Page 94 of Extended Bridge

Smirking, Bennett motions for me to precede him. I take thedriver’s hand and step out of the limo, leaning on him a bit until I’m sure I can stand upright. Behind me, Bennett steps onto the street. Damn man looks as cool as if he were receiving an award. Until I look closer and realize his cheeks are flushed. My hand goes to my own cheeks, then bounce away from the heat. Guess that makes two of us.

A young woman, about twenty, wearing an Elvis T-shirt greets us. “Mr. Hardy, Miss Westfield, welcome to Graceland. I’m Elise, and I’ll be taking you around the estate.”

“Thank you,” I reply. Bennett merely bows his head in her direction.

With his arm around my shoulders, we follow her into the house and through the foyer. She asks us not to touch anything and leads us past the ropes to walk through the living room with its oversized furniture. Bennett whispers, “Imagine what we could do on this sofa.”

“Couldn’t be better than the limo.”

“Guess we’ll have to try it and decide.”

I giggle at his outrageous behavior. “I think we’ll have to try a different sofa, Rock Star.” I walk to the threshold of the music room, where two stained glass peacocks encourage creativity.

I study one. “This is so cool.”

Bennett gives me a cursory glance as his gaze fixates on the piano in the center of the room. The first piano Elvis ever bought. He walks up to it as if to suck in inspiration from the King himself.

We’re led through the seventies’ style kitchen and past the stairway that goes up to the second floor. Elise explains that the upper floor has remained closed off to visitors following Elvis’s death there in 1977. We are brought to the famous Jungle Room next, which more than makes up for the skipped floor. The room was renovated to resemble the look and feel of Hawaii, and boy did it do its job! Thepièce de résistance, however, is the Recording Studio downstairs with its six old-fashioned television sets. Bennett spends time examining every piece of equipment and soaking in the atmosphere in here, Elise hard on his heels answering his many questions.

As I don’t want to intrude on his special moment, I hang off to the side and pull out my neglected phone. I delete a ton of spam messages. Ma left me a voicemail sometime last night when Bennett and I were doing our “Love Me Tender” imitation, to borrow an Elvis title. In our case, it should be renamed “Love Me Hard and Long.” I rub my red cheeks and shoot off a text to Ma that I’ll call her in a little bit—I’m at Graceland! I include a photo.

Court’s text reaches me next. Damn. Holding my breath, I open it. Seems like our local paper ran the press release I wrote about the graffiti, which has now been repainted. Good. She says things are flowing smoothly at the clinics, so I don’t have to worry. I text her back, telling her I’ll try my best. The fact Michelle hasn’t retaliated means she’s thinking about her next move, I know it.

I’m about to open Court’s next text—sent two hours later—when Bennett and Elise reappear at my side. To Elise, he says, “Thanks so much for staying late to show us around.”

Without my prompting.

My boyfriend is wonderful.

Elise’s ears tip red. Even working in these famed walls can’t prevent her from fangirling over a current-day rock star. Amazing. “When my boss told me who our special guest was going to be tonight, I jumped at the opportunity to take the tour. I love Untamed Coaster.”

Here we go again.

“Why thank you.” Bennett smiles. “Thank you very much.”

I shake my head. At least he didn’t try to layer in a Southern drawl.

Elise produces a Graceland program and a pen. “Do you think you could autograph this for me?”

“Of course.” Bennett signs the program. It seems to take him longer than usual. “I added a note for the box office. Show it to them and you and a friend will be VIPs at our show tomorrow night. I look forward to seeing you backstage, when I can return the favor and be your tour guide.”

“Oh wow,” the poor girl melts under his green-eyed appraisal. With shaking hands, she retrieves her treasure. “Thank you!”

“Elise, could you tell us which restaurant we should try around here? Speaking for myself, I’m famished.” The hotel room snack has long since been burned off—thanks in part to our extracurricular activities on our way here.

“Oh.” Her head swivels toward me. “Of course. A couple of blocks away is a great little place.” She stops. “It’s nothing fancy, but it has good food.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I reply to her. “Who needs to waste money on hoity-toity food that leaves you hungry?”

“Right?”

She gives us the restaurant’s name, which I plug into my phone’s GPS. “See you tomorrow night.”

Together, Bennett and I walk out of the famed home. Since the map shows the place she mentioned is only a ten minute walk, we decide to go on foot. He tugs an Elvis hat low on his forehead—a gift from Elise—and keeps his head down as we exit through the gates one final time and turn right.

We manage to get to the restaurant without any hassle and are seated in the back of the bustling eatery. The place is clean, flowers adorn every quartz-topped table, and televisions hang from the rafters playing a variety of shows from local news to a baseball game to a talk show. Bennett tosses his disguise onto the chair next to him. “This has been a damn great day.”

“I loved touring Elvis’s home. Have to say, though, it makes me happy not to live with the styles of the seventies anymore.”

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