The year was 1956, and for Elvis Presley, it was perhaps the craziest year in the history of all years. He’d gone from being the wacko loner in high school to having his songs played on the radio to going on tour nationwide. Granted, he was still hitched to a tired old performer who didn’t know what was good for him, but Elvis had started to find his footing. He was constantly on the road, constantly attracting fans, and constantly getting hit on. He didn’t let any of this get to his head. He was committed, after all.

He’d finally convinced The Colonel, his manager, that his angel would be able to join them. Elvis had horrible stage fright, see, and was constantly wiggling around. His angel soothed that. He and his angel had been dating since junior year in high school, and Elvis was committed. He didn’t like to think of ‘the one’ just yet, but he had a feeling that this was it. He was young and naïve, but that was alright. He had his other half.

They’re on the road in the makeshift tour bus, Elvis’ arm wrapped around his angel, his undoing. Everyone’s talking over each other, and he’s keen to watch and occasionally cut in.

“Nah, nah! You’re all wrong. It’s a girl’s heart that’s best.” He interjects, causing everyone to laugh and poke at him.