The Stalker (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 15

"What is the matter with you?" Steph cried, staring down at Melissa from the step above. "What are you screaming about?"

"I....I thought...." Melissa swallowed hard. "What are you doing here, steph?"

"Getting my Ear drums broken, obviously," Steph snapped. "What kind of question is that? I work here, remember? For your information, Gray asked me to find you."

"Gray?"

"Our choreographer?" Steph said. "The one who happens to be wondering why you're not onstage with the rest of us."

The rehearsal, Melissa thought. She was late getting back to it and Gray was probably furious.

Steph spun around and started up the stairs. "Are you coming?" She called back over her shoulder. "Or shall I tell Gray you've totally lost it?" Her mocking laugh rang in Melissa's ears.

I'm closer than you think. We'll be together soon.

Soon. Soon. Soon.

The words echoed like a drumbeat in Melissa's mind, blocking out the fifties beat she was trying to dance to in rehearsal.

It's not over, she thought. It's not over.

He's here.

He knows where I am and he's not giving up.

"Hold it!" Gray called. "Melissa!"

Melissa's head snapped up as the other dancers shuffled to a stop.

"You're moving like a sleepwalker," Gray told her. "I want to see some spark." Melissa nodded embarrassed at being singled out.

"Okay, people, let's do it again," Gray said.  As they scrambled into position, Michael patted Melissa's shoulder. And Toni shot her a sympathetic glances. Steph didn't even look at her. Her face was a picture of pure concentration. She must of heard Gray's comment, but she was totally focused on her dancing.

Like I should be, Melissa thought.

Like I used to be.

"Melissa!" Gray's voice was exasperated. "Is there something that fascinates you about the lighting arrangement?"

Melissa shook her head. She'd been staring at the follow spot remembering.

Not concentrating.

"Then maybe you can take your eyes off it long enough to see where you are," Gray told her.

Melissa looked. She was too far stage left. One of the wing curtains was brushing her shoulder.

Concentrate, she told herself. Concentrate!

As she moved into the right position, Michael gave her shoulder another pat. "I tried to warn you," he whispered.

"It's not your fault," Melissa whispered back. It was the stalker's.

But it was hers, too. She was letting him get to her. And she was messing up, big time. Losing it, like steph said. You can't let that happen, she told herself. You have to block it out.

As rehearsal continued, Melissa tried desperately to concentrate. She'd do fine for five minutes. Then the red words on the mirror would pop into her mind. She'd smell the scent of roses. Hear that voice on the telephone. See those eyes outside her motel room window.

She'd remember Toni's words, brutally murdered.

And she'd messed up again.

"All right, people, that's it," Gray finally called out. He sounded disgusted.