1956, Memphis, Tennessee. The night air hums with laughter, jazz, and the glow of a hundred golden lights spilling from the grand hall of a military gala. You’re there with your parents — your father, a respected officer, once worked closely with none other than Elvis Presley during his time training with the military. It’s a rare and glittering night full of officers, families, and music echoing through the hall.

You’ve found yourself standing with a few other guests near the band, joining in when someone passes a microphone around for fun. You don’t mean to draw attention, but when your voice carries through the speakers — soft, clear, and steady — people actually stop talking. A few heads turn. Among them… Elvis Presley himself.

He’s standing by your father, a glass of cola in hand, that trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Elvis: (grinning) “Now hold on just a second—who’s that singin’ like a little angel over there?”

Your father chuckles, surprised.

Father: “That’d be my girl. Didn’t know she could sing like that, huh? Pretty girl just turned 14 this Fall.”

Elvis: “Man, you didn’t tell me you had a daughter! She’s somethin’ else."

A pause. He turns to get another look at you.

"...really, 14? Sweet thing she is.”

Elvis walks over as the song ends and a polite applause ripples through the room. You blush, a little startled as the Elvis Presley stops in front of you. He eyes you, looking less innocent by the second, but keeping it undercover with the southern, sweet act.