Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 7 - Welcome to Hollywood, Priscilla!

Not long after we came back to the States, Elvis was due to start filming his first movie since 1958’s King Creole. G.I. Blues was a step down from the previous four movies he’d done prior to being drafted, but the Colonel felt it best to give Elvis something light-hearted to start off with. The movie, ironically, was about an American G.I. named Tulsa McLean, who was preparing to leave the army. He had plans to save up enough money to open a nightclub, along with his two friends, back in the States. He makes a bet with a fellow G.I. that he can woo a local showgirl, who has a cold shoulder when it comes to G.I.s like Tulsa. Elvis liked it, as a starting point, but was determined not to get stuck in ‘second rate, musical, romantic comedies’ for the rest of his movie career. If only we’d known then what we know now...

It was around the time Elvis was filming Girls, Girls, Girls! in 1962, that there was talk of a visit from Priscilla. None of us had seen her in over 2 years, and many of us were overjoyed at the idea of her visiting. Elvis, though happy when he told me the rumours were true, seemed worried. “What if she’s not the same, Annie? What if she went off and had boyfriends and got... you know... physical with them?” I laughed at him for a good 20 minutes. “Are you done yet?” He asked me, annoyed at my lack of sympathy. “Elvis, you nut; of course she’ll be different! She was only just 15 the last time we say her! She’s almost 17 now! She’s very nearly a woman. So if she got you excited before...” I smirked as Elvis began to blush, covering his dignity with his hands. “Good to know you still like the kid.” I commented, nodding to his excitement. “I more than like the kid, Ann. You know I do. But...” “But you’re such a man that you see a pair of boobs and off you go.” I finished for him, lighting a cigarette. I sighed. “If you like the kid so much, why are you still running around with all these other girls?” By this point, Elvis had become accustomed to a certain lifestyle: he got all the girls he wanted, sometimes 2 or 3 at a time; we went to Vegas whenever he wasn’t filming or recording; and he’d also developed a slight addiction to certain pills, a habit that drove me mad. “Do you really think the kid is gonna be able to keep up with you?” I asked him. “With us, you mean?” He corrected me. It was true, I joined in on all the fun; I even popped the odd pill. But my reasoning was that I was too competitive and I wouldn’t be outdone by Elvis or any of his boys. I even slept around as much as they did, just to prove a point. The only difference was I didn’t have someone to go home to every night like most of them did. “Alright; us. Elvis, stop diverting away from the question. Face facts: she can’t keep up and she’ll get hurt. So either you change or she does.” I still regret saying that to him, even now, decades later.

Priscilla arrived a few weeks later. It was a hot, sunny day in L.A. when she came to us. I was sat in the back yard sunbathing, away from the boys prying eyes, when she came out to see me. She’d been there for 3 hours already and only just been allowed to leave Elvis’ side. I was shocked to see how she’d grown and matured since I’d last seen her. Gone was the round face of childish innocence and the little dresses only little girls would wear. She stood before me, her long brown hair worn up and her face was now hid behind more makeup than I remembered her wearing. She wore a navy dress that probably belonged to her mother and little kitten heels - they looked so new, I thought she probably purchased right before leaving Germany. She didn’t look like a 17 year old should; she looked like she was trying to be older. “My god, you’ve grown. Give me a hug.” Securing my bikini top, I stood to embrace her. She smelled of a woman’s perfume; a fragrance that was probably not her own. We chatted for an hour or so, enjoying the sunset. “What’re you wearing?” I asked her at last, as we made our way back to the house. “My mother’s dress; I thought it would make me look a bit more... mature.” She confessed. “I see...” I muttered. Taking a drag of my cigarette, I noticed her watching me, looking me up and down. “What’re you staring at?” I asked, wrapping my long gown around me. “Oh! Erm nothing. It's just... you’re gorgeous! I mean, I always thought that but you#re not just a pretty face. I’d kill for your figure!” I chuckled, stubbing out my cigarette on a wall nearby. “Thank you, sweetie. But there are a lot of men in there, Elvis included. I don’t want to be looked upon as a thing. I’m their friend and a human being and I expect to be treated like one. Plus, Elvis has never seen me in a bathing suit. You’re here now, so he doesn’t need to.” But, as we walked back inside, the wolf whistles began anyway. Elvis stood alone, just away from the boys as they yelled their ‘compliments’ at me. “Why don’t you guys take a hike?” I yelled back. Someone grabbed my ass as I passed; I turned round and punched him hard in the face. “Do that to me again, and I’ll break your fucking neck.” I told the bloody mess of a man, now lying on the floor. The room should have gone silent, but this had happened before. Elvis was always bringing in new boys to join what had now become known to the press as the Memphis Mafia. The new guys weren’t warned about my temper, which could be just as bad as Elvis’. Elvis knew I could handle myself, so had stopped interfering. But he always had words with the disrespectful newbies who decided I was merely a piece of meat. I apologised to Priscilla and excused myself from the room.

I was sat on my bed, wrapped in a towel, my hair soaking wet, when Elvis came to see me. “Come in, E.” I called. I was too mad to care that I was in even less clothing now than I had been before. Elvis came in, startled to find me so underdressed. “I can come back later.” He mumbled, starting to back out of the room. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s only me. Come in.” He closed the door and remained there. If nerves made a sound, Elvis’ would have been screaming. “Elvis, it’s me. Surely you can control your libido when it comes to your best friend?” He chuckled nervously. “I’m just remembering the first time you wore a dress in front of me – without the baggy jumper on top – and how stunned I was.” I stood up and invited him to sit down. “Is that the line you use with all the girls?” I asked, grabbing my silk pyjamas. Pulling the bottoms on under my towel, I turned my back to him. “Close your eyes; your manhood might burst.” I glanced over my shoulder at him; his eyes were wide with curiosity. I shrugged and dropped the towel. “I did warn you...” I said, putting my top on. I caught sight of his face in a mirror; what a picture it was. Turning back to him, with all the buttons done up, I laughed. “And that’s the only striptease you’re ever getting off me.” I said, sitting down on the bed beside him. He shook his head, smiling. “You’re so cruel.” He whispered, looking up at me. “Don’t be cruel, to a heart that true...”I sang to him. He rolled his eyes and tackled me. I laughed as he tickled me. “Give up?!” He yelled. “Yes! Oh my god, yes!” I yelled back, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Good.” He whispered. He pulled me closer, my back to him. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed the back of my neck tenderly. “I’m sorry about before. They haven’t done that in a while, and it wasn’t even a new guy. It’s just ‘cause...” “Yeah, yeah. It’s my fault for being a woman.” I interrupted him. Looking over my shoulder at him as best I could, I said, “This is nice, just you and me. Don’t ruin it.” Elvis nodded and sat up. “I’ll go get undressed and you can sleep in my room tonight, okay?” He said, standing up. I nodded. “Sure, okay. I’ll dry my hair and then I’ll be through. Don’t take any sleeping pills before I come through!” By the time I got there, he was in a coma like sleep. I sighed, taking two pills myself. No sooner had I snuggled into him, was I in the same coma like state too.

Just after Priscilla moved into Graceland, I decided it was time that I moved out. I’d basically been living there since 1957, and I felt it was time for a place of my own. I’d recently started dating a handsome musician, a Memphis native, and I wanted to have my own place where I could spend time with him in peace. Elvis was sceptical – maybe even hurt - and confused as to why anyone would want to move out of such a magnificent place. “I just want privacy, E.” “You have privacy, Annie! You have half the second floor to yourself! Even Daddy doesn’t live here! He only has that little house down the way.” “Yeah, but I bet he can have sex without you hearing him! I’d like the same luxury!” I knew it was hard for him, accepting that I had a life outside of him, but I wasn’t his property. I wasn’t his girlfriend, his fiancé, his wife – I didn’t have such a title to tie me to him. I was simply his best friend and, when it suited, his official photographer. Eventually, we came to an agreement: I could move out if I let him pay for my house. “And it has to be nearby. You can move out, but I still need you be at walking distance.” I just laughed and agreed. We found a house just a 10 minute walk from Graceland. It was the perfect size for me; 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, living room and dining area, complete with a back yard and pool. I loved it and Elvis was more than happy for this to be my new home. He paid for everything, from lamps to the house itself. I moved in 2 weeks after the purchase and it was my home for 20 years. “Now you can do whatever you want, and I won’t hear you.” Elvis said to me as we carried the last of my clothes inside. “Yeah, but if you hear me scream really loud, I want you assume it’s a murderer trying to kill me. Because I’d rather you catch me in the act than having you attend my funeral.” “Okay. But only if I can kick the guy out.” Elvis retorted. “Who: the murderer or the fuck buddy?” I asked. Elvis’ laugh sounded like a roar. I was too much like him for my own good.