Cat in a Jeweled Jumpsuit

“You said that the girl playing Priscilla was attacked, didn't you?""Yes."

“I rest my case. Priscilla and the Memphis Mafia had a major power struggle."

“And she won, because Elvis is dead and she's running Graceland."

“Especially interesting when you realize that Elvis left her out of the will and left everything to Lisa Marie." "Then how did she—?"

“Lisa Marie was a minor when Elvis died, that's how. She gets nothing out of it, just builds an inheritance for Lisa Marie."

“Who married Michael Jackson." Temple shook her head. "Another victim of rock 'n' roll."

“Lisa Marie or Michael?"

“One, or both. I don't care!"

“It really makes sense that she married him, you know. He led the lifestyle her father did: the forced isolation from fans, turning his home into an eternal playground, renting amusement parks to entertain his family and friends."

“Why did they both do that? Too much time and money?"

“Too much fame, and too many fans everywhere they went. They needed the entourage to beat off the fans. They couldn't go to public places to enjoy themselves. They had to become isolated and make their own worlds. And everybody around them got hooked on the idea."

“Sometimes being ordinary is a boon, isn't it?"

“Being ordinary is always a good place to hide," Electra said, nodding. "Now. Can I go along to see all the Elvi? Please, Mommy, puh-lease?”

Who could turn down a whining sixty-seven-year-old teenager? Not Temple.

“Sure," she said. "Friends and relatives of the performers are always hanging around the dressing rooms and house during rehearsal. Welcome aboard, and consider yourself a preview audience.”

Chapter 27

Where Do I Go from Here

(Recorded in a 1972 session where producer Felton Jarvis fought Elvis's depression and torpor)

The King was feeling restless.

He knew he should be out there, performing.

The times they were a-changing.

Other performers were catching up to him. In the early days, he had the whole stage to himself. No rivals.

But then he had to leave home, leave his family, go off to a far place, and prove himself all over again in a new role.

There, he was supposed to blend in. You're in the army now. Be a regular guy. It would be dangerous to stand out. Just be the same, simple, polite country boy everyone from Ed Sullivan to the general press had taken a shine to when they weren't blasting him for being a scandalous influence on the youth of America. An aw-shucks, apple-polishing country bumpkin.

He wasn't as simple as they thought, never had been. First in his family to finish high school. That meant a lot to hismama. She hadn't liked him striking out on his own after high school much, or some of the people he'd gotten mixed up with. Traveling people. Drinking people. Girl-chasing people. But that came with the lifestyle, and, heck, he'd enjoyed those first deep breaths of freedom. He wasn't the high-school loner anymore. He was the man with the power. Every guy wanted to be his friend. Every girl wanted to be his girl. Man, those were the days. Nobody worried about AIDS or anything serious. Everybody just had fun, staying up all night.

After all, his new career called for late hours, so why not party the whole night through? And, heck, he'd always had nightmares and would try to walk away from them ... right down the road from the little house in Tupelo. Mama had kept him sleepin' by her until he was twelve, though he'd figured out not to mention that much, or how she walked him to high school every day. No wonder the hoods tried to beat him up, especially when he started wearing his hair long before anyone had even dreamed of the Beatles.

But once he broke free, he knew just where to go for inspiration. Music first, then Lansky's second, where the colored rhythm-and-blues singers bought their fancy duds. Before he knew it, he was on the road, and that's when he discovered girls as a lot more than a prom date. He never stopped discovering girls. That's what he liked, the discovering.

His mama, she about had a fit. She'd always doted on him when she wasn't raking him over the coals for some misdeed or other. Now here he was off with strange men, meeting strange women who really, really wanted to meet him, and more. Then when that army thing came up, he was gone far, far away, like he'd been kidnapped or something, from her point of view. Taken away. Over Jordan, only this river was an ocean.