Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (8 page)

We read together for a long time. Elvis always put intense philosophical thought into interpreting what he felt various authors were trying to say in their books. This exercise was helpful to me because the books themselves weren’t easy to understand right away. I felt like I was in the presence of an interesting teacher.

I began to get sleepy after a time, but I did my best to stay focused, feeling it was important to Elvis. Around dawn, an aide brought in a small yellow packet and left it on the night table. Elvis swallowed its contents with water from a nearby ice-filled jug.

I was instantly alert and curious. “What’s that for?”

“Something to help me sleep,” Elvis said.

He had been deeply absorbed, even energized by the different books we’d been looking over, so I didn’t think twice about him needing to take something to help him sleep. Although it was morning by now, I told him good night. Once again, he walked me to my room like a gentleman.

For some reason, I didn’t sleep long—probably because of the combination of jet lag and the strange reverse schedule Elvis kept, turning day into night and night into day. When I got up around 1
P.M.
, it was quiet in the rest of the suite.

I figured Elvis was still asleep because we’d been up so late. I hadn’t really eaten much dinner and now I was hungry. I felt more comfortable about ordering room service, so I did, eating alone in my room as I contemplated this intriguing new world I was inhabiting. There was Elvis’s lifestyle and dynamic personality to think about, along with his music, his religious studies, and the many people who seemed to surround him 24/7.

It was intense, exhilarating, and exhausting as I tried to process everything and understand where I was in all of this. I didn’t yet think of myself as “the one,” though Elvis seemed to be doing his best to make me feel like I was special to him. If he wanted our relationship to go further, I decided I was ready.

Finally, around 4
P.M.
, someone knocked on my bedroom door. I opened it to find Elvis standing there in his pajamas and robe—a sight I was beginning to think of as normal. “I’m going to order us food,” he said. When I confessed that I’d already eaten, it seemed to bother him. “From now on, I’d like us to eat together,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. I had no idea Elvis would be sensitive about that. At the same time, I was pleased that he’d said “from now on,” which indicated he was certainly seeing a future for our relationship. I wanted to fit in however I could.

On tour with him later, whenever I happened to be in my room when breakfast was brought in, Elvis would knock on my door, take my hand, and lead me to the coffee table or his bed so we could eat together.

•   •   •

Before long, Elvis’s food was brought up to him and we sat together in the living room while he ate. He told me he was going to perform in Las Vegas right after this tour and asked if I would like to go with him. “I’ll be there for ten days,” he said.

I loved watching his shows and was excited by the prospect of spending more time with him. I was concerned, though. I’d only brought enough clothes for what I thought would be a short visit. Could I really go from California to Las Vegas with him? And what about my job? How could I just not show up for ten days?

As I was thinking about the logistics, the men in Elvis’s entourage began showing up one by one. What was quickly becoming a familiar scenario ensued: Elvis joked around and smoked while everyone laughed along with him. After Elvis’s death, I would learn more of the personal history Elvis had with some of these men, who unbeknownst to me at the time, had been dubbed the “Memphis Mafia” by the media.

I left the living room to place a call to Memphis, letting my parents know I wouldn’t be coming home for a while. It was unusual for me to be away from home for so long, and it felt good to hear their familiar voices.

At the end of our conversation, my mother mentioned that she had spoken to her father, my grandfather, whom I was close to, about me traveling with Elvis. Being eighty-five and old-fashioned, my grandfather had expressed concern as to whether this was proper. “Tell Elvis she’s my girl,” my grandfather had said.

I understood how someone from his generation might have concerns about what I was doing. I figured my parents did as well because I seemed to be moving headlong into an uncertain future. I had my own fears; I didn’t want to fall in love only to get my heart broken. On the other hand, Elvis’s magnetism was pulling me closer and closer to him by the day.

I asked my mother to call the shop where I worked. “Please explain what’s happening,” I told her, wondering whether I’d still have a job when I came back from Las Vegas.

I couldn’t worry about that right then, though. My focus now was on being with Elvis. I wanted to do that more than anything in the world. The rest of my life could wait.

•   •   •

As we prepared to leave for Anaheim, I began to pack. I knew I was totally unprepared for Las Vegas, but what could I do?

I closed my suitcase and walked into the living room, thinking I’d just have to manage with the clothes I had. Elvis soon joined me, having changed into his casual navy blue jumpsuit.

During the ride to the airport, Elvis fell into what I was starting to see was one of his frequent habits: He propped his right foot on top of his left knee and began to nervously shake it. I was tickled to notice he hadn’t really changed clothes at all, for the edge of his pajama bottom was sticking out from beneath the pant leg of his jumpsuit.

A huge passenger jet waited for us at the airport. Until then, I’d had no idea Elvis owned another plane. His daughter’s name, Lisa Marie, was written in blue on the upper front of the aircraft. High upon the tail was a picture of the American flag, and below that appeared the letters
TCB
in gold above a gold lightning bolt.

As we walked up the stairway to the door of the plane, Elvis told me he had picked out the color scheme himself. “The first time I showed it to my daughter, Lisa, she just yawned,” he said with a grin.

A flight attendant greeted us. I also met the rest of the crew and the pilot, Captain Elwood David. I thought the captain’s name was a cool coincidence, since my father’s middle name was Elwood and this was the only other time I had heard it.

The JetStar had certainly impressed me, but the
Lisa Marie
was magnificent. The main compartment of the plane was furnished like a living room, with two suede couches—one green, one brown—leather chairs, leather-topped tables, and even television sets. As I followed Elvis deeper into the plane, we passed a large conference table surrounded by tan leather chairs and entered a sitting room furnished with blue suede chairs.

Finally, we entered a bedroom. Decorated in blue, it had everything you could want: a queen-size bed, a reading chair, and even a dressing area with a half bath and blue washbasin. I stayed in the bedroom with Elvis while the others took seats up front. During the short flight, Elvis proudly continued telling me about the plane’s various special features.

After landing, some employees began entering the bedroom to help Elvis prepare for his show, so I moved up front. When Elvis finally walked out, he was dressed in a beautiful jumpsuit with an ornate Native American feather design. We were soon off to the Anaheim Convention Center, where, once again, I found myself seated onstage behind the soundmen to watch the show.

This time I was mindful about remaining in my chair a bit longer. It was fantastic to be so close to Elvis when he performed. Sitting onstage really pulled me into his show. I felt lucky to be so completely in the moment with him, following his every gesture, comment, joke, and glance.

As the song “Can’t Help Falling in Love” drew to a close, the band’s drummer kicked in and Elvis began doing impressive karate moves, which ended with him crouched in a long low stance, one leg bent and the other extended. He looked quickly over at me and smiled.

I smiled back, realizing this was what he’d wanted me to see. Having been a fan of karate as a child, I loved seeing it on television and in films. I could tell Elvis must have studied it for years to be this proficient. I wouldn’t have traded being where I was that minute to be anywhere else—or with anyone else.

When the show was over, I hurried to catch the limousine, almost bumping into Elvis as we exited the theater. Safely inside the car, he said he was happy I’d seen his finale.

“Good show, good show,” Joe declared once again as our car sped away from the building.

Back aboard the
Lisa Marie
, Dr. Nichopoulos and some aides walked to the back of the plane with Elvis and closed the bedroom door. As I followed behind them, I noticed that many of the same people were on the plane with us, along with some new faces.

Al Strada walked out of the bedroom, carrying Elvis’s boots and stage suit. He’d left the door partially open. Through the crack, I could see Elvis, half clad in his casual navy jumpsuit, standing with his arms in the air and out to his sides. I was amused to see Dean scrambling around him, zipping up his suit and putting socks on his feet.

Elvis saw me watching and motioned for me to enter the bedroom as Dean and Dr. Nichopoulos left. Walking toward him, I noticed the zipper tag to his suit was flipped upward. Deciding to place the finishing touch on his change of clothes, I quickly flicked the zipper down with my finger.

I was stunned when Elvis reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t do that again,” he said. “I’ve been trained to guard against sudden moves.”

I believed him for a second. Then Elvis broke into a smile and I saw he was joking. Still, after seeing his karate moves onstage, I believed Elvis would have been perfectly capable of taking someone down if the need arose.

Elvis sat on the edge of his bed and I took the chair beside it. As the
Lisa Marie
took off, Elvis opened a suitcase and removed Cheiro’s
Book of Numbers
again. By then I understood enough from our readings to know that the point of this numerology book was to help people use the power of numbers to predict the future using things like birth dates.

Now Elvis turned to a page I hadn’t seen yet. On this page, Cheiro described how people should wear certain colors and carry lucky stones according to their numbers. As we talked about colors and their meanings, Elvis was reminded of a story his father had told him about the day he and his twin brother were born in Tupelo, Mississippi.

“While my momma was in labor,” Elvis said, “my daddy went outside our home to get water from the well. When Daddy turned around, he noticed a blue light above our house. Daddy rushed back in and found out my brother Jesse was stillborn. Then I was born.”

Elvis spoke with reverence, as if the blue light represented God’s relationship to him and his own understanding of the path his life had taken. Vernon’s story initially sounded far-fetched to me, but still, it gave me chills. I wondered if Elvis really believed the story and decided from his tone that he most likely did. Reflecting on where Elvis had come from and who he had become made me wonder if he really had been chosen by God.

Since I had been brought up in a Christian family, I believed the miracles described in the Bible to be true. I felt Elvis was a strong Christian because of his love of gospel, and if he didn’t see a conflict with this way of thinking, I felt there wouldn’t be a conflict in my beliefs as well. I was determined to keep an open mind, feeling that maybe God does touch each of us in different ways. “I do believe certain things like that can happen,” I told Elvis now, speaking as solemnly to him as he had to me.

At that moment, Elvis pulled off one of his socks to show me his right foot. His second and third toes were joined together at the bottom, a physical attribute he called “twin toes.”

“I think being a twin was the cause of it,” he joked.

When I laughed, Elvis gave me a long look and said softly, “You know, Ginger, I feel like I’ve known you for a long time. When I first saw you it was like a siren went off inside me saying, ‘Back . . . whoa. Back, boy! Find out what she’s like.’”

As Elvis told me this, he placed one hand over his heart and raised the other in the air as if trying to halt something. “Seeing you was like seeing someone I’ve always known and yet never known,” he went on. “I kind of see my mother when I look at you.”

Too surprised to speak, I wondered if he was talking about how I looked or how I acted. Either way, I was deeply touched and took this as a compliment. Elvis turned his attention back to Cheiro’s book without waiting for a reply. He’d made these strong statements so casually, yet so sincerely. I couldn’t help but ask myself whether I felt the same way: As if I’d known him for a lot longer than the few days we’d spent together.

The answer had to be yes. When I met Elvis that first night at Graceland, in Lisa’s bedroom, I was the one who had greeted him first. Something deep inside had made me feel instinctively comfortable enough to do so.

After a short while, Elvis mentioned he needed to talk some business and called a few others to the back. I left the room to give them privacy and waited just outside the bedroom door.

The other passengers on the
Lisa Marie
were conversing with one another. Several were playing cards or other games. I definitely felt like the new girl in town.

I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and deliberately walked up front to introduce myself, then tried to join the conversations. Charlie Hodge weaved in and out of the main room with a cocktail, telling jokes. Dean shouted, “I’m the king!” after making a good move in backgammon, a game I had never heard of before.

There were a few other women on the plane as well. Some of them wore gold necklaces with the letters
TLC
, similar to the TCB necklaces a lot of the men had. Soon I would learn that
TLC
stood for
tender loving care
. These necklaces were gifts from Elvis, given to his family, friends, and a few select others.

I had introduced myself to a couple of people, trying to make headway, when someone approached to say Elvis was asking for me to return to his room. I did so, hoping that at least I’d made the first step in trying to get to know the insular group surrounding Elvis.