Fame Isn't Everything [Elvis]

Chapter 1 - The Strange Young Woman in Black

This one isn't in my Elvis story poll. This story idea came to me in a dream a while back actually (10/19). I had the dream, got up, then wrote all that I could from it down before I had to go to work. This doesn't happen often--story ideas coming to me in dreams, so something out there is telling me I should write it, so... here we go! There are so many "Beauty and the Beast" stories/movies out there (it's my favorite fairytale), so why shouldn't there be an Elvis one? I'm super excited for this story, and I hope you are as well. 🥀💖

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The moment I exited the car, an earsplitting boom of screams and cheers filled the air. It had been this way since I first started my career back in my late teens. I had no idea it would get as crazy as it was now. I was one of the most famous men in the country, if not the most famous. Heck, I was one of the most famous men in the world.

People were demanding pictures, autographs and answers to questions. As I had done hundreds or even thousands of times in my career, I smiled and waved at this crowd of people outside the recording studio, and I was being pushed through by my manager and by some of the Memphis Mafia as I made it to my car.

One of the main goals in my life was to make people happy. While they were happy to see me here, they came to get certain things. I would please at least a few of them. I stopped and started signing autographs on pictures of me, random pieces of paper, and one girl wanted me to sign her arm. That didn't bother me at all since I had signed a man's bald head before, as well as a guy's, well... Let's just say, I would've been far more comfortable signing the same thing on a woman. People were desperate. That was just how they were around their favorite star. That, and crazy. Just plain crazy.

But I loved it. I loved the reaction I gave to people. Some described it as a drug. I never contradicted that. I lived off of people's happiness and pleasing them, no matter what.

As I stood there, signing and saying hi to the people, and answering some questions from reporters about the film I just wrapped up, I looked up to give a paper with my signature back to a pretty young blonde, but behind her was... My heart jumped.

What in the world?!

The girl was gone. Was I seeing things? What girl wore all black, had black hair, black lips, eyes and white skin?

I had been too hard at work today. I was seeing things.

"Mr. Presley, look here!"

That jolted me back to what I was doing, from the being who resembled the grim reaper in female form, and answered the question that the reporter wanted me to. I was only able to write one more autograph and answer one more question before being pushed into the car. A girl quickly came up to me and kissed me on the cheek before I was pushed in. I grinned at that. Admittedly, I loved that women loved me.

"Wow, EP," my best friend Jerry enthused. "That never gets old, doesn't it?"

"I'll say," I said. "I love making my fans happy."

"You know, you said once that you wouldn't let your head get too big with the fame... well, pal, it's inflated like a balloon."

I gave him a sharp look as he sat in the backseat with me, and I said tersely, "My head hasn't gotten big with the fame, Jerry. I vowed to never let that happen. I just love that I can put a smile on people's faces."

"You're obsessed with it, EP. You know I'm right. What would you do if your fame was suddenly taken away from you? Would you be the same exact person? Would you crumble like a birthday cake?"

I huffed through my nose. "Let's not talk about that, okay? Colonel, where are we goin' next?"

My manager went on and talked about what we had planned for the rest of the day. Really, I wanted to leave the subject of my fame. I had become so accustomed to it, it was just the way of things. If I didn't have it... I honestly didn't know what I would do. I would still do my best to make others happy, but like some normal joe. That would be too strange.