Black Elvis Read Free

an amusement park. The Jungle Room is pretty cool, I guess."
    "Sun Studio?"
    "They have tours, but I've never done one. If you're so interested, you ought to go."
    "You think so?"
    "Sure. Why not?"
    "You got connections there? Like who could get me a gig?"
    Robert Johnson considered this. Black Elvis realized that he'd done exactly what he'd wanted not to do, which was to put this person in a position where he had power over him. But he couldn't get it out of his head that there was something about this meeting that was more than chance. He had a feeling Robert Johnson was someone he was supposed to meet, if only he could determine why.
    "I don't think so. I mean, if you're going to do an Elvis thing, you're probably better off just about any place but Memphis. Of course, that's just my opinion."
    "I'll bet they don't have no black Elvises."
    "Are you kidding? Black, Chinese, Irish, Jewish, you name it. You think fat white men in hairpieces have the market cornered on Elvis impersonation? I know a place where they have a dwarf who sings 'Battle Hymn of the Republic' every evening at ten while two strippers give each other a bath, right on stage."
    For a moment, he imagined a big stage—an opera house—with hundreds of Elvises of all shapes and colors pushing and shoving each other to get to the front. The thought made him shiver. "Don't matter. I'm an original."
    "No doubt. If you don't mind my asking, what made you decide to start doing this?" He looked at Black Elvis with admiration. "I love your hair, incidentally. I mean, if I looked like you, Jesus. I'd be working all the time. You just have that natural, blues-man look. You could be John Lee Hooker's cousin or something."
    "I don't care much for blues music," said Black Elvis. He sniffed. "Never have."
    "Really?"
    "I like that rock and roll."
    "Well, whatever makes you happy." Robert Johnson made a move to get up.
    "No, wait," said Black Elvis, suddenly anxious. "Tell me something. Is that what you think? Have I gotten it wrong all this time? Should I be doing something else? You play good, you sing good, you know about marketing. Just tell me and I'll listen. I don't have that much time left."
    Robert Johnson stood up and adjusted his fedora. He looked slightly embarrassed. "I gotta go talk to a young woman over there," he said. "She's been staring at me ever since I got here. I'm sure you understand." He picked up a napkin and held it out. "You got a little nosebleed going there."
    Black Elvis took the napkin and held it tight against his nose.
    When he got home, Juanita was waiting for him in the living room, wearing her chef's hat and a stained serving apron, her wide body taking up half the sofa.
    "You late," she said. "Did you have a good time?"
    "Good time?" he said. He thought about this. He didn't really go to the blues jam for a good time. He went because it gave him a purpose, a place to be, and because by now it just seemed that if he didn't go, all hell might break loose. The sun might not come up in the morning. "I sang you a song," he said.
    "That right? What you sing? One of them Elvis songs?"
    "'Amazing Grace.'"
    "Well, that's nice. You've got blood on your shirt, you know."
    "Mmmm hmmmm." He pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. He had not turned on any lights, and her figure was shadowy and evanescent, like a glimpse of a fish below the surface of a fast stream. "You supposed to be dead, now."
    "Supposed to be."
    "Bad ticker, huh?"
    "Just stopped on me."
    "Hurt?"
    "Shit yes. For a second it felt like someone hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. Now, tell me the truth, how come you singing songs for me? You know I don't care for you much at all. I'd have thought the feeling was mutual."
    "Let me turn on a light."
    "Don't do that. I like it better in the dark. Come on, now, what's with the song?"
    Black Elvis closed his eyes for a moment. "There was a man there, a Chinese man. He took my spot."
    "And so you go all churchy? You just nothing