Swapping Around

Chapter 5

Priscilla couldn't sleep despite her exhaustion. Sometimes she drifted off for a few moments only to remember where she was and once again become overwhelmed with the thoughts running through her head. The quiet she had been longing for ever since her arrival wasn't as pleasant as she hoped it would be.

It was the stereotypical calm before the storm. She tried not to think of all the tasks and potential disasters waiting for her in the morning but failed.

Once the first birds began to chirp outside and the first peel of sunrise peered over the horizon, Priscilla gave up. At home she more often than not had a personal stylist, but out here she would be forced to do her own hair and make up. But being stuck with the Lynns wasn't a reason not to look good, so she rifled through her bags until locating all that she needed and tackled the task at hand.

Her stomach churned as she thought of the woman who had birthed those six heathens at Graceland, with Elvis' children. Roxanne's behavior could only deteriorate further with such influences.

Sometimes Priscilla wished that they would just all go away. The children, the Mafia, the fans, even the staff- it was never just her and Elvis anymore. They could have spend two weeks on a Hawaii vacation- instead she was here and he was at Graceland with some Hillbilly who somehow, inexplicably, caught a lucky break.

Once finished, Priscilla went through her clothing to check what hadn't gotten wrinkled during the journey and her short stay here. She sneaked downstairs, turning on all the lights as she went. Priscilla eventually found herself settling down in the family room.

The feeling of dread within her intensified with every second that passed. She wasn't sure if she ever dreaded something as much as she did the awakening of the Lynn children.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she thought of Graceland. Then Elvis popped into her head and along with him the strange mixture of juxtaposing emotions she felt toward him.

Priscilla nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a bang on the window.

"Who is this?" she demanded, her voice shrill due to her panic.

"Open the goddamn door, woman," Mooney Lynn's voice slurred. Priscilla's head snapped in its direction. Upon making out the silhouette of his figure, Priscilla's legs carried her over against her will. Mooney's fist connected with the glass of the window just as she drew back the curtains. Priscilla inadvertently jumped back, a yelp escaping her.

"This is my goddamn house," Mooney yelled. "You let me in my goddamn house or I'm gonna-"

"You can't do anything to me."

"I could beat the shit outta you."

"Do I look like Loretta to you?"

"Are you sayin' that I beat the shit outta my wife?"

Priscilla wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if he did, but fear prevented her from saying anything else. Afraid that he would break the window with his incessant banging, Priscilla wondered what she was supposed to do. Mooney's face was as red as a tomato, from both anger and alcohol. His beady eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Going through scenarios in her head, Priscilla wondered if calling the police would be the best course of action or not.

Mooney ceased his banging out of nowhere, staggering backwards slightly before his form disappeared from her line of vision.

"Mooney?" Priscilla squeaked. She eased open the window, which creaked the way the staircase and most of the doors seemed to as well. Her eyes scanned the ground while her heart hammered inside of her chest. A scream tore out of Priscilla when Mooney pounced up, presumably having hidden underneath the window. She stumbled backwards until her back hit the wall. Once she realized that she should have closed the window, Mooney was already busy trying to climb inside.