Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 5 - Hallo, ich heiße Elvis Presley!

When Elvis was told he would be sent to Germany to carry out the remains of his army stint, he insisted I go with him. Anita was furious with the decision, demanding to know why she wasn’t allowed to go when she was his girlfriend. Elvis’ charms won her over in the end; “Baby, she’s my official photographer. She has to be there to take photographs of me; it’s for the fans, honey. You understand?” He batted his eyelashes and gave her a kiss and suddenly, she no longer cared that I was going and she wasn’t. The next problem to tackle was my parents. In my mind, they weren’t a problem; I was a 23 year old woman with a mind of my own. But Elvis, ever the gentleman, wanted to handle it delicately. He visited my parents and asked their permission; they told him flat out no. Elvis shrugged and said, “Annie was right; I shouldn’t have bothered asking.” I appeared in the doorway, a suitcase in each hand. “See you in 2 years! I’ll write and send photos!” Before they could stop us, we rushed out to the car. “Annabel, have you thought this through? What will the press say? What will our neighbours say?” My mother pleaded. “Mom, if they asked, you know what you gotta say?” I asked her, smiling sweetly up at her. “No, what?” She asked. “It’s none of your fucking business.” We sped off, leaving my mother cursing my name on the roadside.

Elvis joined the 3rd Armoured Division in Friedberg, Germany, on October 1. Although his superiors weren’t all that happy that I’d been brought along, they knew it ensured the cooperation of Elvis and everyone else he’d brought with him. I enjoyed my time in Germany; I made a lot of new friends, got to take plenty of photos and even started dated one of the other American troops. Oscar Wells was a handsome 24 year old officer, originally from New York City. I adored him and he got along great with Elvis. The relationship didn’t last, but we stayed friends long after I left Germany with Elvis in 1960. It was here in Germany, that Elvis met Priscilla Beaulieu. Priscilla was a beautiful 14 year old school girl, who had just moved to Germany with her family. Her step-father was also in the army, a few ranks above Elvis. The first night we met her, I knew she was something else. I noticed her before Elvis did. Everyone had always said that he lit up a room when he entered it; I’d never known anyone else to have that same effect until I met Priscilla. I walked over to him, leaving Oscar to chat with some of our friends. Crouching down, but never taking my eyes of the lovely young girl, I whispered to Elvis “I think that’s the girl you were told about.” Elvis followed my gaze and I noticed his body tense. For the rest of the night, I watched as Elvis fell in love with a school girl.

Elvis and Priscilla’s early courtship wasn’t always an easy one. There was the constant fear that people would find out and expose them. Elvis didn’t want his career to end like Jerry Lee Lewis’ had. Elvis had always strove to please the people he loved; all his girlfriends had to be approved by his mother, then his father. Now that Gladys was no longer with us, Elvis decided that I would be a judge in her place. He insisted that I spend time with her. The poor girl got so distracted by her new love that she seemed to be falling behind in school. I’d graduated Humes High with honours, so naturally Elvis came up with bright idea of me becoming her tutor. I was sat in the kitchen at the house I shared with Elvis, Vernon and Minnie Mae Presley (also known as Dodger), Elvis’ grandmother, when Elvis and Priscilla approached me. “Annie, can I ask a favour of ya?” Elvis said, sitting down at the table with Priscilla. I knew that tone of voice and waggled my finger at him. “Elvis Aaron Presley, don’t you dare think for one minute that turning on that Southern charm of yours is gonna win me over like you win everyone else over. This is me, we’re talking about here.” Elvis chuckled. “I just want a favour.” He said, the charm in his tone fading. “What?” I asked, eyeing Priscilla. “Well, Cilla here is failing a few of subjects at school. And I was telling her what a genius you were in school. So I was thinkin’...” I didn’t need him to finish his sentence. I held my hand up. “Get my coat and my car keys. I’ll drive her home and discuss my terms with her parents.” Elvis kissed my cheek excitedly and rushed out of the room. I noticed Priscilla’s glare, despite her trying to hide it. “Don’t look at me like that, missy. I’m doing you a favour.” I told her, following Elvis out of the room.

The next few months saw any sort of relationship I had with Priscilla becoming more and more impossible. It wasn’t until Christmas of 1959, 3 months before Elvis was due to leave, that we had a breakthrough. Although she was doing a little bit better at school, Priscilla still seemed to dislike me. It was during a maths study session that she got so frustrated that she started to scream at me. She told me exactly what she thought of me, revealing that the poor girl had convinced herself that I was after Elvis and I was trying to steal him away from her. After she ranted at me for just over 20 minutes, I burst into a fit of laughter. “Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” She yelled. “Yeah it is! Kid, if you think I’m after your man, you’re dead wrong. I’ve known Elvis since we were both 14 years old. I’ve seen him in every mood imaginably; I’ve helped nurse him when he was sick; I went to all of his early shows and got dirty looks off all girls when I left with him; hell, I’ve heard the boy fart so many times, I’ve damn well lost count. Why in the hell would I want to touch him in the way you clearly do when I’ve gone through all that? If I wanted him, don’t you think I’d have had him by now?” Her sweet young face looked up at me and she said “So... you haven’t?” Although outraged at the fact she thought that at some point I’d had my way with Elvis and then discarded him like he was yesterday’s news, I smiled calmly at her. “No, I haven’t. Why the hell would you think that?” Priscilla looked away, clearly embarrassed. “You’re just so... womanly. How can I compete with someone who looks like you?” I gave her hug, which she surprisingly responded to, winding her arms around my waist. I stroked her hair in the way my grandmother had stroked mine. “You’re beautiful, Priscilla. I’m not just saying that; you really are. I can’t believe you don’t see the way men look at you. And the envious look girls have in their eyes when you walk by. You’re gorgeous, Cilla. And I’m sure that extends to your personality as well.” Priscilla looked up at me, smiling. “You called me Cilla.” She said. “Is that okay?” I asked. She nodded. “Well, since that’s okay, you don’t have to call me Annabel anymore. It’s Annie from now on.”