Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis (47 page)

“Does it involve Mr. Happy? I’ve already seen a lot of him today.”

“Not Mr. Happy. Though you could appreciate my efforts a little better.”

“There’s always another chance to grow, grasshopper.”

“I love it when you talk Ninja to me. Come on.” He stood up and took her hand. “Go tell Toke he’s the designated driver tonight.”

Morgan drove his red Corvette. He stuck a CD into the player and turned it up. Then he took her to the Tom Lee Park that overlooked the Mississippi River. They parked in the lot next to the bluffs. Dusk had begun to fall. The river rushed past, as it had for centuries, and barges glided through the currents leaving cone-shaped wakes behind. Jewel played on the CD, and her husky voice sang about lost love.

“How did you know I liked Jewel?” Harley asked.

“You have her CDs all over your apartment.”

She rested her head against the back of the seat. Slowly, her earlier tension faded away and was replaced with a sense of peace. The fiery ball of sun sinking beyond the horizon made streaked patterns in the sky. In the distance, cars streamed across the M-shaped bridge that would light up the night when it got darker. It felt like everything she’d been through oozed out from her feet and through the car mats onto the pavement below.

Morgan reached over and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her wrist. He didn’t say anything and she was glad. Speaking would ruin the moment. They sat there until the sun left only a faint gleam, staining the sky red and turning the clouds blue. Lights popped on the bridge, so the M was much more visible. A few other cars had shown up. Some of the passengers got out to meander along the concrete walks edging the bluffs.

She was content to just sit there, the top down on the Corvette and a soft breeze blowing. After the last weeks, it was as close to perfect as she could get. Then Morgan handed her a glass of wine he’d taken from his cooler in what could have been a back seat but wasn’t.

Okay, now it was perfect.

A sip of chilled zinfandel made her sigh with pleasure. “I’m officially in love,” she said.

“You mean you weren’t before?”

“Maybe.”

“Tease.”

“If it works, why change?” Harley slid him a glance. He looked back at her with such a sizzling gaze that her mouth got dry despite the wine. That tingle headed south again, and the air held heat that had nothing to do with the weather.

Morgan smiled. “Sure you don’t want to see Mr. Happy tonight?”

“Come to think of it, I would enjoy the pleasure of his company.”

“Shall we go?”

“As fast as we can.”

It was one of the best nights yet. Maybe she could fall in love. While she waited for it, she could certainly enjoy all the perks.

Until next time...

Afterword

I
have, of course, taken liberties with certain dates and facts, as writers of fiction are prone to do. Images of the King is indeed the “Super Bowl” of Elvis competitions in August every year, with some very talented performers and dedicated organizers, none of whom are depicted nor resemble in any way the characters in this book. Most of the Memphis tourist attractions are accurately described, with a certain fictional license to fit my plot. If you’ve ever been to Memphis, you’ll recognize many places, and if you haven’t, I extend an invitation in the time-honored tradition of the South—”Y’all come!”

Don’t Miss Harley’s next adventure

Killing Jordan

Coming in 2006

from

ImaJinn Books

Copyright 2006 by Virginia Brown Published by ImaJinn Books 2006

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