Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 10 - An Indication

In 1966, I was invited to stay with Elvis on the set of his movie, Spinout. It was around this time that I came into my own as far as having a career went. I was now 31, unmarried and childless, but I still seemed to draw just as much attention as Elvis did in the circles we involved ourselves with. On the set of the movie, I met a young journalist, whose magazine needed a photographer on short notice. “I’ve been told you’re pretty good.” He told me. I raised an eyebrow and took a long drag of my cigarette. “Who told you that?” I asked, blowing the smoke in his direction. “Mr Presley, amongst others.” He replied. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, kid: Mr Presley is a biased jackass. I’ve been his best friend since we were 14; do you really think he’s gonna say anything bad about the woman who takes the best professional photographs of him, as well as keeping the world off his back?” The young journalist chuckled. “I’d guess no.” He replied. “You’d be right.” I told him. “But I’ve also seen some of the photos you’ve taken. You really are good. And my editor also expressed an interest in you.” I frowned, sceptical. “What magazine did you say you were from?” I asked him, peering over my sunglasses. “Vogue.” He replied with a smile.

Elvis was thrilled when I told him later that day. “Annie, this is incredible! You’re finally gonna be a real photographer!” I smiled sweetly at him. “Thanks. But don’t think I haven’t enjoyed taking photographs of you.” Elvis’ smile disappeared, replaced with a look of sorrow. “You’re still gonna take them, right? You won’t quit on me, will ya?” He asked, taking my hands in his. I chuckled, caressing his cheek. “I’ll always be willing to take photographers of you, Elvis. You’re my muse, after all.” I could tell he liked that, because he was in a great mood for the rest of the day. He even shrugged it off when Priscilla wore a print she knew he hated. “Nah, don’t even worry about it, baby. You look tired and I just want you to be comfortable. So if that’s comfy, you go right ahead and wear it.” He told her, before planting a big smooch on her lips. So I spent the next few months doing high end fashion spreads for Vogue. I never signed a contract with them, as I never wanted to be tied down to anyone. I was determined to be my own boss; I wouldn’t let anyone – especially a man – control me like the Colonel controlled Elvis. I decided to go under a different name – a pen name, if you will – just so I could continue to go about my life anonymously. I decided on Jade Leery, after my grandmother.

Around the time Elvis’ film Easy Come, Easy Go was released in March 1967 that things started to change between us. He became engaged to Priscilla and was initially happy at the idea of finally settling down. But he began to privately withdraw from his friends and family. The idea of marriage had always terrified him, especially since he’d become famous and could have any and as many girls as he wanted. He didn’t like the idea of giving that sexual freedom up. So, as per usual, I was enlisted to find out what was wrong with him.

I arrived at Graceland early in the morning and was escorted upstairs by Vernon. “I’ve got no idea what’s wrong with that boy. He has everything a man could want and yet he’s moping about in that goddamn room of his, like he’s still a stroppy teenager.” I had to laugh as Vernon grumbled about the childish antics of his adult son. We stopped outside Elvis’ door, and Vernon patted my shoulder. “Do what you have too to make that boy smile again. It worked when you were kids; why shouldn’t it work now?” “Because I don’t think sharing a bar of chocolate will make him ecstatic now, Vernon.” I replied, looking up at him knowingly. Vernon laughed nervously. “Y’all don’t have to go that far. Elvis is engaged, remember?” I chuckled. “Don’t worry. Elvis doesn’t think of me in that way.” “What about you though?” He asked, walking away before I could answer. I shook my head, knocked on the door and walked into Elvis’ pit of despair.

I cursed under my breath, scanning the room and taking in the mess that Elvis had left in his wake. Priscilla had been away for less than a week and Elvis had thrown the organisation of their room right out the window. I found him straight away, sat quietly on the bed, staring into space. He was dressed flashy, as he always was, though he probably had no plans to go anywhere. “Why’re you sat in the dark, fully clothed, sunglasses on, when you clearly have no intention to go anywhere?” I asked him. He shrugged, but said nothing. I walked closer to the bed. “Can I sit?” I asked. He just nodded. I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to say something. After 10 minutes of silence, he said, “Come sit closer. You know I won’t bite.” I chuckled and sat at the end of the bed opposite him, resting his feet on my lap. “You’ll get your dress dirty.” He said quietly. I pulled his shoes off and rubbed his feet. “Now it’ll just smell of sweaty socks.” I replied, making him smile. “Pull them off then.” He said. “Are you trying to get me to strip you or something?” I asked, jokingly. Elvis pursed his lips, before letting out a long sigh. “I’ve been sat here like this since last night. I haven’t slept. So you’d be doing me a favour by helping me get into bed.” I stood up and straightened my dress down. “Are you leaving?” He asked, sitting up a little. I shook my head, kicking my heels off and taking my cardigan off. “I’m helping you get ready for bed, you overgrown baby.” I sat lightly on his lap, one leg on either side of him. I gently pulled the sunglasses off his face; his eyes were bright even in the darkness. Something seemed different about him; I’d never seen him like that before. Vernon’s last remark popped back into my head as Elvis and I started leaning towards each other. When his lips hit mine, my mind went into overdrive: I suddenly understood why all those little girls, all over the world, wanted to kiss Elvis; I understood why so many of his leading ladies fell so madly in love with him; I understood why so many of them ran far away once filming was over, so they could save themselves from heartache. And I was one of them. I pulled away quickly, grabbing my shoes and back. “Annie? Why’re you going?” He leapt up and blocked my exit. “What’s wrong? It was only a kiss…” “But it wasn’t, Elvis! It’s you and me; it’s wrong. You’re engaged and I… I have my life. This can’t happen ever again.” “But Annie…” “No! No, Elvis. Let’s pretend this never happened. We’ll go on as we always have, as the best friends we are.” He stepped aside; he looked so crushed it broke my heart. I hadn’t seen that look on his face since his mother died. “I’ll see tomorrow, E.” I said quietly. I dashed out, ignoring the calls of concern from Vernon and the boys. I ran to my house and, once inside, I sank to the floor and cried.

Not long after, it was the day of Elvis and Priscilla’s wedding. My heart swelled with pride as I watched Priscilla getting ready. “Annie, are you crying?” She asked, laughing as she handed me a tissue. I shook my head fiercely. “No. I just have something in my eye. Now c’mon, or you’re gonna be late for your own wedding!” I watched from the back of the room as Elvis married his Army sweetheart. Everything was happening just as it was supposed to. And the best was yet to come…

I remember the day Priscilla told me she was pregnant like it was yesterday. I’d fled from the Presley court just after Priscilla’s 22nd birthday, deciding what I needed was to throw myself into my work. I travelled all over the world and back, taking photos for every glamorous fashion magazine you can think of. By the time I returned, it was almost Christmas 1967. I was unpacking my bags upstairs when the doorbell ran downstairs and I heard footsteps. “Ann, you here?” I heard Priscilla call. “I’m coming Cilla!” I called back “Take your time. I have a surprise and I don’t want you to die of shock.” “Why would I die of – ” I stood at the top of the stairs, staring at Priscilla. She glowed, so radiant and beautiful, as she stroked her expanded stomach. “Surprise! You’re gonna be a aunty!” She exclaimed, laughing. I made my way slowly down the stairs until I was in front her. Mindlessly, I put my hands on her stomach. “How long…?” “7 months.” She told me, blushing. “You two were quick there.” I said, working out the conception date. “On your wedding night. And it was your first time.” I felt the baby kick and I giggled like a child. “Well done, Cilla.”

2 months later, on February 1st 1968, Lisa Marie Presley was born. I remember holding her for the first time, my heart swelling with pride and love. Elvis and Priscilla watched from the hospital bed, their faces so full of love as they watched their little bundle of joy playing with my hand. “Oh God… She’s so beautiful.” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Elvis…” Priscilla whispered, looking up at her husband. “Annie…” Elvis said. I looked up, my eyes meeting with his. “We want you to be Lisa’s Godmother.” He said, putting his arm around Priscilla. “I’d be honoured.” I whispered. “For God’s sake, would you hug or something?” Priscilla said. We both laughed and I handed Lisa back to her. I walked over to Elvis and put my arms around his neck, his arms going around my waist. “I’m so proud of you, Elvis.” I whispered, stroking the back of his neck. “Thank you. Thank you Annie. That means the world to me.”