You Make Me Feel So Dead (5 page)

‘But for tonight,' Elvis said, ‘he's here. We're all gonna watch a movie on TV. But first dessert, up in the kitchen. The cook made a big bowl of banana pudding. Come on!'

Elvis bounded up off the sofa, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His eyes were shining. His pupils like pin pricks. He sprang out the door, followed by the others. I looked at Red, who had remained in the room, presumably to escort me.

‘Another moocher,' he said, as we went out the door.

We watched a couple of John Wayne westerns, everybody laughing and joking, drinking beer or Pepsi, eating popcorn, brownies, cookies. I didn't watch the movies, I watched the people, the Memphis Mafia and how they interacted with Elvis.

I could see Elvis trying to act like one of the guys, and I could see the others trying to pretend like he was, but they all knew he wasn't. To me the whole relationship looked like it took a lot of effort, but then I had only been around them a short time. Maybe this was normal and they all loved each other, and him. Maybe the fact that he was rich and paying for everything had nothing to do with it.

Maybe I was just a cynic.

I was relieved to see that Elvis watched the two movies without the .45 in his hand.

I ate popcorn and drank soda with the Memphis Mafia, and when the movies were over they began to drift away. Elvis had said they all had their own homes, but some of them could have gone to other bedrooms in the house. Eventually, I was left there when the lights came back on, with Red and Sonny West, and Elvis.

‘See that?' Elvis said, pointing at the TV. He seemed agitated.

‘What?' I asked, not even really sure he was talking to me, or to them.

‘John Wayne,' Elvis said. ‘Nobody ever said he can't act just because he's John Wayne. They say I can't do drama because people will always see Elvis Presley.'

‘They're wrong, E.,' Red West said.

‘Damn straight they're wrong,' Sonny said.

They all looked at me.

‘I thought you did great in
Flaming Star
,' I offered.

‘Yeah, that was one of my favorites,' he said, ‘but I want to do a real good western, you know? The kind of movie John Wayne would be proud of? They want me to keep doing these Hal Wallis movies with the girls.'

Elvis and music and girls had been a pretty good formula for the studio up til now. I didn't blame them for wanting to keep their cash cow going, but why not throw him a serious movie or two? Wasn't that what the Colonel was supposed to be doing for him?

‘Is your room ok?' Elvis asked. Suddenly his mood changed and he was no longer agitated.

‘It's fine, Elvis,' I said. ‘Very comfortable.'

‘Well,' he said, ‘you're used to those fancy suites in Vegas.'

‘Not me,' I said. ‘I have my own house, a hell of a lot smaller than this, but comfortable for me.'

‘Really?' he said. ‘You got a house in Las Vegas? I thought all you casino fellas lived in the casino hotel.'

‘Not many do,' I said. ‘That's where we work, not where we live.'

‘Well, I'll be danged,' he said. ‘I'd like to see your house.'

‘Oh, well, it wouldn't impress you—'

‘You shoulda seen the house I grew up in, in Tupelo,' Elvis said. ‘I think yours will be just fine.'

‘Well …' I said, again. ‘Yeah, we can do that.'

‘Good!' he said, leaping to his feet happily.

‘Time to turn in, E.,' Sonny said.

Elvis didn't argue. ‘I'll see you in the mornin', Eddie. You want anythin' durin' the night you just go down to the kitchen and get it. You want somethin' cooked, somebody'll be there to cook it for ya.'

‘Thanks, Elvis.'

‘'night, Eddie G.'

He left the room with Sonny. Red stayed behind me, staring at me balefully.

‘I can find my way to my room, Red.'

‘Elvis wants me to show you.'

‘Sure.'

I got up and followed Red through the first floor which was strewn with the debris of the party that wasn't a party. I wondered whose job it would be to clean it up? Considering everything I'd seen Red do so far, it wouldn't have surprised me if he was responsible.

I
woke early, dressed and came downstairs, carrying my overnight bag. I was surprised to find Elvis in the kitchen, having breakfast.

‘Hey, Eddie,' he said. He wasn't wearing the same exact clothes, but it looked like a duplicate of the earlier pants and shirt. His shoes were white tennis shoes. He was standing at the stove, watching the cook work her magic. The pans were filled with scrambled eggs, potatoes, both bacon and sausage.

‘There's coffee, there,' he said, indicating a pot on the stove. ‘Get a cup and bring it to the dining room. Cups right above there.'

I opened a cabinet above the coffee pot and took down a cup, poured it full, then went out to the dining room, where he was sitting at the table.

‘When does the plane leave to go back to Vegas?' I asked, sitting across from him.

‘You tell me. It's up to you.'

‘Well, I need to get back to make … arrangements.'

‘I'd ask you to stay another day,' he said, ‘but I got business, too. Frank tell you why I'm goin' to Vegas?'

‘For the opening of
Viva Las Vegas
,' I said. ‘To promote it.'

‘That's right,' he said. ‘I should be in LA shooting
Kissin' Cousins
, but the Colonel got me a couple of weeks to go to Vegas.'

‘He also told me Ann-Margret would be there.'

His face softened at the mention of Ann-Margret. I knew they had been linked outside of
Viva Las Vegas
, and that had probably caused him some trouble with Priscilla. They were planning to be married once she graduated from high school. I didn't really understand that relationship, but then I didn't know all the details. I assumed – since I hadn't seen her and she hadn't been mentioned – that she was also away, like his father.

‘She really wants to meet Frank,' he said. ‘She's a sweet kid.'

‘I can arrange that, if you like,' I said, ‘but you can probably do it yourself.'

‘Na, na, na,' he said, ‘you're Eddie G., you're the man. I'll introduce you to her, and you get her to Frank. How's that?'

‘Sounds good to me, Elvis.'

The cook came out and set platters of food in front of us. Elvis attacked the meal with gusto. His hair was slick and shiny, every strand in place. I was amazed at how clear and smooth his skin was, as if he never had to shave. On his next birthday he'd be thirty, I figured, but he looked a lot younger than that at the moment.

‘I'll have the limo take you to the plane when you finish your breakfast,' Elvis said. ‘Red'll let you know when it's here.'

‘Just so you know, Elvis,' I said, ‘Red doesn't like me much.'

He laughed, paused with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. I figured he must burn a lot of energy, because ever since my arrival it seemed he was always eating something.

‘Son,' he said, ‘Red don't like anybody. Don't worry about it. I like you. That's all that matters.' He slapped me on the back then and added, ‘See ya in Vegas.'

‘Soon,' I said.

He smiled again, like a happy kid.

I sat at the table after Elvis left, finishing my coffee – which was excellent, by the way – wondering again about him and his Memphis Mafia? His friends, or a bunch of enablers and moochers? Maybe the guy to ask about that was Red West. But I doubted Red would tell me anything, not at this stage in our ‘relationship'.

I had almost mentioned Danny to him, but since I wasn't sure how much I'd be using Danny I decided to put that off until another time.

Red appeared, wearing a T-shirt and grey slacks.

‘Time to go to the plane,' he said.

‘Thanks, Red.'

‘Don't thank me,' he said. ‘I'm just doin' what E. wants me to do.'

‘Well,' I said, ‘thanks anyway. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I can change that when you get to my town.'

He stared at me for a minute, then said, ‘Car's outside,' turned, and left.

Or maybe not.

W
hen we touched down in Vegas I caught a cab back to my house. I took a shower, processing what I had found out in Memphis. Elvis was a nice guy. That's the impression I got. He kept a lot of people around him, and took care of them, but they also took care of him. I thought Red West would do just about anything Elvis asked him to do. Maybe that went for the rest of the MM, too, but I'd need to see more of them to know for sure.

The only thing that bothered me was the way Elvis' eyes looked to me that night. Drugs? I'd say yes, but I couldn't guess what kind. Did all drugs make pinpricks of your pupils or only some? I'd need to talk to an expert for the answer.

After the shower I dressed casually, because I wasn't going into work. No suits when I was away from the Sands. Sports shirt, grey slacks, loafers. Now that I was back I needed to do something about finding out what Penny was up to.

I called Danny and he told me that Penny was in the office and supposed to stay there and do some paperwork. He said he had to go out on a case; I told him to go ahead. For what I had to do, I didn't need him.

What I had to do was follow Penny when she left the office. I didn't like the idea of spying on her. She was my friend. They both were. But maybe she had a problem she couldn't talk to Danny about. Maybe she would be able to discuss it with me.

I got in my Caddy and drove to Fremont Street.

Danny's office was a few doors down from the Horseshoe. I parked behind the casino, so that Penny wouldn't spot my car. I hadn't made up my mind yet how I was going to handle things. Should I confront her, or follow her first?

Penny answered the question for me. As I was walking down the street she came out the door and – luckily – started up the street away from me. I had no choice but to follow her on foot.

She walked a few blocks and then caught a cab in front of the Golden Nugget. Again luck was with me, because it was a cab stand and I was able to grab another one right away.

‘Follow that cab,' I said.

‘Are you kiddin' me?'

‘Save the cracks,' I said. ‘Drive.'

‘Whatever you say.'

I settled back and tried not to yell at the cab driver each time I thought he was going to lose her.

Penny went to the post office, the bank and the grocery store. Maybe she decided to do her paperwork another day. Or maybe she got it all done early and realized she could run errands. Whatever the reason, after the grocery store she had the cab driver take her right home to her apartment.

‘Now what?' the cabbie asked, as we parked in front of her building.

‘For you, nothing,' I said, paying him. ‘For me, who knows?'

I opened the door to get out and he said, ‘You mind some advice?'

‘Sure, why not? Go ahead.'

‘Talk to the girl,' he said. ‘To me, it don't look like she's doin' what you think she's doin'.'

I hesitated, didn't say the first thing that came to my mind, and then said, ‘I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.'

‘Just tryin' to help.'

He drove off and I looked around for a likely place to watch from. I had been to Penny's place a few times, but not recently. I was surprised to see a small restaurant across the street. I quickly crossed and went inside, got a table near the window and checked the menu. I was hungry.

I ordered a burger platter, keeping my eyes on Penny's building, hoping she wouldn't come out again before I finished eating.

The building had eight floors, and I knew Penny's apartment was on the fifth, in the front. I thought I had her window spotted, and there was a light on.

There could have already been someone waiting for her in her apartment. Other people entered the building, some of them men. One of them could have been going in to see her. There would be no fear of being seen, really, because she wouldn't really be cheating on Danny. He knew how she felt about him, and was dopey enough to keep her at arm's length. If she wanted to have a guy visit her at home, that was up to her. Maybe she'd gone shopping to cook the guy a meal. She'd come out of the store with only two paper bags of groceries, certainly enough to prepare a meal.

I finished my burger and fries – burger overdone, fries kinda limp – and washed it down with a Coke. It started to get dark, and she still didn't come out. I was getting impatient.

I finally decided to pack it in, and try again the next day. I had started the day in Memphis, and had been on the go since getting off the plane in Vegas. I was tired and decided to go home.

I paid the check, left the restaurant and couldn't find a cab until I walked a few blocks. I had him take me to the rear of the Horseshoe, where I reclaimed my Caddy and drove home.

I had stopped off at a bakery I liked and picked up some pastries, and was eating them with coffee when my phone rang. I still missed the Italian bakeries of Brooklyn, but this one I had found was pretty good.

‘Hello?'

‘It's me, Mr G.,' Jerry said. ‘I'll be on a plane tomorrow, gettin' in at noon. That OK?'

‘That's great, Jerry,' I said. ‘I'll pick you up.'

‘In the Caddy?'

‘Yup, in the Caddy.'

‘Then can we go to the diner in the Horseshoe?' he asked, hopefully.

‘Jerry,' I said, ‘that's exactly where I intended to go.'

I
was waiting for Jerry when he came in off the tarmac. We collected his suitcase from baggage claim and I didn't try to take it from him, because I knew from experience it'd be too heavy for me. Jerry traveled ‘light' by taking one suitcase wherever he went, but there was nothing ‘light' about it. He used a large case, and he packed it full.