Las
Vegas is a wild, wonderful place not like any other but when I’ve visited I’ve
always been intrigued by the way it was in the past.
And, like my heroine, Lacie, I grew up listening to Elvis music. Long before I became an adult I was a fan of
The King in my own right. Like any red
blooded American girl with some Southern blood I’ve been down to Memphis and to
Graceland. And, yes, you bet I stayed
across the street where I enjoyed being able to stare across Elvis Presley
Boulevard at Graceland by night. I rose
early and made a second pilgrimage to his grave too and yes, I wrote my name on
the wall like any other half-crazed fan.
Because I’m also a major fan of singer Johnny Horton, I’ve stood on the
stage at the Shreveport Municipal Auditorium where the famous Louisiana Hayride happened. Elvis, by the way, got his start there along
with Johnny and a host of other stars including another Johnny – Cash – and many
more.
So maybe
I was fated to write this story. I do
know last weekend when I booked a motel in nearby Springfield, MO to combine an
engagement with the Ozark Romance Authors with a little R & R, I choose a
vintage motel that’s long caught my ear, the Rail Haven Route 66 Inn, now a
Best Western. It’s well known and
popular because of its’ location along Route 66, The Mother Road but I didn’t
know until after I booked my room Elvis stayed there. Seemed kind of like karma and when I told the
desk clerk, she responded with “Cool.
Now that’s serendipity!”
If you
like bargains, did I mention it’s just $1.99?
Anyway,
here’s the blurb and a little taste from Long
Live The King.
Here’s the official blurb:
And
here’s an excerpt from when Lacie meets Elvis:
She did not
remember the place but it must have been here before, with its red vinyl
booths, Formica-topped counter with eight stools, and waitresses with bouffant
hair backcombed high. They wore pale green nylon uniform dresses with white
aprons tied around their waist into a bow. Each had a small white crown-style
hat perched on her head. This place looked authentic, she thought, dripping
just inside the door. Vegas did retro well.
Because of the
heavy rain, the place was all but empty. Two lone men sat at opposite ends of
the counter. One stirred coffee in a thick white china cup on a saucer
decorated with a dark green ring. The other picked at a piece of pie.
Behind her, the
door opened with a rush and rain sprayed in, enough to make her jump forward.
She tottered on her heels and almost fell over.
“Oh!” she cried
just as a pair of strong hands caught her and put her upright.
“I am sorry, ma’am.”
The voice sounded familiar, a deep voice touched with the richness of the
South, dark and sweet as chocolate. “Are you all right?”
She was soaked,
had only a few dollars in her purse, and was miles from the cheap motel she
called home, but she tried to smile.
“Oh, I’m o-”
Lacie’s voice
stuck in her throat like a bite of peanut butter sandwich as she turned,
because the hands staying her fall belonged to Elvis Presley. A young Elvis.
She looked into his familiar face, stared into his blue eyes, and gazed up at
his combed-back light brown hair. There was no doubt--it was Elvis Presley.
Her body shook;
she could not control it and she trembled, chills taking over. He was young,
the King, alive. In person, he was far more handsome than any photograph or
album shot portrayed. Those full lips looked as ripe and sweet as plump
strawberries and his face, almost but not quite heart shaped, combined a
sensual wickedness with an innocence that summoned up the familiar look of a
boy from back home. He was taller than she was, by a fair bit, and dressed in
simple jeans, a jacket, and a button-down cloth shirt. However, this could not
be real; it was impossible. Elvis got old, grew fat, and died too young more
than thirty years ago. Maybe she hit her head out in the nasty weather or maybe
this was a dream. Gosh, she thought, with growing horror, what if she had died,
been hit by a car or struck by lightning. Something was askew, somewhere,
because what she saw had to be fantasy.
“Hey, now, take
it easy,” Elvis said, putting one arm around her waist. “Everything is all
right. Come on, sit down, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Thank you,” she
muttered, allowing the King of Rock ‘N Roll to steer her to a booth where she
slid in across from him. She was still shivering and, being a Southern
gentleman to the core, he stripped off his jacket and put it around her
shoulders.
“There,” he
said, in the voice that broke the hearts of millions of women for at least four
generations worldwide. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, thank
you,” Lacie managed to say. His coat smelled very masculine, like tobacco,
cologne, and his personal musk. She liked it.
“We need two cups of coffee,” Elvis told the
waitress. “We may want something else in a little while but that’ll do for
now.”
Any
idea he might be a very good Elvis impersonator disappeared when he stuck his
hand out to her and said, “I’m Elvis Presley. I kind of think you might have
noticed but out here, who knows?”
“I am.” She did
not understand how this could be possible but she was happy about it, she
thought. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elvis laughed.
“I thought I’d love Las Vegas and I like it fine, but my shows here don’t get
the same response they do anywhere else. Heartbreak
Hotel is tops with everyone, everywhere else but here. Colonel Parker
doesn’t understand it and the boys are all bored, most of the time. I’m here
for two weeks and we’ve done two nights but everyone wishes we were through.”
Links:
Facebook: Lee
Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Twitter:
@leeannwriter
.
Link to Manic Readers Review
