Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 6 - The King Has Returned

The day we left Germany was an emotional one, to say the least. I was devastated that I was going home to my parents, with whom I’d barely spoken for two years. Elvis was excited to get back to his home grown fans, but he dreaded leaving Priscilla. But I knew he had no reason to worry the way he did. Priscilla was devoted to him. Sure, she was a beautiful young girl, and I saw the way boys looked at her when we would spend time together. But she didn’t see them or their gazes. Her mind was constantly on Elvis.

I’d gone ahead to the airport on the day we were due to fly home. I sat on the plane, watching out of the window for sight of Elvis’ car. The fans had swarmed me as I’d emerged out of my own car just minutes before. They’d seen me about, and demanded to know who I was. I caught sight of the car and the fans that engulfed it. I saw Elvis and Priscilla getting out of the car, and how Red and some of Elvis’ other friends tried to protect them. I saw Elvis whisper something to Priscilla, give her a kiss on the cheek and walk over to the plane. He walked up the steps, nodding to the air hostesses. Turning back to the crowd, he looked for Priscilla. I think he must have found her, because he smiled and waved. A few minutes later, he came to sit with me, his face sombre. “You’ll see her again, you know. She won’t let you get away that easily.” I assured him. He laughed weakly. “But when? When will I see her again?” I shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

We spent some time once back in the states on a train, travelling from New Jersey to Tennessee. It was mobbed the whole way, the experience both terrifying and exhilarating. I snapped photos at various points throughout the journey; photos of the fans, of train staff, and of Elvis himself. As he always did, he attempted to take a photograph of me, but I refused. “Annie, why won’t you get your photo taken? I bet you’re real photogenic, with those gorgeous green eyes and that red hair...” He reached out and played with my hair. His touch was like electricity. I felt that spark you only read about in romantic novels or see in the movies. I wasn’t sure if he felt it too. But he looked at me, those big blue eyes staring into my soul. “You could be a model.” He said suddenly, turning away and trying to move on. I chuckled, snapping his photo again. “No, I couldn’t. You’re the one who goes in front of the camera; I stay behind it.” He took my camera from me and set it down. “C’mon. No fighting. Let’s get some rest.” He put his arm around me and pulled me close. “We’re meeting Frank Sinatra tomorrow.”

Frank Sinatra is probably the most charismatic man I’ve ever met, besides Elvis and maybe Sammy Davis Jr. He could charm you until you hung on his every word, which I did anyway. I’d grown up listening to Frank; my mother adored him and he was the only thing we had in common. She was furious when she found out I’d met him and didn’t speak to me for 3 days. It was bliss. We arrived at the studio where Frank’s show was filmed, and where the Welcome Home, Elvis special would take place. We’d received specific instructions that all the men travelling with us had to wear tuxedos. “We’re Southern boys; we don’t got tuxedos.” Red had protested. The Colonel had simply rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. “Where’re you going, Colonel?” Sonny yelled. “I’m going to get you your damn suits!” The Colonel yelled back. Elvis just laughed, and I chuckled along with him.

The tuxedos came two days later and were all neatly packed into a suitcase, ready for the show. I’d be entrusted with Elvis’ suit by the Colonel. “Guard it with your life, girl. Or Sinatra will have you head.” Laughter filled the room and Frank Sinatra entered the room, with Elvis by his side. “It’s quite a pretty head. I may take it just so I can call it my own.” Frank said, walking past the Colonel and up to me. “You must be Annabel. I’m Frank.” He took my hand and kissed it. I giggled like a love struck school girl, but then I remembered he was engaged. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Sinatra. I’m a big fan.” “You look like a very well proportioned size fan to me. In fact, you don’t look like a fan at all; you look like a gorgeous young lady. If only I was 20 years younger...” I felt my cheeks becoming warmer, turning a deep shade of scarlet. “Unfortunately, you’re a companion of one Mr Elvis Presley, so I won’t try to steal you away. I’m already taken anyway.” Elvis’ beamed with delight; like he was proud, like he’d won some sort of battle. As we walked to the soundstage, Frank to my left and Elvis to my right, Frank whispered. “And please, Annabel: call me Frank.” “Only if you call me Annie.” I whispered back.

I watched, mesmerised, as Elvis rehearsed his numbers. Frank was so welcoming to him, despite having said previously that Elvis and rock ‘n’ roll was a pile of trash, or words to that effect. I was stood in the wings when Nancy Sinatra approached me. We’d met briefly when she met Elvis at the airport when he returned from Germany, but we didn’t have time to get acquainted. There was a frenzy in the media when the press found out that Frank Sinatra’s daughter was meeting the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll at the airport, and Elvis was nervous that I’d get hurt in the shuffle. So they stayed to have their photographs taken while I was driven to the train station. “Hello.” Nancy said, quietly. “Hi.” I whispered back. We’d been told to be quiet, so that Elvis and Frank could work properly on their number together. “Aren’t they wonderful?” Nancy whispered, looking over adoringly at her father and Elvis. I nodded in agreement. “They’re something else, that’s for sure.” I replied. We stood watching them for a few more minutes; they went over the number a further 5 times before Nancy spoke again. “Hey... You want to come back to my dressing room? It’s a bit more relaxed in there, and we can talk.” I smiled. “Sure; why not?” Although I knew Elvis would ask where I’d wandered off to, there was only so much rehearsal I could stand to watch. I’d taken all the photos I wanted, and now I was beginning to grow bored. Plus, I liked Nancy. I wanted to be friends with her. Sure, she had a crush on Elvis. That was obvious. But he was still caught up in the dilemma that was Priscilla and Anita. Although he’d had this fantastic, though not fully sexual, love affair with Priscilla in Germany, the facts stood: he and Anita were still together. There was no way that he would get involved with Nancy, especially considering who her father was. So this left me free to become friends with Nancy. We’re still friends to this day.

Nancy’s dressing room was what you’d expect it to be; luxurious, glamorous and perfect for the daughter of the King of Swing. She sat down at her dressing table, frowning at her reflection in the large mirror. “I’m having an awful hair day. I hate the colour and the style, but Daddy won’t let me do anything about it.” She turned to me, tilting her head to the side. “Is that your natural hair colour?” She asked, eyeing at my auburn hair. I fiddled with a few strands nervously. “It’s a little oranger than this naturally. I dyed it when I was 16.” Nancy gasped. “I bet your parents were furious!” I chuckled at her childlike nature. “Yeah, they were pretty mad. They practically summonded a storm with the amount of yelling they did. So I spent 3 days at Elvis’ house. By then they’d cooled down and got over the colour change. They realised it's not much different from my natural shade, so they gave in.” Nancy looked at me admiringly, her big brown eyes wide. “I’ve always wanted a friend like you.” She confessed, her tone sad. I smiled, reaching over to take her hand. “I just wanted a girlfriend who didn’t only like me for Elvis.” I told her. We sat there for the next 2 hours, chatting and becoming great friends. Elvis asked me during dinner that night where I’d wandered off too. “Oh... I was getting to know Nancy. She’s real nice, E. I can see why you like her.” Elvis smiled. “Yeah, she’s a good kid.” He smiled to himself. I took his hand in mine. “Please don’t try anything with her. She is a good kid; a good, sweet little girl who doesn’t deserve to be played with. You’ve got a little girl waiting to hear from you in Germany, remember? What are you gonna do about her?” Elvis looked up at me, guilt in his eyes. “I don’t know yet, Annie. I just don’t know.”