After becoming an orphan, Lauren was taken in by the famous Nelson family. When Ricky Nelson wasn't on stage breaking hearts, he was at home to annoy Lauren. After they get a little older, things get heated. Elvis Presley eventually has Lauren all s...
We all sat at the table as we ate dinner together. Ricky sat across from me, Harriet sat to the right of me at the head of the table, David sat next to Ricky and Ozzie sat opposite to Harriet at the other head of the table.
Ricky spoke about all the places he saw while on tour and all of his experiences, but my mind was preoccupied with analyzing exactly what went down outside. I couldn't believe Ricky didn't seem surprised to see me.
Was Ricky not interested in me anymore? Was it because he had been with so many pretty women on the road? Was it because I was colored? Was it because of my relationship with Elvis?
I honestly couldn't figure out exactly what changed and why. Then, the worst possibility popped into my head.
"Am I not pretty anymore?" I asked my best friend, Martha. I swore I'd never tell anyone about my relationship with Ricky, but when he went on tour I needed someone to vent to. She also found out about Elvis once she found exclusive photos and letters hidden in my vanity drawers, so I had to confess.
"I don't know about that." Martha reassured me as she sat on my bed. "You're gorgeous! And you look great in that dress."
"Thank you." I rubbed my hands down the tight fabric of my dress as I admired it in the mirror. Then, I continued pacing back and forth in my room. "Ricky was always this shy, timid thing not worth the trouble. He never could be Elvis."
"Well he's actually surpassed Elvis on the charts." Martha pointed out with a risen finger.
"That's only because Elvis is away in Germany and he hasn't had music since King Creole. He's coming home soon, he told me. When he comes back, he'll knock Ricky out of the water." I waved my hands around.
"How do you know that? All those high school girls are adults now. A lot of us have kids!" Martha pointed out. "I'm married! And honestly, you should start..."
"Martha, I have a husband and his name is Elvis Presley." I got short with her as I placed my hand on my hip. "He just doesn't know it yet."
"The only thing Elvis knows is Rock & Roll, Lauren. He's not trying to marry you." Martha told me bluntly. Her belief on Elvis was sensible, but at that point in time, I didn't want to hear it.
"I mean— you read those letters. He's aching for me everyday. He can't wait to be in my arms again and I can't wait to be in his." I crossed my arms.
"For someone who has been around like him, it's funny how he never slept with you." Martha cocked her head to the side.
"What's funny about that? Integrity? Values?" I defensively answered with my arms still crossed. "And plus, Elvis shows his love in many ways and he doesn't need to fuck me to show it!"
"Why don't you just find the right practical man to fill this void, Lauren? Marriage is an amazing thing and I couldn't be happier." Martha gushed, her cheeks getting rosy as she looked up to the ceiling.
"You couldn't be happier?" I stepped toward her, hands on both hips. "Oh yes, happiness is not having your own spending money and always depending on your practical man to give it to you. Happiness is cleaning the house all day so he doesn't throw a fit. Happiness is breaking your back trying to have a kid and having him act like you're a disappointment when you can't do it!"
Martha got silent.
"Martha... that was so uncalled for—" I rose my hands up, but the words were already in the air.
"All of the things you listed comes with the sacrifice of marriage." Martha said with a shaky voice. "And who is to say that Elvis wouldn't do that to you?"
"Control the money?" I asked, then walked to my vanity. Grabbing a fist full of five hundred dollar bills, I waved it in the air. "Elvis gives me money. And it's mine."
"It's his money, Lauren, you just hold it." Martha said in a condescending tone.
"You know what? Your husband is a nobody anyway! With his corporate job... he's a square!" I shouted at her.
"Well if my husband is a square, then all of the men you let use you like a Kleenex are looneys!" Martha stood up angrily from the bed. "I'm leaving!"
"Go ahead!" I waved. She gave one last look at me, her lips pierced together. Then, she turned away and swung my door open with a crash. As she stormed down the hall, my returned neighbor was looking in.
"What was that about?" Ricky asked as he leaned onto my doorframe.
"It was... it was nothing." I rubbed my forehead as I stood there in my room.
"It didn't sound like nothing." Ricky stepped in. As he asked these questions, his tone of voice sounded indifferent. His blazer was now taken off and he was already becoming more comfortable in his home once again.
He slowly made his way through my room as he looked around. He looked at the wallpaper, the queen sized bed, then stepped toward my vanity. Picking up my perfume bottle, he held it up to his nose, then chuckled.
"You haven't changed at all." He observed, but he didn't say it as if it was a good thing.
I lifted my head up, flicking my hair off my forehead. "No, why should I."
"That tour seemed to get longer and longer." Ricky observed as he looked at the objects on my vanity. He opened the small heart-shaped porcelain container and peaked inside, then dropped the top back on it with a clank.
"Must you go through my things?" I rolled my eyes. Ricky didn't even bother to answer some smart remark. Opening the top drawer to my vanity, he picked up a tube-like phallic white object.
"And what do you use this for? Your neck?" He grinned as he held it up.
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