Baby, Let's Play House Part 37

On their first night together, Elvis gave Barbara Leigh a gold medallion of Jesus, shown here on a chain around her neck. Their faith made up part of the bedrock of their relations.h.i.+p. (Courtesy of Barbara Leigh) (Courtesy of Barbara Leigh)

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Girls, Guns, and the President In October 1970, Elvis and Priscilla were back in Hawaii again, the Colonel having held Alex Shoofey's toes to the fire for the perk. Vernon and Dee, the Espositos, the Schillings, and the Gambills all came along at their invitation. Elvis had nothing scheduled until his return to the International stage in January, and while he'd once told Jerry that one of the most important lessons in life was being able to cope without anything to do, he was looking forward to the time off. held Alex Shoofey's toes to the fire for the perk. Vernon and Dee, the Espositos, the Schillings, and the Gambills all came along at their invitation. Elvis had nothing scheduled until his return to the International stage in January, and while he'd once told Jerry that one of the most important lessons in life was being able to cope without anything to do, he was looking forward to the time off.

Although there was always much to interest Elvis in Hawaii for either work or play, after his huge fight with Priscilla there, the locale no longer seemed the paradise it once had. He never seemed to go anywhere else on vacation, one of the guys pointed out, and someone suggested that they all just continue their holiday in Europe. The Colonel always had some excuse why Elvis couldn't perform there, so if he were going to see any more of the Continent than Germany and France, he needed to do it on his free time.

They made a plan to return to the mainland, where they could pull some strings and expedite pa.s.sports. But when the Colonel caught wind of the idea, he squelched it immediately, arguing that Elvis's rabid European fans would be insulted if he visited as a tourist before ever appearing in concert.

As usual, Elvis relented and accepted Parker's suggestion to go to the Bahamas for two weeks instead. The Colonel had contacts there, he said, and they'd love the gambling and the deep-sea fis.h.i.+ng. But the sea was too choppy for the latter, and the trip was largely a bust: Rain and hurricane winds kept them virtually trapped at the Paradise Island Hotel, where Elvis sat in with an Irish band, the Witnesses, and resumed fighting with Priscilla. The group returned home earlier than expected.

On October 30 gossip columnist Rona Barrett ran into Elvis at the blackjack tables, a girl on each arm. Her November 6 column carried a most candid item: "Everybody is commenting on how good Elvis Presley looks these days while he's having fun at the International. . . . Elvis's answer in response to such compliments: 'That's what a bad marriage does for you!' "

In the middle of December, he started calling Joyce Bova again, asking her to come to California. She couldn't, she told him. Her committee was investigating the My Lai incident. She was putting in twelve-hour days. They went round about it again, and finally he just informed her he was making arrangements for her to come the following day.

"I can't . . . Elvis you know I can't," she pleaded. "I don't see why you can't come here here." He started in, saying maybe she wasn't interested after all, and she snapped at him, blurting, "Anyway, what about your wife wife?" They exchanged a few tense words, and then she heard a click.

When he went back to Vegas for four weeks on January 26, 1970, he was again the talk of the town and drew almost universal acclaim, the Los Angeles Herald Examiner Herald Examiner writing, "The new decade will belong to him." This time, Bill Belew dressed him in one-piece jumpsuits made of stretch gabardine ("I got the idea from a karate suit," Elvis would say), which gave him freedom of movement. Most were either all black or all white, including a stunning white suit cut to the sternum with a "necklace" of rope at the neck. writing, "The new decade will belong to him." This time, Bill Belew dressed him in one-piece jumpsuits made of stretch gabardine ("I got the idea from a karate suit," Elvis would say), which gave him freedom of movement. Most were either all black or all white, including a stunning white suit cut to the sternum with a "necklace" of rope at the neck.

The reviewer for Life Life magazine, a Columbia University professor named Albert Goldman-later a controversial Presley biographer-took particular note of the costume and the "male cheesecake" who wore it. Though he savaged the outfit as effeminate and indicative of the star's "immaculate narcissism," Goldman admitted that "not since Marlene Dietrich stunned the ringsiders with the sight of those legs encased from hip to ankle in a transparent gown has any performer so electrified this jaded town with a personal appearance." magazine, a Columbia University professor named Albert Goldman-later a controversial Presley biographer-took particular note of the costume and the "male cheesecake" who wore it. Though he savaged the outfit as effeminate and indicative of the star's "immaculate narcissism," Goldman admitted that "not since Marlene Dietrich stunned the ringsiders with the sight of those legs encased from hip to ankle in a transparent gown has any performer so electrified this jaded town with a personal appearance."

He also derided the fan reaction. "Watching the women in the audience lunge toward the stage like salmon up a falls becomes the show's real comic relief," he wrote. But Elvis managed "very well with his const.i.tuency by occasionally grabbing a blue-haired lady at ringside and kissing her firmly on the mouth."

Not all the ladies were blue-haired, by a long shot, and when Elvis returned in August, he would begin the ritual of handing out scarves to the women brave enough to make their way downstage. Charlie would stand behind him like a king's courtier, feeding what seemed to be an endless supply. Then Elvis would wipe his brow with one, and as the women screamed, shrieked, and elbowed one another for standing room, Elvis would religiously place one in their outstretched hands. It was rock-and-roll communion, Vegas style.

Everything was coming together now, the return to the stage, the resurgence of fame, and the industry respect. Now it was time to test the waters for touring, to see if the faithful only came to Vegas, or if they were still out there, tucked away in the small towns and walking the streets of the bigger cities.

At the end of February, he flew to Houston on Kirk Kerkorian's private jet. There, in his first performances outside Las Vegas since 1961, he played four concerts over two days at the Houston Livestock Show, breaking attendance records by some 10,000. Robert Hilburn, reviewing for the Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Times, called the first evening performance "masterful." called the first evening performance "masterful."

The appearances warranted a press conference, and Elvis said that while the size of the Astrodome was daunting ("It scares the . . . it's a big place, man"), in a way it felt like a homecoming, because he played so many early dates in the Lone Star state during his Louisiana Hayride days.

Yet at one point, the shows looked as if they might not happen after all, remembers the Sweet Inspirations' Myrna Smith. "The promoters didn't want us to go, because it was in Texas, and at that time, they weren't as liberal as they are today. They told Elvis not to bring 'those black girls.' Elvis replied, 'Okay, but I'm not coming, either.' " Then he went a step further by making a promoter's daughter drive the Sweets around in a limousine.

For the second day's show, Priscilla flew in, just as the Houston papers reported rumors of the breakup of the marriage. Yet she was not the only woman he had seen in Texas lately. Elvis had been flying to Dallas routinely since October 1969, registering in hotels as Jon Burrows, and spending time with a stewardess, and perhaps more than one. Lamar reports that Elvis was making trips to the American Airlines Stewardess College in Fort Worth and trolling for women, just as in his army days.

If, indeed, one of the world's most desired men flew around the country looking for girls, it speaks not only to his insatiable need for female companions.h.i.+p-and particularly the companions.h.i.+p of women who all dressed alike, as in twins.h.i.+p-but also to his desire to be the aggressor in relations.h.i.+ps, since women had been literally fainting at his feet for decades. Soon he would start sending out for hookers in Vegas, but mostly for the guys, Joe says.

"We were so jaded by this point that it had become too much trouble to go out and look for women." They'd switch girls as the night wore on, but according to Joe, only on occasion would Elvis disappear in his room with one, saying he'd rather watch. His preference was almost always two women together. "Elvis romanticized s.e.x. Paying by the hour grounded it all too well."

In Houston, reporters asked him if he still planned on making films. "I hope to," he said, and then laughed. "I'd like to make better films than I made before." But as far as he knew, there was nothing planned. He then deferred to the Colonel. "Is there anything in the workings?"

"I can't commit myself," the crafty manager dodged. But in exactly one month, Parker closed a half-million-dollar deal with Kerkorian, the new owner of MGM Studios, for Elvis: That's the Way It Is, Elvis: That's the Way It Is, a doc.u.mentary to chronicle his 1970 summer engagement at the International. The Colonel had sought twice that much, as the film would have a theatrical release. But with Oscar-winning director Denis Sanders on board, it was still a prestige project. a doc.u.mentary to chronicle his 1970 summer engagement at the International. The Colonel had sought twice that much, as the film would have a theatrical release. But with Oscar-winning director Denis Sanders on board, it was still a prestige project.

"He loved it," says Jerry. "He must have seen it ten times." Elvis was particularly proud because the staging worked. He'd gotten so much opposition from the Colonel about having so many musicians and singers right around him, instead of hiding the band and sticking the singers way off to the side. He wanted it all out front, coc.o.o.ning him, the way he liked to work in the studio. It was comforting. It was human touch, almost, what he always desired the most.

When Elvis finished his superstar engagement in Houston, he was off to California to play family man again, spending extended time with Priscilla. Despite the shakiness of the marriage, they went house hunting in Palm Springs, and in early April, they found one to their liking at 845 Chino Canyon, making a $13,000 down payment and signing a mortgage for $85,000.

Priscilla's husband seemed to be trying, she thought, but even though he threw her a surprise twenty-fifth birthday party in May, she still felt "I was always a little girl to him." When it came to selecting furniture for the Palm Springs house, they moved some of what they had in storage. But then Elvis chose the rest, and it was big and masculine and not her style at all.

At the end of the year, as part of creating her own life, she would pick a new home in Los Angeles as well, spending $339,000 for a more private residence at 144 Monovale Drive, in the Holmby Hills section of Beverly Hills. She decorated it herself with a more feminine touch, while keeping the big couches and modern furniture that pleased her husband. Now that they had Lisa, she felt they had outgrown the Hillcrest house, and on Monovale, there were five bedrooms, with two more bedrooms in the guesthouse-room to stretch out or accommodate the entourage and their spouses.

She looked back at her former self and could hardly believe how she had lived. "If he said, 'That's a terrible color on you,' I'd change my clothes immediately. For years, I was self-conscious that my neck was too long because Elvis always told me to wear my s.h.i.+rt collars up. Now I realize . . . You know all those pictures where he he had had his his collar up? collar up? He He was the one who was self-conscious about his neck." was the one who was self-conscious about his neck."

That hadn't really dawned on her when he started with Bill Belew's Napoleonic collars, but now there was no denying it. As she continued to simplify her look and uncover her natural beauty, Elvis piled on his own plumage and wrapped himself in ever-increasing flamboyance and fantasy costumes. One white outfit was so fringy and bat-winged that when he raised his arms, he appeared to take flight, and he was already thinking jewel-encrusted capes for next year. When the first one arrived, Bill saw, he "was like a child who had gotten a new toy and couldn't wait to play with it. He would prance and dance around the floor, twirling the cape, and ask the guys, 'What do you think? How do you like this?' " In a way, Elvis was becoming his own skewed vision of the Priscilla he had dolled up and created, taking her from schoolgirl to Dracula's party queen overnight.

"It's true," Priscilla says. "It was a flamboyance that he didn't have to do. It was a cry, cry, I think. . . . From that point on, he began to self-destruct." I think. . . . From that point on, he began to self-destruct."

The self-destruction manifested itself in several ways, including a return to binge spending that rivaled his out-of-control habits at the ranch.

Four days after signing the mortgage on the Palm Springs house, he bought a six-door 1969 Mercedes limo. He continued to indulge his taste in showy automobiles when he bought a 1971 Stutz Blackhawk-the first of its kind in Los Angeles-and gilded the lily in delivering it to George Barris for customizing. He'd buy more cars as the year wore on-another Mercedes for himself, and one for Jerry, and while he was writing checks, a house for Joe, too.

Then there were the gun sprees. In three nights, he dropped $20,000 on firearms at Kerr's Sporting Goods in L.A., four salesmen falling over themselves to keep up with him. He bought guns for anyone he could think of-girlfriends, the guys, even people off the street. And he became more obsessed with badges, with all the guys being deputized and armed at all times.

It wasn't just about power and control, or even for protection when death or kidnap threats came, as several did in Las Vegas, beginning that summer of 1970. Deep down, it was part of his paradox, his lifelong obsession with authority, going back to Vernon's incarceration, his boyhood visits to the prison, and the shame that made his child's face flame scarlet.

The latter half of the year also saw more expenses as Elvis began adding to his payroll. First he brought RCA producer Felton Jarvis on the team, inducing him to quit his job and work directly for him. That June they holed up in the record label's recently refurbished Studio B in Nashville and, as with the television special, blended players old and new. Scotty, D. J., and Floyd Cramer, among other stalwarts, joined newbies Norbert Putnam on ba.s.s and Jerry Carrigan on drums. James Burton, the guitarist from Elvis's show band, held it all together as session leader.

The first night, they captured eight songs in ten hours, running every style and tempo, and by the end of five nights, Felton had thirty-five masters in the can. Nothing rivaled the American Studio masterworks, but Elvis would never have such a productive recording streak again, and the quality rode high-a gospel-flavored cover of Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge over Troubled Water," an impa.s.sioned rendition of Dusty Springfield's ballad "You Don't Have to Say You Love Me," and the modern pop of "I've Lost You," Elvis's next single. The song seemed to speak to his domestic situation, even as outward appearances indicated otherwise.

Norbert Putnam was surprised to see that while the food was catered, and the players were told to order anything they liked, Elvis "was so sheltered that he never learned anything about cuisine," and always ate the same thing-a cheeseburger, fries, and a c.o.ke. One night, Norbert told him that he learned to find the notes on the ba.s.s by listening to Elvis's first records.

"At the end of the conversation, he looked at me and took a deep breath and said, 'Well, I guess it's time to go be Elvis.' And I got chill b.u.mps, because he went from being this regular guy to having this voice come out. . . . He could go from this real deep baritone to a scream that Paul McCartney would love to be able to do, every night, and I don't think he even thought twice about it. It was all natural to Elvis. It was subconscious."

That August Elvis made changes to his Vegas lineup. Joe Guercio came in as the hotel's new musical director, and now there was a new girl onstage, too. Millie Kirkham, the venerable session soprano, had been subbing for Sweet Inspiration Cissy Houston, who took off for a solo career. But Millie needed to get back to Nashville. So Kathy Westmoreland signed on for what was supposed to be three weeks. She would end up staying seven years.

At barely twenty-five, Kathy was cla.s.sically trained and immensely talented-her high notes would summon angels-but though she was a top L.A. session singer, she was also idealistic and naive, believing in storybook love.

She'd been with Elvis's band about two weeks when he invited her up to the suite. "I thought it would be a party, but he said he just wanted to get to know me. When I walked in that room, there were all these knock-out beautiful women waiting to meet Elvis. He came into the room and walked directly over and sat next to me."

He asked about her family life, and he was intrigued that her father had sung in such MGM films as The Great Caruso The Great Caruso and and The Student Prince, The Student Prince, which spoke to his Mario Lanza fixation. He also liked it that she was pet.i.te, only five foot one, and that she'd been runner-up in the Miss Teenage America contest in 1962. which spoke to his Mario Lanza fixation. He also liked it that she was pet.i.te, only five foot one, and that she'd been runner-up in the Miss Teenage America contest in 1962.

They connected right off: He told her about his marriage situation ("I was a little uncomfortable with that"), and stated flatly and unemotionally that he didn't have that much longer to live, that his family had died young. "He told me that he knew exactly how much time he had, that he was going to die at the age of forty-two, close to the age of his mother." Kathy was taken aback but found herself attracted to his mind, his humor, everything about him. "He reminded me a lot of my own family."

When she gave him her virginity, she thought they might actually make a go of it: They carried around the same metaphysical books ("We were both on this search for the truth"), and he told her Priscilla had no interest in the spiritual dimension. Though he insisted he had an open marriage, "He kept on saying, 'I wish she would divorce me so I wouldn't have to divorce her.' " Kathy knew he had other girlfriends and that she would be sandwiched in between. But when he said, "I love you" and then moved on, she was dazed and hurt, even as she had called a halt to the affair at one point, finding no valid excuse for adultery. The friends.h.i.+p, at least, would remain, along with the professional a.s.sociation. Onstage he called her "the little girl with the beautiful high voice." Offstage, she was "Minnie Mouse."

That same August he began seeing Kathy, he could no longer keep the strain of his life secret. On August 14, 1970, he told the Vegas audience that he'd been hit with a paternity suit. A Los Angeles waitress named Patricia Ann Parker claimed she had become pregnant with his child during his engagement earlier that year. Pacing the stage, Elvis angrily detailed why it couldn't be true, using a vitriolic tone that shocked the majority of his audience. life secret. On August 14, 1970, he told the Vegas audience that he'd been hit with a paternity suit. A Los Angeles waitress named Patricia Ann Parker claimed she had become pregnant with his child during his engagement earlier that year. Pacing the stage, Elvis angrily detailed why it couldn't be true, using a vitriolic tone that shocked the majority of his audience.

Twelve days later came a major kidnap-a.s.sa.s.sination threat, which sent Elvis and the guys into overdrive. The Colonel called in the FBI and private detective John O'Grady, a former head of the LAPD Hollywood Narcotics Detail, who was already at work investigating the Patricia Parker case. For the next several nights, the entourage stood ready to move in, while Elvis performed with a pistol in each boot. An ambulance stood at the ready. Even Red, now back in the fold, was frightened.

"The lights were up in the audience more, and the curtains were closed," Red remembers. "That was one of the strangest feelings I've ever had, because when he did his last song, he went down into a very low karate stance to make [himself] a small target, and Sonny and I came rus.h.i.+ng out and stood in front of him, waiting for whatever was coming."

But nothing did happen, except that Elvis became more on edge, and crowed that he'd been more willing to take a bullet than let some son of a b.i.t.c.h bully him off the stage.

It was about that time when Joyce Bova returned to Las Vegas, feeling odd about the way things had ended between them before they ever really began. On August 29, she surprised him, showing up in town with her friend Karen for support. She dialed Joe, who put Elvis on the phone. "You must be psychic, honey, I was just about to call you," Elvis drawled, and he invited them to be his guests for the show.

Afterward, in his private dressing room, he greeted Joyce warmly. "You're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you," he said as they hugged. "You've don't know what it means to me, baby, having you here. But it sure took you long enough."

Elvis had made it clear that Joyce would be going up to the suite later on, and so she left him alone as he milled about with his other guests, including Ricky Nelson's wife, Kris, and James Aubrey, president of MGM Studios.

Aubrey, a powerful Hollywood player known as "the Smiling Cobra," and the inspiration for Jacqueline Susann's 1969 best-selling book The Love Machine, The Love Machine, was there that night on business, since he had green-lighted the doc.u.mentary was there that night on business, since he had green-lighted the doc.u.mentary Elvis: That's the Way It Is. Elvis: That's the Way It Is.

Elvis had already spotted Aubrey's date, Barbara Leigh, an exquisite twenty-three-year-old model and starlet, sitting in the front center booth. She felt as though Elvis were making eye contact with her, but she wondered, "Why would he be looking at me? He could have any girl in this place. Then I'd be d.a.m.ned if he wouldn't be smiling at me again." As soon as she stepped into his dressing room that night, "he couldn't take his eyes off her," Joe remembers. "Man," Elvis said to Sonny, "that's Venus sitting down over there."

Barbara and James picked a table in the center of the room, and when James got up, Barbara barely had time to look around before "Elvis swooped in and sat down next to me. He looked into my eyes and that was it! We were both in l.u.s.t, or love, or whatever you want to call it. It was like a thunderbolt. He snuck a tiny pencil and piece of paper under the table for my number, and I had no no problems writing it down. What girl wouldn't have given him her number? He was the s.e.xiest entertainer on the planet, and a beautiful soul. That was just too much to resist." problems writing it down. What girl wouldn't have given him her number? He was the s.e.xiest entertainer on the planet, and a beautiful soul. That was just too much to resist."

Later that night, James wanted to make love, but Barbara's heart wasn't in it. She was back in that dressing room, reliving her conversation with Elvis. It seemed unreal. As a kid, she'd seen him on The Ed Sullivan Show. The Ed Sullivan Show. He was so free and alive, but her family was appalled at such shaking and swiveling, and when she got up and tried to move like he did, she was quickly sent to her room. It was too much to dream that she would meet him one day, let alone that he would want to be with her. He was so free and alive, but her family was appalled at such shaking and swiveling, and when she got up and tried to move like he did, she was quickly sent to her room. It was too much to dream that she would meet him one day, let alone that he would want to be with her.

Meanwhile he was up in his new Imperial Suite, a blue-and-yellow penthouse that encompa.s.sed the entire thirtieth floor. When Joyce and Karen arrived, they found wall-to-wall guests, far more crowded than Joyce expected, though that was the norm according to Red. "There always were a lot of people up there . . . he wanted an audience of just people to talk, to unwind." And, of course, on a typical night, "There was hundreds of girls."

Sometimes he'd have other performers like Tom Jones or Andy Williams over, or just his own backup groups, the Imperials and the Sweet Inspirations, and they'd sing with him. One night, he put on a stack of 45s and asked Myrna Smith to dance. Elvis never flirted with black girls-he made up an excuse when he thought Diana Ross came on to him from the rolled-down window of her limousine-and this was just a friendly spin around the floor. Yet he was still just as uneasy at the idea of dancing as he had been at his parties back at Lauderdale Courts.

Myrna thought at first "that it was me shaking, but he was the one who was shaking! We finished the whole song. It was just a warm and comfortable feeling. He was so shy. It was great. Wonderful."

But on this particular night, he was not in such a fine mood. Elvis sat around telling stories, going through the kidnapping threat in detail, laughing, boasting, and then in an abrupt mood change, he got surly with Joyce in front of everyone when she mentioned going to see Engelbert Humperdinck. To make up for it, he came over and picked up her hand and led her to one of the seating areas in the living room. She noticed his leg quivering.

"Happens sometimes, baby. When I'm winding down after a show, you know? It's a back and forth thing. Part of the highs and lows . . . the cycles of having to get myself up to do the show, then coming back down again after."

But the tremor became more obvious, and then she noticed he was speaking much faster. He got up quickly and signaled the guys to start clearing the suite.

Suddenly she felt his arms around her, and his mouth was at her ear. "I need you to be with me tonight, honey. Please go to my room. I promise I'll be right there."

Joyce felt a hot, shaky rush of emotion-she wasn't sure she wanted to do this-and then rose and led Karen into the bedroom to tell her privately that she wouldn't be going back to the hotel with her. But before they finished, Elvis jerked open the door. "Well, did you tell her?" His voice was harsh, and he bored a hole right through her. Karen hastily made her exit.

When he got inside, he was even more brusque: "You staying or what?" Joyce felt as if she'd been slapped in the face.

"What?"

"You're standing there like you got one foot out the door."

His eyes were cold now, and she could hardly believe he was the same person. He had changed so rapidly, it scared her.

"What've we got here, darling, a failure to communicate?" He shook his head at her. "I'm just using plain, simple English."

It went back and forth, not getting any better, and then he pulled open a dresser drawer and barked, "If you're gonna stay, then stay! And get this on and get into that bed!" Then he stormed into the bathroom.

Joyce stood there stunned, the black silk pajama top he had flung at her still hanging from her shoulder. She could barely think straight. But then as she looked around at the suite, overblown and gaudy, she knew there was really only one thing to do. She brushed the flimsy top off and stepped on it on her way to the front door, slamming it so hard that the security guard jumped up and reached for his holster.

So much for reconciliation! She hoped Elvis would come racing after her and apologize, but he didn't. The Muzak mocked her as she rode the elevator down, but as she walked out to the street, at least she had one consolation: She had walked out on Elvis Presley.

Joyce hadn't even gotten on the plane to Was.h.i.+ngton when Elvis searched for the sc.r.a.p of paper with Barbara Leigh's phone number. He couldn't get her out of his mind. Tall, with dark hazel eyes and high, Indian cheekbones, she not only had the smoldering brunette sensuality that Elvis loved, but she was also a southerner who had come up hard. sc.r.a.p of paper with Barbara Leigh's phone number. He couldn't get her out of his mind. Tall, with dark hazel eyes and high, Indian cheekbones, she not only had the smoldering brunette sensuality that Elvis loved, but she was also a southerner who had come up hard.

Born Barbara Kish in Ringgold, Georgia, she spent her early years in a children's home before marrying, moving to Chattanooga, Tennessee, and having her son, Gerry. When the marriage collapsed, she fought her way to Los Angeles, where she didn't know a soul. Elvis felt at home with southern women, and he had talked with her long enough that first night to see that wounded streak in her. That appealed to him, too, and Barbara could tell that it had.

"I do believe he liked my vulnerability, as my image might have been something more s.e.xy and alluring. In reality I was just a country girl struggling to survive and accept what life brought me, both good and bad."

The next evening, as she was walking into her apartment in Hanc.o.c.k Park, the phone was ringing. She and James had driven from the airport to a beach party in Malibu, and she was late getting home. She knew it was Elvis.

"I've been calling you for days, darlin'," she heard in the familiar voice. "Where you been?"

"Oh, Elvis," she laughed. "I've only been gone for a day."

"Yeah, well, it feels like you've been gone for days!" His voice was teasing, s.e.xy. Then he turned serious. "I'd like to see you again. When can you come back?"

She was in the middle of shooting a film, Pretty Maids All in a Row, Pretty Maids All in a Row, with Rock Hudson. She couldn't get away for a week. Still, he persisted. What about the weekend? She had plans with James, but she didn't want to tell him that. Finally they settled on Thursday, but she'd have to be back Friday. with Rock Hudson. She couldn't get away for a week. Still, he persisted. What about the weekend? She had plans with James, but she didn't want to tell him that. Finally they settled on Thursday, but she'd have to be back Friday.

When Joe picked her up at the airport, he informed her that she couldn't attend the first show: Jim Aubrey was there with actress Jo Ann Pflug. Barbara had no right to be angry-she was doing the same thing he was-but she was still fuming when Joe took her to the suite Elvis kept specifically for his ladies-in-waiting, which had a round pink bed atop deep, pink carpeting. She a.s.sumed it was a dais of seduction, but Elvis would make love to her in his own suite, "where all his stuff was. He needed to be around his medications and his books and the boys."

Until then, she cooled her heels, watched TV, called her answering service, thought about what she was doing there, and tried to sh.o.r.e up her flagging spirits. Finally Charlie Hodge arrived and escorted her upstairs to the penthouse. Elvis took her hands and kissed her softly, yet quickly.

"I melted."

She was surprised to find that the entourage never disappeared, and that the suite was filled with gorgeous women, all competing for Elvis's affections. Since Elvis had invited her there, Barbara didn't think she should have to do the same, but he had distinct expectations.

"Elvis wanted a woman's undivided attention. He wanted his woman to wait on him and take care of him, and be right there next to him. One had to ask permission to go to the bathroom, because he wanted to know where his woman was at all times."

She leveled with him that she didn't appreciate all the other girls around, that it was exhausting and a little demeaning. He said he understood, but she also knew that she had to either accept it or leave, and it was a difficult toss of the coin.

At 3 A.M. A.M., he took her to his bedroom, and this time the pajamas were red, not black, and offered instead of thrown. They carried the vague scent of what Barbara thought was Old Spice. He showed her the guest bathroom, and then retired to his, and when she came out, he was waiting for her. She sat at the foot of the mammoth bed, and then Elvis held out a surprise for her.

"I'd like you to have this," he said, producing a gold medallion of Jesus.

A Jesus charm might have been a mood killer for a dazzling actress who had come to Las Vegas to spend the night with rock's reigning s.e.x G.o.d. But Barbara had relied on faith to get her through the worst of her childhood, and now Elvis was sharing a part of his. G.o.d, Jesus, the Bible became the basis for their relations.h.i.+p. In time, they would get down on their knees and pray together, and the most vulnerable she ever saw him was when he was on his bed reading scripture and talking about what G.o.d meant to him. But in just that moment, a tear came to her eye, and she leaned over and kissed him.

That first night, the kissing was the foreplay. "His mouth was round, full, and soft." But during lovemaking, he reminded her a bit of his character from Jailhouse Rock. Jailhouse Rock. He kissed her over and over, eventually finding his way to the back of her neck. It sent chills through her. Then he kissed his way downward, touching and kissing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and working his way down her arm to the back of her hand. There, he briefly stopped, and they both broke out in laughter. He kissed her over and over, eventually finding his way to the back of her neck. It sent chills through her. Then he kissed his way downward, touching and kissing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and working his way down her arm to the back of her hand. There, he briefly stopped, and they both broke out in laughter.

He grabbed her again, and then they kissed harder, more pa.s.sionately, almost frantically. "He was spontaneous, hungry, and made love with the enthusiasm of a teenager. It was a dream to be with him, to kiss him, to smell him, to taste him, and finally to feel him inside of me."

An hour later, they made love again. And then he started asking her about numerology. Did she know what it was? She didn't have a clue, she told him. "Good," Elvis said smiling. "When the pupil is ready, the teacher is willing." Eventually they read all kinds of spiritual texts together, including Ram Da.s.s's 1971 book, Be Here Now. Be Here Now. "He was an old soul," she says. "I loved spending private time with him, because that is when you saw the real Elvis." "He was an old soul," she says. "I loved spending private time with him, because that is when you saw the real Elvis."

Yet in many ways, she held herself back with him. "I loved him with all my heart and soul, but didn't fall 'in love' with him because I really wanted to be with Jim Aubrey. But Elvis was a gift, something good that happened to me."

From the beginning, he knew about her son, Gerry, who was six years old. He knew, too, that Barbara had given birth to him, that she was a mother. Yet "it never stopped him from wanting to make love with me or be with me. If one doesn't talk about something then one forgets it exists, and in my case we didn't talk about my son." Nor did he mention Lisa Marie, because "I understood what he wanted, and a part of that was fantasy. Having children brings reality into any given situation."

The only time Barbara was aware of Priscilla was when she saw her things in the bathroom at the Trousdale home. But he did talk of Ann-Margret, mostly in the sense of how jealous he was of Roger Smith. Even though he had chosen Priscilla over the sensuous redhead, "It took him a long time to forget Ann-Margret . . . as Ann had moved on. When he spoke of her, I could tell it hurt his feelings."

Elvis and Barbara would see each other off and on for two years and keep their affair secret from almost everyone. Elvis bought her a brown 250C Mercedes, gave her guns so she could keep herself safe, and adorned her with beautiful clothes and jewelry. "I loved my little brown Mercedes. But Elvis was the most excited, because he truly loved to give. He loved surprising you when you least expected it."

Unlike Joyce Bova, she knew Elvis "had a girl for most every night and every occasion. But why not? He was the King. I can't blame him. It kept his stories fresh. And he loved all women really. He appreciated us all."