Excerpt from my short story, JESSIE'S GIRL:
Chapter 1
Las Vegas, Nevada
August, 1999
He called himself Jessie Garon Presley, and he was the most amazing Elvis look-a-like Kelly had ever seen. He had the same intense blue eyes, the same pouty lower lip, and he wore his thick black hair in the style Elvis had made famous back in the Fifties - sideburns and a ducktail. But instead of wearing the flashy, sequined jumpsuits Elvis had favored in his later years, Jessie wore a pair of slick black pants and a black silk shirt, open at the throat. A thick gold chain circled his neck. A gold ring with a diamond the size of a golf-ball winked on the middle finger of his right hand.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he really was Elvis, but the King had died of a heart attack over twenty years ago. Of course, there were those who insisted Elvis was still alive, but even if that was true, he would be in his sixties, and the man on the stage couldn’t be more than thirty-three, about the same age Elvis had been when he did his Comeback Special in ’68. It was her favorite concert video and she watched it over and over again. That, and “Aloha From Hawaii”.
Jessie Garon Presley did two shows a night at a new casino on the Strip. Kelly had wandered into the place her first night in town, seen his picture advertised in the lobby, and immediately bought a ticket for the first show. When it was over, she had hurried out and bought a ticket for the ten o’clock show, too. She had gone back every night for the last six days, staying for both shows.
She had always been an Elvis fan. She had scrapbooks full of pictures and newspaper articles, every record, every video, he had ever made. She had framed posters of the King on her walls, Elvis watches and beach towels, an Elvis telephone, Elvis trading cards and playing cards, Elvisopoly, The Rock-n-Roll Game of Fortune & Fame, Elvis collector plates and Elvis Barbie dolls, a pair of Elvis socks a friend had brought her from Graceland. She haunted antique stores and malls, looking for old magazines and newspapers, anything related to Elvis. If it had his name or his picture on it, she bought it. Her condo looked like a shrine. Her friends thought she was insane. But she wasn’t. Just in love. With a man who was dead.
She leaned forward as Jessie began to sing “Kentucky Rain”.
He walked slowly back and forth along the front of the stage, his voice filled with emotion as he sang of a man looking for his lost love.
The room was utterly still, save for the sound of his voice, low and intimate as it caressed the crowd.
He sang all her favorite songs: “If I Can Dream”, Heartbreak Hotel”, “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You”, “Little Sister”, “His Latest Flame”, “In The Ghetto”, “Crying in the Chapel”, “The Wonder of You”, “If I Can Dream”. It was as if he’d read her mind.
Mesmerized, she gazed up at him, totally lost in the fantasy that he was really Elvis, that he would look out over the crowd, that his gaze would meet hers, that he would walk down the stairs, sit down at her table and sing to her, and her alone.
And even as the thought crossed her mind, it was happening. He paused in the center of the stage, his gaze sweeping the crowd, settling on her face. Her heart skipped a beat as his gaze met hers; her pulse began to beat wildly as he descended the stairs.
The music changed and she recognized the strains of “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” as he walked toward her. She could barely hear the music over the pounding of her heart.
No, she thought, this can’t be happening. Not to me. But it was. He had eyes only for her as he sat down in the empty chair at her table. Something hot and sweet flowed between them. It danced across her skin, arousing all her senses.
The spotlight focused on her table, bathing them in a pale pink spot. Her breath caught in her throat when he reached out and covered her hand with his.
Her mouth was dry, her heart beating a mile a minute as he sang to her. Only her. Stay, she thought frantically. Stay with me forever.
His hand squeezed hers. His eyes, those sleepy, sexy Elvis eyes, gazed deep into her own.
This can’t be real, she thought. I must be dreaming.
His thumb made lazy circles on her palm while he sang to her. His gaze never left hers. They might have been alone in the room, in the world. She wished the song would never end, wished the moment would never end, but, all too soon, the song was over and the room filled with applause.
He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Kelly gasped as the touch of his lips seemed to sear her skin, its heat traveling up her arm and curling around her heart. He smiled at her, a roguish smile, as if he knew exactly what effect he was having on her, and then he rose smoothly to his feet and walked back up on stage.
“Memories” was his closing number. It was her favorite song, and hearing it always made her cry. Tonight was no exception. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she gazed up at him, hoping he knew somehow that she would never forget this night. Never forget him.
He looked down at her from the stage as he sang, and she knew this night would be her most cherished memory of all.
She stood up, applauding wildly as he left the stage.
If only she could stay one more night, see one more show, but her flight left tomorrow afternoon at four, and Jessie never did matinees, not even on weekends.
With a sigh, Kelly followed the others out of the theater and into the casino.
The room was filled with noise - laughter, music, the sound of the roulette wheel, the rattle and whir of a thousand slot machines, the slap of cards at the Blackjack table.
She wasn’t much of a gambler, but it was her last night. What could it hurt to try her luck?
She stopped one of the people who made change and got twenty dollars worth of quarters, then found an empty slot machine and sat down.
“Here goes,” she muttered, and breaking open the first roll of quarters, she fed three coins into the machine.
There was a strange excitement in watching the wheels go round, a sense of anticipation as she waited for them to come to a stop and tell her if she had won.
Three bars!
“I won!” she exclaimed as the coin tray filled with quarters. “I won.”
She heard a low throaty chuckle behind her, felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine.
She turned to find Jessie Garon Presley standing at her elbow.
A slow smile spread over his face as he drawled, “Honey, tonight you can’t lose.”
