'74

Elvis' side of the world ~ Chapter 3

*In a custom hotel suite in the city of Springfield, Illinois*

It was 3 a.m. as Elvis Presley and his mafia entered the suite. This was an average night for the boys: two shows, two hours apart, each one around an hour-and-a-half long. They were all exhausted, and after a quick debrief on the show and a round of congratulations, they each said their goodnights and headed off their separate ways to bed. They all filed out one-by-one until the suite door clicked and Elvis was the only one left in the room. It was now silent, except for an eery rattle of several orange pill bottles. Elvis had been on the road all night the night before and without any rest, had jumped straight into rehearsals for the two concerts he had just performed. He was utterly exhausted. The only problem was he couldn't sleep. Sleep wasn't a natural occurrence for him. He had been diagnosed with severe insomnia only a few months prior but had struggled with it for most of his adult life. "Nothing a few pills couldn't fix," Col. Parker, his manager had said.

"Damn!" Elvis slammed down an empty container as he rummaged through his pill bag for another. "Not enough pills in here for a mouse," he slurred. 4 will have to be enough... hopefully these can keep me asleep for at least a couple hours... He stumbled his way across the room to the over-sized bed. Stripping down to his briefs, he pulled aside the plush comforter and slid in between the sheets. After reaching over and turning the lamp off, he settled into a fetal position, closed his eyes and tried to shut his body down, telling it to go to sleep. Somehow his brain wasn't listening. Thoughts continued to race fiercely through his mind.

...Maybe I'd be able to sleep if I'da picked a woman from the crowd tonight... There were plenty of attractive women out there... I know I could sleep better with someone holding me... Then again, she wouldn't love me. Just my fame... Nothing is ever real... Nothing ever can be real for me... I'm just a cartoon... Pricilla was a liar... Marriage is a lie... The Col. would never let me be married for long, who was kidding... But Lisa is real... Daddy's little girl... Maybe real things can come from lies...

As his thoughts rambled, the drugs began to take effect, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Elvis woke several times throughout the night, depressed thoughts overriding his mind. It was now 6:00 a.m. and he'd given up any notion of more sleep. Rousing himself out of bed, he headed for the sink to down a handful of wake-up pills. Adderall, antidepressants, opiods - pills that would help him make it through the over-bearing paparazzi and the flight to Colorado today. He had another two shows tonight, and it would be another long day. 

... A woman tonight... Red can pick one up for me in Colorado... I'll just have to decide... Red head, blonde or brunette... Decisions, decisions...

His rambling thoughts continued mindlessly. Being a world renowned sex-symbol did have its benefits, and benefits being, almost literately, his pick of any woman in the world. Especially when that woman would do anything he asked to please him.

A light tapping resounded off the thick, hard-wood door of the bedroom, interrupting his thoughts. "Come'n," he mumbled with a sigh. The door swung open.

Red West, one of Elvis' longtime friends and security guards, strode in. "E, man, you don't look so good this morning," Red noted as he walked across the room, over to where Elvis was standing.

Elvis grunted and shrugged as he took a sip of water and turned to begin searching for an outfit for the day.

Red glanced down at the empty, orange bottles splayed across the vanity next to the glass of water Elvis had just set down. "How many, Elvis?" He asked, a little more harshly than he knew he should have, but he couldn't help it. Ever since they had become friends back in high school, Red felt responsible for keeping up with Elvis and making sure he never got into trouble. Recently he'd become worried about Elvis' dependency on drugs. It was no secret Elvis could be a bully when he wanted something, and physicians were no exception.

Elvis ignored him. Still searching for something to wear, he began throwing clothes of all colors out onto the floor.

"How many pills have you taken?" Red asked again.

Elvis paused for a moment, registering Red's question and deciding not to respond. The rant of flying clothes ceased, as he found a matching pair of black pants and button up shirt.

Red sighed dramatically, "E, these pills are killing you. Just look at yourself. You'll need Julie to come in with your makeup again today to even be presentable in public." He walked over, as close as he dared knowing Elvis's unpredictable temper, and softened his voice, "What are you doing to yourself?"

Elvis spun around, his icy blue eyes met Red's with a look that said back off. Without saying a word, he finished tucking in his shirt, grabbed his coat and strode out of the bedroom, slamming the heavy door behind him.

"Stubborn ass," Red mumbled. Tomorrow night better go as planned... He marched over to the bed and pulled a few over-sized suit cases out from under the bed. He and the other boys had drawn straws as to who would pack E's bags, and he'd lost. Plane leaves in two hours... What a crazy trip this will be... He mused to himself as he picked up all the clothes E had strewn across the room.