Hot and Bothered by CRYSTAL GREEN Page A

that Ann-Margret is Ann-Margret and you’re you.”
    Cherry stopped fluffing around. “Yes, that’s the point.”
    â€œWhat’s the point? I’m asking you why you’d want to be anyone but you.”
    What a sweetie, but that wasn’t what she’d been driving at. “Tommy, I’m not getting anywhere as me. Okay, sure, I was in the background of a pool scene or two when the production was filming at the Flamingo, but no biggie.” She’d been this close to Elvis and Ann-Margret as their characters had flirted and sung to each other around the water, close enough to notice how they looked at each other between takes and murmured things that no one else could hear. And this, even though he had a girlfriend back in Memphis.
    But that girlfriend, Priscilla Beaulieu, didn’t have a certain actress’ va-va-vroom that she’d brought with her from
Bye-Bye Birdie
. Ann-Margret had it, Elvis obviously wanted it, and Cherry was determined to show him she had the right stuff as well.
    If she could ever stand out from the rest of the crowd.
    Tommy was gazing at her in a different way now, like the artist he’d told her he was when she’d bought him a beer after his bellboy shift that first day. She primped again.
    â€œDefinitely not,” he said, shaking his head. “This look is really not working for you. You should make your hair actual blond again, Cherry.”
    She didn’t even know him well enough to tell him that Cherry Chastain was a stage name. It was just that “Julie Tatum” sounded like such a snooze.
    â€œYou don’t think Elvis is going to notice?” she asked wistfully.
    Tommy stuck his hands in his pockets. “Just because he and Ann-Margret are supposed to be seeing each other doesn’t mean he’s on the prowl for a girl who looks like her. Besides.” His grin sideswiped his mouth. “Ann-Margret.”
    Yes, damn Ann-Margret. Tommy didn’t need to tell Cherry again that she was one of a hot-to-trot kind.
    Cherry whipped off the wig, tossing it to the side of her door. Tommy’s eyes almost popped out of his head while she tousled her long, straight, very blond hair. His male attentions made her feel much better.
    Someday she’d go red, but tonight maybe Elvis would be in the mood for something different from what he already had. Maybe platinum blond would do the trick.
    â€œLet’s split,” she said, closing the door behind her.
    Tommy took a moment to appreciate the cut of her light pink sundress, with the way it squeezed in at her waist, making her figure curvier than ever. She liked having a friend whose gaze lit up at the sight of her. She also liked that he wasn’t a talker or interrupter since she frequently had quite a bit to say herself.
    Also, he had a bitchin’ car—a shiny used Cadillac—and he used it to drive them through the sweltering night to the Sahara. On the radio, the Beach Boys sang about surfin’ in the USA and the Angels warned an aggressive suitor that their boyfriend was back.
    After they parked, they went inside, where the gaming tables were in full swing. Tommy left her at a bar while he checked in with his pals on staff. They knew where Elvis’s room was, and once Tommy came back with the scoop, she would figure out phase two: how to capture Elvis’s attention. Cherry knew that if she could just have a chance without the perfect Ann-Margret around, he’d like what he saw. Didn’t everyone?
    She had drunk a sloe gin fizz and had even duped a blitzed businessman into buying her another when Tommy reappeared.
    Turning her back on the businessman, she leaned toward her inside man. “So?”
    â€œThe guys on room service told me he’s in his room with the Memphis Mafia, watching TV, joking around, hanging out like they usually do.”
    The Memphis Mafia was a gang of pals from home that kept Elvis company. They were