Chapter 21

Elvis laughed, trying to hide it behind his napkin, but failing completely.

“Elvis dear, how about a song for these kids? I think our resident piano player,” she nodded at me, “can play anything you wish.”

Oh, I thought, Elvis. That’s why he goes by that name.

Indeed that was why. The rest of that evening was spent with me pounding out rock and roll songs on the piano while Alvin, A.K.A. Elvis, crooned and rocked out, fortunately without most of the original Elvis’ signature moves, and often accompanied by Busted’s baying, eerie howls.

You can imagine that ‘Hound Dog’ was a rousing success.

Eventually my brain kicked in and I asked, “Don’t you want us to sleep in the car?”

Elvis smiled. “No, not really. I was just trying to make you feel you hadn’t freeloaded, teach you responsibility, stuff like that. You’ve both done that way more than I could have ever expected. Go on upstairs and be comfortable. You’ve earned it.”

I’d never felt so proud of myself.