The fog machine pumps fog across the stage.  The colored lights flash.  The ladies in the audience are going wild.  They are standing and stomping and clapping and chanting my name.  The energy level in this place is incredible.  I get the cue from my music director.  I miss playing with the guys, but a live band would complicate things, and the CDs work nearly as well.  

 

As I step out on the stage I glance at the audience.  As usual, the crowd is nearly all women, and it looks like most of them have been fans since the beginning.  Thanks to the miracle hands of Dr. Simes I look even better than I did back then, and that is saying something. The crowd screams when they see me, arms are flying everywhere.  A woman in the front row faints.  I open with the stuff from the 1950s.  I sing and shake my pelvis and shimmy my knees.  I pose.  I sweat.  The ladies go crazy.  The heat coming off the lights combined with all my moves causes the sweat to pour off of me.  I love my job!

 

I can’t help but wonder if “she” is here tonight. I purposely didn’t look at her usual spot when I came in.  Just thinking about her gets me all shook up.  I decide I won’t even look until several songs into the concert.  For some reason she started following me a couple of months ago.  I am not sure why haven’t let security know this is happening, they probably wouldn’t recognize her, they are too young to even remember. It seems too bizarre to be real.

 

As I prepare for “Teddy Bear,” I step forward and play to the audience.  The lights aren’t directly in my face now and I can see the crowd.  My breath catches, yes, there she is.  She sits in the second row smiling at me.  I swear she looks as beautiful as she did the day I married her.  Why does she keep coming to my shows?  She divorced me in 1973, four years before I faked my death. 

 

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