by Tammy Brown
Elvis Presley watched Audrey Hepburn eat her breakfast in front of the Tiffany's
window in the Caesar's Palace Mall. He loved how she managed to devour the
food without spilling a drop on her black evening dress. He wondered if today he
would walk over and introduce himself.
But where to begin? Haven't I seen you somewhere before? Hey, come here
often? I couldn't help but notice that you're a clone of a famous person and I'm a
clone of a famous person, so I guess we both have something in common. Or
maybe he should just try a more classic approach. Can I buy you a diamond tiara?
He knew he was being stupid. He was just so tired. The wedding party he had
been hired to emcee had gone on all night. Judging by the numerous requests for
Blue Suede Shoes, even a hundred years after the King's death, he was still as
popular as ever.
More people were beginning to fill the mall. Marilyn Monroe walked by, flashing
her shapely legs and a coy smile. He caught himself blushing and immediately
dropped his lower lip into a snarl. His namesake, Original Elvis, would roll over
in his grave if one of his progeny blushed just because a pretty girl smiled at him.
Then the blood rose to his cheeks again, but for a different reason. A young boy,
and his mother were hurrying past him. It was Elvis at age six. The woman had
even dyed the child's hair black just like his own mother had dyed his, as soon as
he had hair to dye. He wondered if she had been a big enough fan to know ahead
of time that Elvis was actually a natural blond. Would it help if he stopped her
and talked, yelled or pleaded until she understood that her child was more than a
life-sized collector's doll? Could he convince her to just let the child be himself.
Probably not. It wouldn't have changed his mother.
Audrey's breakfast was almost finished. He wasn't in the mood to approach her
now. Maybe he should wait until another day. He had told himself that every day
for the past three months. The night before, when only the thought of her had
sustained him through the endless repetitions of "Thank you very much," he had
promised himself that he wouldn't let another week go by.
There was something special about this woman. He had felt it every time he had
seen her. It wasn't just her beauty. He had seen other Audreys before. No, it
wasn't the beauty. It was the moments that she didn't think anyone was watching
her that made him fall for her. The look on her face would become wistful, and
sad and haunting all at the same time. He recognized that look. He saw it every
morning in the mirror. Something inside of her was trying to speak from behind
her famous face. He wanted to know what it would say.