𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚔 & 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 | (Austin!Elvis x Black!OC)

Ch. 8

Summary: Elvis is looking for a break from his stresses, but his problems seem to follow him wherever he goes.

Warning: Racial issues, swearing, mentions of underage tobacco use

Song: Long Tall Sally - Little Richard

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- Elvis POV -

All this damn drama fillin' my head. Too much stress back home, too much stress out on the streets. Just need a place to clear my head. A place to forget about all of it. Unfortunately, the only place I could think of around here with some real fun is Club Handy.

I been hesitant on coming back here, rather not take my chances with runnin' into Honey, 'bout had enough of her recently, but something told me I wouldn't be seeing much of her in the future. Atleast, that's how I'm planning it.

"Hey, what up, E.P.?" B.B. lifts his arm to hit me with a casual handshake, greeting me when I walk in the door.

"Ah, you already know." I say with a defeated sigh in my voice.

King shoots me a quick sympathetic look. "Well, hopefully tonight can help take your mind off things for a while. You know there's always a good time here." He gives me a friendly slap on the shoulder, before pushing open the club doors, smiling pridefully at the gathered audience.

The music immediately overwhelms my senses, drawing me into the room like one big magnet. "Yes, sir." I agree with a laugh, giving him a pat right back as I watch people groove and shake to the music, doing moves I ain't never seen before, but things like that are always expected at Handy.

Gonna tell Aunt Mary about Uncle John

He claim he has the misery but he havin' a lotta fun

Oh baby, yeah baby

A man takes the stage. A man I now know as Little Richard. He sings his heart out to the crowd, looking into the audience with wide eyes and a thrill as he prances across the stage with the mic stand. Folks gather 'round him, absorbing his energy and enthusiasm deep into their bodies and letting it back out through dancing and screaming.

I follow B.B. lazily to our usual table in the back corner of the club, but my eyes are glued to the stage. A few fans come up to shake my hand along the way and I try my best to engage with them as much as I can without missing too much of the performance. We sit together, a small shadow hiding us from the rest of the club, giving us peace to discuss the artists and, for the first time in a while, observe the atmosphere as an outsider instead of a performer.

"You excited for tomorrow?" B.B. asks.

My eyes perk open wider for a moment, almost forgetting he was next to me at all. I scoff out a sarcastic laugh as I process his question. Nearly forgot about that too... "As excited as I can be. Ain't allowed to do nothin." I mumble out while taking a large drink of my cola.

WDIA, a black radio station, is holding one of their annual benefit concerts tomorrow. They got folks like Ray Charles, Rufus Thomas, hell, even King gon' be there. They asked that I make an appearance, but that's just it; I'm 'forbidden' from performing. Just gotta show my face and leave. Colonel says it's already enough that I'm risking showing up to 'a place like that', and that I can't keep wiggling all over too. But why the hell else would I become a performer if not to do those exact damn things? I can't just disappoint my audience like that. Ain't right.

B.B. chuckles. "I'm surprised they're even lettin' a cat like you in. Ain't never let a white boy on stage with us."

I scoff at the thought. If only I really could perform tomorrow. Then maybe one day the two of us would be able to actually work together. Colonel though don't seem too keen on the idea of collaboration', but I know I can talk some sense into him eventually. Nonetheless, things is finally changing. I'll make sure of it! I just wish– Honey... could see that...