All stories, good or bad, begin at the right place. In 1956, during an Elvis concert, a girl's proposal turns chaotic when three of her boyfriend's other lovers are also present. Amid the turmoil, she catches Elvis' eye, igniting a flame that sparks...
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* chapter music * - Need Your Love So Bad - The Vocaleers
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Rosalie POV (Sal)
I couldn't see him clearly after he got into the car, but I had seen him. I could see the shape of him. Unascaple images had their grip of me—feeling alive and thriving on my fears. Fears of unspeakable happenings and pain. How they tore at him tonight and how he fell with me yesterday, blended in recurring film and sounds.
Hanging onto him being fine, the best I could, I leaned on my elbows by Scotty's kitchen table. Shaking my knees uneasy waiting, I time and time again looked at the front door across Scotty's L-shaped and rather compact open-style kitchen apartment. It was clear he didn't spend much time here, as it was sparsely decorated. No surprise—for the band being constantly on the road. From the one and half hour we had spent in his apartment, I had picked up on his liking for blue, red, and beige, though. It was found in the red couch Patty occupied in the corner behind me, the beige wallpaper and the blue kitchen table I leaned upon for the time being—placed in the perfect measurement of getting a view of the door I fixated on in one end of the L and the narrow hall disapearing off at the other.
Hearing Scotty's steps coming from his home studio, I immediately raised my chin—changing from one fixation to the other. Having his eyes land on me, I couldn't breathe. As if denied by my lungs--needing something, anything, to change the way my mind had locked itself in angst for news. Behind me, Patty sat up too, cupping her knees. Scotty's dark blonde hair was a mess—you could tell he had been running for his and our lives. Maybe even pulling at it in distress. «Listen, I just got off the phone with Red.» He said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. «Elvis is talking to the Colonel, but he doesn't know where they're at.» Scotty voiced mindfully before coming over to pull out a chair of his own—not bothering to make an effort to spare his hardwood flooring.
Not knowing what to do about the little to no new information from Scotty, I'm glad Elvis at least has the Colonel by his side now. Hoping he pulls through and gets him out of there, I nodded silently.
«And... Red didn't seem surprised you were around. He told me to have you stay put.» He said, grabbing the coffee pot to pour himself, me, and Patty's beige mugs. Each mug had small TV series cartoons on them—it was a handful of the Looney Tunes. Mine had the Road Runner, Patty's was Tweety, while Scotty prided Bugs Bunny pressed to his lips, getting a taste of the steaming coffee. It was late, and none of us wanted to fall asleep. We needed to stay up for Elvis.
As Patty thanked Scotty, she came to join us, as the need for coffee was strong. A little tired smile grew on my lips while I picked at my index finger overly forceful for already sensitiv skin—still on edge. «Thank you.. And no, he probably wasn't.» I said, letting my eyes read Scotty's pondering face as I took a sip of the newly poured hot beverage—wishing it was something stronger.
