Elvis and Ginger: Elvis Presley's Fiancée and Last Love Finally Tells Her Story (11 page)

Between the hot stage lights and his jumpsuit, Elvis perspired a lot when performing. During this show, the sweat constantly dripping from his brow irritated his eyes. Afterward, he quickly visited with a few people backstage and then hurried to our suite, where he lay on the bed.

“Will you help me, Ginger?” he asked. He wanted me to dampen a washcloth so he could place it over his eyes.

I did so, sitting beside him and gently laying the washcloth across his brow. I was happy to feel needed and useful even in this small way. From then on, after some performances, we had a ritual of me sitting on the bed and putting a warm, wet washcloth over his eyes to give him comfort.

Elvis rested for a while, then ate something before returning downstairs for the second show.

When Elvis’s performance ended, I was escorted backstage, but instead of going to his dressing room, Elvis asked me to follow him. I did—my curiosity on fire—along with a few people from his entourage.

We followed Elvis out of one of the hotel’s back doors. There, gleaming beneath nearby lights, was a brand-new white Lincoln Continental Mark V with white leather seats and a burgundy dashboard. Elvis walked toward the car and everyone gathered around it.

I was still confused about why this car was here or what we were doing. Then Elvis looked at me and nonchalantly said, “It’s yours, Ginger.”

To say I was overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe the enormity of my emotional reaction. I had never even owned a car before, and now I had a Lincoln Mark V?

I hugged Elvis hard, my heart brimming with gratitude as I suddenly realized that our conversation the night before had absolutely nothing to do with him wanting to buy a car for himself.

“There weren’t any white Lincoln Continentals in Las Vegas,” Elvis told me proudly, “so we located one in California and had it driven to us.”

Stunned, speechless, awed: There weren’t enough words in the world to tell Elvis how I felt. All I could say was, “Thank you.”

I was excited to test-drive my new car, but Elvis turned to go back inside. I didn’t know Las Vegas, understood he must be tired, and was okay with following him back up to the penthouse. I was still reeling with excitement.

Once we were back in the suite and seated in bed, Elvis asked me, “Have you ever been married before?”

“No,” I said, a little surprised by his question.

“Were you seeing anyone before we met?” he pressed.

I answered, “Yes,” momentarily thinking about Linda’s phone call. I wondered if that was what had prompted this conversation.

Elvis thought about this for a few moments, then said, “Well, I would like it if you wouldn’t see anyone else.”

He was seriously asking for a commitment!

“I won’t,” I said, certain that Elvis meant he wouldn’t see anyone else, either.

It felt good knowing that we were now taking this to a different level.

Elvis surprised me again by picking up the phone receiver and handing it to me. “I want you to call whoever you’ve been seeing and end your relationship with him.”

I knew the object of my affection now was Elvis, but this put me in an awkward position. Although I had spoken to Larry about Elvis, he had still held out hope that we’d get back together, and I knew finalizing our breakup over the phone would hurt him. This would be insensitive and I didn’t want to hurt someone who had been nothing but nice to me. I owed it to Larry to do this in person.

“Elvis, I can’t do that right now,” I said.

I started to explain this when suddenly, Elvis’s mood changed. For the first time, I saw that he had a hair-trigger temper as Elvis picked up a full bottle of Gatorade from his night table and stormed out of his bedroom and into the middle of the suite.

I followed him, completely stunned, into his road manager’s room. In front of Joe and his girlfriend, Elvis took the Gatorade container and threw it against the wall. Its contents splashed all over.

Shocked and embarrassed, I again tried to explain my feelings. None of this made any sense! I had never meant to anger him.

Joe and his girlfriend didn’t have a clue about what was going on. I wasn’t sure, either.

I realized for the first time, that if Elvis and I continued our relationship, it would most likely be played out in front of his entourage and, at times, in the public eye. I was also going to have to come to terms with the fact that others might speculate about me, and about my relationship with Elvis, without fully understanding what was going on with us in private. Could I live with that?

I had to, if I wanted to be with Elvis.

Joe said a few words to Elvis and, between the two of us, we managed to calm Elvis down after a few minutes. I followed Elvis back into the master bedroom, where he shut the door and remained silent as he got into bed. I tentatively sat down beside him, wondering why he’d gotten so angry. Had this been a big misunderstanding? Had he misinterpreted me saying, “I can’t do this right now,” to mean I wasn’t going to commit to him? Was it simply because I hadn’t done what he wanted when he asked?

It troubled me that Elvis had flown off the handle like that and I was still reeling a little with embarrassment. As odd as this sounds, it also made me feel good to think that Elvis was really that serious about us. But how could I be sure?

What Elvis did next made me believe he felt as deeply about me as I did about him. Without saying a word, Elvis suddenly leaned in and kissed me on the mouth, but not a light kiss like before. Then he slowly began removing my bathrobe.

I felt chills as he touched me. Was this it? Were we finally going to make love? I was aroused but anxious, barely able to breathe.

I had been afraid of letting go of my feelings, terrified of being hurt by sleeping with Elvis and then have him move on to someone else, but at this moment, I wanted to make love with him. I stayed completely still, letting Elvis open my robe and begin touching me.

“I don’t believe people should be completely undressed until they’re married,” Elvis said softly, kissing me again.

Then, still partially dressed in our sleepwear, Elvis and I made love for the first time. This crazy tension and our heightened emotions made our intimacy all the more intense. Elvis’s lips were soft and his kisses were filled with passion. He was gentle, yet I felt his determination to prove that he should be the only man in my life.

He succeeded. I was experiencing emotions and physical sensations that were completely out of control, and, in keeping with Elvis’s TCB motto, it was all happening lightning fast.

There was no doubt about it. I was falling in love with Elvis.

Making love with Elvis helped forge an even deeper emotional bond between us. I felt like I was completely his, in every way possible. I no longer had any control over my feelings for him. In our brief time together, Elvis had already turned my sleeping and eating patterns upside down, and almost everything else in my life as well. Now things were rapidly moving beyond any normal frame of reference for me, and all my intuitive guideposts were falling by the wayside. The new normal for me was that there was no normal.

The very next afternoon, Elvis and I eagerly awaited his daughter’s arrival. Now eight years old, Lisa had been living in Los Angeles with her mother since her parents divorced in 1973. Having the two of us meet, I felt, was one more way for Elvis to bring me into his life.

I was sitting beside Elvis on the sofa in the living room when the door to the suite opened and a petite blond-haired girl came in, followed by a nanny. Lisa’s resemblance to Elvis was uncanny.

Elvis and I stood up as Lisa ran toward him and they hugged. He introduced me to her and we sat back down. Lisa was seated between us, but she remained completely focused on her dad. It was clear that she adored him. At one point, Lisa accidentally rested her hand on my knee and glanced my way, but was quick to turn her attention back to her father.

I enjoyed watching Elvis with her. His face really lit up around Lisa, and I sensed he was a caring, proud dad. At one point, Elvis looked at me over Lisa’s head and said, “When Lisa was born, I heard my mother’s voice say, ‘She’s beautiful, son.’”

I loved children as well and had been an aunt since I was ten years old, so I was happy to have Lisa with us.

When it was time for Elvis to prepare for his first show, Lisa and her nanny went off to her room and I left for my bathroom to get ready. In the middle of applying my makeup, I looked in the mirror and was startled to see Lisa’s reflection. She had been standing behind me and silently watching.

“Hi,” I said, and turned around to smile at her.

“Hi,” Lisa said, then sat down and began trying on some of my shoes.

I didn’t mind. I was glad that she seemed to be so comfortable with me. Then she surprised me again.

“I thought you were Linda,” Lisa said, glancing up at me.

It was an innocent remark on her part, yet I was suddenly aware that Lisa may have gotten close to some of Elvis’s former girlfriends. I was a new face in Lisa’s life, and we both needed time to get used to each other.

“Well, I’m not Linda,” I said gently, and went back to the business of putting on my makeup, chatting with her a bit as she continued playing.

•   •   •

I may not have gotten a tour of glittering Las Vegas yet, but that didn’t stop Elvis from bringing more sparkle to me. Disregarding what I’d told him about not really being a jewelry person, he surprised me with a beautiful diamond and emerald necklace before his next show. That was followed shortly by the gift of another diamond necklace and a diamond watch. When I told him, “This is really too much,” he shook his head.

“People love to see beautiful things when they wake up,” he said.

I felt this was an insight into Elvis’s thinking. He saw himself as someone who was in a position to enhance other people’s lives by bringing beauty into it, because he thought that would make them happy. He was not only a generous man but he had a fundamentally generous and kind spirit; he wanted to make life better for those he touched in all ways that he could both through music and in his everyday life. He was a giver in the most decent way, not a taker, and this was one of the things that drew me to him.

Elvis wanted me to wear all of my jewelry at the same time for his shows. Although I did feel regal, I also felt overdressed. I wasn’t used to this. I reminded myself that I was with Elvis, and needed to dress in a way that complemented his style.

In the showroom, Lisa sat with Vernon, Sandy, and me. Elvis came onstage dressed in a beautiful Inca Gold Leaf jumpsuit, and I wondered what was going through Lisa’s young mind as she listened to her father sing. She must be so proud, I thought.

Fans yelled out various requests during that show, as they so often did, and Elvis did his best to give them what they wanted.

Elvis’s audience may have begun to age, but they wanted him to remain timeless and perform the moves that had made them fall in love with him. As a showman, he was a perfectionist with a keen ear. Any time he heard the smallest thing that didn’t sound quite right—feedback from a microphone, a strange noise, an off note—Elvis would stop, apologize to his audience, and usually start over.

That night, Elvis introduced Lisa and his dad to the audience, prompting a large stage light to sweep across the room and settle on the two of them. Smiling, Lisa stood up and Vernon waved.

The singers Roy Orbison and Engelbert Humperdinck were there, and Elvis acknowledged their presence as well. He was in a jovial mood, joking with his band and trying on various hats handed to him by members of the audience. I sat in wonder, struck by what a charismatic performer he was. One moment, Elvis would be delivering an electric musical performance. The next, he was playful and flip, using humor to segue from one song to another.

Charlie, always ready with lyric sheets, handed one to Elvis before he sang “Bridge over Troubled Water” that night. It was a lengthy song, but Elvis only read a line or two and then discarded the sheets, giving me the sense that he really knew the song, but wanted to make sure he didn’t risk missing a single word.

Back in the dressing room after the show, I sat on the couch near Lisa, Vernon, and Sandy, quietly watching people mingle. Roy Orbison and his wife, Barbara, entered the room. I was thrilled to see Roy, since I’d been a fan of his music. He was easy to spot, dressed in all black, with pale skin and his trademark sunglasses.

By then, Elvis had finished changing out of his jumpsuit. He entered the room, greeted his daughter, dad, and a few others. Then he sat down beside me, and the Orbisons came over to sit across from us and talk. The room was so noisy that Elvis had to lean forward to hear them. I continued to sit quietly beside him and watch everyone.

Suddenly, Elvis looked over his shoulder at me. “Would you put your hand on my back and calm me down?” he asked.

I hesitated a moment. My family was close, but we rarely displayed any public affection. Even though Elvis and I had been intimate, I felt shy about casually massaging his back in public, let alone in front of a celebrity like Roy Orbison.

I lightly placed my hand on his back and gently began to rub it.

Elvis looked over his shoulder at me again and smiled. I was glad that the touch of my hand did seem to calm him. I wanted to please him and seeing that small gestures like this did, was helping me learn to be more openly affectionate in public.

After the Orbisons left, I caught a glimpse of how truly appreciative Elvis was of his fans. He greeted three ladies who’d been waiting to present him with handmade figures of the three wise men. Each figure was beautifully crafted, and Elvis spoke with the ladies for a while, admiring the detail and workmanship that had gone into making them. These gifts would be brought up to the suite and eventually taken back to Graceland.

When his second show was over and we were finally alone in the suite, Elvis was served a late meal. As he grabbed the salt shaker and began sprinkling it over his food, once again I thought this couldn’t be healthy. This was confirmed when, shortly after finishing his meal, he held up his left hand. “I can’t believe how bloated I get,” he said with a discouraged look. He then tried bending his fingers to show me how swollen they were from fluid retention.

“The doctors have me take water pills before I go onstage,” he continued, sounding aggravated, explaining that the pills were meant to help remove fluid from his system. “I hate to do this, because those pills make me feel weak and zap some of my strength.”

Our relationship was still so new that it was difficult for me to feel comfortable telling him what he should or shouldn’t eat. “I heard too much salt can cause fluid retention,” I told him and left it at that, hoping that over time I might be able to guide him to take a healthier approach to food.

•   •   •

We went to bed around dawn, as we usually did. The next afternoon I woke up early and walked out onto the rooftop terrace to admire the view.

I stood outside for a few minutes, feeling like a tourist, amazed by the sheer fact that I was here right now, experiencing so many new things with Elvis. Just as I was finally turning to go back inside, I was startled to see Lisa starting to climb onto a ledge behind me. She must have entered the suite and followed me outside.

“Lisa, don’t do that,” I said as calmly as I could. As I walked her back inside, I gently explained how dangerous it could have been for her to climb on that ledge. I couldn’t even imagine what Elvis would do if something happened to his only daughter.

Lisa scampered off to her room. I returned to the bedroom and, seeing Elvis still asleep, decided to keep the incident from him. He had enough concerns at the time. Lisa was okay and, after our talk, I was sure she wouldn’t do it again.

Later that afternoon, a stout, balding man with a large cigar clenched between his teeth entered our suite. Elvis introduced him to me as his manager, Colonel Tom Parker. Elvis told me that they needed to talk some business and asked if I’d mind leaving the room.

Other than a casual hello, I wouldn’t see or speak much with Colonel Parker in Las Vegas. He never stayed long when he came to the suite, and he and Elvis always met in private to discuss business.

•   •   •

That evening, Elvis injured his ankle. I was in my bathroom when it happened, but he later told me he had stepped off the platform in the bedroom and twisted it. To ease the pain and protect it, he had his ankle wrapped. He told his audience about it that night during the show.

He chatted about a few other things onstage as well, including his birthday, numerology, and the significance of black diamonds. “They don’t shine,” he said of the diamonds. “They don’t do nothin’. They’re just there . . . they’re like Charlie,” he joked.

Uncomfortable, and not wanting to injure his ankle further, he sometimes sat on a stool while performing, but still put his best effort into putting on a good show.

In the suite afterward, Elvis began experiencing pain in his upper leg as well. He told me he thought he had a pinched nerve and felt that he might have pulled a hamstring muscle during a previous show.

My heart went out to him. Elvis called for Dr. Ghanem and Larry Geller. I could understand why Elvis wanted to see his doctor, but I was mystified about why he’d requested his hairdresser.

When the two men appeared, Elvis put Larry to use by having him massage his leg. Dr. Ghanem administered a shot of cortisone into the injured muscle so that Elvis would be able to perform.

When we were alone again, Elvis started talking about the dry desert air. He had already mentioned it during a few shows and was worried about getting a sore throat. “I don’t see how some singers can actually live and perform full-time in Las Vegas,” he said. “It’s essential to always protect the voice. That’s why I don’t usually talk loud. You should never shout or talk loud over a television so you can preserve your vocal cords as well.”

Elvis deeply appreciated the vocal talent of other performers, especially the beautiful voices of his backup singers, Sherrill Nielsen and Kathy Westmoreland. That night, suddenly in the mood to visit with one of them, he called Sherrill and asked him to come to our room.

Elvis teased Sherrill onstage but truly admired him, telling me, “His voice never seems to falter or crack.” I could appreciate what Elvis meant. Sherrill really did shine as he played guitar and sang for us while we sat in bed.

Elvis also enjoyed having conversations with his bass singer, J. D. Sumner. He invited J. D. to our room occasionally, and asked him to hit some of his famous low notes for me.

These special moments would continue on future tours with Elvis, and I treasured them all. They were like having mini concerts right in the privacy of our own bedroom.

Before going to sleep that morning, I learned that Elvis sometimes liked to be coddled. He asked me to wet a pair of cotton balls in my mouth and place one inside each of his ears. Seeing this as a little boy side to Elvis, I didn’t mind doing it. This became one of the small things I was happy to do for him, like rubbing his back or soothing his eyes with a washcloth.

This Las Vegas engagement was letting me get to know two different men. The first was Elvis the entertainer, who gave me a rare inside look at the intense nature of his preparation for shows, his joy and strain during performances, and what it took for him to wind down and sleep after being onstage in front of so many adoring fans.

The other man was the private Elvis, with his love, passions, concerns, hurts, likes, and dislikes. He was very observant and had some pet peeves that I never would have guessed. He would get annoyed, for instance, if a person didn’t look directly at him while he was talking. It also bothered Elvis whenever he noticed someone yawning while he was speaking. “It’s the sign of a short attention span,” he told me.