Blue Moon of Kentucky

Chapter 24

"Is it dry?" Elvis looked at the suit Loretta had made hung on a makeshift cloth line at the camp ground they were staying at.

Loretta ran her fingers over the fabric. "I think so, honey."

They had finally been to the recording studio yesterday. Elvis asked about getting enough copies to distribute them. They named the price, which was high, but Elvis and Loretta had declared the investment worth it). Unfortunately no one seemed all too unenthusiastic but Loretta hoped that things would change once they actually heard her husband sing.

They had been able to wash properly tonight, which was no longer a given. Personal hygiene was difficult to manage on the road and half the time they smelled less than pleasant. They slept in cheap motels, on camp grounds and when they had no money for either, in the car. The motels usually had a bathroom in which they could have a real shower, but the times they stayed in one were now few and far in between. They bought bars of soap and washed up at streams they came upon and now that they were at the camp ground, Loretta took the time to soak some of their clothes. They each had one good outfit, Elvis the suit Loretta had made for him and Loretta a second hand cowgirl dress she'd bought back in Paintsville.

"I got the feelin' that this is not gonna work out," Elvis said with a sigh.

"But it is. You're a real good singer."

"You're my wife."

"Yes, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"You're kind of biased, ain't you?"

"I got no idea what that means." Loretta placed their good outfits on the backseat of the car. "You hungry?"

"No."

"Oh my, you really got a bad case of the nerves if you don't wanna eat nothin'."

"Would it be fine if we got there early?" Elvis spoke to himself more so than to Loretta. Loretta, after all wouldn't have the slightest idea.

"If it makes you feel better we can get goin'," she offered, and that was enough because minutes later they were on their way. Clothes were changed in the back of their car. Sensing Elvis' nerves, Loretta laced her fingers through his on the way in. They waited half an hour in a stuffy office for a man named Henderson.

Henderson came, barely dignifying them with a glance before saying, "So what's the title of the song you wrote?"

"Wrote?" Elvis frowned. "I didn't write nothin', sir. I'm gonna sing My Happiness."

"My Happiness? Are you... you want to distribute the copies, sell them out of the back of your truck if you will?"

"Somethin' like that."

"And then they find out that you came here to make these records and sue us right along with you for the royalties."

"What's the royal folks got to do with anything?" Loretta blurted out.

Henderson forced down a laugh, giving her a look that asked 'Are you kidding or are you really this ignorant?'

Ignoring her words, Elvis spoke up, "But I recorded covers before, for my wife and for my mother-"

"But you didn't sell any of those, did you? If you wanna record yourself singing My Happiness and give it to your mother for mother's day that can be arranged but if you're planning to charge money for them you can't do that if you don't own the song or pay royalties to whoever does."

"And how do you do that?" Elvis asked, as if it was even a possibility.

"You need someone who got your back. Someone who'll manage you, a record company-"