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whatstruthgottodowithit · 7 months

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Here You Come Again [Part Fifteen]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Original Female Characters, Priscilla Presley, Colonel Tom Parker, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley, Minnie Mae Presley, Marci Cunningham, Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West, Marty Lacker, Joe Esposito, Charlie Hodge, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas, George Klein, Memphis Mafia

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8422

Summary: When Addison Goodwin was seventeen years old her life was turned inside out after a chance encounter with her past. Now, fifteen years later her life is the best it’s ever been. She has a home, a good job and a daughter she loves more than anything in the world but will all that remain when an old familiar face rolls into town.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Graceland, Las Vegas, The International Hotel, Elvis In Vegas, 1970s, 1970s Elvis, Friends To Lovers, Rekindled Romance, Parenting, Time Line is Sketchy, Guilt, Betrayal, Teenage Pregnancy, Hawaii, Hidden Pregnancy, Jealousy, Sex, Absence of Parent, Single Motherhood, Trauma, Oral Sex, Tension, Addison's Dress

Notes: Feel free to hate me because I hate myself rn.

[there's only two chapters and an epilogue left and I promise it gets better x]

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Anyone would think that being on a vacation with your ex in the most romantic place on earth immediately after having shot him down for kissing you would be awkward. Well for the most part they’d be right. However Addison was finding that wasn’t the case entirely. As with everything that Elvis did she had found that where most people fit into a mould he didn’t and even though their situation wasn’t exactly an orthodox one he managed to navigate through it with ease. She had been in the middle of packing, folding her clothes neatly into her case when he had found her, coming into the room via the bathroom, watching her closely though she hadn’t realised he was there.

‘Marty’s doing a last-minute run to the store if you need anything picking up,’ he said, his low gravelly voice capturing her attention and making her whip around like a deer in headlights. He smiled at her, kind of enjoying the way he had gotten her at odds – given he had spent the night the same way after their kiss.

‘You scared me,’ she said, shifting nervously before she added, ‘I’m good thanks.’

‘Well if you think of anything just let him know,’ he said with a nod. Addison nodded, her fingers tracing along the edge of the suitcase behind her as she tried to think of what to say. If anything she wanted to keep her mouth shut. Everything had been going so well between them and she didn’t want to lose that, but as he turned to leave she found the words coming out of her mouth, ‘Elvis about last night-’

‘Forget about it,’ he said with a smile, sympathy in his crystal blue eyes that made her heart flip flop.

‘But-’

‘Addie honestly don’t worry about it,’ he said, ‘it was just a kiss.’

‘Just a kiss,’ she agreed though he could tell she was still over thinking it from the way she was gnawing on her lip.

‘Now c’mon,’ he smiled trying to reassure her, ‘we’ve got a vacation to get to.’

But it wasn’t just a kiss. It had been all she had been thinking about for the past two weeks. He had stayed true to his word and if she didn’t know any better she’d say that he had forgotten it himself. Yet the way he was around her made her feel as through that wasn’t the case. Their dynamic didn’t change. He wasn’t any more caring or attentive than he had been beforehand, but he didn’t pull away either, become cold or distant like he had the first time they had been working through their feelings for one another. No, if anything he had been pretty damn perfect.

Yet she was a mess. She didn’t know what to do about any of it. Her mind was screaming at her to pull away. That her priority should be Jess, making sure she didn’t get hurt. After all Addison had been the daughter of a mother who thought only of herself and she refused to put Jess through anything like that. But her heart was screaming at her the other way.

It hammered against her ribcage whenever he was near her, whenever their hands touched or he sat down beside her. Warmth spread through her chest whenever he laughed, the sound of it something she wished she could wrap around her like a blanket. And desire. Desire flamed through her whenever she saw him in the outrageously tight swim trunks he liked to wear as he frolicked in the sea with the kids or when he came down for dinner in a relaxed pair of shorts and a shirt – totally at ease and peace.

It made her want to give into those delusions. To believe that they could be a normal couple, on vacation in Hawaii surrounded by their family and friends. To believe that they could leave the family dinner and go back to their shared room where they’d spend the night together, no longer confined to small gestures, their desires allowed to run free. She wanted to believe that when the plane touched down she’d be home in Memphis and not trudging back to the desert heat, working endless shifts and trying to balance being a mom, running a house and working full time. She wanted to believe that it would be that easy. That Elvis could take care of her like she wanted, like she so desperately needed, that it would be fine.

But with every thought like that came a seed of doubt. It came when he placed his hand on the small of her back or his arm around her shoulders and no one batted an eye – his displays of affection with God knows how many women becoming common place to those around him.

It came when she looked at Lisa, a child now torn between two homes because despite the love her parents had for one another it hadn’t lasted. It came when she looked at Jess. When she remembered how he had promised her the world at seventeen years old and it still hadn’t been enough. How her daughter’s love had been the only thing to keep her truly afloat. How she wouldn’t have made it if it hadn’t been for her.

She wanted to trust her heart but it had been wrong before. At least when she listened to her head it made the pain hurt a little less.

Their vacation was winding down and though two weeks of sun and sand had been nice the threat of normal life was looming. Jess and Addison were due to go back home, Lisa was due to fly back to California and Elvis was due to head out on tour yet again though this time only for a week. And as much as she had told herself that it was for the best, that it was what was needed for all of them, Addison couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Especially as she got ready for dinner, watching herself in the bathroom mirror, knowing that this would be one of the last times she would be doing it.

This time of day had become therapeutic for Addison. Whilst their days may have seemed lazy, only ever starting around noon, they were far from it. Elvis seemed to be intent on making this a fun vacation for the girls and so their days were spent on the beach, learning to surf or jet skiing, or in and around the pool playing endless games. Sometimes they were joined by some of the guys and their families, meaning that it was quite the rabble wherever they ended up, but sometimes they were alone, sitting out on the balcony of Elvis’ room as they watched the day go by. And though their nights were just as busy they felt completely different. Around dusk everyone would retreated to their rooms emerging back an hour or so later so they could have dinner where they’d spend the entire evening talking and laughing.

That hour had become important to Addison. It gave her chance to think, to breathe. Something that was becoming harder and harder to do whenever she was around Elvis.

As she slipped a new set of earrings into her ears, ones Jess had bought her for her birthday, she heard a knock at the door.

‘Are you ready?’ she heard Marci say from the other side. Addison gave herself one last glance in the mirror and then opened it finding Marci standing in front of her, practically leaning her ear up against where the door had been though she straightened up as Addison appeared.

‘Just need to get my shoes on,’ Addison said though as she looked past her friend she noted Jerry standing by the open door to their hotel room so she added, ‘you guys go.’

‘Are you sure?’ Marci said glancing at Jerry and then back to her friend.

‘Yeah, I’ll not be far behind ya,’ Addison said with a smile.

‘I’ll save ya a seat,’ Marci said before she headed to the door and slipped out with Jerry shutting it closed behind them.

Addison moved to the bed, grabbing her shoes from the closet so she could sit down and put them on. As she slipped on the tan wedges she found her eyes drifting around the room clocking every item that lay strewn around the place fresh from Marci’s wake of getting ready. Though it annoyed the life out of her that her room was in such disarray she couldn’t help but smile. Having her friend back for the past two weeks had been a blessing she couldn’t deny - a sense of normality in a chaotic world. Not to mention it had only taken being in close quarters for half a day before Marci had come clean about what had been going on with her and Tom.

She wasn’t happy. She had thought that her new life would be similar to her old one and that hadn’t been the case. Where she had expected to be able to start another shop, lay the foundations of their relationship before anything serious, Tom wanted to speed into a life together. He wanted marriage, he wanted babies, he wanted things that Marci wasn’t sure she was ready for yet and so when Elvis had invited her to join them she’d jumped on a plane without question hoping that Memphis and now Hawaii would bring clarity to what she did want.

It was news that broke Addison’s heart and made it sing at the same time. She felt heartbroken that her friend had been going through it but also glad that this might mean she was coming home. Which is why she hadn’t told her about her and Elvis’ kiss. She felt guilty that Marci had been sitting on all of this, unable to share it with Addison because of the whirlwind the last few months had been. She also didn’t want to sway her decision, force her to come back thinking that Addison would need her help getting over him like she had the first time. It was also why she hadn’t said anything as watched her and Jerry grow closer. Just because an old flame wasn’t right for Addison didn’t mean it wasn’t what Marci needed.

Once her shoes were on she grabbed a couple of pieces of clothing up off the floor and hung them back in the closet, smiling to herself as she went. It didn’t fail to amaze her how she had forgotten just how chaotic sharing a space with Marci could be. How their living arrangement had often felt as though Addison was living with two teenagers instead of one. And yet she couldn’t believe just how much she had missed it. How placing a couple of bathing suits up to dry properly could feel as though she was back home, before Elvis had strolled back into her life, when things were a little less complicated.

‘But were you happy?’ a voice in the back of her mind whispered making her snap back to reality. She wanted to say yes. That her life with just Marci and Jess had been a happy one. Because it had.

‘But Elvis makes you happy too,’ it reasoned. With that Addison slid the closet door closed with more force than she intended meaning the sliding door bounced back forcing her to repeat her action only gentler. This was what she had been living with. Every good thought countered by a bad one. Every bad one countered by a good one. It was exhausting, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

So she did the only thing she knew would help and headed out to dinner given that being around people, especially the buzz of Elvis and his entourage or the giggles of the girls, often forced her to tune those thoughts out.

As she left her room she could hear the rabble not too far away. Given the number of people they had in their group they had practically commandeered an entire quarter of the resort and their hotel rooms were all on one flowing line opposite a view of the exquisite resort gardens that eventually led down into the beach. The stone walkway led off to a courtyard, one covered by a thatch roof that housed a table for thirty as well as a fire pit and seats should they want to stay there. That’s where she was headed but as she walked down the path the door one room up from her opened and Elvis appeared. The timing of it made her wonder if he’d been waiting for her but he looked surprised when he looked up and noticed her coming towards him.

‘Hey,’ he said as she slowed down, his eyes roving over her outfit for a moment though he pretended he hadn’t, ‘I thought everyone was already at dinner.’

‘Just headed there now,’ Addison said gesturing for him to walk with her which he did.

‘No Mar?’ he asked checking behind them before they fell into step beside each other.

‘She headed down already with Jerry,’ Addison said.

‘That so?’ Elvis mused.

‘Yep,’ Addison said with a wry smile. Whilst Marci’s love life had taken her mind off of what was going on between her and Elvis it had also helped them. It had given them a talking point, one that meant they could keep their relationship just as it had been before any of the kiss business.

‘Where are the girls?’ Elvis asked.

‘Joe took the kids down to the games room I think,’ Addison said.

‘Poor Jess,’ Elvis chuckled as Addison looked at him puzzled, ‘all those kids.’

‘I don’t think she minds,’ Addison said suddenly feeling guilty. Though she and Jess had spent a lot of time together on this break there were pockets when she was lumped in as one of ‘the kids’, something Addison hadn’t realised might not have been a good thing on Jess’ end.

‘Well either way I bet she’ll be glad of five minutes peace,’ Elvis said, they were rounding the corner now finding they were the last ones down to the dining area. Most of the kids were gone from the party now save for Lisa, Jess and Dee’s boys who had congregated at one end of the table.

As Elvis took his seat at the head of the table Addison slipped into the only chair that had been left for her next to him. Jerry and Marci were sitting across from her, chatting away to one another, something she didn’t fail to notice made Elvis smirk as he unfolded his napkin and shifted it onto his lap. Fortunately he didn’t say anything and dinner kicked off without incident.

Elvis was enjoying himself, in fact he’d been the happiest he’d ever been on this vacation. He didn’t know how she had such an effect on him. How the past fifteen years felt as though he’d been living his life as though he was watching himself on TV. He remembered it all, every moment lived and yet it felt as though it was this other guy. This Elvis Presley that was somehow him and not him at the same time. With Addison he never felt like that Elvis. He felt like her Elvis. That boy from Memphis.

He knew he’d never truly gotten over her, though he had moved on and for a time he had been happy. But now it felt as though there had always been something niggling in the back of his mind, wanting to pull them back together. That was why he hadn’t pushed her. He hadn’t demanded she be ready to get back together, after all he knew pushing her might only make her pull away and that would devastate him. No he’d let her see that they were good together. That they could be a couple this time, a proper one. No hiding, no caring about what anyone thought or said. He’d let her see that their lives could finally fit together.

He was watching her, enjoying the way she laughed as she told Joe a story he was definitely not listening to given he was too distracted by the woman telling it. There was something about her tonight, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He always thought she was pretty, even when she was chastising him it still made him hot under the collar, but tonight was something else. Her skin had a radiant glow to it, her light brown locks glinted with streaks of gold from where they’d lightened in the sun, and her eyes, her eyes sparkled as she smiled. He wanted to believe it was just the radiance that came with being on vacation but as she noticed him watching her, a smile playing on her lips as she took a sip of wine, he realised what it was. Love.

It made him smile too though he was forced from his thoughts as Jess appeared in between them, looking down on them with a sweet smile.

‘Everything okay honey?’ Elvis asked making her nod.

‘Yeah, I was just wondering if I could go back to the games room,’ Jess said.

‘Alone?’ Elvis asked.

‘No with the boys they’re gonna play pool,’ Jess said looking to where Elvis’ stepbrothers were loitering at the other end of the table. Addison glanced at them. The games room wasn’t too far away though she didn’t like the idea of Jess being split from the main group, especially as night had fallen. It didn’t help that the last time Jess had spent a substantial amount of time with one of the Stanley boys she’d gotten drunk though she figured from the nervous way Rick was watching Elvis that wouldn’t be a problem this time. Not to mention that what Elvis had said was playing on her mind. Jess had done her fair share of being lumped in with the kids, maybe it was time for her to have a bit of time being a teenager. After all it was her vacation too. She could feel Jess’ eyes on her and even though Elvis had spoken he too was now watching her, waiting for her final say.

‘Can I?’ Jess asked watching her mother closely, unable to tell if her decision was falling in her favour. If it was an outright no she probably would’ve just told her so but at that moment she decided to let Elvis take the reins. He was her parent too and she trusted his judgement.

‘If it’s okay with your dad,’ Addison said looking at Elvis.

‘Oh uh, sure,’ Elvis said taken aback that she had deferred to him.

‘Thank you,’ Jess said wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick hug before she tore off to where they boys were waiting. As she disappeared out of sight his eyes drifted back to Addison who smiled at him. It was a small gesture. A barely significant decision in the grand scheme of things but for once she had let him have some control. They’d worked as a team, instead of Addison out there alone. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world.

‘Can I go?’ came a little voice that captured their attention. Lisa was standing at his other side watching Elvis with hope in her little face that made him sigh.

‘I don’t think so button head,’ he said making her pout.

‘Jessie gets to go,’ she said folding her arms across her chest indignantly.

‘Yes but it’s night time and Jess is a lot older than you honey,’ Elvis reasoned.

‘Yeah, besides you don’t wanna hang out with a bunch of silly boys, right?’ Marci said with a smile as she tried to coax her round.

‘Yeah Memphis,’ Jerry said nudging her cheek with his finger, ‘not when you could hang out with us.’

‘What do you say honey?’ Elvis said watching her.

‘Okay,’ Lisa said though there was still a definitive pout on her face as she climbed onto Elvis’s lap. She sat there quietly for a minute, her head resting against his shoulder as she sat astride his knee but then Addison watched as the cogs ticked over in her brain before she said, ‘Daddy?’

It was a good tactic Addison couldn’t deny. Her voice was sweet as sugar yet there was an air of disappointment to it that made Elvis frown as he said, ‘yeah baby?’

‘Can we go to the beach?’ she said looking up at him with hope in her big blue eyes.

‘I don’t know sweetheart,’ Elvis said, ‘it’s getting late.’

‘Please Daddy?’ she said, her bottom lip jutting out so much Addison had to take a swig of wine to stop her smirk from being too noticeable. She didn’t blame him. The sweetness, the puppy dog eyes and the fact she hadn’t failed to call him Daddy instead of Elvis as normal was the perfect trifecta and Addison could see he was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

‘Okay, we’ll go down in minute,’ Elvis said quietly.

‘Ooh can we have s’mores?!’ Lisa said immediately brightening.

‘Whatever you want honey,’ Elvis said stroking her hair as she fell back content with the way she had managed to bend his will so easily.

After that they stayed at the table for a while before eventually heading down to the beach. Whilst some of the group retired to their rooms a few couples joined them taking seats around the roaring fire Elvis had arranged to be waiting for them, along with everything they needed to make s’mores. Lisa sat between them allowing Addison to help her make s’mores though that didn’t stop her from getting a face full of chocolate which she didn’t think twice about wiping on her dress. And though she felt like teasing him something rotten for being able to be won over by a five-year old’s whim she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. Seeing him out there, unbothered and happy made her heart flutter.

Yet he wasn’t her Elvis out here. He was the new man, the one she was still getting to know, and yet the more she saw of him the more she felt as though the two versions of him could meld into one. As she watched him carry Lisa up the steps towards their rooms she felt as though this was what she wanted. All she wanted.

They didn’t take long to get Lisa settled. Jess was already in bed and fast asleep when they both walked into the girl’s room and with some silently skilled manoeuvring Elvis and Addison managed to get Lisa into her pyjamas and in bed without disturbing either of them. Yet as he clicked the door closed he found Addison watching him, that look of love back in her eyes.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked as they walked slowly towards Addison’s adjoining room, neither of them wanting to go much faster as that would mean the end of their night.

‘Nothing,’ she said with a smile.

‘No go on smart ass,’ he chuckled, spinning around to face her as they stopped outside her door.

‘She wanted s’mores on the beach,’ Addison said simply.

‘Yeah and?’ Elvis asked.

‘And you just gave her s’mores on the beach?’ she questioned. Elvis shrugged.

‘Why not?’

‘And if Jess asked for a car tomorrow?’ she probed.

‘I mean I don’t think I’d manage to get it past you but if she wanted one, I’d give it her,’ Elvis said.

‘Just like that?’ Addison asked watching his face closely. There was still a smile ghosting his lips but she could tell what he said next was serious, from his heart.

‘I love her. I have the means and if it’d make her happy I’d do it…’ he said looking down on her as he added, ‘wouldn’t you?’

‘I try my best,’ Addison said honestly. She did try to keep Jess happy as much as she could but that wasn’t always feasible. Sometimes she had to do what was right, what was best for her daughter even if that didn’t always please her. Elvis seemed to be the opposite. He seemed to bend to his daughters will, to make them happy, hence why Lisa could wrap him around her little finger. And yet she couldn’t see that as an entirely bad thing because he acted out of love. Like she did.

‘To make her happy?’ Elvis said moving in a little closer.

‘Yeah,’ she said placing a hand on his chest trying to keep him at a distance though it didn’t do much to stop him.

‘And what about you?’ he asked moving her hair off her shoulder as she peered up at him.

‘What about me?’ she asked.

‘What makes you happy?’ he probed.

‘Lots of things,’ she said quietly, the scrutiny in his blue eyes making her heart beat so loud in her ears she wasn’t sure she had even spoken aloud.

‘There’s nothing you don’t want?’ he asked, his thumb brushing along her jaw making her heart beat even faster though she didn’t know how that was possible, ‘what do you want Addison?’

‘To go to bed,’ she said pulling from his grasp as she laughed nervously, ‘night.’

‘Night,’ he said watching as she threw herself inside her hotel room, the door closing heavily behind her. Elvis sighed and headed to his own door, stepping inside before he closed it gently behind him, resting against it. He was barely there two seconds before he heard a knock on it and turned back to open it. Addison was standing on the other side.

‘Addie-’

‘I want you to kiss me,’ she said and before he could say anything else she flung herself forward their bodies hitting one another in a frantic collision as their lips met. Elvis pulled her to him, allowing her to kick the door closed before she moved them towards the bed, pushing him down on it with a thud. She was on his lap in seconds, her fingers working on the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down her neck, his lips warm against every piece of skin on offer. Yet before he could tackle any of the buttons on her dress she was pushing his shirt off his shoulders and climbing off him, stationing herself between his legs as her hands immediately moved to his shorts. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, the thin material of his shorts providing no barrier as she moved her hand against him.

‘Fuck Addie,’ he said. They should’ve slowed down. He should’ve taken time to absorb the moment, to enjoy that everything he had wanted for months, no years, was now coming true, but as she yanked his shorts from under him, her hand meeting his member as she swirled her tongue around his tip everything else was lost. As his eyes closed, his fingers running through her loose brown curls Addison continued to use her tongue against him. When they had first been together she had been a naïve schoolgirl. He had taught her everything and in those instances she had allowed him to lead, but not tonight. Tonight she wasn’t thinking about anything else other than what she wanted, what made her happy, even if that was how he groaned as she took him down to the back of her throat.

‘Ads,’ he panted, feeling his excitement speeding ahead with the way she worked him. He wanted everything she had to give and more but as he looked down and caught her eye he was snapped back to reality. He wanted everything but he wanted it with her. He didn’t want their first time back together to be some haphazard quick thing.

‘Addie,’ he said pushing her off him gently. She pulled back, moving to come and sit in his lap, her arms around his neck.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked breathily.

‘Is this what you want?’ he asked, his blue eyes meeting hers as he watched for any flicker of uncertainty. It didn’t come.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Promise?’ he asked. He didn’t know why he was pushing, as if he wanted her to tell him no.

‘I want this Elvis. I want you,’ she said placing her forehead against his. He nodded, kissing her gently before he felt the excitement she had already created start to take hold once more. He stood up, her legs wrapping around his waist as she shrieked making him chuckle. As he placed her down on the bed she started to unbutton her dress, watching as he discarded his shorts completely and returned to hover over her, his mouth returning to her neck.

For a moment it was a frantic rush, a dash to get them completely barren of anything that separated them but once they were both there, everything seemed to slow. Fingers danced along skin, kisses became more languid and passionate, and they seemed to meld into one.

‘You ready?’ Elvis asked from where he had moved to kneel between her legs. She was resting on her elbows, watching him with a smile before she nodded. Elvis didn’t need to be told twice, instead he eased himself in with a groan, moving back so he could kiss her as he started to move his hips. She felt like heaven around him, the content little sigh she offered as he buried himself in her neck music to his ears. His could feel his climax coming, threatening to spill over any moment as if he was some teenage boy who’d just gotten hold of his first playboy, but he made him pace himself. Instead of focusing on his own excitement he watched her, committing every moment to memory, the way he had the first time they had ever done this.

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, how her chest heaved against his, how she wrapped her legs around him forcing him to go deeper. He listened to her breaths, each now coming a little quicker and punctuated by moans as he did something to elicit them, immediately repeating his moves whenever they came.

‘Ads…honey I ain’t gon’ last much longer,’ he said with a groan as he felt that coil in his belly move to take over. Her eyes fluttered open at his voice, a smile on her lips.

‘I’m right behind you,’ she murmured, her fingers stroking his face gently giving him the go ahead. Elvis shifted, pulling back until they were no longer entangled and instead he was kneeling, her pulled onto his thighs as he moved in and out of her, his fingers playing with her clit as he did. Her head fell back with a moan, her own hands caressing her chest as she fluttered around him.

‘Fuck Addie,’ he grunted, any tenderness now thrown to the wayside for want and need.

‘Right there,’ she panted, ‘oh fuck.’

‘I’m gonna cum,’ Elvis said feeling himself start to spiral. Then she clenched around him and he was gone, spilling into her as she hit her own stride her walls locking onto him like a vice until he was completely empty. As he pulled out he flopped down beside her, immediately moving her onto her side so he could take in everything. Her eyes only opened as his hands found her waist and they fell quiet for a moment, Addison’s finger tracing the planes of his face as he watched her – his heart so full he thought it may burst.

‘Addie,’ he said after a moment but she shook her head silencing him.

‘Can we just do this for a minute?’ she asked hesitantly, ‘no autopsy, no dissecting, just…this, please?’

Elvis watched her. It didn’t escape his notice that she was employing the same tactics Lisa used whenever she wanted something. How her expectant gaze tugged on his heart strings. He could see she was hesitant, nervous even, that was why she was asking. But it didn’t worry him. That glow from before hadn’t gone and he could feel the love there, lingering between them. So if she needed him to take a minute, to allow her to breathe, he’d let her. He give her what she wanted.

✵✵✵

When Addison woke the following morning she was tucked into Elvis’ side, her hand on his chest, the steady thump of his heart underneath her fingertips. Yet it brought her no comfort, not when she knew she’d have to break it.

She’d allowed herself to lose focus, to give into what she wanted rather than what was best. When it came to her daughter she could make those decisions in an instant but he had this thing about him, this way of making her lose all senses. Senses that only came back into play when everything came back down to earth with a crash. She had spent the night watching him, analysing the planes of his face as though this would be the last time she’d ever see him. The way she had the day he had left for the draft. She supposed it was in a way. This was the last time he’d be with her like this, the last time their relationship would be truly okay before she wrecked it. And yet she couldn’t risk not doing. At least if she was the one to do the wrecking, if she got out before it all became a disaster she could minimise the damage. For all of them.

As he started to stir she realised she couldn’t lay there any longer. If he woke up and she was still in his arms it would give him hope, hope she’d have to spark out. So she slipped out of bed, throwing her discarded underwear on before she grabbed her dress off the floor. Yet as she started to button it he stirred, noticing he was lying in bed alone which forced him to open his eyes properly.

‘What’cha doing?’ he mumbled rubbing his eyes before he propped himself up on his elbow.

‘We slept in,’ Addison said continuing to button her dress though she refused to look at him, ‘the girls are probably wondering where we are.’

‘Daddy’s got ‘em,’ Elvis said though when she still didn’t look up he felt ice form in his veins. She was backing out.

‘Addie,’ he said moving towards her, wrapping the sheet around his waist as she picked her discarded shoes up off the floor.

‘I should check on them,’ she said though before she could get away he grabbed her by the waist, holding her still which finally forced her gaze to fall upon him. Her face was riddled with guilt, a quiver playing on her lips as he said, ‘Ads please don’t do this.’

‘Elvis,’ she said thickly.

‘Don’t, honey please don’t do this,’ he said, he was sure it sounded like begging but he couldn’t bring himself to think about pride at a time like this, ‘last night, last night you said you wanted me-’

‘I know,’ she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

‘So don’t do this,’ he said stroking her cheek, ‘please let’s just get back into bed and be what we want to be.’

‘I can’t,’ she said, her hand clasping around his wrist though she didn’t push him off unable to bring herself to get rid of the only comfort she had.

‘Why not?’ he said, ‘I thought we were finally-’

‘I thought so too,’ she said sadly, ‘but I just can’t.’

‘Addie,’ he said as she pulled his hand away and moved towards the door.

‘I’m sorry okay,’ she said, grabbing her purse off the floor, ‘I wish I could but I just can’t. Not again. I’m sorry.’

And then she was out the door barrelling down the stone walkway outside towards the patio area. She could hear him calling her name, unable to get out of the door to follow her quick enough given that he was still undressed. Tears were brimming in her eyes now, but she forced them back hoping she wouldn’t bring too much attention when she got to the courtyard. Fortunately there weren’t many people around and she found Jerry and Marci sitting at a table by themselves.

‘Hey, we were just wondering when you were coming down,’ Marci said though her smile disappeared as she noted her friend’s forlorn expression, ‘what’s going-’

‘Have you seen the girls?’ Addison asked cutting her off.

‘They’re on the beach with Vernon,’ Jerry said feeling just as worried as Marci was as he asked, ‘everything okay?’

‘Can you watch them? When they get back I mean,’ Addison said hurriedly, knowing it wouldn’t take long for Elvis to appear if he had chosen to chase her.

‘Sure, Addie what’s going on?’ Marci said reaching out to touch Addison’s arm but she moved it out of her reach, looking away as she felt those tears start to spill down her cheeks.

‘Just watch them please?’ Addison said and before either of her friends could protest she walked off heading in the opposite direction she had come. Marci watched her friend go. She knew she should probably chase after her, ask her what was going on, but she also knew her friend well enough to know that wasn’t going to help anything. Not yet.

Instead she flopped back in her chair with a sigh, finding Jerry’s eyes on her as he said, ‘what the hell was that about?’

‘I don’t know,’ Marci sighed, ‘but my guess is it isn’t good.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Jerry sighed the cogs turning in his mind for a moment before he said, ‘was she wearing last night’s clothes?’

✵✵✵

Addison didn’t come back that day. She didn’t even come back that night. The thought of facing Elvis, knowing he would watch her with that same heartbroken face he had looked at her with that morning was too much. Yet it didn’t hurt as much as losing him all together had. How knowing they’d been kept apart had torn at her, breaking her into fractions as she tried to jumble the pieces into something coherent enough to look after a child. It didn’t hurt the way being left on her own had, how much it would hurt if she were to lose him again.

As she lay bed, just on the other side of the hotel yet feeling a million miles away, she thought of everything.

She thought of Jess. She thought about how this might affect her. She knew she wouldn’t understand, not yet anyway, but she hoped that eventually she’d see that Addison was making the right decision. She hoped that she’d understand that this didn’t change anything. That no matter what happened between her and Elvis she’d always be her number one priority, like she had been from the moment she was born.

She thought of Elvis. She thought of how he had loved her both then and now. She thought of his touch, his lips murmuring loving whispers into her ear when he thought she was asleep. She thought of that boy who had fought for them and failed. She thought of that boy who had been torn away from her time and time again coming back a whole new man who had never failed to turn her life on its head.

And then she thought of herself. Well not herself as she was now but that scared seventeen-year-old. The one that had cradled her baby bump as she cried herself to sleep night after night wondering if the pain in her heart would eventually make it stop altogether. She thought of the exhausted twenty-year-old trying to comfort her inconsolable child enough to make her fall asleep when the only background music was the screams of girls on the set of the Frank Sinatra show, agog at the idea of Elvis Presley being back on US soil. She thought of the twenty-seven-year-old. The one who had to ignore the twinge in her chest as she listened to the old dears in Marci’s salon rave about the wedding of the century, Elvis and Priscilla.

She couldn’t protect any of them.

She couldn’t make any of them feel any better, heal the hurt in their hearts.

But she could do it for herself now.

She had to.

✵✵✵

To no one’s surprise when Addison awoke the following morning she found she was exhausted and she didn’t expect her day to get any better as she trudged across the resort back to where she should’ve been staying. As she walked through the beautiful scenery she couldn’t help but feel cheated, the sun shining down on everyone, yet a cloud of gloominess seemed to engulf her. When she reached their part of the resort she was relieved to find there was no one around, given the early hour she doubted that anyone would be up which was good because she didn’t feel up to seeing anyone else. The only person she needed to see was Elvis.

She stood outside his door trying to work up the nerve to knock on it. She didn’t know why it was this hard, it wasn’t going to hurt any less if she did it now or ten hours from now, but just as she moved her hand to knock it opened and a woman appeared, Elvis just a step behind her.

‘Oh, uh hi,’ the woman said smiling awkwardly at Addison who looked at her dumbfounded, yet the woman didn’t seem to give her much thought as she turned around looking back at Elvis as she said, ‘call me tonight?’

‘Yeah sure,’ Elvis said though his eyes didn’t leave Addison who was now looking away from the pair of them, a scowl on her face.

‘Well, bye then,’ the woman said before she glanced between them one last time and then headed off down towards the courtyard. Only when she was a way up the pathway did Addison look at him, irritation flaming behind her eyes.

‘You are unbelievable,’ she said, her jaw clenching as she felt anger surge through her forcing her feet to move as she headed towards her room. Whatever she wanted to say now was gone, replaced by anger and a sense of foolishness. Of course he had bedded someone else in her absence. She’d spent her life trying to get over him and yet he’d done it in a night.

‘Addison!’ he called, ‘Addie wait!’

‘For what?! Why you got someone else in there you want me to meet?’ she asked whipping around to find him a step behind her, regret plastered all over his face though it flashed to irritation at her words.

‘Hey you were the one who said no remember,’ he said quietly before he stomped off back to his room. He left the door open, anticipating she would follow him which she did slamming it closed behind her hard enough to make the wooden beams that kept the place together to sway in its wake.

‘So your immediate reaction is to jump into bed with someone else?’ she scoffed.

‘Believe it or not I wasn’t exactly feeling my best last night,’ he snapped making her run her tongue across her teeth, ‘what you don’t believe me? I mean it wouldn’t surprise me seeing as we don’t seem to know what each other’s feeling anymore. I mean I thought we were on the same page that night but then you just dump me like trash on the side of the road-’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ Addison objected.

‘Yeah, well that’s how it feels,’ he countered adding with a mirthless laugh, ‘I guess that’s just your MO.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Addison scoffed, immediately making regret flow through him. They were getting into dangerous territory and he knew it.

‘Nothing, just forget it,’ he said.

‘No go on, if you’ve got something to say, say it,’ she snapped, fury in her eyes as she awaited his answer. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew the words that were dancing on his tongue were bound to cut deep and yet he couldn’t stop himself. She had broken his heart and he wanted to hurt her just as bad.

‘Okay you want to know what I think?’ he asked as though her giving him permission would make it any more justified.

‘Hit me,’ she said sarcastically.

‘You’re selfish,’ he shrugged.

‘What?!’

‘You’re selfish. You pretend you’re not. You hide behind it pretending that you’re just thinking of other people but you’re not. You’re thinking of yourself. Doing what you want,’ he said honestly.

‘That’s not true,’ she protested.

‘Isn’t it?’ he laughed, ‘who were you thinking about when you stomped all over my heart yesterday? Not me. Who were you thinking of when you let me fall in love with you again? I mean did you have any intention of loving me back? Because when you said you loved me for some reason I thought you might be telling the truth-’

‘It’s not that simple!’ Addison shouted. Their voices were loud now, the hurt unable to keep either of them civilised as it poured out of them, fifteen years of anger pain and frustration rearing their ugly head.

‘Because of Jess?’ he asked.

‘Of course because of Jess!’ Addison screamed.

‘Really? Because I think she’s fine with it. I think she’s been fine with it all along. I think you’re using her because you’re worried about how it’ll hurt you. How if this thing collapses, which I don’t understand how you could believe that, how you’ll feel. Not Jess,’ Elvis spat.

‘Don’t I have that right?’ Addison said moving towards him, he was staring down at her, his jaw tight and his chest heaving from where they had been shouting but she pressed on anyway, ‘don’t I get to decide what’s best for me? After everything I’ve been through-’

‘And what about what I went through?’ Elvis retorted angrily.

‘Oh yeah I’m sure a pretty new wife and a cute little kid tore ya up real bad,’ Addison sneered.

‘How about not seeing my daughter for fifteen years? Where does that rate in the Addison pity scale,’ Elvis snapped. It was a low blow, he could tell from the way she inhaled sharply, the pain of the accusation hitting her square in the chest.

‘You said you understood,’ she said, quieter than she had been since this whole thing had kicked off.

‘I did.’

‘And what now I don’t want to get back together you’ve changed your mind? Now you can’t get me into bed I’m a bitch is that it?’ she said.

‘I’m just wondering when you’ll take off again. Hell maybe it’s a good thing I know about Jess. At least this time I’ll get a say in what’s best for her instead of you doing what you think is right like always,’ Elvis said bitterly.

‘How dare you!’ Addison screamed, ‘everything I have ever done is for Jess. She is my family Elvis. The only one who never left me.’

‘I left for us! To save us!’ he yelled at her, ‘hell I even got rid of the Colonel for you!’

‘I never asked you to do that,’ she replied.

‘No but I did it anyway! Because I love you Addison,’ he said his voice dropping in volume as his declaration of love spilled out, ‘but you can’t see past yourself to think about it.’

They were quiet for a moment, the tension in the air palpable as they watched one another. He had done enough, tore into her so much he was sure that any hope they had would be lost by now. He should’ve stopped. He should’ve kept the words inside himself and yet they were there once more threatening to come out as she watched him with pain splashed across her face. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to make her feel the pain he had been living with the moment he had noticed she was going to bolt. And so he went for the thing that would hurt her the most.

‘You know maybe it’s better this way,’ he said with a mirthless laugh, ‘maybe it’s better if we don’t play happy families. Maybe it’s better if we just stay apart, hell, maybe she should stay with me full time.’

‘She wouldn’t leave me,’ Addison said in a whisper, ‘you wouldn’t dare.’

‘Wouldn’t I? I mean you got her for fifteen years why shouldn’t I? You know something? Maybe she’d be better off. She’d sure as shit learn a few things.’

‘Oh yeah like what? How to buy everyone’s love? How to pout like a petulant child when something doesn’t go your way?’

‘Maybe she’d learn that doing what you want, what makes you happy isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe she’d learn that you don’t have to be a god damn martyr all the fuckin’ time and that being miserable doesn’t make you any better than anyone. Maybe she’d learn not to run away at the tiniest hint of a problem,’ Elvis ranted.

‘That’s not what this is,’ Addison snapped.

‘Isn’t it?’ Elvis scoffed, ‘you know maybe the Colonel was right. Maybe you are just like Mona.’

He heard it before he felt it. The ear-splitting thwack as her hand slapped him hard across the face pain flooding to it in an instant though he didn’t know how anything could hurt as much as his heart did at that moment. His cheek was hot to the touch as he rubbed where hers had connected with it and yet it didn’t sting as much as the way she was looking at him did. It was a look of betrayal.

He knew he shouldn’t have said it, how his words would cut deeper than he had intended and given the way she was moving towards the door in haste he realised he was right.

‘Addie,’ he sighed stepping forward to follow her though she raised a hand to stop him.

‘Don’t,’ she said trying to remain stern though it was betrayed by the way she was gnawing on her lip trying to keep herself from crying.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said hoping she’d realise he was being honest.

‘You know what?’ she said sadly, ‘if you want me to stick around maybe you should stop giving me reasons to run away.’

And then she was gone, leaving Elvis standing there wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

SERIES TAGS

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#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x ofc #elvis x ofc #elvis and addison #here you come again

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from-memphis-with-love · 25 days

Text

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 2

Summary: Memphis Mafia antics cause trouble on set and put Elvis' relationship with the film's director on thin ice. Amidst this chaos, he finds himself increasingly drawn to his co-star, Francesca, who challenges him to consider a more serious path in life. Their growing connection, marked by moments of vulnerability and the thrill of new affection, leads to a pivotal evening that could change Elvis's life forever. Will he embrace the possibility of true love, or will his old habits die hard?

You can go back and read chapter one here. Word count: 9,800 Warnings: Outdated gender dynamics; crude humor; sexual content; alcohol use.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“Hey, E.P. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

“Hands off yer snakey!”

Elvis knew those annoying hyucks and haws anywhere, especially beating down his door at the crack of dawn. He yanked on a black silk robe and tied it at the front.

“We know you’re in there, E! Come to the door!”

He could hear the alcohol and pills still imbibing their speech and doubted they’d even went to bed last night. Opening the door to his home proved that no, they in fact had not gone to bed last night. At least not their own.

Joe Esposito wore a frumpled paisley polo shirt that was half tucked into his black slacks. One shoe was missing and there was old vomit on the one poor mahogany loafer present. Jerry Schilling had sweat through his beige three-piece suit and struggled to keep upright on the pebble driveway leading to the patio.

Marty Lacker and Billy Smith were leaning against one another, using each other’s gravity to stand up. The saddest mountain in the valley. Red West, sober and only a pinch aggravated, a vein bulging from his sweating forehead, opened his arms up for a mighty hug and a few wallops on Elvis’ back. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before asking, “So why haven’t you answered any of our calls? You know I had to call fucking Parker to clue us in on where you went off to.”

“It hadn’t been that long,” Elvis insisted, glancing at his neglected answering machine.

“Longer!” Joe wailed, leaning all over Elvis and rubbing his pink forehead into Elvis’s silky sleeve. “Oooh, it feels so cool against my face. Say, where’s the bathroom around here again?” He gestured towards the pool right out back and Elvis guided his hand to straight down the hall.

“First room on the left.” Or was it right? He didn’t use the downstairs as much in this house. Those double glass doors leading to the pool veranda freaked him out at nighttime. He made a mental note to buy some curtains. Getting everyone some water and ginger ale to nurse on, Elvis kicked back in his recliner, still in his loungewear with almost a full house. He hadn’t been so casual since childhood, without even his slippers on, for God’s sake. But everyone drank deeply and munched on the little cheeses and crackers he’d set out just in case they needed to soak up some of the liquor sitting on their bellies. He could get wild around this group of men.

His reputation was something that he never really tended liberally. It was effortless to display whatever it was that made his fans flock to him. In all regards, he was just himself and it seemed to work to get him this far. His fridge was full, his bank fuller, houses in every state (that he liked to visit), top shelf dames for the picking. Why, just the other night he’d (almost) taken Francesca on a date. She insisted otherwise, but his cheek still sizzled with that little peck, he could smell her perfume when he shut his eyes. Hot spiced wine and caramel. He couldn’t get enough.

The image he needed to maintain for this production was demanding and he realized that some of the worry he carried, in making this work, in making a mark, in doing more than just producing a film—in crafting a classic; was not for himself alone. The heaviness was shared for her. Frannie. She’d been in films before, he’d even watched a few of them. Some strange indie films, an avant garde piece with a French director, with her voice distastefully voiced over. She had a few commercials, television and radio.

Francesca might not be selling out stadiums, but she certainly had a devoted following of fans. Some of them were mixed in with his, albeit intermittently and much quieter than his raucous crowd. Young ladies with long straight hair and plaid skirts, glasses and berets, tracksuits and pinstripes. Artsy types. Sophisticated types. And of course, young men by the droves.

She always waited patiently for them, one by one, talking with them. Graciously asking them how their families were. Sometimes she remembered specific fans’ names, told them about their gifts seated on her mantle or dangling from her rearview mirror. She always had time for them, always radiating humbleness. She was grateful for every interaction, every autograph, every bouquet and box of chocolates. Frannie was working class at heart, just like Elvis. They both had a gift that lifted them from poverty, and both of them never forgot their roots, feeling more comfortable around the “little people” rather than their contemporaries.

So it meant something to him. To inadvertently have a stronghold on the helm of her career. He’d blame himself for the rest of his life if he did something to steer her into a media storm. He watched her perform when she thought no one else was looking. He learned that when she was rehearsing, she had a whimsy about her. A playfulness in everything that she did. But she was also precise, always hitting her mark, yet subduing herself. She was saving her true magic for the camera film. Like an endurance sprinter, pacing herself. When she was alone, or under the impression she was, Frannie flourished. Like the night he first saw her on the television, an angel on stage. She commanded hearts with ease, turning heads, widening eyes, craning necks. He could watch her for hours.

“So, who’s the girl? You know we know there’s a girl,” Joe asked, pouring himself a drink while plopping down in the only dent Elvis had managed to carve in the slippery white leather wraparound couch.

“There’s always a girl!” Marty hiccupped, his eyes shut as he sunk down in the crook of the couch’s arm, his cheek mushed against the wooden panel. They weren’t wrong. Elvis was by all accounts a ladies’ man. Women were the gentler sex and he’d always adored them, lovely and flirty as they came. He liked what he liked.

The Memphis Mafia had always been his traveling pack, but just for this film that he wanted to distance himself if only a little bit. Just to take things, well, seriously. He knew the boys were his weakness. They could get him partying all night long, blowing his money at casinos, bars, races. He loved the fellas, but this was only temporary.

But looking at ‘em all, so sad and slumped on his couch, strewn about his living room, stumbling back from the bathroom, he wanted to hang loose, too. Relax. Unwind with the boys a little. They were all dying to see what it was like on set. But more importantly, they were dying to meet Francesca.

“I saw her on a billboard on the way here! That dark haired doll with those come hither eyes,” Red whistled, rubbing his hands in that scamp way. “Oooh wee. Nothing gets me going more.”

“She’s a lady on set, but I guarantee she’s a wild cat in the sack, isn’t she, Presley?” Joe snickered, nodding his way.

Elvis felt a momentary pang in his heart. Then, he felt a childish itch to fib, but he relayed the truth, “Frannie and I are just friends for now. But trust me, it ain’t for the lack of trying.”

The fellas nodded solemnly, sharing glances with one another. “Typical games. They want you to try, try, try until you almost can’t see the finish line anymore.” Billy chided.

“Nothing quite like the fire of a hard-to-getter,” Red chuckled dryly. “She’ll make you work for it. But I can tell you just from looking at her, it’ll be worth it.”

Elvis wanted to pivot the conversation away from Frannie. It felt off to talk about her like a conquest. While he wanted her willing and wanting, batting those lashes at him, swooning for him, it just wouldn’t be quite right. She just didn’t seem like the type to fawn and frill. She never had a moment of, “Wow! You’re really Elvis Presley!” She’d taken him as a man, as her equal. A coworker, a co-star. A foothold on the wall-climb of success.

Once his boys had a power nap, a greasy fast food breakfast, and a long ride to the studio with the top down, they were right as rain, springing out of the Cadillac one after another.

“Good morning, Mr. Presley,” a young crew member winked. It was the girl from a few days ago that’d tried getting his attention. Looking at her now, she was quite the pretty freckled thing. Wispy bleach blonde hair pulled back in a high, twisty ponytail. Her hair was thinner than Francesca’s. So blonde it was almost pink. She had on a lot of make-up, maybe. He was apparently not the best at pegging if a girl had any on or not, if she was subtle enough with it. But she had black clumps in her eyelashes. Pretty, still.

The fellas tipped their suggestive glances towards him, wiggling brows, laughing and slapping him on the shoulders. Out on the hot concrete, the huge garage style bay door was open. Apparently, the air conditioning had gone out over the weekend and everyone was going to have to just power through it. The breeze was nice and there were more crew members lingering outside, smoking and shooting the shit.

Cassandra had gotten her hair cut, the graying wisps framing her face as she glared at him from across the way. She watched them cautiously, critically. He knew instantly that he would be under scrutiny with his boys around, but what’d started as a seed of worry had died and in its place agitation bloomed. He never liked the idea of being anything but his authentic self. His boys were nothing but a little harmless fun, and they weren’t causing a disturbance. Yet…

On set, Elvis noticed someone he hadn’t before, not only because of the new face, but also because he was escorting a brilliant mare, blonde and spotted, who shook her head and whinnied softly. He kept to himself, in a torrid conversation with the director, luring her attention back to his face.

Francesca’s scenes weren’t being rehearsed until the afternoon, but she was always in attendance early. She was inside, dark hair tousled by the breeze, chatting with the make-up crew and Eddie, who was already back on set, albeit with a neck brace and bandages squeezing his fractured hand. He gave a thumbs up before wincing, making the guys laugh.

“Looks like you at that age,” Red jibbed, as Eddie was almost a head shorter than him, gangly and pale. The poor kid was made to be behind the camera. Which was too bad, considering he had a lot of charisma. He told Frannie and Elvis jokes between gracious thank yous when they drove him back to his place. Kid still lived with his parents. In a basement no less. Eddie’s well-loved station wagon was outside and Elvis pointed at it, half-heartedly saying, “If I had to have a family car, that’d be the one.”

“That’s the car that would make you a father?” Francesca had laughed, that flighty, birdsong sound that haunted his dreams. Literally. He dreamt of her, feverishly, night after night since their not-date at the carnival. At first, they were silly dreams, wherein he was pantless and asking for directions in his second grade classroom and Francesca was the teacher answering snidely, “Yes, you may use the restroom, Elvis.”

Saturday he’d seen her in his childhood home. She was a little girl with braided pigtails and a sunhat too big for her tiny head, letting diamonds of sunlight in. They played together until it was time for him to wake up. One of those dreams he couldn’t remember the devices of, just the impression, the feeling he’d been left with when blinking his eyes open.

But there was one dream, his fervid dream just last night, where Frannie let him in, let him take her on a real date, wining, dining, charming her. Making her fall in love with him. Dark arms reached from the backs of their dining chairs and before he could shout, he was plunged into pitch black. Flashes of sunlight and song, mirth. He awoke with her in his bed, her beautiful back facing him, the linens bunched at the dip of her elegant waist. He would dream of lifting that sheet, but instead he drew her into his arms, inhaled her lush scent, felt her soft tresses against his face. His eyes had shot open and without even looking down, he could feel the space between the blankets and his belly where his morning wood tented the sheets.

A cold shower had been imperative. And then his crew had arrived, worried that he was in a slump (or more likely needing a place nearby to crash while they slept off their inebriants). But those feelings returned in full force the nearer he drew towards her.

Sensing his approach, Frannie turned to him with a face so lovely it made his heart ache. He inhaled sharply, never as off kilter with his words than with her. She just did something to the part of his brain that told his mouth to say things.

“You look stunning, Frannie,” Elvis rubbed her arm and although she didn’t pull away, she wasn’t at all receptive to the touch, or returning the familiarity in any way.

It wasn’t until she leaned in with a worried look in her eye that she said, “There’s a reporter on set. I want everyone on their best behavior.” She hadn’t emphasized “everyone,” but she might as well have. He wanted to kick rocks or maybe go find a hole. Suddenly, thoughts that never plagued him before came rushing in, a worry that he could be the architect of his own undoing. He felt as if he was being eyed, damn near looked down upon. Like she waited for him to step out of line and make a mistake, sending her inevitably and gracefully swooping in to save his bumbling ass.

Over by the craft table, Joe gestured towards Frannie and whispered, “That’s her, that’s her right there, shining like the sun. Talking to Elvis.” The boys made a beeline towards her and introduced themselves one by one, everyone remarkably tame.

She was still on the balls of her feet, her heels lifted, her composure fracturing when she watched the collective headturn of all the Memphis Mafia, eyeing bleach blonde and buxom Debbie who rapidly approached. She was a background dancer, the waitress that one of the male side characters was supposed to fall for. The girl who had winked at him just earlier. It took him a minute before he recognized her.

Debbie cut a line towards them, ignoring Francesca’s presence obliviously, so close to Elvis that she reached out with frosted pink nails and fixed his starchy white collar. “There ya go. I know how you like lookin’ your best, Mr. Presley.” She was chewing gum, strands of her hair getting occasionally snared on her glossed lips. “You wanna go see a movie after this? I’m free.”

He blinked in surprise at her boldness, but swerved the invitation tactfully, even with the boys egging him on.

“She says she’s free, Elvis,” Billy snickered.

Elvis grinned. “I’m so tired of movies, maybe something like lunch another time.” He didn’t intend anything but cordialness, but he instantly saw a shift in Francesca’s features. Her brows pinched momentarily, her lips thinned. She took a minute step back, acknowledging the situation.

Debbie was over the moon, clapping her hands together girlishly with a squeal behind her teeth. She had a gummy smile. He knew he’d done something that he’d regret, even if he didn't necessarily feel guilty.

Francesca walked away without a word, her perfume following her. He didn’t know whether to try and talk or just let her go. But watching her walk away, his decision not to trail left him hollow for the remainder of the day. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her face in that moment.

“So, like I was saying. My favorite place ever to shop closed down last week and I’ve been so upset about it. Where else am I gonna find another consignment boutique around here? Gah!”

Elvis nodded. “You should try secondhand, there’s a lot of good—”

She cut him off with laughter. “No way! You shop at thrift stores, too?!” Her voice was up there, volume wise.

“Oh, sure! I grew up shopping secondhand. This old spot back home, Tupelo Treasure Trove—”

“Shut up! You’re from Tupelo? My mom is from Saltillo!” She slapped his chest, her hand lingering for just a little too long. “That’s crazy! I bet we crossed paths before at a grocery store or a park, or like, on the street maybe. How funny would that be?”

Red and the others snickered behind him, rescuing him from menial conversation with a well-meaning loud girl, a natural reflex they’d honed to perfection over the years.

“He’s gotta get to make-up, ma’am,” Jerry politely interjected, hauling Elvis back.

“Yeah, he looks like hell, look at that,” Marty ribbed, mussing up Elvis’s hair, leading him towards crew. He craned his neck to look for Frannie and although he spotted her, she never glanced up at him.

While he was getting his hair sprayed and his pores powdered in, he saw Colonel Parker off to the side. He appeared as surly as ever, arms crossed and face puckered as he watched all the young people on set scurry around, getting everything perfect.

He approached Elvis. “Still just doing rehearsals? Thought you’d be filming by now at least,” he said gruffly, lighting a cigarette inside, something that Cassandra had strictly forbidden, proclaiming that the smell made her gag.

“The director just wants to make sure that everything is perfect before we start filming.”

“That’s what retakes are for.”

It was always an argument with Parker about something, anything. He would find the little details to gripe about. Even while getting the lion’s cut of the share, he was still a begrudging miser. He coughed wetly, pointing at Elvis. “This hotel fee is going to fucking kill me.”

Elvis didn’t take the bait. He just went positively along, refusing to argue. “Prices are crazy. If you want, I can cover the cost of the hotel, too.”

“Oh, would you be so kind?” Parker stamped his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, flicking it into a trash can. “Look, there’s press on set.”

“Trust me, I know.” Although, he hadn’t seen anyone yet with a camera or a recorder. They must be trying to gather information without being noticed first.

“Just don’t lean in to any of those disparaging questions they’ll ask you about your other films and you’ll do fine like you always do. You're proud of your work and you’re excited to give a female director a chance.” He couldn’t finish that without chuckling at the end.

Elvis nodded along, knowing that if he misspoke about his previous work, he’d just be burning bridges in every direction. It was true, he was proud of his work even if it wasn’t his best. He’d put heart into all his roles, even if he’d been playing hard most of those blurry nights.

“You’re up, hun,” the director’s rotund, sweet-faced assistant pitched her head towards the main set, the floor of the casino. He had another solo to play, but the music wasn’t the focus so much as the conversation his character was supposed to be overhearing between the crooked casino owner and a dirty cop.

The boys were chatting up some pretty girls at the craft table, lining their pockets with ding dongs while they were at it. They waved to him, all thumbs ups, wolf whistles, and cheers for their main man.

Elvis took his spot at the piano bench, looking for Frannie again, settling his sinking heart before he focused on the ivories. The first tones were somber and the words he whispered were pitifully sad. He’d wanted Frannie to hear them. He selfishly wanted to see if she would be impressed with his playing or follow the lyrics with him. To see if she would still be avoiding him or not.

But she didn’t show, and his lines were rehearsed and his scenes acted and danced out without a hitch in his step and declined to answer a lot of questions from the weaselly reporter that approached him, sticking to jovial, safe, canned responses about everyone doing their best.

Francesca avoided him. Jackass. Him and his little friends. They were acting like a bunch of pigs. She didn’t want to get muddy. She wasn’t some groupie.

Taking a break outside and enjoying the shade, the fresh air and flowing breeze made for a cooler air than the stuffiness on set. She could hear shouting from inside and after listening intently, she could tell that it was Cassandra, pitching an absolute fit. Stepping closer to the door, she propped it open to get a peek. Earlier in the day, Cassandra had grown instantly agitated by the presence of Elvis’s so-called “Memphis Mafia.” The obnoxious group of men had no right to be there. Their carefree demeanors sullied the professionalism on set, and both she and Frannie knew that they would serve as a very unhealthy distraction to their second leading star.

And they encouraged Elvis to flirt with all the girls on set. Ugh.

Cassandra had been fuming, practically pulling at her hair all day. She wasn’t saying a word, not yet, while she watched the boys cutting up daily, shmoozing with the pretty young crew members as the press sniffed for blood in the water. It was just embarrassing. Him. His antics. His effect on the film.

But now, the good director was spearing her anger directly towards the group of men, yelling at them to, “Cut the shit! How else would liquor end up in the punch?”

“Look, lady, we understand why you’re so pissed off. But we had nothing to do with this. Less than nothing. I don’t even know nothing. That punch tasted like regular ol’ punch to me earlier, but let me try some now.” The one she was sure was named Joe was clapping back at her, but it only pissed her off more when he sampled a bit from the pouring ladle.

“Get out! All of you, off the set. Anyone who is not getting paid by me, leave my set.” Her voice lowered an octave and she shut her eyes, calming her nerves and letting the men gather their wits.

Elvis was shocked, his face one of disbelief, but all the guys just laughed.

Francesca watched him lean into Debbie, close enough to smell her cheap perfume, to see the glitter she sprinkled in her hair to try and catch some of the low light and make him notice her. They exited out the door and Frannie, well, she was content to practice her lines. She wouldn’t let him dirty her on-set decorum. Maintaining good composure, she just barely tilted her head to acknowledge him, her expression blank. He was turning out like every bad rumor she’d heard about him.

Hell, when Francesca told her sister Connie about landing the star role alongside Elvis, she’d gasped and warned her to cage herself around a man like that. They just liked playing around and dipping out when things got inconvenient for them. Say something wrong, do something obnoxious, not laugh at one of their jokes and that was all they needed to deflate the joyride and steer things off course.

But Frannie hadn’t set a course. She was just having fun and quite content to stop things at anytime. If they’d even started, that is. After all, she had told him that wasn’t a date. But they were supposed to go to dinner this weekend. Somewhere out of town, he wouldn’t tell her where.

She was done thinking about this, letting him live in her head. She cleared some well-needed space and when he was hot on her tail after his rehearsal, when he’d magically garnered a moment away from his rowdy pack of dogs, he was laughing, shouting back at them, “One sec, just one sec!”

“Don’t bother,” she thought but didn’t say. Decorum, Frannie. Work professionalism was key in climbing the rickety ladder of fame. One wrong step was all it took. An explosion on set, a scorned would-be lover, jilted and hysterical, unable to continue filming, production on hold until a replacement could be found and—she swallowed, clutching her throat, turning to face him with a placid smile.

“Elvis. Don’t you want to get back to your friends?” Her tone was level, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Well, hey. Hey, how are you feeling? You seemed a little distant on set today.”

“Distant? Distant, oh, I’m sorry, I’m not going for that with Josephine’s character.”

He waved that away. “No, no. I mean you. What’s wrong, did I do something? Say something?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and pull her closer. He already was with his eyes, raking them over her.

Usually she would never buck up, never cause a stir. She gracefully knew to take the pacifist route in this world very much dominated by men. But seeing him with Debbie genuinely rattled her. It was a strange, foreign feeling.

“Look, I’m not a girl who can just sit pretty on a shelf and wait for you to come and fancy playing with me again. Do you… understand what I’m saying?” She struggled to keep her tone calm. He had truly unnerved her. She’d liked him, dammit. Still really did. But she kept it to a whisper, knowing that a nosey reporter could be anywhere on set, lurking in the shadows to get the next scoop, maybe overhearing a conversation on set that he shouldn’t have.

Francesca was horrified at the thought of any bad press getting out about the movie before its theatrical release. She didn’t want to do anything to put this project in danger. It meant so much to her, definitely more than one night at the fair. But she’d gotten kinda dizzy on the swings after a whole funnel cake, and he’d wiped powdered sugar off the corner of her lips, absently licking it from his finger. Her heart had skipped a beat. Now, it’d just sunk into the pit of her stomach. Like a portent, black storm cloud on the horizon, a man approached her with a greasy smile to match his sickly green checkered shirt and ocher colored shorts. He had a badge around his neck, a thick pair of prescription glasses resting on his bulbous nose and a pair of extra shades propped on his balding white head. He didn’t have a camera crew in tow, but he did have a recorder in hand, and he was already fumbling with it before he made his way to her.

Francesca steeled herself, trying to read him as a hard hitter or a blow-over. Some papers wanted a fluff piece about the latest film to placate the average reader. But others wanted to dredge up the worst of the worst, all the drama, all the angst, all the little petty arguments taking place behind the scenes that didn’t matter even an ounce in the grand picture of filmmaking. She saw them as pests, wondering if there was a fly buzzing in front of her face.

“Francesca Ferrara,” he slanted, his recorder hissing in the background, rustling his voice like wind through leaves. “What’s it like working alongside Elvis Presley for your biggest film yet?”

Maybe he was oblivious to how duplicitous it was to pose a question about her much more famous co-star, especially as the very first thing out of his mouth. She just barely masked the twitch of her lips, keeping her smile on.

“It’s amazing! I cannot believe that I actually get to work with Mr. Presley. You would not believe how professional he is. I couldn’t ask for a better co-star.”

He looked satisfied with that answer, asking another. “And this is your first Hollywood debut, right? What would you say to any potential moviegoers who don’t know which ticket to splurge their hard earned dollar?”

“I’d have to say this one. I’m so thankful for the opportunity to star in a movie directed by Cassandra Morgan. She is amazing. So, to not give too much away, just know that there’s going to be a lot of runaway laughs, heart stopping romance and a rocking soundtrack that’s going to shake the house.”

“Excellent, sweetheart. Excellent. And you just look fantastic. Fantastic, darling. What’s your diet? All the ladies are crazy about that cabbage right now. But you’ve always said you have a hearty appetite. How do you do it?”

Frannie was taken aback, but not surprised that his line of questioning devolved into simple dribble. What do you like to eat, Francesca? Do you go for a morning run like Miss Natalie Wood? Are you seeing anybody, Miss Ferrara? Do you have a man in your life?

She cleared her head, smiling though the bullshit. “That’s my little secret. But you can bet that I was taught never to be late for dinner, and I don’t count on skipping any meals. I’m Italian, after all! You’ll have to tell me about that cabbage, though.” She laughed daintily, even though she hadn’t really said anything all that humorous. She just wanted this to be over, clean and short. But he just kept prodding.

“So, I’ll ask the obvious. You and Elvis are playing a couple and have quite a few romantic scenes. Does any of that chemistry translate off camera?” The silence was filled with that anticipatory hiss. The recorder hungry for a story. One she was hesitant to give in full.

She couldn’t deflect his insinuation too hastily, for it would look like she was trying to hide something. Instead, she rolled her shoulders and held her chin up when she said slyly, “Isn’t that every girl’s dream?”

Thankfully, the questions shifted to lighter things about co-stars and estimated release dates, which she couldn’t really comment on other than a hopeful guess for next fall. When he concluded their interview and went on his way, she felt eyes on her. Turning to glance over her shoulder, in the shadows of the casino set, Elvis’s creepy agent, Colonel Parker was watching. The same dickhead who tried to lowball her agent and get her to take a smaller cut and put her name second. Absolutely not. She did not like the man, and by the looks of it, he didn’t like her either. She could live with that just fine.

Elvis watched from the sideline, a cool towel around his neck. He apologized profusely to the boys and also on the boys’ behalf. He just couldn’t believe that any of them would do something like that. Hell, when he interrogated them about it outside, they all had clean pockets. No one had a flask. So whatever alcohol had been used, the bottle had been disposed of. He wanted to check the trash cans to see if he could find any evidence, but what use would that do? They were already banned from set, and now Elvis was on what some might consider thin ice. Luckily, Cassandra Morgan was forgiving, seeing the obvious confusion and worry on Elvis’s face when he tried to make sense of what happened.

Apparently, some of the crew members were enjoying an early lunch. The punch left out had tasted a little dry and the smell was off. Elvis wondered if maybe some fruit juice had simply fermented. None of the boys would do something like this. Sure, they were jokesters, but they would never involve unwitting victims in their pranks. Absently, he had to worry if someone was trying to sabotage him.

With the air conditioning out and summer setting in, it was already starting to get hot with so many people. Debbie was saying something but when Elvis leaned in to hear what she was saying from all the way down there, he spotted the new horse trainer talking to Frannie. She was laughing, letting him release her hand after giving it a kiss, her eyes glittering. She looked refreshed, happy. Saying, “Antonio, you’re too much.”

Antonio was helping her up on the golden mare, letting her get used to the feel of such a powerful animal under her reins. She looked pretty and comfortable, like she’d done this before. When she responded to something the dashing Spaniard said to her, her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, mesmerizing him, Antonio, and certainly any other man with eyes in attendance. Her outfit was smart, tight fitting in a black pants and silver heels, the stark color of her slacks making the hand helping her quite glaring. Even though Elvis couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, he could tell that Antonio was fishing.

His fists balled and released at his sides, but he kept it cool, watching as Antonio exited stage left and Frannie took her place just off camera. In this scene—a heavily stylized dream sequence—she was supposed to blaze down the steps of the casino and steal a loose carriage horse to make a quick getaway from armed men who are tailing her, guns blazing! A few sound guys were stand-ins for the henchmen and posted up with the fingers as pretend guns. One knelt for a quick long range shot and the other was in pursuit as soon as Cassandra called action.

Francesca pumped her arms, her heels clicking as she ran, picking up speed before attempting to make the jump up to the saddle. She made a good first attempt, skipping to a momentous slide and up—up! Well, not exactly all the way up. She could almost get her leg over the saddle, but would fall just a little short and of course, her valiant hero came to lend a hand.

Antonio smiled, clearly loving the image he’d built for himself as the charming, helpful casanova. His hands once again grabbed her lithe thighs when she ran towards him, like she might tumble into his arms. And up she went, given that extra boost needed to soar up and land gracefully on the saddle. The horse, Goldie, adjusted with a mild-mannered flick of her blonde tail as she boredly chuffed.

“There you go, you had it in you the whole time. Just don’t be scared. She will catch you, just trust her and trust yourself.” Antonio served, but she was only somewhat interested as she nodded at him, grinning in acknowledgement and towards Cassandra to continue on with another take.

This time everyone was in a quiet standstill as Frannie focused ahead on the sprint path and took off. Without falter, she draped her right leg over the saddle like lace, fitting her feet into the stirrups and grasping the reigns. Goldie’s mane fluttered and she looked tired of the action, ready to gallop free. But she was a good girl, enjoying pets from Frannie to her big broad neck and ears. Gentle creature, tamed by a beautiful woman.

Elvis watched on with a foreign pang in his heart, but there was pride in seeing how accomplished Frannie looked, mounted high like a queen on her throne.

“Good job, my girl! I knew you could do it. Just takes a little practice, like everything else.” Cassandra’s southern accent grew thicker when she was tired, and her words were practically a drawl in this heat at high noon. “Let’s pick this back up tomorrow, folks! Give poor Goldie a break—and a round of applause! For Goldie and her handsome handler.”

The ladies in attendance all looked at Antonio with saucy, behind-the-hand laughter and then turned to giggle amongst themselves. Except Debbie, who was still very much enthralled with Elvis’ presence, her hands clasped low and her breasts pushed high up, betting for his attention.

Frannie waved goodbye from up on Goldie, ironically doling out kisses just like royalty. Always in good humor and ready to make someone smile.

He went to approach her, to stride up the steps to see her. Debbie’s arm looped into his so fast it gave him whiplash.

“Whoa, whoa!” He kindly brushed her away, “Almost lost my footing there, thanks for the hand. I’m gonna go talk to our lovely friend there,” he trailed, hopping up the set steps with his hands in his pockets.

Frannie could sense him approaching even while she conversed with Antonio, saying something about, “The Costa del Sol sure must be lovely this time of year.” She laughed elegantly, the kind of laugh that you stopped your own laughter to listen to. But here she was, putting on a polite show. Elvis could tell instantly that Frannie didn’t like Antonio, she was just being cordial. But the same couldn’t be said for the Spaniard, who was leaning against Goldie with his tan, brawny arms crossed, letting his eyes greedily wander all along Frannie’s figure. He was whispering, his brown eyes darting up to see Elvis rapidly approaching.

Frannie turned on her heels, never displaced, never caught off-guard. She touched her well-manicured, red lacquered pointer finger at his chest, muttering tightly, “We were just having a conversation about classic bikes. You have an old sportster, don’t you?”

He could tell even with the craft of her words, that the deliverance was key and that he wasn’t being welcomed in. Antonio looked smug, smirking at Elvis from over Frannie’s shoulder.

Elvis didn’t avoid eye contact with the younger man. “A Sportster. A Bonneville. Superhawk. Got an Electra Glide on the way with some customizations, before they’re being sold to the public next year.” He didn’t like being steered on when and where to talk, especially if some chump was going to try coming in on his girl.

Frannie leveled him with a split-second, whip crack glare. Like she couldn’t believe he was actually trying to flaunt his wealth. Or was he just puffing up like a peacock in some misguided attempt to win some perceived fight with Antonio? Either way, it shouldn’t have stung Elvis as much as it did. He was often regretting the things he said moments after he said them.

Antonio glanced between them, sliding his hand out with owl eyes. “Hello, sir. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Antonio.”

“Antonio here is only supposed to be on set for a few weeks, so we have to make the most of our time with him while we can.” The insinuation in her voice wasn’t lost on him but Elvis didn’t want to believe it. Whatever chemistry they had couldn’t have soured so quickly. He then realized why Frannie had been acting terse with him since this morning.

Was he being an ass right now? He stopped just short of rubbing his hand tiredly down his face. She was jealous and flaunting herself to tease him. Him and all the other men on set who would chomp at the bit for her affection, pouring their intentions into every word, every lift onto a pony. She was stunning, even when she was ticked off.

Elvis suddenly felt alone. His boys were probably at home, having a good time playing his records and eating his food, while he was here pacing the dark hallway to the dressing rooms. He’d spent only a short amount of time thus far in there, seeing as he was already dressed to the nines when arriving on set for rehearsals daily. Filming would commence next week and he was more than ready.

He let his brain toss his thought-slurry up one more time and somehow, amidst the fight for logic and courage, courage won out and he marched towards Frannie’s door. Knock, knock, knocking before he’d actually come up with anything to say to her.

“One second!” He heard a loud bash like she hit her vanity. She coughed a little painful grunt and stumbled to the door. “Jesus. I’m coming.”

When she answered the door, her heels were off, and she had her right foot clenched in her hand.

“I stubbed my toe for this?” She rolled her eyes, not hiding her irritation with him now. He wasn’t used to members of the fairer sex disregarding him like this. If any other woman had done that, it would have made his blood boil. But with Frannie, it only made him want her more.

“Frannie, talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on? What did I do?” He wanted to make it right. Alleviate some of her pain. He didn’t like seeing her so upset—especially at him.

But she just glared back. “I already told you that I do not want to speak to you.”

“Well, you didn’t say that.”

“I guess it was implied. I would appreciate it if you got out of my dressing room, please.”

“I just want to talk to you, Frannie. Don’t be like this. Can we at least go out for a walk? Some fresh air, maybe? It’ll do you good, you’ll love it.”

“I’ll hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Get out,” she cut, shutting the door, but he caught it with his fingers.

He shouted out in pain and she instantly pulled back, worriedly looking over him, but he used that as an opportunity to slip inside and shut the door behind him.

“Not until you talk to me.”

“I told you to get out! Do not—” Francesca collected herself before she misspoke, her heart leaping into her throat. He was so close. “Do not cause a scene.”

“Look, we’re behind closed doors. I’m not gonna raise my voice or nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you, Frannie. We’re safe from the press. Just… talk to me. If you’re mad, let me know what I can do to make it up to you.”

Frannie was fuming. “Make it up to me? Making it up to me would encompass you apologizing me to start with and I don’t know, changing your entire personality perhaps? Because it seems you are incapable of going five minutes without ogling the next set of perky breasts.”

She knew she caught him completely off guard with her rashness, but she wanted him to feel struck, just like she had. Because for a moment, she entertained the idea, the fantasy that the rake Elvis Presley could be reined in, tamed by one woman. She couldn’t believe herself for believing in him for even a second.

“What are you talking about, Frannie? Oh come on, are you really upset about Debbie?” His tone was incredulous, like he couldn’t fathom fault in drooling over multiple women.

“You cannot be that dense, Elvis.” She scoffed, turning away from him to pour herself a drink. Just some water, to settle her roiling stomach. He was actually having a physical effect on her. More than one.

“I was just joking around with her. You heard me turn her down? Didn’t you?” Then he grinned. “Besides, you and I, did we ever go on a date, really? I didn’t think you even really liked me all that much, Frannie.”

Oh, he was so full of shit!

“I heard you tell her you’d go to lunch sometime.”

“I was just letting her down easy! Lunch isn’t very sexy, is it?”

“Then how would you like it if Antonio asked me to lunch. Huh? What if he asked me to go with him to Spain later this summer? And we ride horses on the glittering sands together?”

That made him falter. “Well, I... that’s completely different. Situationally.”

“How? Situationally.” Smart ass.

“Because you know that I like you.”

Now it was her turn to be caught with her mouth open, closing it without a word, mulling over her response. He was being vulnerable with her right now. Real.

He looked even more handsome in the low light of her dressing room. The red lamp shades made it look like he had hearts scattered in his blue eyes. He took a step towards her and she didn’t move away.

“Is that why you’re upset, Frannie?” He asked, his voice like velvet. “’Cause you like me, too?”

Of course she liked him. How could she not? He was a recipe for heartache wrapped in charm and velour. It would be too easy to fall for him, as easy as breathing. He was right in front of her now, looming above. The back of his hand brushed against the apple of her cheek. She inhaled sharply, her eyes searching his for the answer to the questions her heart asked.

Should I really be doing this?

He made the decision for her. When his lips crushed against hers, she cleaved to him, letting him melt against her. She could feel his relief when she didn’t retreat from him. He smiled, enveloping her face in his hands, petting her ears, exhaling indulgently, saying thank you with eager presses.

Elvis was pushing her back till her knees hit her settee. She stopped him, her hands on his chest. When he pulled away for air, blinking slowly while gazing down at her, his mouth parted. He almost panted with passion. She was helpless not to let him continue. He took her down, his large body pinning her to the cushions. She felt warmth pooling between her thighs. He was such a fucking good kisser, his hands busily caressing her, his tongue gently sweeping against her bottom lip, kindly asking for permission. She readily allowed him in, letting him lick against her in the same beat of his hips, which had begun to pitch forward against her own.

“Frannie…” He muttered into her neck, making her shudder and cling to him. What was he doing to her? Whipping her into a fervor pitch just with a kiss and a deft roll of his hips like this. He was parting her thighs, making her accept him between them. His trousers were silky against her skin, his mouth desperate against her neck and his hands exploring her body. Starting with the dip of her waist, he let his fingers trace her.

She arched into his touch, settling comfortably with him on top of her. It kept creeping up on her, the brevity, the quickness with which she was allowing this to happen. But she never pushed a man away because she was prudish or scared, only because she wanted to know that he meant to stay with her. That he was willing to get to know the real her. Yet something about them felt right. She couldn’t help but adventure headlong into this foray with him, learn these things about one another. About how sweet his mouth tasted, or how sturdy his hands were, gripping the small of her waist.

The vapors were rising and she could feel her body flush with heat. Her head began to spin, grounded by his weight. She touched him, cradling his face, pulling him into another kiss. Stirring his hips against her, she let out an unbecoming sound, one that he wanted her to make again and again with the way he continued that very movement.

“This side of you, how long was she waitin’ to come out?” He asked against her lips, stealing her breath with another smoldering kiss. Marking her with bruising passion. He was eating her up and she couldn’t get enough, even knowing that this was hurtling too fast, too far.

Maybe he felt her about to retreat, to douse the flames, so he quickened his pace, rocking his hips against her, lacing her hands with his and hoisting them above her head while he kissed her fluttering throat, leaving little love bites as he went.

She cleared her throat.

“You want me to be honest with you?” Francesca poised the question and he was hooked on hearing the answer. Gazing down at her, his hair falling out of place. “I do like you, Elvis.” She felt his hot hands slipping up her thighs, darting underneath the shadows of her dress. The fabric began to bunch at her waist and he was mesmerized, watching her face as he pet her.

“No sex,” she insisted breathlessly when he cupped her panties, palming the white cotton. Had she been anticipating this deep down? She wore the type of undies that turned him on most and delighted at the sight of his mouth parting.

“Anything you say, Frannie.”

His lack of fuss surprised and endeared her. What a good boy—a gentleman, even. Taking what he could get. Perhaps he really did like her. If only that were enough.

“This isn’t how I usually… conduct myself.”

“Well, I really love the way you’re conducting yourself right now.” He notched her dress up just a bit higher, catching the little bow at the top of her panties. It took his breath away.

“You should see how they match the top,” she alluded, rolling her shoulders and letting her dress fall. He eagerly assisted, tugging it down to show her lush breasts, attractively on display in a white cotton bra. It complimented her olive skin nicely. He touched her with open hands, gripping her impatiently. His thumbs pressed gingerly on either cup and he whirled in small circles, slowly stirring her, sending jolts down her spine with every spin. He was making her squirm, touching her so thoroughly. And he’d barely graced her bare skin. She worried if she could control herself if he did. She could be a voracious lover, taking a man for an endurance ride, and Elvis seemed all too ready for the task. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a real date now?”

She laughed throatily. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, big guy.”

He shivered, holding her tighter. “I like that. Keep calling me that.”

“Only if you keep behaving.” She retorted, with only a sliver of venom laced in. Still, he knew what he needed to say. To really get the panties to drop. And maybe get her to… like him more.

“You know. I’m sorry. About before, I am. I’m just—You…” Where to start? He breathed out, tousling her pretty hair. He didn’t need to make excuses; he knew she wasn’t the type of woman to wanna be fed any. But she waited attentively, patiently, for him to say the right words that would reel her heart in. Maybe she’d never be able to love a guy like him, but he could at least get her to kinda like him. “I’m sorta, y’know, stupid when it comes to women’s feelings. I know that I like the attention, it makes my big dumb ape brain happy when a girl tells me I’m her favorite artist, or I’m sooo handsome—”

“Oh, please.” Frannie snorted. Elvis giggled too.

“I’m going somewhere with this, I promise. I just want to say, I’ll quit listening to the part of me that says to entertain these girls and start listening to the really, really loud part, begging, pleading to listen to—” He leaned into her neck, still as stone, his hands poised on her ribs. She froze. “Frannie! Francesca!” He was tickling her, making her laugh involuntarily. She couldn’t even accuse him of playing unfairly; he was making her fight for every breath between bouts of laughter.

When he let her go and they were both catching their wind, looking longingly, almost warily at one another, she put her hand on his wrist, “Take me to dinner tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Hmm. I’m busy tonight,” she coyly replied, letting him place butterfly kisses along her exposed collar. He dipped a few to the pillow of her cleavage, nuzzling into her, brushing his cheek along them. Almost purring. She played with his hair.

“You ever ride a motorcycle?”

She chuckled and he looked up to see what he’d said that was so funny. Behind a daintily furled finger, she grinned. “I’m very acquainted with them, darling.”

His ears went red and his cheeks bloomed with color when she called him sweet names. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night!”

“Or, how about we ride separately, but together.” She could tell she was speaking his language when his eyes brightened. There was that wagging tail again.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at Sullivan’s.”

He couldn’t believe it. She was letting him in. He felt her skin. He tasted her tongue. He had her fingers squeezing his while he kissed her. When he palmed her down there, he’d felt how wet she’d gotten just from kissing. She was mesmerizing and constantly on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He dreamed about her again.

They were riding horses through the woods together, somewhere in Tennessee. It was snowy and there were perfect white flakes on her thick lashes. She looked like an angel atop a black mare. Next thing he knew, they were beside a roaring bonfire and he was taking her savagely in the dirt, her cries like music in his ears.

Again, he awoke thrusting his sheets, reaching out for her and grasping nothing. Dreams were weird and his always had been exceptionally so, but now they were also sex fueled. Francesca Ferrara fueled.

He brushed his teeth and thought of Frannie. What was she having for breakfast right now? He got dressed and wondered what she would be wearing. He stepped out into the living room, tumbling into the game room to play some billiards with his boys and pass the time until he could see her again.

Filming started Monday and Cassandra wanted everyone at their best, well rested. They stopped by a local burger joint. Joe griped about the director for the third time that day.

“I’m just saying. That lady had some nerve. Talking over me like that. Wouldn’t even let me explain. I don’t drink that stuff. You know what was in that punch?” He stabbed a steak fry into ketchup. “I’ll tell you. That was Malort.”

All of them gagged in response.

“Malort. Cheap garbage. It's a better drain cleaner than it is as a liquor. I don’t buy that shit. Don’t know anybody who does. Maybe poor guys on welfare.” Joe shuddered. “That’s some immature high school level shit, pouring it into an open drink like that though. I’d never do that. We’d never do that.”

Elvis held up his hands. They knew he believed them. “She’s just terrified of anything going wrong, is all. It’s her first big budget film and she’s critical of everything.” Especially me.

“She’s giving you a hard time cause you’re a man,” Marty quipped around a mouth full of burger, the others nodding in agreement.

“Damn, this is good,” Red gruffed, hardly saying a thing while he inhaled his plate, sucking his fingertips after every bite.

“I’ll talk to her about letting you guys back on set,” Elvis promised, knowing that he could grease the wheels with Cassandra a little bit. Tell her he’d let her family have free merchandise or something. Even a meeting with him and all that jazz.

“Ehh, don’t even worry about it, champ. We’ll just be distracting you, keeping you from uh—making it with that Ferrara girlie.” Lamar Fike’s double chin jiggled as he laughed.

Elvis grinned. “Don’t talk about my Frannie.”

“Oh, his Frannie, he says!” Marty chimed in, banging the tabletop, turning heads in their direction.

“I’m just trying something a little different. A little more…”

“Serious?” Red finished, the others waiting on his answer like a bunch of sad sacks. Like Elvis was going to marry and settle down with two and a half kids, white picket fence, labrador and station wagon.

Elvis shrugged, picking at the fries on his plate, anticipating dinner tonight. He had made the reservations and the breathless host had told him they could have a whole section to themselves, but he asked instead to just be seated far from the door, maybe outside on the balcony. He didn’t want a bunch of people coming up to them, star struck. He’d just wanted a private evening alone with her.

“Yeah. Just a bit more serious this time. Frannie is a really nice girl.”

“Don’t go falling in love.” Red warned.

“Don’t go breaking that nice girl’s heart, you old dog!” Lamar added, clearing his plate.

It was the last intention on his mind. In fact, it was paradoxically the one thing keeping him the tightest bound from diving into things with her. He wanted to take her on a trip to Europe, he wanted to take her to Bloomingdale’s and let her pick out anything her heart desired. Buy her a puppy, buy her a fur coat, buy her a matching pink Cadillac, buy her a house across from his so that he could see her at his leisure.

But above all, he didn’t want to hurt her. And inevitably, he always hurt the women he got involved with. He already gutted her with just a little harmless flirting. It worried him that his wandering eye would get the best of him and she wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to continue forgiving him, accepting him back into her life. He couldn’t do that to her. She said so herself, that she didn’t want to just be part of his failures, his shortcomings, his bad films, his broken relationships and used women.

Francesca wanted something he would have to dig deep to give. His truest self wasn’t the type of man that she deserved. He had a lot of thinking to do while he picked out which outfit looked best. “Navy or white?” He asked the guys, holding up two ties, the poll for white winning out.

He wore a sporty black three piece, his red under shirt conveying his bleeding, beating heart. His gold cufflinks clinked against his helmet as he placed it on his head, careful not to mess up his hair. Tugging on his jacket, he headed out the door. Sunset painted the mountainous horizon in swatches of orange and violet. The blue sky fading beneath dotted with starlight, guiding him towards the city as his bike ate up smooth black asphalt. He knew to meet her at her apartment so that they could ride together—but separate—as she’d put it.

Elvis caught Francesca again, looking out the open window. And he wondered how long she had been waiting there for him, in a flowing red dress and black leather boots. Riding boots. She looked like a mermaid, wind racing lovingly against her figure, whipping her hair wildly about her face. A vision of loveliness. Maybe this was what it meant to truly take a heart’s gamble and roll the dice.

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