3
Dithering Over Dates
“Elvis?” Alex pulled out into traffic. “Why Elvis? Oh—and is this a date?”
“Huh?” I mentally stuttered over the word date. Considered answering, then decided that was a bad, bad idea. “I was thinking you could check to see if the guy has some kind of magic. He said he was Elvis. The real Elvis. Sort of.”
“Possible. Although I thought he left the area a while ago.”
“I’m sorry—are you saying that Elvis lives in Austin?”
“Lived, and he’s not exactly Elvis. No clue where he is now. And you shouldn’t be able to recognize him.”
“Are you telling me that the real Elvis is alive, has had work done to not look like Elvis, and now works as an Elvis impersonator? So he’s the real guy playing at being someone else who plays at being himself?” My brain was going to explode.
