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catch up later.’ He put his arm around my shoulder and said, ‘Come on, Eddie.’
    He walked me a short way to a good-sized swimming pool. The water was clean, and there was no one using it at the moment.
    â€˜Is it OK if I call you Eddie? Or Eddie G.’
    â€˜Sure,’ I said, ‘why not?’
    â€˜And you call me Elvis, OK?’
    â€˜OK, Elvis.’
    â€˜I really appreciate you comin’ out here.’
    â€˜Well, you sent a plane for me,’ I said. ‘Kind of hard to refuse.’
    â€˜I chartered that plane,’ he said. ‘Someday I’m gonna buy me one.’
    â€˜I’m wondering why you wanted me here badly enough to do that, Elvis.’
    â€˜I told you on the phone, Eddie,’ he said. ‘I like to meet folks face-to-face. When the Colonel told me about you I didn’t want to wait until I got to Vegas. I thought if I brought you to my home we’d get to know each other better. Is that OK?’
    â€˜It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Fine with me. This is a real pleasure, to meet you and see your place.’
    â€˜That’s good.’
    â€˜I do need to get myself a hotel room, though. I’ll just have to—’
    â€˜Oh, na, na, na,’ Elvis said, cutting me off, ‘no hotel, Eddie. You’re stayin’ right here.’
    â€˜I don’t want to impose.’
    â€˜You ain’t imposin’,’ Elvis said. ‘Hell, son, I invited you, didn’t I? And we got plenty of room.’
    â€˜Really? I know it’s a big house, but with all your, uh, buddies—’
    â€˜Oh, those guys are always here,’ he said, ‘but they don’t live here. They got their own homes. Only my father, Vernon, lives with me. And he ain’t here this week. He’s visitin’ some relatives. So we got the run of the whole house.’
    â€˜Is that why you’re havin’ the party?’
    â€˜What party?’ he asked.
    That’s what Red had said, too.
    â€˜The people in the house …’
    â€˜Oh, that’s not a party,’ Elvis said. ‘I just like having folks around. That’s why one of my cooks is always in the kitchen.’
    I wondered what the house looked like when there was a party going on?
    â€˜Come on,’ he said, ‘take some shots with the boys. I want them to get to know you, too.’
    â€˜Yeah, sure,’ I said, ‘why not? Let’s shoot.’
    â€˜All right.’ He slapped me on the back and beamed like a little boy. I’d made Elvis happy.
    He turned and hurried back to the firing range, and I rushed to keep up.
    â€˜Lemme have that .45 for Eddie, Red!’ he called out.

NINE
    W e shot targets for what seemed like most of the afternoon. Before long the Memphis Mafia was slapping me on the back and kidding around. The only one who never cracked a smile was Red West. In fact, I had the feeling Red didn’t ever look happy. He appeared to be a few years older than Elvis, a burly guy with a marine crew cut that hinted at the reason he was called ‘Red’, and a bulldog face.
    When we were done Elvis and the guys collected spent cartridges from the ground.
    â€˜While we clean up, Red’ll show you where your room is, Eddie. You can get cleaned up and then Red’ll bring you back down.’
    â€˜OK, Elvis.’
    â€˜You hear, Red?’ he said.
    â€˜Sure thing, E.,’ Red said. He looked at me. ‘Come on.’
    I followed Red back into the house, through the party that wasn’t a party, to the staircase, and up to the second floor.
    â€˜E. don’t usually let nobody up here,’ Red told me.
    â€˜I’m honored.’
    â€˜You should be.’
    When we got upstairs away from the noise I asked, ‘What do you have against me, Red?’
    â€˜I ain’t got nothin’ against you,’ Red said. ‘I just don’t like folks moochin’ offa Elvis.’
    â€˜What