║The Yellow Rose of Graceland ║ Elvis Presley║

┃A little earthquake

August 17th, 1984.

9.30 am

Gladys was sitting on the motel bed, holding her hair. The whole room was a mess - clothes were on the floor, drawers were open, and all the commotion indicated that the girl was desperate for something.

—Fuck — Gladys pushed her hair back. — Fuck!

She was excited about the prospect of working, but didn't go there because it turned out that the money that was supposed to be the girl's security was gone. Its all savings.

Gladys couldn't even buy herself food because she only had a paid stay here. She suspected that a motel employee might have robbed her, but to report the theft, she needed to be fully satisfied.

And how can you be satisfied when your stomach is rumbling?

Gladys wiped her wet cheeks and called her stepmother. Gladys burst into tears when Cilla answered.

— Gladys? — Cilla asked worriedly. — Honey, what's wrong?

—They robbed me — the girl croaked. — My money's gone. I do not know what happened.

— You have to report it — CIlla was determined. — Should I come to you to support you?

— It would be great. And if you could buy me food, please.

— Jesus, honey, of course. I'll be there in half an hour.

After Gladys ended the call, she took a deep breath. She ignored the rumble in her stomach and began cleaning up the mess she had made.

At the same time, she wondered who might have been behind this vile act. She was more than sure some greedy motel employee had done it. In any case, there are cameras here, so catching a thief should be quick.

Meanwhile in Graceland, Memphis, TN.

Elvis was going through the new lines of the artist he was taking care of when Joe showed up and all tense testified to him that he had done the job and announced what he had seen. At the mention of the African American suspect, Elvis tossed the stack of papers on the floor and asked angrily:

— What? My daughter in the company of some nigga?

—Yes, E — Joe took a deep breath, knowing he was about to face Elvis' legendary wrath. — This guy gave her some expensive limousine and then walked her to the motel room.

—How can I be sure this nigga's hands aren't touching my daughter? — Evis looked like he was about to escort.— Did you write down that bastard's license plate number?

—Yes, E.— Joe nodded. —Should I report this to Jamie Knight?

—You're asking — Elvis snorted. —Of course you are! I need to know who this guy is. If he touched my Gladys, he's dead. I will personally arrange this nigga.

— I needed your permission, you know.

—Sure.— Elvis held up his hands. —Forgive me for the outburst, but this is about my Gladys.

— Of course I understand.

— All right, that's it.

When Joe left, Elvis walked over to the desk and looked at the elephant figurine there with its trunk raised. He got it from Gladys when she was ten. He took it and smashed it against the wall. The elephant shattered into many pieces, and Elvis looked at it without much emotion.

He was confident that he had deprived his daughter of the financial means to survive, but he could not bear the thought that she was in contact with some African American.