Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (13 page)

After we’d returned to our suite from the doctor’s office, Elvis began flipping through the pages of Cheiro’s
Book of Numbers
. Stopping on some passages dealing with our respective numbers of four and eight, he began examining their qualities and analyzing how they affected one another. I wondered if he knew how stunned I was feeling and was trying to prove to me that we were compatible. Or was he looking for a numerological validation of his feelings? My mind was on overdrive as he talked. How could Elvis know with such certainty, after so short a time, that I was the one for him?

The next time I called home, my mother mentioned Elvis’s declaration that he wanted to marry me. I could only say that I’d been as surprised as she was and that Elvis sure looked serious. “You know as much as I do,” I said.

Meanwhile, my mother had spoken with doctors at the nursing home and been told that my grandfather was doing okay and that he wasn’t any worse. “They say it’s all right for us to come see you,” she said.

Delighted, I relayed the news to Elvis, who immediately began arranging for my family’s first visit to Las Vegas.

I hadn’t spoken much with Vernon Presley yet, but since he was Elvis’s father, I hoped he would like me. It was hard for me to find time to talk alone with Vernon because whenever he was in our suite, he mostly talked with Elvis. He only occasionally asked me a question or directed a comment my way. We couldn’t converse during Elvis’s shows, and backstage, with Sandy at his side, Vernon was usually busy talking with guests.

December 8 proved to be a horrible night when, after Elvis’s show, Vernon collapsed in the backstage dressing room. Elvis, myself, Dr. Ghanem, Sandy, and Joe rode with him to Sunrise Hospital, where Vernon was rushed into the emergency room, followed closely by Dr. Ghanem and Sandy.

While we waited, Elvis found an empty wheelchair in a mostly vacant corridor and sat down in it. Someone placed a chair beside him for me and I sat down, too. I noticed Elvis’s eyes get misty and he lightly wiped them with the back of his hand. I placed my arm around him, wanting to comfort him any way possible. One night earlier, I’d been afraid I might lose my grandfather. Now here was Elvis, in a similar situation with his own father. I knew how helpless he must feel. Here was a man who thought he could do anything, yet this was beyond his reach. I wished there was something I could do for Elvis, the way he had offered to help me. At this moment, all I had to give him was my love, and that’s what I gave.

We said prayers in the hallway as we waited for news. Sandy finally walked out and explained that Vernon had fluid buildup in his lungs, but otherwise he was doing all right. She also mentioned that he would definitely have to stop smoking.

Dr. Ghanem joined us then, relaying similar information. He tried to reassure Elvis and put him at ease. I waited while Elvis went in to see his father. Afterward, the doctors requested that Vernon stay in the hospital overnight.

I had seen Elvis be pensive before, but during our ride back to the Hilton, he was dead quiet. I was determined to comfort him and respect his feelings any way I could. If Elvis wanted to think in silence, I was there to keep him company, or if he wanted to talk, I was there to listen.

As we returned to our suite, Ricky Stanley was waiting for us. He immediately walked up to Elvis and hugged him. Ricky then surprised me with a hug and said, “Thank you for being here, Ginger.”

It meant a great deal to me, hearing that. I was grateful if, in some small way, I had actually helped Elvis in a time of need.

A little later, Elvis decided he wanted to meditate—not surprising, I thought, on such an emotional night. He asked Larry and Charlie to join us in our room, where the four of us sat on the bed, held hands, and visualized colors, our hearts and minds focused on healing Vernon Presley.

The following evening, my stomach became unsettled. Whether this was from the tension I’d felt during the previous night or from something else, I had no idea. Not wanting to worry Elvis, I decided to try a self-healing.

We had been reading in bed together; now I left Elvis and went into the bathroom, where I shut the door and stretched out on the carpeted floor. I took some deep breaths, focused on a color, and concentrated on feeling better.

When my stomach felt less queasy, I returned to our room. Elvis was still in bed, reading, and as I settled in place beside him, he looked up from his book. “Why were you lying on the floor?” he asked.

Completely mystified, I asked, “How did you know I was on the floor?”

Without saying a word, Elvis winked and smiled that satisfied, knowing smile I was becoming familiar with—a smile that intimated some type of sixth sense.

I felt my eyes go wide. Had Elvis somehow performed a healing on me from a distance, through a closed door?

I was beginning to believe in certain powers despite the fact that logic told me otherwise. Now I remembered how Elvis had once said he knew what was about to happen, and where, as if he had the gift of second sight. Had he just demonstrated that gift to me, or was it an innocent parlor trick?

The longer I was with Elvis, the more anything seemed possible.

•   •   •

I had enjoyed watching Elvis tease his band members onstage, and I’d grown accustomed to him changing the lyrics to certain songs in jest. However, during his next show, Elvis seemed to actually forget a few words.

For a moment, I thought maybe he was simply bored by repeating some songs. I quickly dismissed the notion that he would turn in a subpar performance, though, because the Elvis I was getting to know only ever wanted to give his audience the best.

Could his water pills or any pain medication be affecting his memory? It also seemed likely that, with Vernon in the hospital and so much going on around him, Elvis could forget a few words. I was slowly becoming aware of how unforeseen factors could affect a performance.

I waited for Elvis in the dressing room after the show. Before long, he sent for me from the adjacent room. When I entered, I saw two gorgeous women dressed in fur coats seated on either side of a man who Elvis introduced as Prince Adnan Khashoggi. The women seemed completely enthralled by Elvis, hanging on his every word as the men conversed. I sat beside Elvis and listened quietly.

Prince Khashoggi and the ladies had no sooner left when Elvis turned to me and said, “I had to use the bathroom the whole time.” As he hastened to the men’s room, he glanced over his shoulder at me and grinned. “I bet that’s the first time you ever saw a prince and a king in the same room together,” he said.

As the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but laugh.

•   •   •

Our prayers were answered on Friday, December 10, when Vernon was released from the hospital. Once Vernon was back at the Hilton, Elvis visited alone with his father in his room. Afterward, Elvis told me he wanted his father to return to Memphis so he could rest from the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas.

At the same time, Elvis was worried about Vernon being on the airplane and having a sudden relapse during the flight. Vernon argued that he was feeling well enough to remain in Las Vegas. In the end, Elvis agreed to let his dad stay through his last show.

Meanwhile, Elvis decided he wanted me to have more clothing and arranged for me to go shopping with Joe’s girlfriend, Shirley. She had been a cocktail waitress in Las Vegas, Elvis said, and really knew her way around.

I was excited about the outing. Shirley was energetic and talkative. However, as we rode around Las Vegas in a car together, Shirley immediately brought up Elvis and began asking questions about the two of us. I wasn’t one to open up with someone I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t want to discuss my relationship with Elvis with anyone outside my family. I kept the conversation light and easy, dodging her questions as gracefully as possible.

Fortunately, before long we pulled up to a store called Suzy Creamcheese. It was a high-end boutique filled with clothing like nothing I’d ever seen back in Memphis.

As I browsed through the apparel, Shirley occasionally handed me some pieces she thought were nice and picked out a few for herself. I ended up choosing some clothing that I hoped Elvis would like as well. Shirley paid for our new outfits with money I assumed Joe had given her from Elvis.

We returned to the Hilton and, later that evening, Elvis sent his Lockheed JetStar to Memphis, picking up my parents and siblings; my sister-in-law, Carolyn; and Terry’s boyfriend, Tony. Billy Stanley, who had left after Elvis’s Anaheim show, was on the flight, too, along with the wife and the son of one of the bodyguards. Everyone arrived in Las Vegas in time for Elvis’s second show.

During portions of his first show, Elvis had performed some of his songs while seated on a stool. His leg was still not 100 percent pain-free, and I hoped he wouldn’t injure it any further.

Afterward, we returned to the suite so he could relax and, before long, I was told my family had arrived. Excited, I called their room, telling them I’d see them soon.

Close to showtime, a bodyguard was sent to my family’s suite and they were escorted downstairs. I slipped into a peach velvet gown, put on my evening shoes, and followed Joe back to the showroom. This time Joe left me to make my own way toward the usual booth.

As I went to sit down, I did a double take as I noticed my brother smiling at me. I had walked right past my family without recognizing them in the booth beside mine! Had I really been away from home that long? Had my new experiences with Elvis over the past weeks completely altered my perception?

Realizing what I’d done, I quickly backed up and joined them.

It was surreal but wonderful to gather my family around me here in Las Vegas. Finally, the people I loved were in one place. Vernon and Sandy soon entered, taking a seat in the booth beside ours.

I had barely begun visiting with my family when the lights dimmed and Joe returned, telling me that Elvis wanted me to sit in the booth with his father.

I was momentarily taken aback. Why didn’t Elvis want me sitting with my own family? Knowing how ill Vernon had been, though, I whispered to my family, “I think Elvis wants me to keep Vernon and Sandy company,” and moved to the next booth.

As Elvis’s intro theme began to play, I was excited for my family. Now they would experience the same incredible feeling I’d had the first time I saw Elvis’s show as his guest instead of an audience member. Elvis appeared to put extra effort into his overall performance and, other than a few sound problems, it was a good show. I was extremely happy and proud.

A memorable moment in the show for me was when someone in the audience shouted, “Elvis, I love you!” and he was quick to retort, “Ginger, is that you?” Elvis had mentioned my name in front of the crowd, and my family was right here!

Afterward, my family was escorted to the penthouse suite and I stayed behind with Elvis in his dressing room so he could change. He stepped out, looking incredibly handsome in a blue silk shirt, black pants, and black boots. As usual, he greeted others who’d been waiting and chatted graciously with them.

Once we were in the elevator and heading up to the penthouse, however, I could tell by his nervous mannerisms and little things Elvis said that he was anxious about meeting my family. This was something I again found endearing, if hard to believe. This was
Elvis
! What did he have to feel nervous about?

When we entered the suite, a bodyguard’s wife who’d had one drink too many turned to look at Elvis and slipped off her stool at the bar, landing on the floor. Elvis looked slightly embarrassed as he approached my family. They were seated together on the couch.

As I introduced each person in turn and Elvis asked how my sisters had been, I realized I had still never told Elvis that my father met him years ago, when Elvis was first sworn into the army. I related the story now. I also told Elvis that my siblings and I had met him at the fairgrounds when we were little.

Elvis was genuinely surprised. I hadn’t expected him to have any recollection of these memories; however, he looked long and hard at my dad and said, “Mr. Alden, I remember you now.” He then went on, mentioning the army before going on to discuss other things. Later, when we were alone, Elvis would bring up again that it was pretty neat my family and he had met earlier.

At one point in the evening, Elvis asked someone to bring him the three wise men gifts he had received a few nights back and the conversation turned spiritual.

My mother told Elvis that her father had once been a preacher, years back, which interested him and they chatted a little more. He then politely asked my family if they would mind him continuing his visit with them the next evening, because he was tired but wanted to spend more time with them. He said he would like to treat them to a French showgirl revue called the Lido de Paris at the Stardust Hotel, then have them return to the Hilton to see his second show.

The following night, my family went to see the Lido, and Elvis’s ex-in-laws, the Beaulieus, along with their daughter Michelle and son Don, came to see Elvis perform during his first show. We were introduced backstage and, instead of being seated with Vernon in the showroom, I was surprised when this time Elvis placed me in a booth with the Beaulieus. Mr. Beaulieu was polite, briefly saying a few words to me, but I couldn’t help but feel awkward throughout the entire show.

Elvis and I eventually went back to the suite between performances. When I returned to the showroom, I saw that the Beaulieus had stayed to watch another show. My family was sitting, unknowingly, in a booth beside them.

This time I was directed to sit with Vernon and Sandy. This decision baffled me a little, as Elvis had yet to seat me with my family. As always, though, I tried to keep an open mind where Elvis was concerned. By now I knew that Elvis did things in his own inexplicable way. Sometimes I would understand his thinking and sometimes not.

During this second performance, Elvis occasionally sat on a stool, still favoring one leg, but he had a good time and joked heavily with Charlie, which had everyone laughing. At one point, as he leaned over to kiss a member of the audience, Elvis hastily said, “Ginger, it’s only part of the show.”