Chicken A La King Page Three

Ali and Scott walked into the Nascar cafe. The air was filled with electricity. Even though it was late night, gamblers were there in droves, commiserating over their losses and gloating over their winnings. They took a booth at the back. Some people stopped and stared when “Elvis” walked by.
“Hey Elvis, I’m all shook up Man” a Nascar fan commented. “Thank you, thank you very much” Scott retorted and shook his hips.
They sat down in a booth. Ali marveled how Scott managed to drift in and out of his “Elvis” persona.
“Thanks for saving me tonight,” she said.
“They don’t call me The King for nothing”.
“It happens all the time, men from out of town...”
“Yeah, they see a pretty girl like you and just assume they can buy her, like ordering a pizza.”
“I guess that’s true. So sad...”
“That’s Vegas Baby...So you’re from Iowa?” He gazed at her nametag
“Yes, from Des Moines. I lived on a farm out there all my life”.
“Vegas is quite a switch for you then”
“Yes, it’s a world away...Where are you from?”
“California”.
The waitress took their order for two vanilla shakes. Ali wondered about the person in front of her. He was an illusion of Elvis yet he seemed like a nice normal guy underneath the Mr. Showbiz facade.
Scott studied the woman child in front of him. She looked about seventeen years old with her long blonde hair hanging all over her face yet she carried herself like a mature woman.
“How old are you if you don’t mind me asking?” he inquired.
“I’ll be twenty-five in September.”
“You seem older but you look younger...If that makes any sense.”
“Years at a farm will do that to you, builds character”
“So what kind of farm were you on?”
“Well, my father loved horses so we had twelve of them, we had some chickens and a sheepdog named Chester. I miss him”
“Your parents still out there?
“Oh yes, they’re all worried about me being here by myself. They call it Sin City. It probably broke their hearts for me to leave them, but I had to leave.”
“Why?”
She suddenly looked sad.
“Because I probably would have died if I had stayed there.”
She stopped short of telling about Chet. No need to rush into sad stories about exes yet. She wondered why she was baring her heart to a total stranger. He seemed so kind and he was a good listener. She thought of Chet. He would be jealous if he knew she was out on a date with a man. Was that what this was? A date? The waitress appeared with two shakes and they toasted.
“To new friends”, he smiled
“To new friends”....
“So, tell me about you”, she looked at him.
“Me? Nothing to tell, why I’m just a good old country boy...”
“Oh come on now!”
“Well, let’s see.... I’ve been performing since I was ten years old. I’ve performed in countless venues here in Las Vegas and around the country. I sing all of Elvis’s songs, maybe a few hundred of them. I performed on a TV show once and played a small part in a movie. I was invited up on stage with Tom Jones one night at the MGM Grand...but I have bigger things planned. I feel blessed to be a part of the Vegas entertainment scene.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“It’s an honor to invoke the spirit of Elvis”.
“Do you charge a lot of money for your shows?”
慦ell, I’ll go anywhere if the price is right. I generally charge anywhere from $500.00 to $10,000 per show.
“Wow”.
“What kind of gigs do you do?”
He pulled out his business card with his glossy picture on the front.
“Anniversaries, bachelorette parties, banquets, bar mitzvahs, conventions, funerals, dinner dances, jingles, movie soundtracks, private parties, reunions...You name it sweetheart.”
“You must be a very busy man.”
“I stay busy.”
“Do you think you’re Elvis?”
“Well, I know I ain’t Elvis himself but I think I got part of The King in my heart.”
“What about the real you?”
“Oh, that’s a long story”
“Come on, I told you about me...”
“Well, I’m from California.... I moved out here ten years ago. I divorced my wife, we got married real young. We had to call it quits. She didn’t believe in me and didn’t understand my need to perform. And I couldn’t imagine going on without doing it, so we split. It’s like you said...I would have died if I didn’t follow my dream.”
“No kids?”
“Nah, no kids.”
Ali looked at him and wondered what kind of person he was. It was hard to tell in his stage clothes. He was obviously very talented. She wondered if he thought she was just another groupie.... Two middle-aged ladies came over to the table with digital cameras poised.
“Oh Elvis, we love you”
“Thank you Ma’am, thanks very much...I love you too darling.... Give Elvis a kiss now.”
She kissed him. The other woman looked at him.
“Can I have a kiss too?”
He kissed her hand.
“Can we have a picture?”
“Surely Ma’am!”
Ali snapped the picture of Elvis with his arms around the two women.
“God bless ladies”
They sipped their shakes and talked into the night. The place was soon empty and the busboy was mopping the floor.
“I guess its time to go”, Scott helped her out of the booth. They walked home past glaring neon signs and drunken college students that stumbled in their path. They finally reached her apartment complex. It was an Adobe style building with massive wooden doors in front.
“Well, goodnight gorgeous, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Goodnight, thanks for everything”.
He gave her a peck on the cheek and she let herself in while he waited outside. She watched him leave from the window. His white cape swung behind him. He was a funny guy.
Home now was a one bedroom flat, a small stucco covered place with terra cotta tile floors and wood beams in the ceiling. She had furnished it herself with a leather couch, a wooden coffee table, and a neat Navajo rug. She had a vast CD collection and turned on Etta James.
Tonight had been good. Scott was the first person that had actually been kind to her in Vegas and not some loser coming on to her. She turned on the TV and watched some news reruns. There was some news about the war in the Middle East, a kidnapping of a twelve-year-old girl in Reno and a spot about animal cruelty on a chicken ranch owned by a wealthy entrepreneur. She turned up the volume.
“Today the man America knows as Uncle Sam The Chicken Man is under investigation of alleged charges of animal abuse. Uncle Sam has denied all charges and the investigation continues. More tomorrow,” the announcer said.
She shut the TV off and was disturbed by what she had heard. They had raised chickens at her ranch in Des Moines and she knew what smart creatures they were, how they cared for their young and were dutiful breeders. She settled down to sleep; her long hair framed her face like a golden halo. That night she dreamt of dancing with chickens dressed in tuxedos on her ranch.