had told Elvis that you were meeting up with a friend who happened to be in town for the evening.
At 7:55 PM, you took the elevator down one floor. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you rapped your knuckles sharply against the door. You were not afraid of the Colonel, he could threaten you all he wanted, but you were, however, afraid of what he would do to your beloved. As much as you despised the man, you tried to be cordial and keep the peace.
You gave Diskin a tight-lipped smile when he opened the door and motioned for you to enter. The Colonel was sitting at his desk, his ever-present cigar stuffed in his mouth.
“Ah, y/n! Have a seat.” He waved a meaty hand toward the chairs across from his desk. You chose the one farthest away.
Holding your head high, you leveled a stare at the Colonel. “What do you want?”
The Colonel laughed. His laugh always made you gag. “So impatient.” He pointed his cane in the direction of a liquor cart. “Can Mr. Diskin pour you a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
The Colonel leaned back in his chair and squinted at you, always trying to size you up. You knew you made him squirm and it delighted you to no end that you at least had that going for you. He knew that no amount of threats or intimidation could take away the fact that you were untouchable when it came to one Elvis Presley.
“I’ll keep this brief, Miss. y/n. We both know that Elvis has this grand desire to tour internationally. It simply cannot happen. Not now. I won’t allow it.”
You just continued to stare at him – unaffected by what he was saying, almost as if you had tuned him out completely.
“Security, Miss. y/n, is of utmost importance and I cannot guarantee it if he leaves the country.”
You cleared your throat, giving yourself a moment to consider your words. “You didn’t have a problem shipping him off to Germany when he was still so young and impressionable.”
“That was different.”
“You make all these claims that there are death threats against him and people out to harm him right here in this very hotel.”
“There is abundant security here.”
“Where were they when that young lady broke into our suite last month while we were sound asleep?”
“There are always accidents.”
You slammed your fist against the desk hard enough that a few sheets of paper fluttered to the floor. “I will not help you clip his wings!” You stood up from your chair, looming over the Colonel from your side of the desk. “You can make all the excuses and snow that you want, but I will not be a part of it!”
You turned and stormed toward the door. Diskin moved to stand in front of it at the demand of his boss.
You glared at the lackey. “How do you sleep at night helping this slimy bastard?”
He gave you no response, just cast his eyes toward the floor. “That’s what I thought.”
You reached for the doorknob. “Get out of my way.”
“Let her go.” Diskin shifted away from the door at the Colonel’s words.
As you slammed the door behind you, you heard the tyrant call out, “Remember what I said Miss. y/n. First plane back to LA and you will never see him again.”
Until tonight, that was the last time Parker had ever called you for a private meeting. This time, however, you told Elvis.
“I’m going with you.” He gripped your hand while you both lounged on the large sofa in the suite.
“You can’t, baby.” You squeezed his hand gently. “The Colonel can’t know I told you. We have to play this safe.”
Elvis pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his cheek against the top of your head. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I thank God everyday that you’re here,” he held onto you a little tighter, “and that you love me.”
You leaned back a little to look up at him, cupping the side of his face in your palm. Tears sat just along the corners of your eyes. “I love you more than anyone could ever love another person. It is an honor and a privilege to love and to be loved by you.” A tear slid down your beloved’s cheek and you gently swiped it away with your thumb. “You’re going to be free soon, my love.”
He leaned into your palm and smiled, “We’re gonna fly away.”
You walked hand in hand with Elvis down to the showroom. You sat in the dressing room as he prepared for the dinner show. It was always fascinating to watch him get ready. It was like Clark Kent turning into Superman. To you, your husband was always a superhero, but when he put on the jumpsuit and cape, he looked the part. When he was ready, he took your hand and you walked with him through the backstage area and to the side of the stage.
He turned to you with wonder in his eyes. “Do I really only have two more shows?”
You smiled at him brightly. “This one and tomorrow night’s then no more Vegas.”
You could taste the salt of tears on your lips as he pulled you into a kiss. Both of you emotional over the closing of one chapter and the beginning of the rest of your lives. You pulled away and squeezed his hand, “Go get ‘em, Tiger Man.”
He chuckled and shook his head.
As the opening music started, he pulled you into a tight embrace. Beaming down at you once more he turned and walked out onto the stage. The applause and screams momentarily drowning out all the other sounds. You watched as your Superman took flight.
Now it was time to go see Lex Luther.
As you rode the elevator up to the floor just below the penthouse, you tried to fathom just how much time you had spent in this elevator over the past five years.
This place had truly become home away from home.
You imagined it was similar to living on a cruise ship. Everywhere you turned someone knew you and wanted something from you and unless you just locked yourself away in your room, there was no escape. No privacy. No time to just be.
You often dreamed of you and Elvis alone on a tropical island, laying in the sand, the only sound that of the waves crashing. Images would flash through your mind of chasing each other along the beach and laughter filling the air. Sometimes there were friends and family in the visions, but usually it was just you and Elvis.
You wondered what Vernon would do when all of this was over. Elvis would make sure he was taken care of and that he would live comfortably for the rest of his life. He’d also make sure Jerry was set up for life, and Charlie. The rest? Who knows. If it were up to you, Vernon, Jerry, and Charlie would be the only benefactors, but knowing your husband, all of the guys would be able to live comfortably for a long while.
The elevator opening shook you from your thoughts and you took a deep breath. The Colonel’s door was already propped open and you could hear hushed voices as you approached the office.
As you stood in the doorway, you took in the sight of the Colonel, Vernon, Jerry, and Dr. Nick. Jerry and Vernon were sat on one sofa with Colonel and Nick on the opposite sofa. A chair was left open where the sofas ended, joining everyone in a u-formation. You looked over at Jerry who just rolled his eyes in frustration. Then to Vernon who kept his eyes downcast at the tumbler of bourbon in his hands. Colonel and Nick sat relaxed and confident.
“Ah, y/n! So glad you could finally join us,” sarcasm laced the Colonel’s words.
“So sorry,” you said taking your seat, “I was just spending some time with my husband. You know, the reason any of us are even here today.” You crossed your legs, folding you hands to rest on top of your knee. A terse smile on your lips as you stared down the Colonel. A little thrill went though you when you remembered just how much you could get under his skin.
You could feel Jerry smiling at you and you gave him a subtle nod.
“So, what is the agenda for this meeting of such great minds?” you smirked.
The Colonel puffed away at his cigar and motioned for Diskin to close the door.
You noticed that Diskin looked quite pale, scared. You looked over at Jerry who gave you a knowing wink. Had Diskin cracked?
“Y/n.”
“Colonel.”
Parker stubbed out his cigar, only to quickly light another one. He held onto his cane as he stood to walk around the room as he spoke. “What are your plans while Elvis is away on tour?”
Your brows furrowed. “I plan to be with my husband.”
“Dr. Nick.” The Colonel motioned for the “doctor” to speak.
The man with the white coat and hair to match, cleared his throat. “Y/n, we think it would be best if you stayed at home this tour.”
You leaned forward, shifting your eyes around the group, “And just who is ‘we’?”
“Myself, The Colonel…” Dr. Nick trailed off.
Vernon swirled the liquor in his glass before downing what was left. “Mr. Presley,” The Colonel spoke up.
“I, uh, I think, you should sit this one out, y/n.” There was no conviction in your father-in-law’s words, but they still stung like a slap across the face.
“Wh…why?” You didn’t want to sound like you cared, but your voice betrayed you.
“Mr. Schilling.”
Jerry glared at the Colonel before fixing his gaze on you. “The Colonel thinks you take up too much of EP’s time. That you’re too distracting.”
You looked over at Jerry with wide eyes. Jerry just shook his head, lips set in a tight line. You knew if he could, he would tell you to please, stay calm. To just ride this out. That it doesn’t matter. This is all a game right now and you and Elvis were going to win.
You lowered your head and uncrossed your legs. Both feet were planted firmly on the ground. Your hands gripped the ends of the arm rests. An anger, the likes you had never experienced, flared up through your body. If you were a dragon, this would be when the whole room would be incinerated in one breath. But you weren’t a dragon. You were you. One woman, in a room with two (you didn’t count Jerry and Vernon) self-appointed powerful men.
When you looked up, on the opposite side of the room, Diskin was looking directly at you with that same look Jerry was sending you. Stay calm. Just ride it out. In the back of your muddled mind, you knew Diskin had cracked. That thought pushed forward and your body relaxed. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jerry slump back in his seat.
You calmly stood up from your chair and walked toward the door. “I, I’m sorry, y/n,” you heard Vernon mutter.
You opened the door just as the Colonel stated, “Remember, not a word.”
Everything in you said, ‘keep walking,’ but with it likely being your last chance, you stopped and pivoted back toward the group and shook your head.
“For years, I believed that there was good in everyone. That underneath any amount of evil, and hatred, and anger was a truly good and kind person that just needed understanding. But I was wrong.”
“Y/n,” Jerry’s tone screamed ‘please stop.’
The Colonel just stared at you with amusement in his beady eyes.
“When I met Elvis, I met the purest, kindest, most sincere soul I could ever have the honor of knowing. It’s sad that such a group of dark-hearted miscreants surround him.” Your voice remained calm, tears building within staying at bay, anger keeping them tamped down.
“You want me out of the picture so you can just do whatever you want with him. You can’t convince him to leave me, so you have to find some other way.”
“Y/n, you’re making a fool of yourself.”
Your fists balled at your sides as The Colonel’s words enraged you. Without thinking, you marched across the room, leaning down to eye level with the sniveling toad.
“You listen here, asshole. I’m not leaving his side. You are not going to win.”
The Colonel took a long puff of his cigar before replying, “Who’s playing a game?”
As you brought your arm back to lay a slap across his smarmy face, Jerry grabbed your wrist and pulled you back against him. “Please, y/n, stop this.”
You pulled away from Jerry, glaring at him as you turned to walk toward the door.
You stepped out into the hallway and back onto the elevator. Instead of pushing the button for the penthouse, you chose the showroom instead.
A violent sob racked your body as the elevator made it’s descent. How could they? How could Vernon?
You tried to compose yourself as you made your way backstage. Elvis was just going into his last song, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Usually, at this point, he would make his way out into the audience and give several women the thrill of their lives, but unwittingly, you caught his eye as he sang the first verse. A look of confusion and alarm clouded his features when he noticed your red, tearstained face. You smiled at him as brightly as you could to try to assuage his fears.
He continued singing the song directly to you as he walked near to where you were standing, just behind the edge of the golden drapes. He held out his hand to you and even though you knew you looked an absolute mess in your jeans and an old sweater, you allowed him to lead you out onto the stage.
As the band played the final notes of the song, your beloved turned to his adoring audience. “I’m very sorry ladies, but there’s only one woman I’m going to kiss tonight.” He placed his hand on the side of your face and gently pressed a kiss to your lips. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. The curtains fell as you embraced, and the audience’s cheers filled your hearts with peace. No matter what, they would still be there. When Elvis was rested and ready, they would be waiting for him to return, on his own terms.
The first night Elvis performed at The International had been exhilarating. He, the band, The Sweet Inspirations, and The Imperials had practiced and rehearsed until they knew the show backwards and forwards. Elvis had a vision of exactly what he wanted - how he wanted everything to sound and look. Everyone worked together to make it perfect. You were so over-the-moon proud of him.
That night, he looked like an angel in his beautiful white jumpsuit and white boots. The audience was different from the usual concert crowd which kind of threw off the vibe, but Mr. Charisma was able to work around it. They cheered when he introduced you during the middle of the show.
You had sat in absolute awe. He seemed so happy, and that was all that mattered to you.
The first time he went into the audience and kissed all of the women who approached him, you were a bit taken aback, to put it mildly. Once the show was over and the adrenaline died down and you and Elvis were alone in your suite, you timidly brought it up. You knew he wouldn’t be mad that you asked, and you didn’t want to spoil the mood, but you had to know. “Babe, was the kissing planned or just spur of the moment.”
Elvis sat beside you on the edge of the bed and took your hand in both of his. “I had thought about it, but didn’t decide to do it until that moment.”
You hummed thoughtfully and tried to imagine Paul McCartney going out into the audience and kissing you – it would never happen, but you had to admit the idea was a bit thrilling. Elvis kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
A smile played on your lips when you looked up at him. “You know, it’s a little exciting to think that all of those women die for a little kiss, but they will never have all of you.”
Elvis barked out a surprised laugh. His eyes sparkled when he looked at you. “I love you so much, you know that?”
“I kind of had an idea, but it’s always nice to know for sure.” Your chuckling was cut off by Elvis’s lips crashing into yours. When he finally paused to breath, just barely moving his lips from yours, his voice a whisper, “Never gonna love nobody but you.”
When you and Elvis made it up to the suite, you were surprised to find Jerry sitting against the wall outside the door. He jumped up when he saw the two of you. “Are you ok, y/n?”
You gave the man a small smile. “I’m fine, Jerry.”
He reached out, placing a hand on yours and Elvis’s arms, “I’m so glad you guys are finally here.”
You and Elvis looked at each other quizzically before looking back at Jerry. “What’s going on?” you asked.
A smile spread across Jerry’s face so wide it almost looked like it would split in two. “You’re never gonna guess what Diskin told me.”
Once the three of you were settled around the dining table in the suite, Jerry handed you an envelope. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
You noticed that the envelope was postmarked the Netherlands and was addressed to Diskin. You removed the single piece of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. As you scanned the page, your hand flew up over your mouth with a gasp.
“Darlin’, what is it?” Elvis asked, nerves tinging his voice.
You took a moment to breathe and then began to read the letter aloud.
“Mr. Diskin,
Thank you for your inquiry. Our records indicate that Colonel Tom Parker is an alias of Andreas Cornelis van Kuijk.
He does not have a passport issued by the Dutch government, nor does he have legal United States citizenship.
The proper authorities are aware of the situation and an investigation is ongoing.
Regards,
U.S. Consulate General”
Jerry looked like the cat that caught the canary. You just sat rereading the words on the page to yourself over and over. Elvis stared off into the distance.
Silence encompassed the room for what felt like hours. Jerry had moved to sit next to Elvis. He didn’t touch the man, just sat next to him quietly. At one point he went to the fridge and brought back Pepsis for everyone. You eventually sat the letter down and opened the bottle on the table in front of your husband. He made no move to drink from it. He just sat there, unmoving.
You worried that he had slipped into a catatonic state from shock. Jerry went and lay down on the sofa. You held Elvis’s hand and leaned on his shoulder and waited. Suddenly, you felt a teardrop hit your arm and the man next to you began to tremble. You turned your body to him, holding him tightly in your arms. He heaved sobs as he grabbed at your shirt, holding on for dear life.
You wanted to kill Tom Parker.
Elvis’s sobs finally settled into whimpers and you and Jerry were able to move him to lay on the bed. Jerry went back out into the living room, vowing to stay in case you needed anything.
You undressed Elvis and pulled the covers over him, tucking him in tightly before laying next to him with your arm across his middle. Just enough weight for comfort. You repeatedly whispered to him how much you loved him and how brave and strong he was until his breaths were even and soft snores passed his lips.
Elvis was a sensitive man. The first time you saw him cry was about a month after you had met. The “Christmas Special” was in production and the set was chaos. The Colonel and Steve Binder could not agree on anything. Elvis wanted what Binder wanted which infuriated the Colonel. There were two scripts for movies that he still needed to film. Every time he turned around one of the guys was asking for something and all they wanted to do was party.
You could see everything was taking a toll on Elvis and it was starting to affect his performance.
Someone mentioned it was Mother’s Day and you slipped off to the break room to call your mom on the payphone. On the way back to the set, you heard the unmistakable sound of sniffles. You looked around for the source and when your eyes landed on a figure laying on a bench in one of the darkened hallways, your heart crumbled.
You knelt next to him and gently placed a hand on his arm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
Elvis looked at you, his eyes holding an incomprehensible amount of sadness. “Everything. Nothing works like it should. Everybody wants something from me. And…” he trailed off as a new wave of tears fell.
You nudged him to sit up and took a seat next to him. You wrapped you arms around him and held him close to you, his head resting on you chest. You swayed gently and softly hummed the song your mom had always sang to you when you were sad, “I’ll Fly Away”. Suddenly it hit you. Mother’s Day.
“Your Mama would be so proud of you.”
Elvis brought his hand up to your arm and squeezed lightly.
“She did such a good job. Such a good Mama. Such a good son.”
Elvis squeezed tighter as sobs wracked through his body.
“It’s ok, my love. Let it all out.” You swayed and hummed and held him to you until he could breathe easily. He pulled back and gazed at you with puffy, reddened eyes, and for the first time, even though it had been obvious since day one, he spoke the words that made your heart leap into your throat, “I love you, y/n.”
You surged toward him, capturing his full, beautiful lips in a passionate kiss. “I love you, too, EP.”
There had been a lot of tears throughout the years. Happy and sad. Your wedding day was happy tears. Finding out you were pregnant was happy tears. Finding out you were no longer pregnant and would never be again were the saddest tears either of you had ever cried. Those tears lingered for a long time. The sadness had been all encompassing. You felt like a failure. Elvis did everything he could to comfort you through his own pain.
You always held onto each other and somehow you always made it through.
You woke up to the sounds of someone shuffling around the room. Sitting up straight and wide-eyed, you sighed in relief when you saw Elvis pacing back and forth at the end of the bed.
“What are you doing, baby?”
Elvis stopped in his tracks and turned to you. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake ya.”
“It’s fine.” You patted the space next to you, motioning for him to sit down. Elvis took the invitation. “Are you ok?”
“I don’t think I want to do this last show tonight.” He paused and shook his head. “I just want to leave this place.”
Silence settled in the room as you waited for him to speak again. Whatever he wanted to do, however he wanted to do it, you were going to be right there with him.
In a small voice, he finally asked, “What do you think?”
You stood up and moved to sit on his lap. He placed his arms around you, holding tight. You kissed his forehead softly. “I’m ready when you are.”
A few moments later, while Elvis was showering, you met with Jerry in the living room. Jerry warned you that this would be a little more difficult in the daylight but he would do his best.
You dressed quickly and began packing away the rest of your belongings. Jerry located the car in the garage. Your other bags were already stowed away in the trunk.
Elvis took one last long look around the suite. “It’s almost sad, you know.” It was a statement, not a question. You did know. Even though it often felt suffocating, you both were leaving a familiar place never to return.
You took his hand in yours as you both walked toward the door and then onto the elevator. You held your breath as the number passed for the floor below. You were supposed to go to basement level and exit through a service door in the back of the laundry room where Jerry would be waiting.
Your breath caught in your throat as the elevator came to a stop and opened out toward the main lobby. A bellhop and concierge who you recognized as Jimmy and Lee, respectively, entered as you caught sight of the Colonel walking in the distance. Before you could hide your face, you saw Diskin wink at you as he distracted his boss. The doors shut and you gripped Elvis’s hand harder, trying to steady your trembling body.
When the elevator opened onto the basement level, the two hotel staffers turned to you and smiled.
Jimmy took the bags from your hands and Lee pulled a set of keys from his belt.
You and Elvis looked at each other before following behind the two young gentleman.
You were escorted through the basement and into the laundry room. From there you were led to a door situated along the back wall and hidden behind a rolling wardrobe. Lee unlocked and opened the door. The light hit your eyes with a blazing force and the Las Vegas heat coated your skin. Through the glare of the sun, there stood Jerry. Big smile on his face.
Lee turned to the both of you and spoke. “Mr. and Mrs. Presley, on behalf of the entire staff of The International Hotel, I just want to say that it has been an honor serving you these past five years. We will miss your kindness and we wish you both all the best.”
You squeezed your husband’s hand and beamed up at him. His voice was thick with emotion as he addressed the two staff members. “Thank you for taking such good care of us. You have all been incredible. I'm terribly sorry if any of my former friends, family, or manager have given you a hard time.”
“Not a problem, sir,” Jimmy spoke.
Jerry opened the back door to the Cadillac and you and Elvis slid inside along the leather seat. The air conditioner was on full blast.
You leaned against your husband’s side and closed your eyes as the car pulled away. Somewhere along the drive to the airport, you had dozed off because the next thing you knew Elvis was shaking you awake with urgency. “Y/n! Y/n! Wake up! You gotta hear this!”
Jerry had pulled over on the side of the road and turned up the radio. A special bulletin was being read by the DJ. “In case you missed the news, Elvis’s last show at The International, as well as his upcoming tour, has been cancelled as, in a shocking turn of events, his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, has been arrested by the FBI. We will keep you updated with any information as it becomes available.”
You, Elvis, and Jerry all looked at each other with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe it. An air of victory was palpable in the car. You all sat in silence as a commercial break played on the radio. When the DJ came back on, you all turned your attention back to the disembodied voice. “In light of recent events, we’re gonna play some Elvis tunes. We will appropriately begin with a number in honor of Colonel Parker. This is Jailhouse Rock.”
After a beat, the three of you burst into laughter. Elvis was practically laying in the floorboard, holding his stomach, tears rolling down his cheeks. Through the peels of laughter, you and Jerry caught each other’s eye. You reached forward and grabbed his hand, mouthing “Thank you.” Jerry just winked back.
“Ok! Lets get this show back on the road. Your plane is scheduled to take off in an hour and then you will be Hawaii bound!” Jerry pulled back out onto the highway.
Elvis had righted himself back into the seat and now had his arm around your shoulder. You looked up at him and for the first time in years, there was a look of pure contentment. You could hear him softly humming one of your favorite songs. “Sing it for me, please?”
Elvis pressed a kiss to the top of your head and pulled you just a little closer. “Some glad morning when this life is over, I’ll fly away…”
_______________________________________________________________________________________
July 1980
The sand was warm beneath you as the waves lapped at your feet. This paradise had been your home for the last six years.
The people of Hawaii were so kind and welcoming and had been since you and Elvis arrived on the island. Most everyone there knew who your husband was, but they treated him with respect and dignity. You and Elvis had spent most every day either on the beach or going on little adventures.
Elvis immediately started seeing a doctor, a real doctor, regularly and taking better care of himself. He loved Karate and meditation. He started eating healthy and going for jogs. Elvis had always been the same man you met in 1968, but he started looking even better than you remembered he did back then.
Jerry had come to visit a couple months after your grand escape. Talk of Vegas and The Colonel was kept to a minimum. You learned that The Colonel was under house arrest pending trial. You wished he’d been locked away in a prison cell, but it was what it was.
During Jerry’s visit, he met and fell in love with a beautiful woman named, Anela from Kailua. Before long, Jerry and Anela were married with a baby and a house on the property of your Hawaiian Graceland.
Life had seemed perfect in that moment.
When Elvis had received a request to testify at the Colonel’s trial being held in Clark County, Nevada, he sent word via his attorney that he would not be testifying. He considered that part of his life to be in the past, never to be revisited. Then the subpoena arrived, and he didn’t have a choice.
Being back in Las Vegas felt like returning to the scene of some horrific crime. It didn’t help that the August heat was so oppressive. It had been three years since the last time you had seen the Colonel in 1974. With no conscience to eat away at him, he didn’t look any different sitting there in the courtroom than he did sitting at his desk in his office at The International.
Elvis tried not to look at him. You had noticed how quiet your husband had been all day. He looked pale and weak. It was almost as if something about this city sucked the life from him.
When Elvis took the stand, he answered the questions directly and honestly. Years of meditation and practicing control of his emotions helped him to remain calm. He was the star witness for the prosecution and even with really not saying very much, his testimony was still damning.
It took a jury 30 minutes to return a guilty verdict on charges for everything from misappropriation of funds to kidnapping. Sentencing would happen at a later date at which time the Colonel was ordered to pay millions to both Presley Enterprises and The International hotel. He was to then be deported back to the Netherlands.
As you exited the courtroom, Elvis stumbled. You barely managed to hold him up while Jerry rushed to his side and slowly lowered him to sit on the steps. Before you could even sit next to him, he had passed out. Jerry yelled for someone to call 911 and started CPR. All you could do was hold onto your husband’s hand and pray as the world crumbled around you.
“Y/n?”
You looked up to see Anela and her daughter Presley.
“You look like you’re about a million miles away.”
You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Ah, well, it felt like I was for a minute.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to fly to LA?” Anela inquired while the little girl ran off to play in the water.
You looked down at your watch and gasped. “I didn’t realize it was getting so late! I haven’t even packed!”
Anela laughed. “I think that’s already been taken care of. All you need to do is get ready to go. Jerry will be waiting with the car.”
You quickly hugged Alena and said farewell before taking off in a sprint toward the house.
Once inside you noticed several pieces of luggage sitting by the door. “Do we really need to take all of that with us?” you asked as you walked into the bedroom. “We’re only going to be in LA for a week.”
“You can’t be too prepared. Who knows what we might get up to.”
You sauntered toward your beloved, looking up into those crystal blue eyes. “Hmmm. You know, the last time I got into a car with you and Jerry and a bunch of luggage…” you trailed off, moving forward to press a quick kiss to those soft lips, “it worked out pretty well.”
You and your husband swayed to the sound of the waves in the distance. He lifted your hand and spun you around before holding you close to him. “I think we did all right.”
“Mmmhmm.” You smiled as he peppered kisses all over your face and neck.
“As much as I would love to stay right here forever, we better get going.” You stepped away and started getting ready. “Don’t forget your medications.”
“Already packed.”
There was a time when the thought of your husband taking pills made you nauseas, but after the heart attack in August of 1977, he was on a strict regimen of medications and healthy living and you made sure he stuck to it.
~
Both you and Elvis were stunned by the amount of fans and reporters that greeted you at LAX. With the exception of the legal mess with the Colonel and the heart attack, Elvis had largely been out of the spotlight. It had been so long since he had given an interview or a performance, he had told you he was worried that he didn’t have it in him anymore.
“Mr. Presley, how does it feel to be receiving this award?” one of the reporters called out.
But just like riding a bike…
You watched as he transformed. That brilliant smile that lilted just so to one side. You swore you could hear the whole terminal swooning. “I’m humbled, man. I, I couldn’t believe it when they called from the Academy and said they had an award for me. I, I still can’t believe it.”
“How’s your heart?” another reporter called out.
He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into him. “She’s doing great! Isn’t she beautiful? Oh! You mean my heart-heart.” The crowd chuckled. “It’s doing great. Never better. Just healthy living, man.”
“Are you excited for your book to come out?”
Elvis was nervous about the book, but he was happy to be getting his side of the story out there after everyone and their aunt, brother, cousin released a book about his life. “I’m just happy that the real story is being told. Some of what has been written about me is true, but so much of it is just outright lies.”
“Congratulations on everything, Elvis!” someone called out.
“Thank you! It’s good to be back!” With that, Elvis took your hand and Jerry escorted the both of you to a side door and out to the car.
Once the car pulled away from the airport, you turned to Elvis, beaming with pride. “I knew the fans would still be there when you came back. And you were so good out there with the reporters.”
Elvis grabbed your hand and placed a kiss to it. “That was…something else.”
“I’m so proud of you.” You leaned into your husband. The silence for the rest of ride to the hotel was comforting. Contentment filled the space left by words.
That night, as Elvis accepted an honorary Academy Award for his lifetime contribution to cinema and soundtracks, you envisioned him accepting an award for that one serious film he had always hoped to make. The script was sitting on the nightstand back home and he planned to call the director soon.
As good as he looked up on that stage with that award in his hand, it paled in comparison to two years later when he stood on the same stage with tears in his eyes and gave his Best Actor acceptance speech.
“I never thought this would happen. I dreamed and hoped, but this always seemed out of reach for me,” he paused, emotion blocking the words. The audience cheered him on. “For 14 years now, there has been one person who has never wavered in her belief that I could do anything. She has stood by me when no one else would. Y/n, I…I will love you until my very dying breath and even beyond then. Thank you for loving me in return.”
You smiled up at him from the front row, tears sliding down your cheeks.
The audience stood to their feet – for the both of you.
“Thank you, Jerry and Anela and Presley. Thank you to my fans who have stayed with me all these years. Thank you, Academy.” Elvis lifted the award in the air. “God bless each and every one of you. Thank you very much.”
That wasn’t the last time your husband would visit the Oscar stage. He even went on to act on Broadway, becoming one of the few to win an EGOT. He started recording again privately in 1985, focusing mainly on gospel music. The two of you even became somewhat of a songwriting team.
You didn’t ever see him retiring. Even now when hips and knees have long been replaced and the cane that was once a fashion accessory was a necessity, you could never envision an Elvis that didn’t sing and act and entertain. One day he would join the ultimate choir in the universe with all of the angels, but for now the people of earth continued to be blessed by his gifts.
The sand was warm beneath you as the waves lapped at your feet. You looked over at the man reclining next to you and smiled. The birds seemed to float in the blue sky above, their perfect melody caressing your ears.
You began to sing softly. “I’ll fly away, oh, Glory…”
Elvis squeezed your hand and hummed along.
What a beautiful life.