The Secrets of Silk (19 page)

“You want to see that picture about those spotted dogs?” Silk asked Dallas.

“Uh-huh.”

“I'll tell you what. If you're a good girl, and if you give me lots of thrills, we'll go to the picture show after your ballet class next Saturday.”

“Okay,” Dallas said with a giggle, thinking that all she had to do was tickle Silk or tell her jokes.

They entered Weinberg's Department Store, which Silk noticed had a hoity-toity air. “I need ballet slippers and a dance getup for my daughter's ballet class. Oh, and I want a slew of satin ribbons for her hair,” Silk added, giving Dallas' hair a critical look. The babysitter, Mrs. Sudler, had fixed her hair in two thick braids with a part down the middle. Silk didn't like that style—it looked too country. She wanted Dallas to wear her hair in ponytails and pigtails, tied up with bright ribbons.

They left Weinberg's with Silk proudly carrying the bag with its prestigious logo by the handles. She spotted Woolworth five-and-dime on the other side of the street. “I'm ready for lunch, how about you?” she asked Dallas.

“I love Woolworth. Mommy always let me pick a balloon—”
Dallas caught herself, and her eyes widened in fear. “I didn't mean to talk about Mommy. I'm sorry, M'dear,” she said in a scared voice.

“It was an honest mistake, but don't let it happen again.”

“I won't.”

“Good. Now, let's go get us some food, sweetiekins. I could go for a cheeseburger or maybe a double-decker, ham and Swiss cheese sandwich. You can get a hot dog, French fries, and a root beer float, if you'd like.”

“Ooo. Yummy!” Dallas responded, looking relieved that Silk wasn't upset with her.

Sitting at the lunch counter amongst white folks was another new experience for Silk. The North was strange in many ways, but it had its good points. Above the counter was a bouquet of colorful balloons, and despite Dallas'
Mommy
slip-up, Silk was as gleeful as a child about the prospect of picking out a balloon that the waitress would pop with a pin. Inside the balloon was the surprise cost of lunch—for kids only. The cost could be as low as a penny or as high as a dollar, depending on the customer's luck.

“Do you feel lucky, Dallas?”

“Yes, M'dear.”

“Which balloon do you want to pick?”

“The red one, over there,” Dallas said, smiling and pointing.

The waitress popped the balloon and announced, “The grand total for the little lady's lunch is five cents.”

Sitting on the swivel stool, Silk and Dallas clapped their hands happily.

Silk had to admit, she had a good life, and even without the insurance policy money, she couldn't complain. Buddy worshipped the ground she walked on, and now that she had those bratty sons of his straightened out, she didn't have to worry about them acting
up or giving her any lip. Timid, little Dallas was so well-behaved, she was the apple of Silk's eye. And the child adored Silk almost as much as her daddy did. If Silk told Dallas to jump off a cliff, she was pretty certain, Dallas would do so with a smile.

The waitress placed their food in front of them, and Silk and Dallas dug in. After they finished eating, Silk paid the tab and reached down to pick up her Weinberg's bag, when a familiar voice said, “I'll get that for you.”

Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, and she drew in a sharp breath. It took a few moments for her to get the nerve to look up, and when she did, she found herself staring into the gorgeous, light-brown eyes of Tate Simmons.

“Well, well. If it isn't the New Orleans Geechie girl,” Tate said with a smirk.

Even though Tate was dressed as sharp as a tack in a crisp, short-sleeved shirt, a white cap, and white pants, Silk scowled at him like he was trash. “I'm not from New Orleans, I'm from another part of Louisiana. And I done told you that I'm not a Geechie, I'm a Creole.”

“And I told you that you voodoo ladies are all the same to me,” Tate said with teasing laughter.

Silk slid off the stool, and helped Dallas off hers. “I don't know anything about voodoo.”

“That's a relief because you already got my nose open, and I would hate to think what would happen if you put some roots on me. Would be a shame if I started barking like a dog every time I saw you or smelled your perfume.” Laughing, Tate lowered his head to Silk's neckline and took a whiff. “Man, oh, man. That perfume you wear drives me wild.”

“There ain't no reason for you to go wild over me. I'm already spoken for.” Silk held up her left hand that sparkled with her new diamond ring and gold wedding band.

Visibly disappointed, Tate said, “I thought what I heard about you and Buddy Dixon was only a rumor. His wife's body is barely
cold, but he didn't waste any time. Oh, well, I guess he beat me to the punch.”

“He sure did,” Silk said snidely. “Nice talking to you, Tate. I'll catch you later.” She took Dallas by the hand and walked away.

Unwilling to give up easily, Tate followed Silk and Dallas out of the store. “Say, it's pretty hot out today, and I'd hate for you to burn up while you're standing around, waiting around for the bus. I can give you a lift home.”

“That's okay. I have plenty more shopping to do.”

“I bet that insurance money Buddy collected is burning a hole in your pocketbook,” Tate said scornfully.

“You need to mind your business. I don't want a ride from you. In fact, I don't want anything to do with you, so leave me alone and stop talking to me.” As Silk's voice escalated, Dallas nervously squeezed her hand tight.

“Calm down. I was only kidding around. Where's your sense of humor? Can't you take a joke?” He eyed Silk up and down. “Look, I know all the fellas got you thinking you're hot stuff, and maybe you are. But all I did was offer you a ride home, and that's no reason for you to bite my head off.”

“You're right. I'm s…”

“Save it,” Tate interjected before Silk could apologize. “If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a stuck-up broad.” With anger flashing in his eyes, Tate was more handsome than ever, and Silk had to briefly look away.

“I tried to apologize, but if you don't wanna accept it, then don't. It's no skin off my back,” Silk spat, her own temper beginning to flare.

“I'll catch you later.” Tate wheeled around and walked away.

“Tate, wait a minute,” Silk called out. But he kept on moving,
with a dip in his walk that was so smooth, Silk could feel her heart beginning to flutter. “Ugh. I hate that cocky bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

Dallas squeezed Silk's hand again. “Are your nerves bad, M'dear?”

“A little bit, sweetiekins.” Silk stroked Dallas on the cheek. “But I'll be much better after you give me some thrills.”

•  •  •

Dirty laundry was piling up, and Buddy had started complaining that his work uniforms needed washing. Bruce had run out of clean clothes, underwear, and pajamas. And for some unknown reason, bed linen from the boys' room was being stuffed inside the clothes hamper on a daily basis. The laundry situation had Silk stumped. There was a shiny washer in the small room off from the kitchen, but Silk didn't have the first idea of how to operate it. Big Mama had done their washing in a metal tub with a washboard, and at times, she lugged dirty laundry down to the lake.

Wanting to keep her ignorance a secret, Silk considered hand washing Buddy's uniforms, but she doubted if she'd be able to get the grease and grime out of his coveralls. Her delicate hands had no experience with toiling. Back home, Silk wasn't required to labor. Her only job was to deliver Big Mama's remedies to the white folks.

Big Mama came home looking particularly tired after a long day of hunting. “Dragging that hog through the wood done sapped me of all my strength.”

“I can help you hunt hogs, Big Mama.”

“No, I want you sitting right here in this house looking pretty when I come home. I don't ever want you getting your pretty, little hands dirty.” Big Mama held up her hard, roughened hands. “Do you see my hands?”

“Yes, Big Mama, I see your hands.”

“This tough ol' leathery skin was made for hard work and healing. Your soft, gentle hands was made for rubbing the kinks out of my neck and squeezing and loving up on my titties on nights like tonight, when I'm too dog tired to climb on top of you.” Big Mama plopped wearily onto the wooden chair. “Go fetch a cool rag and wipe the sweat off my face.”

Twelve-year-old Silk dipped a square cloth into a basin of water and wrung it out. Carefully, she dabbed the beads of perspiration from Big Mama's face and the creases in her neck. “You want me to get the kinks out your neck, Big Mama?”

Big Mama began unbuttoning her mannish shirt. “Nah, skip that and get right to squeezing on my tits.” She closed her eyes in anticipation. “I'm awful tired, so use your hands real gentle, the way I taught you, and make Big Mama feel extra good tonight.”

“Okie-dokie.”

Untrained in domestic work of any kind, Silk abandoned the idea of trying to hand wash a week's worth of laundry. Struck with the idea of asking the neighbor lady and babysitter, Mrs. Sudler, to show her how to operate the machinery, Silk picked up the phone and called her.

“This is Silk, Mrs. Sudler. How are you doing? Listen, we have so much leftover food from the funeral, I was wondering if you'd drop by and take some of it off my hands.”

“Merciful Jesus. Thank you, Silk. My husband got laid off from his job, and our food was starting to get low.”

“I had no idea, but you know the Lord works in mysterious ways. I'll see you shortly.”

It took a less than ten minutes for Mrs. Sudler to arrive with a large shopping bag. After Silk filled the bag to capacity, she casually said to her neighbor, “That washer that Ernestine used ain't
the kind we use down South. Do you think you could show me how to run this thing, so I can wash Buddy's work uniforms?”

“Sure, I can show you. What did you use down South—those old wringer washers?”

“Yup, that's exactly what we used.”

“You're gonna love the automatic washing machine. It's fast and convenient, and less dangerous. I've heard tales of quite a few women getting their hands caught up in the wringer,” Mrs. Sudler said with a shudder.

Silk listened and watched closely as Mrs. Sudler walked her through the steps of washing a load of clothes. Filled with Buddy's uniforms, the washer hummed and vibrated as it went through the various cycles. After the load of clothes was washed, Silk walked Mrs. Sudler to the door.

The kids were out back, splashing around in a wading pool their father had recently purchased for them. “Myron!” Silk yelled out the back door.

The boy jumped out of the pool immediately, and came inside the house. “Yes, M'dear?”

“Dry off, and then go upstairs and bring down the hamper of dirty laundry in you boys' room.”

An odd expression came over Myron's face.

“Are you deaf, boy? Don't stand there and gawk at me.” Silk yanked hard on Myron's earlobe.

“Ow!” With a hand covering his ear, Myron bounded up the stairs. It took him longer than it should have to bring down the wicker clothes hamper from his room, and when he did, he tried to slip it into the wash room and then dart out the back door, unnoticed. But Silk caught him.

“Where are you running to?” She pointed to the wicker basket.
“Explain to me why there's a bunch of sheets and pajamas and things in that laundry basket?”

Myron avoided eye contact with Silk. “Bruce changes his sheets every morning as soon as he wakes up. And, um, he throws his pajamas and underwear in the hamper, too.”

“Why does he do that?”

Myron shrugged.

“There's something you're not telling me. I'ma whoop Bruce's ass and I'ma whoop yours, too, if you don't spill the beans and tell me what you know.”

“Bruce pees the bed,” Myron blurted.

“That boy is too old to be pissing the bed.” A hot rage blazed through Silk. “Go back upstairs and get me one of your daddy's leather belts. I'ma light a fire to Bruce's ass.”

Myron scampered back up the stairs and came back down quickly, holding a brown leather belt.

Silk flung the back door open and shook the belt threateningly. “Get out of that pool, Bruce. Your ass is grass!”

“No, M'dear. Please. I didn't do anything,” Bruce wailed with a look of terror in his eyes.

“Did you hear what I said? March your ass in this house, right now,” Silk said through clenched teeth.

Bruce climbed out of the pool. Wet and shivering from fear, he slowly walked toward the back porch. When he got close to Silk, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside the house. “Go outside and look after your sister, Myron.”