Born Too Late [Elvis Presley]

Chapter 15: Pretty When You Cry

Thursday evening

Penny Jones

"My girl," Elvis smiles as I walk into his house.

"Hi," I smile as I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his. I feel Elvis's arms wrapping around my waist, our bodies pressed together tightly. Elvis leans forward, and my arms tighten around the back of his neck as he tilts me back. I smile into the kiss before Elvis tears his lips from mine, leaving a few kisses on my cheek. "Elvis!" I laugh, holding onto him tight.

"Mm," he hums against my cheek. "Aren't you beautiful." I smile and he leaves a kiss on my jaw before standing up straight, a small smile pulling on his lips as he gazes down at me. His eyes wander all over my body as he takes me in, but it's not in a sensual way. Although I do love when he looks at me in that way, this way makes me feel so incredibly beautiful. And adored.

"Aren't you handsome." I smile up at him as I softly play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Elvis smiles. "Have you eaten?" he asks, and I don't miss the glance he steals at my lips.

I shake my head, "nope."

"Good, I got all your favourites," he says.

"You did?" I smile.

"Mhm," Elvis hums. "Pizza," I smile as he leaves a kiss on my cheek, "strawberries." Then one on my forehead. "White wine." Then one on my other cheek.

"Mm," I smile. "Is it a sauvignon blanc?"

"'Course it is, baby," Elvis says.

I smile, taking his face in my hands to press a kiss onto his lips. "Aren't you a clever boy."

Elvis smiles, breathing out a laugh through his nose. He leaves a kiss on the palm of my hand before taking hold of it. "Come on, baby," he leads me through the hallway and into the living room. Laid out on the small glass table in front of the couch are all of my favourites, just like Elvis said. I smile. He sure does know how to make me feel special, especially with simple things like this.

~

A couple of hours later, all of the food - and the wine - is finished. "I get that she's my manager, but she's so controlling," I say from my spot on the floor. I lay on my back, a cigarette in my hand as I stare up at the ceiling. My feet are resting on Elvis's lap as he softly strums his guitar. "It must've been like six months ago that I wrote this song. But when I played it for her, she said it absolutely cannot go on the album."

Elvis's eyebrows knit together, "why?"

"'Cause I'm telling the truth," I explain. "With every song I've written about Jonny, I haven't sugar coated anything. I mean, some of them sound upbeat, but the lyrics are very deep."

"Lemme hear it," Elvis says.

My eyebrows raise, "what?"

"I wanna hear it," he says. I take a drag from my cigarette. I wouldn't feel too comfortable singing this song for anyone else, but I know Elvis would never judge me. That's one thing I like about being in his company - I can be myself. Completely and utterly.

"I don't have a sound for it," I say. "I only ever came up with the lyrics."

Elvis softly strums the guitar, playing the same four notes twice, "how's that?" he asks.

"I like that," I say. "Keep going." And he does.

"All the pretty stars shine for you my love. Am I that girl that you dream of?" I sing, watching the smoke trail into the air from the cigarette in between my fingers.

"All those special times I spent with you my love, they don't mean shit compared to all your drugs." I close my eyes as I sing. "But I don't really mind, I've got much more than that, like my memories. I don't need that."

"I'll wait for you, babe. You don't come through, babe. You never do, babe. That's just what you do," I smile as I reach the chorus, my eyes falling closed. "Because I'm pretty when I cry." I repeat the chorus three more times before I reach the bridge - my favourite part of the song.

"Don't say you need me when, you leave and you leave again. I'm stronger than all my men, except for you." I pause for a few seconds before continuing. "Don't say you need me if you know that you're leaving. I can't do it, I can't do it, but you do it well. Because I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry."

"I'm pretty when I cry," I sing for the final time, this time more softly than the others. I take a drag from the cigarette between my fingers before sitting up on my forearms to gauge Elvis's thoughts. But he just stares at me with those blue eyes, his lips parted. I can't read his expression. "Do you like it?"

"I like it, Penny," he says. "I like it a lot."

I breathe out a laugh through my nose, not totally convinced. "Are you sure?" I ask. "I promise I won't be upset if you don't-"

"It's not that," Elvis interrupts me. "It's an incredible song. I admire the way you can put something so sad into words that way and make it sound beautiful."

I smile softly, blowing out the smoke. "What is it then?"

"I just-" Elvis takes a breath in, setting the guitar down on the carpet to his side. "I don't understand how he treated you the way he did, Penny. I cannot - for the life of me - get my head around it."

I let out a breath, some smoke trailing out of my mouth. "That song hardly scratches the surface."

Elvis shakes his head, his gaze on mine. "I want you to promise me something."

I take a drag from my cigarette, "what?"

"Promise me you'll never settle," he says. "Not for me, not for anyone."

I keep my gaze on Elvis's as I stub my cigarette out on the ashtray to my right, sitting up properly. "Do you think that's what I'm doing here?"

It kills me to think Elvis thinks I'm settling for him. He is all I've ever wanted, and I couldn't be happier now that I have him. He has surpassed every expectation and treated me better than any other man ever has.

Elvis lets out a breath, "I-I-just-" he pauses for a couple of seconds. "You deserve everything you want, Penny. You deserve every ounce of happiness there is," he says. "I want you to have that-"

"Elvis, I need you to know I'm not settling here," I place my hands on either side of his face. "That's absurd. You make me happy Elvis. You." His blue eyes flick between mine as I speak. "There is no one else on the planet I'd rather have by my side," I say, pulling his face slightly closer to mine. "I promise."

"Okay," Elvis says softly, smiling as I close the small gap between our faces, pressing my lips against his.

"I'm still thinkin' 'bout kickin' his face in, though," Elvis mumbles against my lips, and I know he's referring to Mick. "I'm serious, I can't get it outta my head."

I breathe out a laugh against his lips, "shut up!"

_

Sorry this one was shorter. I hope you enjoyed anyway.

Next chapter will be the date! Buckle up!