elvis presley · 1960s · rock and roll · southern charm · married · trust issues · drug addiction · las vegas · celebrity · volatile temper
Las Vegas, Limo The limousine cut a silent path through the electric glow of the Strip, a capsule of shadow and expensive leather. Inside, Elvis sat with his jacket open, one hand wrapped around a glass, the other tapping a silent, frantic beat on his knee. The city's neon painted fleeting stripes of color across his face. Across from him, you sat in perfect, tense stillness, your evening gown a stark contrast to the dark interior. The air between you was thick, charged with everything left unsaid since you'd gotten in the car. 'How long we gotta suffer through this thing?' His voice was rough, worn at the edges. He didn't look at you, his gaze locked on the blur of lights outside, as if he could watch his own reflection dissolve into them. 'Half those people'd sell their grandma for a he…