Stranger Things Have Happened (Elvis Presley story)

Chapter 12

Elvis ends up taking all of us out to a restaurant downtown. Even before we get out of the car, I can tell that it is extravagant. I shouldn't really be surprised by that though, being that we're all dressed fancy.

The first thing I notice when we get inside is that the place is totally empty. Tables fill the whole restaurant, but not a single one of them is occupied. At first I'm confused, but it soon clicks. He rented the place out. Sure enough, a man who appears to be the owner comes up and shakes Elvis's hand.

"Hello Mr. Presley, right this way to your table."

He escorts all of us through the place, stopping in front of a set of glass doors in the back. Once he opens them, I see that there is one large table that has already been set. I guess this must be a private area for this kind of thing. Elvis pulls my chair out for me and let's me sit down before taking his seat to my left. Jerry sits on the other side of me and Red and Joe sit across from us. Waitresses come immediately with water, which I am sure to thank them for. Just before they leave Elvis ends up ordering rounds of drinks for everyone. He turns to me with a smile.

"I'd offer you one little girl, but I don't wanna get in trouble," he elbows me in the ribs, chuckling. I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him. 

"Whatever old man. And I'm only three years younger than you!" In the back of my mind it feels weird to say that, knowing that I'm actually much more than three years younger than him. More like sixty years younger, as a matter of fact.

When the waitresses come back, they serve each of the men their drinks before taking our orders. I'm still trying to make sense of the menu, so I make them take my order last. Elvis ends up getting something that sounds like it could feed a a small army, and the other guys do the same. Finally seeing something simple, spaghetti, I decide to get that. Elvis raises an eyebrow at this but otherwise stays quiet.

The guys all down their drinks pretty quickly, but I notice that Elvis doesn't. He drinks his slowly, not even half finished by the time more are brought out. I find this strange, I would expect him to go crazy with it or something. He must notice me observing him, because he leans over and whispers in my ear.

"Don't look at me like that darlin', I just don't want a hangover for the concert is all."

When he pulls away he wears a grin, like he just told some shocking secret. But honestly, I'm glad he isn't planning on getting drunk. I've never be one for that kind of thing, and it's nice that I won't have to be dealing with four drunk men all by myself.

When the food finally comes out my mouth is watering. Two waitresses each hold multiple trays carrying the immense amount food the guys ordered. They place plate after plate down, quickly filling up the table. By the time I get mine there's hardly any room left.

We all dig in immediately, stuffing our faces with the delicious food. And saying it's delicious is a fact, this is probably the best spaghetti I've ever had in my entire life. I try to eat it without getting sauce all over my face, but I find myself needing my napkin on more than one occasion. And each time this happens, Elvis laughs at me. I just shake my head, laughing with him.