Jessie's Girl

by Amanda Ashley

  Of course, Keri wouldn’t let her go until she had heard the whole story, and when Kathy finished, Keri told her she was crazy and wished her well.

  Just like that, Kathy’s whole world turned upside down. Mesmerized by the wonder and the magic that was Jessie, she found herself caught up in the nightlife of Las Vegas. She went to Jessie’s show every night, never tiring of watching him, hearing him.

  On his nights off, they went to other shows, and he introduced her to stars like Taylor Swift and Celine Dion and “Mr. Las Vegas”, Wayne Newton. They were invited to lavish parties, went dancing at Caesar’s Palace, took moonlight walks.

  He moved her into a suite at his hotel. When she protested that she couldn’t afford such lavish accommodations – at these prices, ten thousand dollars wouldn’t last long – he told her not to worry about it, it was all taken care of. Don’t worry, darlin’, he’d said. I don’t expect anything in return. I just want you to be comfortable while you’re here. He installed a big screen TV in her room, had access to hit movies that weren’t available to the general public yet. The best times were the nights they spent in her room, alone, watching TV.

  She had only to mention she wanted something, liked something, needed something, and it appeared in her suite the next day as if by magic.

  She was Cinderella and Jessie was her Prince Charming, and she hoped the fairy tale would never end.

  * * * * *

  They were at a birthday party for one of the members of Jessie’s band when Kathy suddenly realized that she had never seen Jessie eat anything. Occasionally, he shared a sip of her wine, but that was all.

  She asked him about it that night on the way home.

  Jessie shrugged. “I’m on a strict diet,” he replied with a grin. “Never eat a thing after three o’clock.” He patted his flat stomach. “Gotta watch my weight.”

  “Of course,” she said, and laughed. She knew a lot of people who didn’t eat after a certain time of the day. Of course, most of them were over fifty. “Do you think we could drive out to Hoover Dam tomorrow? It’s not far from here, you know. I’d love to see it.”

  “I’d love to take you, darlin’, but I’m gonna be tied up in a meeting all day. Why don’t you have Walter take you?”

  “No, that’s all right. I’ll wait until you can go with me.”

  He patted her hand, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “All right, darlin’, if that’s what you want.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jessie kissed Kathy goodnight at her door. He couldn’t believe his good fortune in meeting her. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman: warm, caring, fun to be with, completely unaware of how beautiful she was. He loved the way she looked at him, her dark brown eyes filled with adoration. Kathy…

  He slid into the back seat of the limo and rapped on the glass, and the car pulled away from the curb.

  Jessie settled back in the seat, his hands curling into tight fists as hunger gnawed at his vitals. His new lifestyle pleased him greatly, though he did occasionally miss eating solid food. Once he had loved nothing more than a big meal; now, even the thought of a peanut butter and banana sandwich turned his stomach.

  But it was a small price to pay to be young again, thin again, to hear the cheers and applause of the crowd, to see his name in lights. To connect with his fans. They had loved him to the end. He had seen the crowds that thronged Graceland when Elvis was laid to rest. It had grieved him to see their tears. He had wanted to go to them, all of them, and tell them he wasn’t dead at all, but of course that had been impossible.

  Lost in the past, it took him a moment to realize the car had stopped.

  He looked up to find his driver peering at him through the glass. Jessie nodded, and Frank got out of the car and opened the rear door.

  Jessie looked at the small white house as he stepped out of the car. It was an innocuous place, with its weedy front yard and crooked front porch. No one would guess that the little old woman who lived there sold drugs, among other things.

  He felt the familiar ache in his jaw as he walked up the creaky steps and knocked on the door.

  It opened almost immediately. “Mr. Singer.” The old woman smiled, revealing a row of nicotine-stained teeth. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  Jessie nodded and stepped inside.

  The woman closed and locked the door behind him.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  She held out a gnarled hand. “You got the money?”

  Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew ten crisp one hundred dollar bills and slapped them into her outstretched hand. There had been a time when she would have counted them, but no more. She trusted him now, as he trusted her.

  She folded the bills in half and shoved them into her skirt pocket, then moved into the parlor and sat down on a gaudy print sofa.

  Jessie followed her, his gaze moving over the room, his senses exploring to make sure they were alone. It was a small room, surprisingly neat. The kind of room one would expect to house a kindly grandmother. But Hester Greene was anything but kindly. It was rumored by some that she was a powerful witch.

  Jessie sat down beside her, and she tilted her head to the side, granting him access to her throat. Her big black cat stared at them from the back of a chair.

  Jessie closed his eyes as his fangs grazed the woman’s neck, pretending it was Kathy sitting there beside him, willingly offering him her life’s blood.

  Chapter 6

  THIRTY-FOURTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE KING’S DEATH

  The headline screamed across the front page of a national news magazine. Even after all these years, his death made the front pages of the newspapers, along with the usual side articles: 'Who Killed Elvis?' 'Remembering Elvis.' 'Elvis – More Popular Dead Than Alive.' 'The Women Elvis Loved.' 'A Special 10-Page Tribute to the King.'

  Kathy dropped fifty cents into the slot and took out one of the papers, wondering what Elvis would think about the fuss if he were alive today.

  Tucking the paper under her arm, she checked her watch as she continued on down the street. Ten after six.

  Hailing a cab, she gave the driver directions, then sat back and opened the magazine. Inside were the usual pictures – Elvis as a little boy standing between his parents, Elvis as a young man, Elvis in uniform, Elvis with Priscilla, Elvis and Priscilla holding a newborn Lisa Marie. Elvis in black leather. Elvis on stage in a white jumpsuit, a silk scarf draped around his neck, a wide belt circling his waist. And on the next page, an aging Elvis, a bloated Elvis…

  It made her sad to see him that way.

  She glanced out the window. It amazed her how quickly she had come to think of Vegas as home. Looking at it now, filled with tourists, it was hard to believe that only a hundred years ago it had been little more than a dusty watering hole. She had read somewhere that more than thirty-six million visitors came here each year, spending more than five billion dollars. She had also read that every year, sixty thousand people moved to Vegas. She was glad she was one of them.

  The cab came to a screeching halt in front of her hotel. She paid the fare, gave the driver a generous tip, and hurried inside, sighing as she left the heat of the day behind.

  She smiled at the clerk at the desk. Everyone in the hotel knew who she was, knew she was Jessie’s girl.

  The thought reminded her of an old Rick Springfield song and made her smile.

  Inside her room, she tossed her packages on the bed. She had become quite the shopper in the last few days. No more pawing through rack after rack looking for bargains, no more worrying about whether or not she could afford a new dress or a pair of shoes. If she was frugal in other areas, the money she had won, plus the small savings she had in the bank back home, would last her a good long while, especially since Jessie insisted on paying her rent. She had argued that it wasn’t seemly for him to do so, that she could afford it, but he refused to listen to her arguments.

  “You’re staying here because I asked you to,” he insisted. “Besides, I can aff
ord it more than you can.”

  She couldn’t argue with that.

  She took a quick shower, washed and blow-dried her hair, pulled on the lacy new underwear she had bought. It was pale blue silk, almost transparent. She slid a matching slip over her head and smoothed it over her hips, loving the feel of the cool silk beneath her hands. A blue jersey dress followed. It was soft and clingy and outlined every curve. Curves she had never given any thought to, until Jessie noticed them.

  There was something wonderfully exciting about dressing for a man.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stepped into a pair of spiked heels dyed to match her dress. One last look in the mirror, and she was ready to go.

  When she opened her door, Walter Dodge was waiting.

  “Evening, Miss Browne.”

  “Hi, Walter.”

  “You ready to go?”

  She nodded, the mere thought of seeing Jessie making her glow with pleasure.

  She stepped into the limousine as if she had been doing it all her life.

  A short time later, she was seated at the front row table that was now hers. As always, there was a single perfect red rose in a crystal vase in the center of the table. And a brightly wrapped present. He gave her a gift every night. A diamond watch. A ruby broach in the shape of a guitar. A fine gold chain. A pair of ivory combs for her hair.

  She had begged him to stop. She didn’t want him to think she only liked him because he was a celebrity, because he paid her rent, and bought her expensive gifts, but he insisted it gave him pleasure to buy her things. You give me a gift every night just by being at the show, he had said. Knowing you care is worth far more than the handful of trinkets I’ve given you.

  Trinkets, indeed, she mused as she opened the box. Inside, she found a diamond tennis bracelet.

  She slipped it on her wrist, ate a leisurely dinner. It was a heady experience, being “somebody”. And she was nobody. No wonder movie stars and heads of state behaved the way they did. After being fawned on and waited on hand and foot, who could blame them if they started to take it for granted, if they began to believe they deserved it because they really were better than everyone else.

  She sat back in her seat, sipping a glass of champagne, as the lights dimmed. And then he was there, on stage, bigger than life. His presence filled the room. He looked at her and winked. The orchestra began to play, and he broke into I’ve Got A Woman.

  Kathy winked back at him, lifted her glass in a silent toast, felt a thrill of excitement rush through her as his voice began to weave its magic spell. As always, she felt herself smiling, tapping her foot to the music, caught up in the excitement of being Jessie’s girl.

  * * * * *

  The limo was waiting for them after the show, but Kathy felt like walking, so Jessie told the driver to go on home.

  Hand in hand, they walked down the street, stopping now and then to drop a quarter or a dollar into one of the slot machines they passed. To Kathy’s amazement, she won a small jackpot every time.

  “If I’d known I was this lucky, I’d have come to Vegas a long time ago,” she remarked as she cashed in a hundred dollars worth of quarters.

  “I’m feeling pretty lucky myself,” Jessie remarked, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “Really?” she asked. “Why? I’m the one who’s winning.”

  “Because I found you, of course,” he replied quietly, and his voice washed over her, warm and rich and filled with a need so primal it made her heart skip a beat.

  They had never done more than kiss and hold each other close, but her mind suddenly filled with an image of candlelight, black satin sheets, and iced champagne, of a bathtub swirling with frothy bubbles.

  “Jessie…”

  “Do you know how much I want you?” His voice was husky with desire; his eyes burned with a dark blue flame. “How much I need you?”

  She shook her head, certain she was going to drown in the fathomless depths of his eyes. He wanted her. And she wanted him, desperately, with every fiber of her being, every beat of her heart. But she had only known him a few days. What would he think of her if they made love so soon? What would she think of herself? What would her mother think?

  “Jessie…”

  “It’s all right, darlin’.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “I know you’re a nice girl.”

  A nice girl. She hadn’t heard that expression in years. But it was true. She was a nice girl from a nice family. Her friends thought she was insane, not only because she collected Elvis memorabilia, but because she was still a virgin. But she was proud of that fact. Not that she hadn’t come close to going all the way…she had been tempted once or twice, not because she was in love, but out of curiosity to see what all the fuss was about. Not a good reason for having sexual relations. Looking into Jessie’s eyes, she doubted she would be able to resist him for very long. It wasn’t just curiosity that drove her now. Impossible as it seemed, she knew she was falling in love with him, and not just because he looked like her idol. He was sweet and fun and kind and generous…

  “What are you thinkin’ about, darlin’?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He lifted one dark brow in disbelief. “Nothing? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you now?”

  He knew, she thought, knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “You can tell me,” he said. “Don’t you know you can tell me anything?”

  “I was just thinking about you…about us….about….”

  He smiled at her, that slow, lazy smile that made her insides turn to mush. “I spend a lot of time thinking about us, too.”

  “Do you?”

  He drew her into a dark alley between two buildings, his arms sliding around her waist. “Oh, yeah.”

  “I’m glad.” She looked up at him, trying to see his face in the dark, but all she could see was a strange red glow in his eyes. Feeling suddenly dizzy, she swayed toward him. Turned her head to the side. Brushed the hair away from her neck.

  “Kathy…” He groaned softly as his teeth grazed her throat. His arms trembled as they tightened around her. “Kathy, I need…” He pushed her away abruptly. “I’ve got to go.”

  “What?” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said, and left her standing there, alone in the dark, feeling lost and confused.

  Chapter 7

  “But you must get a day off sometime,” Kathy said in exasperation. “I mean, I’ve been here almost a month and we’ve never spent the day together.”

  “What are you talkin’ about, darlin’? We’re together every night.”

  “Nights, yes. But not during the day. Can’t we take a drive tomorrow morning? I’d like to go sight-seeing, maybe pack a picnic lunch and drive out to Hoover Dam, or take a cruise on Lake Mead.”

  Jessie blew out a sigh. He should have known this would happen, but he hadn’t had a steady girl in years. The groupies who flocked around him never expected to see him during the day. They were content to hang out with him in the casinos at night, pleased to be seen on his arm, in his company, to share a night of passion and then move on. He had always made it clear that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. But Kathy was different. She wasn’t an easy lay, a quick conquest. She was a forever kind of girl…he grinned. He could give her forever. He just couldn’t give her a day at Hoover Dam.

  “Please, Jessie,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. “Just one day.”

  “I can’t, darlin’. I wish I could, but I can’t.” And for the first time, he regretted what he was, regretted that he couldn’t spend just one afternoon in Kathy’s company, that he couldn’t walk along the shore with her, or see the sun reflected in her eyes.

  The smile faded from her face and sadness etched her features. “Never mind, Jessie. I won’t ask you again.”

  “Kathy. Darlin’…”

  “It’s all right.” She stood up and moved across the room. Drawing back the dr
apes, she looked down on the street below, at the flashing lights, the people hurrying across the street. She stared at her reflection, thinking how much she had changed since coming here. She hardly looked like the same girl.

  She frowned as she realized she could see the room behind her reflected in the glass – the fireplace, the lights, the sofa where Jessie was sitting…

  A chill ran down her spine as she stared at the sofa’s reflection. She could see it clearly, but not Jessie. She glanced over her shoulder, thinking he must have left the room, but he was sitting as before, one arm flung across the back of the couch.

  Heart pounding, she looked at the glass again. The sofa was there, but he wasn’t.

  “Jessie…”

  “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

  “I can’t see you.”

  “What do you mean? I’m right….” He swore under his breath. He had been so worried about coming up with a good excuse for why he couldn’t see her during the day that he had forgotten to project his image on the window when she drew back the drapes.

  Slowly, she turned around, her face as pale as the long white gown she wore. “Why can’t I see you in the glass.”

  “I don’t know. I can see myself.”

  “You can?” She spun around and sure enough, his reflection stared back at her.

  She laughed softly, relief evident in her voice, her expression. “Must have been a trick of the light.”