Blue Like Elvis (10 page)

Chapter 14

“JIMMY! Over here!”
I was standing at the fence just off the tarmac at NAS Millington watching my
brother plow down the steps of the huge cargo plane with a bunch of sailors.

He looked so
different. So grown up. I’d have to get used to that. Still the same handsome
face, same prominent jaw line, with the same seriously masculine air about him.
His brown hair, same shade as mine, was surprisingly shaggy. Last time I’d seen
him, it was practically buzzed. He’d filled out a lot too. As if he’d been
working out. I couldn’t believe how much he’d changed. Suddenly he started
running toward me, then dropped his duffel and scooped me up in his arms.

“Moonpie!” He
planted a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek and hugged me hard. “You look great!”

“So do you! I
can’t believe you’re finally home!”

“It’s about
time, huh?” He set me back down and gathered his gear. “Let’s get out of here.”

We wasted no
time stashing his stuff in my trunk.

“I see the old
man bought you a new Caddy. Nice wheels, Sis.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s
got one for you, no doubt a convertible all shined and polished. He’ll probably
hand you the keys before he or Mom even give you a hug.”

“Here’s hoping.
He told me they’ve got a loaner for me here at Brentwood’s so I can drive down
to Birmingham.”

“That’s Dad.
Always a step ahead.”

I was so glad my
brother was here. Safe in my car. All in one piece. No longer in the jungles of
that faraway country where our defeat still defined the wounded soul of our
nation. No longer on the other side of the earth. Home. Safe.

On the drive
back to Memphis, we talked a mile a minute. It was a little strange, my
annoying brother all morphed into this big soldier with a lot of mileage under
his belt. I could tell he was happy to be back in the states, and especially
glad to be back in the South. My heart ached when I looked into those gorgeous
brown eyes of his. They looked tired. Like eyes that had seen too much.

As we approached
the skyline of downtown, he said, “Hey, I would kill for some ribs. Are you
hungry?”

“Funny you
should ask.”

A few minutes
later we parked just off Beale Street and made our way to the back alley
entrance of The Rendezvous. The famous restaurant had always been Jimmy’s
favorite, so he wasn’t at all surprised when I suggested it.

If you’ve ever
been to Memphis, you’ve heard of the famous basement rib joint. The son of
Greek immigrants, Charlie Vergos first opened his restaurant as a sandwich
shop. But his sandwiches were different from others in downtown Memphis.
Charlie smoked his ham and chicken in, of all things, a pit which was fitted
into a coal chute. His sandwiches sold by the hundreds. When a meat salesman
one day left him a case of ribs, Charlie decided to spice them up a bit. His
secret blend of Greek and American spices became the famous dry rib seasoning
which would set his restaurant apart and delight customers for decades to come.

But it wasn’t
just the ribs and side dishes that made the Rendezvous so unique. Charlie took
good care of his employees. Many have been with him since the ‘50s and ‘60s,
and a few of them had kids of their own who now worked there. It was truly a
family affair.

He stopped,
closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of barbecue that filled the air. “You
have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this moment—to taste these ribs again.

I laughed and patted
him on the back as he rubbed his stomach in anticipation. “Which is precisely
why I drove you straight here from the base!”

Of course, he
had
no
idea we wouldn’t be dining alone.

As we descended
the staircase, I scoped the dining area for familiar faces, hoping I wouldn’t
see any. For a Sunday evening, the place was unusually busy. I gave our name to
the head waiter with my back turned to my brother. “Colter. Party of two.” I
winked. A warm smile spread across his dark face as he acknowledged the name. “Yes,
ma’am. Right this way.”

He led us toward
a private room in back, throwing open the doors as the crowd inside shouted, “WELCOME
HOME!”

“What have you
done, baby sister?” Jimmy shouted, planting his hands on his hips.

“I wanted you to
know how happy I am to have you home, so we threw a little party!”

He wrapped me in
his arms and kissed the top of my head. In a moment he was swept into the room
filled with friends new and old. Tucker bear-hugged Jimmy before we’d barely entered.
The greetings went on for several minutes, mostly by his old childhood friends.
I took my time introducing him to some of the girls from work, and of course,
Sandra.

“Hola, Jimmy!
You’re even more handsome in person!” she shouted, giving him a hug. “¡Bienvenido!
Welcome to your party, hermano mayor!”

Rachel waddled
over and gave him a hug. “You don’t know me, but I’m Rachel, Shelby’s roommate
from Samford. I’ve prayed for you for as long as I’ve known her. It’s so good
to finally meet you!”

“Nice to meet
you too, Rachel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She swiped at a
renegade tear. “And this is my husband, Rich.”

Rich shook my
brother’s hand. “Welcome home!”

Jimmy took it
all well, considering he’s usually not one for all the fuss. He seemed
impressed with the huge banner we’d made and all the red, white, and blue balloons
bobbing around the room, but mostly he enjoyed getting reacquainted with old
friends and making a few new ones.

Eventually we
all took our seats as the waiters brought in family-style platters of the
famous ribs, chicken, brisket, and all the sides. Jimmy didn’t hold back,
devouring the ribs on his plate along with the companion beans and slaw. I
hoped he didn’t make himself sick. Tucker teased him mercilessly. It was good
to see them both laughing like that.

I was surprised
how well the different factions of our little group blended. Everyone seemed to
have a great time and lingered for several hours. Somewhere around 9:30, I
realized it was just the four of us—Jimmy, Tucker, Sandra, and me. We settled
in over last bites of dessert and coffee, enjoying the afterglow of the
evening.

Jimmy nodded at
Tucker and me. “Who would have thought, after all these years, that you two
would actually be
friends
? Seriously, Tuck, after that stunt you pulled
putting Ex-Lax in her chocolate malt, I didn’t think she’d ever speak to you
again.”

I doubled over,
remembering the awful experience and the horrible after-effects. “Oh, Jimmy,
please. Did you have to remind me?” I punched Tucker in the arm. “That was
terrible!”

It took him a
while to stop laughing. “Y’know, for the life of me I can’t figure out why we
were so mean to you.”

“Well, that’s a
no-brainer,” Jimmy said. “She was an easy target. Made our mischief all the
more fun.”

“Didn’t you ever
retaliate?” Sandra asked, before licking the last bite of chocolate from her
fork.

“Believe me, I
tried. I stole their beloved baseball cards. I hid my old Barbies in their
lunchboxes—”

“Now, for the
record, that was just wrong,” Tucker interrupted, holding up his hands. “Do you
have any idea how much flak I caught when I opened my lunchbox that day? The
guys teased me about that for over a year, no thanks to you.” He fake-punched
my shoulder.

“I make no
apologies. It was well-deserved and you know it.”

“Atta girl,
Shelby,” Sandra cheered.

We chatted a
while longer, then Jimmy asked, “Tuck, where’s this fancy girlfriend of yours?
How come she’s not here tonight?”

An uncomfortable
silence drifted across the table until Tucker finally answered. “Well, old
buddy, I’m afraid you’re a little late. We’re no longer together, as of a
couple weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Jimmy
said, sitting back. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“No problem,”
Tucker answered quickly. “Really. It’s all good. Just wasn’t meant to be. Which
puts me in the same boat with your sister here.” He nodded at me, giving me one
of those looks you give someone who’s been where you’ve been.
Sort of . . .

“That’s right,
Moonpie,” Jimmy said, after draining the last of his coffee. “Mom and Dad said
the reason you moved here was to get away from all the stress after dumping
Will.”

“Jimmy, I did
not ‘dump’ Will.”

“Sure you did.
And it’s a good thing. He’s Navy. Need I say more? You deserve a lot better.”
He winked at me, then added, “Someone like Tuck here.”

“Oh, please,” I
groaned, hoping to cover my embarrassment. “With our history, that would be
most
unlikely.”

“Yeah,” Tucker
added, refolding his napkin. “I’ll always be Chubby Tucker to her. Not exactly
the stuff of romance.”

“And I’ll always
be Moonpie to him.”

“I feel so left
out with no nickname,” Sandra said, faking a good pout. “What’s a girl gotta do
to get a nickname with you guys?”

“Jimmy, what do
you think?” Tucker studied my roommate.

“I don’t know,
Tuck. Something Puerto Rican? Something a little spicy perhaps?”

Jimmy snapped
his fingers. “I’ve got it! We’ll call you Chiquita. Our favorite little banana.”

Sandra laughed,
clapping her hands. “I like that! Chiquita it is.”

Our waiter
stopped by to refill our coffee cups. “It’s been a real pleasure to serve you
this evening,” he said, emptying his carafe into Jimmy’s cup. “And especially
to you, sir. Welcome home and thank you for your service for our country.” He
extended his hand, and my brother shook it.

“Thank you, I
appreciate that.”

“However,” he
said, setting down the carafe then reaching for our remaining dishes. “We got
to move you all outta here. We got a private party coming in and that means it’s
time for you all to skedaddle.”

“Whoa, that’s a
late party,” Tucker said as we got up and gathered our things. “I didn’t
realize you all were open that late.”

“We aren’t,” he
said. “But sometimes ol’ Charlie gets a call with a special request and we make
allowances.” His brows danced as he left the room.

“Well, I guess
that means we’re done here.” I pulled down the banner to give to Jimmy. “So,
big brother, did you enjoy your party?”

He wrapped his
arm around my shoulder as we left the room. “I sure did. Thanks for going to
all the trouble. And for including Chubby Tucker. That took guts.”

“I heard that,”
Tuck chimed in as he escorted Sandra up the stairs behind us.

As we made our
way down the alley, several cars suddenly pulled up on Beale Street as we
rounded the corner. Doors flew open as a bunch of men and women emerged from
the long white vehicles.
Limousines?
We tried not to stare, but
curiosity kept turning our heads back.

Then, just
before we rounded the corner to head to our cars, we saw him. Though to be
honest, it was more of just a
glimpse
of him. Elvis Presley hustling out
of a limo with a beautiful girl on his arm.

“Did you see
that?!” Sandra squealed. “It’s Elvis!”

“Are you sure?”
Jimmy asked. “All I saw were the sideburns. Could’ve been anyone.”

“No, it was him!
I recognized Dr. Nichopoulos with him too. His doctor friend. I see him around
Baptist all the time, don’t you?”

“So many
celebrities, so little time,” Tucker quipped.

And so it was,
that late Sunday night on a sidewalk mere steps from The Rendezvous, I had my
first official, grown up Elvis sighting.

It would not be
my last.

Chapter 15

We dropped Jimmy
off at Brentwood Cadillac on Monday morning on our way to work. Mom and Dad
were anxious to see him, so he headed for Birmingham but promised to come back
and visit soon. Sandra and I drove the rest of the way to the company of Rick
Dees.

“Thirty-five after
seven this
beauuuuutiful
spring morning. We’ve got 63 Dees-grees this
morning, heading for a high of 84. Sound good to you, Mr. Mayor?”

“Yessuh, Mistah
Dees,” said a raspy old voice.

“Good, good. Gotta
keep the politicians happy.”

The sound of a
door creaking open preceded a deep, velvet voice. “Good morning, Dees.”

“Sammy Soul, what
brings you here this fine morning?”

The voice, another
of Dees’ parodies, sounded like Barry White. “Wanna lay a little somethin’ on
ya this morning.”

“You best watch
what you lay on me, Sammy. How ’bout you stand over there. Waaaay over there.
Daz’ good. Now, whatchu gonna lay on me, bro?”

“I gots me a song
t’sing, Dees.”

“Well, ain’t that
just real nice, Sammy. But you’ve gotta hold on, my brother. We’ve gotta take a
break for a Tidy Bowl commercial.”

“I gots t’wait for
a tow-let commercial? Whas’ matter you?”

“Just calm your pipes
there, Sammy. This is Rick Dees at WHBQ Memphis and ‘we’ll be
this
right
after
back
!’”

“Sandra, they
should make it mandatory to have two cups of coffee before listening to this
guy. He’s making my head spin this morning.”

“Yes, but how dull
to start a day without our Rick.”

When we arrived at
the hospital, we realized our day was about to take a very bad turn. Mrs. Baker
was back. To say she was on the war path would be an extreme understatement. Apparently
she’d drilled Sarah Beth when she got home over the weekend. Clearly, our
senior hostess had ratted us out. A sign was posted on our notice board:

HOSTESS MEETING - 9:00 A.M.

CONFERENCE ROOM B

MANDATORY ATTENDANCE

NO EXCEPTIONS

Needless to say
the atmosphere in the office was frigid at best. Those of us who tried to make
small talk with Mrs. Baker, welcoming her back from her trip, were rewarded
with short, polite answers and nothing more. I grabbed my clipboard and
disappeared with some of the others to the cafeteria. We ate breakfast in near
silence, none of us willing to talk about the lashing that surely awaited us.

And oh, what a
lashing.

I’ll spare you the
blow-by-blow. It wasn’t pretty. But I have to say, I think we all needed it.
And oddly enough, we all left that conference room feeling renewed. Determined
to restore her faith in us and in ourselves.

By the time I got
to Nine, I was emotionally spent but eager to visit my patients. I started with
Mr. Underwood who had already paged me.

“You made it! I’m
so glad!” he said, greeting me with an unusual burst of enthusiasm.

“Good morning, Mr.
Underwood. How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine, but I
need your help. The SU-BA-RU people called and they need some more information.”
He held up what looked like a ream of paper. “Can you help me fill out these
forms?”

A thousand excuses
floated through my head before I remembered my new promise to work harder at
the job I was blessed to have. “Sure thing. Where do we start?”

I spent about 45
minutes sorting through the legalese forms before I left to make copies for him
downstairs. As luck would have it, Mr. Wilcox was standing outside his door.

“Miss Colter! I
was hoping to see you today. I wondered if you might check on some statements
the insurance office sent up this morning. I don’t know what they mean. Could
you take a look at them for me?”

“How about I put
in a call and have one of the insurance counselors come up to talk to you? They’ll
be a lot more help to you than I could ever be.”

“Well, then, I
suppose . . .” His countenance fell. “But I also had something
else I wanted to show you. I had DeeDee bring my railroad scrapbook from home.
I thought you might like to take a look.”

“Oh,” I said,
envisioning hours on end getting a detailed tour of that scrapbook and another
history of the entire railroad industry in general. “I’m afraid I’ll have to
come back later. I still haven’t made all my rounds, and I’ve got several errands
I need to run.” I started backing away from him when I heard my name.

“Shelby?”

I turned just as a
new patient was wheeled around the corner.

“Donnie? Donnie!”
I couldn’t believe it. One of my best friends from college. I caught up with
him and leaned over to give him a hug.

“What are you
doing here?” he asked as the orderly continued pushing his wheelchair down the
hall.

“I work here. But
the more important question is, what are
you
doing here and why are you
in a wheelchair? Are you sick?”

He made a face. “Me?
Sick? Do I look sick?” He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead then his
cheek.

“Stop! I’m
serious. Are you okay?”

“Good question. I
guess we’ll find out. That’s what hospitals are for, right?”

Donnie was one of
the funniest people I’d ever known. We had a long history going back to our
freshman year at Samford when we both worked part-time at the infamous Taco
Barn. I couldn’t think of Donnie Rogers without smiling or literally laughing
out loud. We were good, good friends, and I absolutely loved the guy.

Unfortunately he
didn’t look too good. His hazel eyes looked drawn and he’d lost a lot of weight
since I’d last seen him. He was wearing his straight dark hair shorter than I’d
ever seen it, but it was the fatigue in his face that concerned me most.

The orderly from
Admissions backed Donnie’s chair into 919. “How about we get Mr. Rogers settled
then you all can catch up.”

“It’s a
beautiful day in the hospital ward . . .”
Donnie began,
singing the familiar tune. He winked. “Come see me in a few?”

“Perfect. I’ve got
to run an errand downstairs, then I’ll be back up to see you.”

“Oh goodie. You
can help me with the catheter.”

“Then again, maybe
I
won’t
be back to see you.”

He fluttered a
silly wave with his fingers as the door closed.

Oh, Donnie.

Just as I stepped
off the elevator on the main floor, I heard my name paged. Apparently it was
going to be one of those days. After I made copies for Mr. Underwood, I called
the switchboard who connected me to my caller.

“Hey. Shelby. It’s
Tucker.”

“Hey, how’s it
going?”

“Good. I was just
wondering if you’ve got lunch plans. Want to meet in the Madison Restaurant?”

Well then.
“Sure.
Sounds good. What time?”

“I’ve got a
consultation in a few minutes. Is 12:30 too late?”

“No, that actually
works better for me.”

“Good. See you
then.”

I wondered why he’d
suggested the restaurant instead of the cafeteria. Then again, it was a lot
quieter. And nicer. And out of the way. And for reasons not fully understood, I
felt a smile warm my face as I headed back upstairs.

After getting Mr.
Underwood settled with the copies he’d requested, I hurried down the hall to
check back on Donnie.

“Come in, come in,”
he greeted, sitting up in bed. No hospital issue gowns were suitable for Donnie
Rogers. He wore a pair of navy blue cotton pajamas piped in white with a
matching white monogram over the left pocket.

“Well, aren’t you
just the dapper one?” I approached his bed. “You look great, Donnie. So what’s
going on? Why are you a guest on my floor?”

“
Your
floor?
Sit! Sit. You first. Tell me what you’re doing here. You’re obviously not a
nurse, dressed in that pricey ensemble. What are you—an administrator? Vice
president?”

I took a seat
beside him, pulling the chair closer. “Hardly. I’m a hostess. In fact—” I stood
back up and launched into my standard hostess spiel using my best stewardess
voice.

“Welcome to
Baptist Memorial Hospital, Mr. Rogers. I’m Shelby Colter, your hostess, and it
will be my privilege to serve you while you’re a guest here with us.” I handed
him my card and brochure as I continued, using exaggerated hand gestures. “You’ll
find lots of helpful information in our brochure, with a list of extensions
should you need to place calls within the hospital, as well as the number on my
card there. Feel free to call me
any
time you need assistance, whether
you need something from the gift shop like magazines or newspapers, help from
the insurance office, or simply a friendly visit. And now if you’ll fasten your
seat belt and put your tray table in its upright position, we’ll prepare for
take-off.”

“And if you put on
a life vest and show me how to breathe through an oxygen mask, I’m outta here,”
he said, his expression deadpan.

I took my seat
again, laughing at his tone. “Okay, sorry. But you get the gist of it. I love
it. It’s a great place to work.”

“How long have you
worked here? And why are you in Memphis? Why aren’t you sailing the ocean blue
with your sailor boy?”

I scratched my
eyebrow. “Yeah, about Will. That’s not gonna happen. I called it off.”

He leaned his head
back. “Well, thank God!”

“Huh?”

“When I didn’t get
an invitation to the wedding, I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

“As if I’d forget
you?” I pinched his shoulder.

“Ouch?” he whined,
rubbing where I’d tweaked him. “A little compassion, please? Hospital patient
here.”

“Okay, so out with
it. Why are you here?”

He busied himself,
straightening his blanket and picking some non-existent lint off his sleeve. “Chest
pains.”

“Really?”

He finally looked
up.

“Yes, but it’s not
the first time. Seems my ticker is rather temperamental.”

“That sounds
serious, Donnie.”

He arched his
eyebrows. “That’s because it is. Anyway, I happened to be in town for a meeting
and had to be rushed here by ambulance last night. I’ve been in your lovely
emergency room most of the night as they tried to figure out what to do with me.”

“Need I remind you
that you’re much too young for this?” I hoped I sounded a lot more lighthearted
than I felt.

“I know. I have
Donald Senior to thank for this. Coronary artery disease. If you’ll recall, Dad
died when he was 35. Back when I was just a little bugger.”

“I forgot about
that. Wesley was your step-dad. Speaking of Wesley, have you called home to let
your mom know what’s happened?”

He reached out,
placing his hand over mine. “No, and I don’t want them called. Mom’s health isn’t
that great now either, and I don’t want to stress her. I’ll just handle this
little scare on my own. She doesn’t need to know.”

I tilted my head,
questioning his reasoning, but left it alone.

The door opened as
my charge nurse walked in carrying a flip chart. “Mr. Rogers? I’m Helen, and I
need to ask you a few questions.”

I stood up. “That’s
my cue. Donnie, I’ll check in on you later, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks for
stopping by, Shelby. Good to see you again.”

“Helen, use the
biggest
needles you have on this guy,” I fake-whispered to her. “Preferably The
Screamer, okay?”

“The Screamer?”
Donnie mouthed as I left the room.

Donnie? Having
heart problems?
I couldn’t believe it. He’d been through a lot—raised by
his mom until she remarried while he and his twin sister were still in high
school. He and Wesley had never really gotten along which made his relationship
with his mom stressed to say the least. I hoped I’d have time to visit with him
more, catch up on old times. I said a silent prayer for him, then noticed it
was almost 12:30.

Time for lunch
with my favorite anesthesiologist.