Trouble

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"That's a nice ride you rode up in tonight," complimented B.B., talking about Elvis' purple Cadillac.

After arriving at Club Handy and singing some songs, Elvis and B.B. were talking out on the little balcony.

"It ain't like your big ol' B.B. King bus," said Elvis.

"'Big Red...'" laughed King. "Yeah, well, I can go where I want, play what I want, and if they don't like it, I can go someplace else... You've got to be in control, man. You should have your own label, like me. You don't do the business, the business will do you."

"Man, I just leave all that to the Colonel."

"So, it's, um... It's his idea, this new Elvis?" he asked Elvis.

Elvis just nodded in response.

"Listen, I don't get it, man," shrugged B.B.. "Cats buy your records because they like what you do, not because you're dressed up like some... like some butler. You really think those kids want to see 'Elvis the Butler' at the Russwood Park gig tomorrow?"

"Man, I ain't wearing no tails. I just... gotta lay off the moves, is all. Colonel says if I don't, they're gonna put me in jail."

B.B. started laughing.

"Come on, man. They're not gonna put you in jail. They might put me in jail for walking across the street, but you a famous white boy..." he said, before getting more serious. "Too many people are making too much money off of you to put you in jail."

"You think so?" asked Elvis.

"I know so..." said B.B.. "Colonel's a smart man. There's gotta be another reason."

Just then, a photographer ran up to the two friends.

"Hey, Elvis, B.B.! Give us a smile!"

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"You promised us a new Elvis, Colonel!" Senator Eastland scolded. "Yet, here he is with this B.B. King at Club Handy, jiggling and wiggling with Billy Ward, and here, on colored night at the Memphis fairgrounds. We've been poking into your background and we've found your records. 'Unfit for military duty.' 'Acute psychopathic state.'"

"Well... I was pretending to be crazy. I wanted out. I was just a boy from Huntington, West Virginia!" chuckled Parker.

"Well, before the army, we found no record of you at all," said Eastland.

Fear was painted all over the Colonel's face.

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The next night was the Russwood Park show.

"While ten thousand screaming fans were cramming in to see our show, Senator Eastland was holding a segregationist rally just three miles away."

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