In 1964, Elvis was cast in Viva Las Vegas. He was genuinely excited about this movie; mostly because he got to visit his favourite city in the world, outside of Memphis. Cast opposite him, was Hollywood’s newest It girl, Ann-Margret. She was young, beautiful, sexy and had been dubbed ‘the female Elvis’ by every tabloid since her breakthrough role in Bye Bye Birdie. Together, Elvis and I watched the movie, so he knew what – or more specifically, whom - he was up against. Though in all honesty, I watched him more than I watched the movie. I could see the wheels in his head turning, and I sensed what inevitably did happen: Elvis was determined to have an affair with his new leading lady.
It was planned that Elvis would leave for Hollywood 2 weeks before the start of filming, and I would follow him 4 weeks later. Priscilla showed her age and immaturity, throwing constant childish strops once she found out she wasn’t allowed to go with him, but I was. “It’s not fair!” She complained to me, as I packed my bags. “Why do you get to go and I don’t? I’m his girlfriend!” “You think I like going? I’m going for two reasons: one, to keep an eye on him, – mostly for you, might I add - and two, I have a job to do. I’m taking photographs for the fan clubs who’ve requested them.” Priscilla still sulked, but thanked me for keeping an eye on her man in her absence. “I’ve been doing it since we were 14. I’ll probably still be doing it when we’re 84.” I told her as she walked me to my car. I said my goodbyes, and drove off to the airport.
I heard Ann-Margret before I saw her. I followed the sound of raunchy laughter until I found her. She was sat on Elvis’ lap, the two of them in a fit of hysteria. Joe Esposito, Elvis’ right hand man, cleared his throat after we entered the room, a failed attempt to get their attention. “E, Annie’s here.” Joe finally said. Elvis looked up and grinned at me. “Annie! You’re here.” He shuffled Ann-Margret off his lap, something she obviously resented. He walked over and gave me a hug. Although I knew he probably had missed me, the presence of this new redhead seemed to change him. “How’re you? Is everything okay at home? How’s Cilla? And Dodger? Is Daddy with you?” Those are the questions he should have asked me. Instead, he showered me with cheap Hollywood talk, calling me ‘doll’ and ‘babe’. When his back was turned, I asked Joe where my hotel was and I left.
When I officially met Ann-Margret, I was pleasantly surprised. Ann was a sweet girl, only 23 years old. She seemed to float on air, high on life instead of on a substance. Her ginger hair went just past her shoulders, bouncing as she walked. She wasn’t afraid to show what her momma gave her, and seemed to enjoy the attention of the male crew members and film extras. “Hi! We weren’t properly introduced! I’m Ann-Margret.” She held out her perfectly manicured hand and I shook it. “I’m Annabel Jenkins. But my friends call me Annie.” I thought she would have been a typical Hollywood starlet. I thought she would have jumped right in and started calling me Annie, assuming she was my friend. But she didn’t. She was too smart for that. She called me Annabel for the next month, until I felt we were friends. On the last day of filming, I told her how desperately I’d wanted to hate her. “I just can’t; you’re too nice!” I told her. She just laughed and gave me a hug. A week later, she announced to the press that she and Elvis were engaged. Elvis was furious. I didn’t see her again until 1970.
Despite her public faux pas, Elvis and Ann-Margret had a yearlong relationship. As a favour to them both, I kept it well hidden from Priscilla. But Elvis underestimated his young stay at home girlfriend; she was a lot smarter than he thought. She came and sat in the kitchen at Graceland one day, about 10 months into Elvis and Ann-Margret’s affair. Elvis himself was in his study upstairs, mostly like on the phone to his mistress, when Priscilla paid me the visit. I’d popped over to take some new photos of Elvis for his fan club, and had been sat in the kitchen, readying myself, for over half an hour. “What’s wrong?” I heard her say from behind me. “He’s keeping me waiting… again. I have another appointment down at Sun Records in an hour and a half. He needs to get his ass down here pronto.” I replied, lighting my third cigarette (since arriving). I could sense the uneasiness in Priscilla before she’d even sat down. “What’s wrong, kid?” I asked, putting the cigarette back between my lips as I put new film in my camera. “We’re friends, right?” She asked. “Of course.” I mumbled. “And you’d tell me the truth if I asked for it, right?” I glanced up at her. She looked like she’d be crying; her makeup looked too fresh to have been done hours ago. Everything looked reapplied. I nodded, waiting for her to ask me the question. “Is Elvis having an affair with Ann-Margret?” Before I could answer, Elvis burst into the room, full of the joys of spring. “What‘re you two whisperin’ about, huh?” He asked, putting his arm around Priscilla’s shoulders. “Nothin’. Just girl stuff.” Priscilla replied, shrugging his arm off her shoulders. She excused herself, using a nail appointment as an excuse to leave the room. Once she was gone, Elvis began to grovel. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I was on the telephone with – “ I held up my hand, taking the cigarette out of my mouth with the other. “I know who you were on the phone to, E. Even she fuckin’ knows who you were on the phone to.” I said, pointing after Priscilla. Elvis’ face went pale. “Does she really know?” He asked. I shrugged. “I haven’t told her. But she’s a smart kid, E. Give her some credit.” 2 months later, the affair with Ann-Margret ended and things carried on like nothing had happened.
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Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)
FanfictionHave you ever wondered who took all those rare candid photos of the King that you only come across every once in a while? Do you ever wonder, in a world of people out for his fame and wealth, who Elvis would let close enough to take such intimate ph...
