Contract with the King
by
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Paul walked into Dave’s dark bedroom and paused, waiting for his tired eyes to adjust—tired from staring at the road and rearview all the way from Memphis. He stretched the stiff muscles in his back and neck then sat in an old armchair beside his roommate’s bed. A burnt-orange University of Texas curtain reached out from an open window. The faint smell of stale marijuana smoke ascended from a mound of dirty clothes between Dave’s desk and bed. A page in an open medical book fluttered. “Dave, wake up.”
Paul rubbed the goose bumps from his tanned arms then combed his fingers through his curly brown hair. The early morning breeze was unusually cool for Austin in March, but he knew it would not last. KLBJ had predicted a high of 86º. The alarm clock on Dave’s nightstand read 3 a.m. As Paul watched Dave sleep, he wished he, too, was snuggled in bed, drifting off to dreamland, but before he could even think of sleep, he had one more important task to complete. He shook Dave’s shoulder. “Dave, wake up.”
Paul, Dave, Brooks, and Rob, the Four Musketeers, had met in third grade but had not become close friends until junior high and high school, a time when forever friendships are formed. While growing up, they had reveled in numerous exploits, from painting zebra stripes on the Buckholzs’ prize-winning bull, to setting the town dump on fire, but they were now 24-year-old college students, embarking on what might prove to be greatest adventure of their lives. The others had already joined the game, and now it was time to invite Dave, the cautious one, the one Paul had wisely saved until last. “Dave, I did it. I got him.”
Dave stared at Paul’s blurred image through half-open eyes. He reached for his wire-rimmed glasses then peered at his alarm clock. He pushed himself up on one elbow, brushed back his sandy-brown hair, and stared at his friend. “Paul, you’ve got to stop smoking that pot. We’ve both got to stop, or we’ll never get through this semester alive. I bet you smoked all the way from DeSoto.”
“Dave, you know I don’t smoke anymore, and I didn’t go to DeSoto. I went to Memphis. I pulled it off, Dave. I nabbed the King. We’ve got him hidden in Detox. Tara and Brooks are keeping the first watch. He’s not lookin’ too good, Dave. We’re going to need your help.”
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About the Book
Contract with the King is a poignant novel about a group of University of Texas students who kidnap Elvis Presley in a valiant effort to save him from his poor health, destructive lifestyle, and addiction to prescription drugs. Paul Roberts and Tara Benoist, along with their close friends, hide a near comatose Elvis in the basement of an Austin, Texas rehab clinic and change his name to Aron to protect his privacy. After a short stay in rehab, they smuggle him to The Vineyard, an old, secluded ranch house nestled in the Texas Hill Country and rumored to be haunted.
After Aron agrees to a five-month stay, he is encouraged to disguise his appearance by shaving his sideburns and getting a buzz cut. In the absence of radios, televisions, and telephones, the King’s kidnappers use physically demanding hikes, spirited games of football, and porch stories to keep their patient sidetracked from the tortures inherent in withdrawal and recovery.
While falling deeply in love, Paul and Tara lead the reader through a whirlpool of ulterior motives, emotional challenges, and euphoric situational highs. As Aron recovers, he reconnects with his daughter, his music, and the most loyal of his 50 million fans.
About the Author
When Paul Pullen learned of the King’s death, he was racing through the Texas Hill Country from campus to work and suddenly found himself overcome with sadness, remorse, and guilt. He understood the sadness, Elvis was once his childhood idol, but not the other irrational feelings. He was rushing to work, however, and had little time to deal with the loss, and even less time to deal with the other strange emotions.
Thirteen years later, Paul found a little time and on a whim, picked up a piece of scratch paper and wrote about the moment he learned of the King’s death. As if hearing the news for the first time, he was instantly overcome with that same sense of sadness, remorse, and guilt. Why? Why had Elvis’ death affected him so deeply? Why, after thirteen years, was it affecting him still? And why did dealing with these strong emotions suddenly seem like such a huge undertaking? He picked up the piece of paper and continued writing until he had completed Contract with the King.