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Elvis out into the hall. I was still holding my unfinished glass of soda. Elvis reached for it, took a sip, and handed it back to me. This distracted me so much that I made a wrong turn and headed toward the front stairs. I then felt Elvis’s hands on my shoulders, gently turning me and guiding me back through a set of double doors.
    Everyone followed Elvis and me as we cut through an office and then another set of double doors into his master bedroom. The first thing that struck me was that the matching couch and chairs looked identical to the furniture we had in our den at home. What were the odds of that?
    Otherwise, the room décor here was very different from anything I’d ever seen before. A shiny, black, Naugahyde headboard crowned the massive bed, which Elvis proudly told us was nine feet by nine feet. Reading lamps were attached to the wall on either side of it. The same red shag carpet covered the floor, with black and gold wallpaper lining one wall and padding on the other. The bedroom doors and ceiling were also padded and, much to my surprise, there were two television sets embedded in the ceiling. Elvis explained the padding by saying he didn’t care for outside noise when he slept.
    Ricky left as my sisters and I followed Elvis, along with George, into his office. It was decorated in masculine tans and browns. On my left was a glass case filled with rifles and handguns; in the center of the room, two couches faced each other, a coffee table between them. Near the back of the room was a large desk with a chair, and behind it, two bookcases stood against the wall.
    Elvis walked over to an electric organ near a closed accordion-style door and sat down on the bench. I stood behind him with George and my sisters gathered around. Something about this felt comfortably familiar because I’d so often stood and sung behind my mom while she played piano.
    Placing his fingers on the keyboard, Elvis began to sing “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” If I’d ever felt like I was dreaming, it was now!
    At various times during the song, Elvis looked up from the organ, smiling at Rosemary and Terry or glancing over his shoulder to smile at me. At one point, I looked into the mirror above the organ and noticed George yawning. That made me wonder whether he’d seen Elvis do this sort of thing many times before or if he was just tired because it was so late.
    Elvis finished and we applauded. Standing up, he said, “I’d like to show you my dressing area.”
    I was surprised by this; I’d always thought of people’s closets as personal. On the other hand, seeing Elvis’s dressing room would be an added bonus because I was enjoying being with him and thrilled by the idea of seeing one of his inner sanctums.
    We followed Elvis back through his bedroom and into his bathroom, which was carpeted in the same royal red shag carpet. On my left stood a black commode with a telephone attached to the wall nearby. A black vanity was covered with toiletries on the right. Above it, the mirrored wall was outlined with makeup lights.
    Beyond an enormous, curved shower with multicolored tiles, we entered Elvis’s dressing area. It was filled with racks of clothing surrounding a bed covered in a faux fur similar to the one in Lisa’s room. A bust of the Greek god Apollo sat on a pedestal beside an open doorway leading out to the hall. (Later, Elvis would tell me he thought the bust resembled him. I thought it did, too.)
    Pointing out a few stage jumpsuits, Elvis said he was proud of the workmanship that went into making them. He told us they were made of material that didn’t let any air in or out. Then he began showing us his boots and casual clothes.
    “Casual” for Elvis appeared to be coats with fur collars; brightly colored, high-collared satin shirts; flared pants; and hats that looked like they could have been worn on the set of the movie
Shaft
.
    I could understand Elvis wanting to show us his costumes, but again I was surprised