The Secrets of Silk (6 page)

“Oh, you had a shotgun wedding?” Silk teased. She could tell she'd struck a nerve by the way Clara flinched and began to fiddle with her wedding band.

“My husband, Big Vernon, didn't have to be forced to the altar. He wanted to make an honest woman out of me. But we didn't have enough money for anything fancy, so we got hitched by the justice of the peace.”

“Well, you're a happily married woman, and that's all that matters,” Silk said soothingly. Though it was in her nature to needle a person once she'd located their weak spot, it was in Silk's best interest to keep Clara as a loyal friend, and so she let her be.

As the bus drew closer to their destination, Silk stared out the window, observing the mountains, the muddy skies, the smoky air, and the sickly-looking trees. The effects of the coal-mining industry had left the city of Pittsburgh dark and depressing. Thanks to Clara, Silk wouldn't be pitching her tent in such a dreary town.

W
ith the numerous rest stops and layovers, the bus ride to Pittsburgh had lasted almost twenty-four hours. Silk dreaded the additional five hours it would take to get to Philly. But motivated by the idea of putting even more distance between her and the lawmen of Louisiana, she purchased a ticket to Philadelphia and climbed on board the bus.

The last leg of the trip was pure hell. Silk was hungry, but Clara's food had run out. Making matters worse, Clara's baby was fussy and starting to irritate Silk. Each time Clara asked Silk to hold the child for a few moments, Silk would close her eyes and pretend to snore. The only good thing about the bus ride from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia was that there weren't any Jim Crow laws that forced them to sit in the back of the bus.

At last they arrived in Philadelphia, and when Clara announced they had to catch a local train to get to her brother's house in Chester, Silk was ready to haul off and slap Clara for giving her such bad news.

In downtown Philadelphia, Silk was intrigued by the tall buildings and the many business establishments that were lit by neon signs in broad daylight. She was fascinated by the hordes of people walking at a fast pace like they were all in a big hurry to get somewhere. And she was particularly interested in a couple of colored sailors who had begun to give her the eye the moment she had
stepped outside the bus terminal. Eager to explore the big city for a while, Silk decided that Clara and that big-headed baby of hers had suddenly become more of a liability than an asset.

“I'm sorry, but I can't ride any further—not today. My backside is sore and I'm gonna pass out for sure if I don't get myself something to eat,” Silk said with her lips poked out.

“What are you saying?” Clara asked nervously.

“I'm saying…you go on ahead to Chester and get started with that funeral business; I'll catch up with you in a day or so.” Distracted by the handsome men in uniform, Silk no longer had any interest in Clara's brother or the insurance money he had coming. Continuing on to Chester was out of the question when Philadelphia seemed to have so much to offer.

Clara's eyes grew large with alarm. “I can't leave you in this big city all alone. It's too dangerous. If something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself.”

“Don't worry about me; I'll be fine,” Silk said, cutting her eyes at the sailors who were hanging around waiting for her to ditch Clara and her baby. “Listen, I'm gonna find me a room to relax in. I need a quiet place to study for the teacher's exam at that private Christian school. So you go on, now. I'll catch you later.”

“How?”

“How, what?” Silk wrinkled her brow in irritation. There was a lot of fun to be had and Clara was holding her up.

“How are you going to catch up with me when you don't even have my brother's phone number?”

“Oh, silly me! Give me the number and I'll call you later.”

Silk was forced to hold the squirming baby while Clara jotted down the phone number on the back of an old receipt.

Carrying a suitcase, a diaper bag, and her baby, Clara ambled
along. Wearing a fearful expression, she stopped and looked over at Silk several times. Impatiently, Silk motioned for Clara to move along. Finally, mixing in with the throng of people on Market Street, Clara disappeared in the crowd.

With Clara out of her hair, Silk whirled around and flashed a smile at the two sailors who were waiting for her. “Hey, sailor boys,” she greeted boldly. “How would you two like to give me a tour of the city?”

Taken aback by Silk's brazenness, the sailors blushed and bashfully agreed to show her the area.

“Feels like I've been traveling for a month of Sundays, and I'm nearly dying of starvation. I hope you boys plan on feeding me before you take me on a walking tour.”

“Uh, sure. There's a steak house a couple blocks from here,” said the cuter of the two. He was medium height, lean and muscular with mahogany skin that was complemented by jet-black eyebrows and bright, brown eyes. His pal was several inches taller and had broader shoulders, but he wasn't nearly as good-looking as his bright-eyed friend.

“Here you go; be a doll and carry my luggage,” she said, handing her beat-up suitcase to the less attractive sailor.

“What's your name?” asked the cute one.

“Why don't you try and guess,” Silk said with a devilish smile.

He studied her with squinted eyes. “You look like you'd have a sweet name—something like Cookie or Honey,” he ventured.

Laughing and enjoying the attention, Silk shook her head, swinging her bun loose, and causing her hair to fall past her shoulders. “Nope, it's not Cookie or Honey.”

“Give us a clue,” said the sailor who was awkwardly holding her suitcase.

“My name begins with the letter ‘S,' and while you're trying to guess, why don't you fellows tell me your names.”

The cute sailor made the introduction. “I'm Julius and this is my buddy, Hank.”

“Before we go to the steak house, why don't you put your suitcase away in one of the lockers inside the bus station,” Hank suggested, looking embarrassed to be holding the battered piece of luggage.

“Good idea,” Julius agreed.

Silk frowned. “I don't want to be separated from my possessions. This here is my piggy bank,” Silk said, lovingly stroking the dented suitcase.

Julius and Hank exchanged puzzled looks when Silk referred to her suitcase as a piggy bank.

“It'll be safe inside the locker. I don't want to be toting anything around when we take you out to eat and give you a tour,” Julius said, trying to convince Silk to ditch her embarrassingly shabby travel bag.

“All right,” Silk relented. She and the two sailors went inside the bus terminal, and like a perfect gentleman, Hank paid the twenty-five cents fee to rent the locker. He handed Silk the key to locker 105. She deposited the key inside her pocketbook.

With one arm linked in Hank's arm and the other linked in Julius's, Silk was escorted to the steak house with both men trying to guess her name.

“Sybil…Sharon…Sallie,” Julius suggested.

“Wrong answers! Listen, boys, I'll give a kiss to the first one who gets my name right,” Silk said, sweetening the pot.

“Stephanie!” Hank blurted, trying hard to win a kiss.

“Nope.” Shaking her head adamantly, Silk swung her hair back and forth, tempting Hank to briefly unlock his arm and stroke her luxurious mane.

By the time they reached the steak house, both young men had gone through every “S” name imaginable from Sapphire to Suzie. Silk was falling over giggling at some of the silly names the two sailors had come up with.

“My name is Silk,” she finally divulged when the waiter arrived with the menus.

“That name suits you,” Julius said, and Hank nodded in agreement.

Silk quickly scanned the selections and ordered a strip steak, salad, baked potato, and large Coca-Cola. Julius and Hank only ordered soft drinks, commenting that they'd already eaten.

While Silk chowed down, her dates admired her looks and tried to outdo each other with the compliments they bestowed upon her.

“I love the sound of your Southern accent,” Julius said. “Where're you from?”

“Biloxi, Mississippi,” she lied.

“Your skin is so smooth and flawless, I bet you wash your face with nothing but Noxzema,” Hank offered, gazing at her adoringly.

“Nope. I pamper my skin with a mixture my mama makes out of special herbs and castile soap. I follow that up with a mud mask made from Louisiana soil.”

“Louisiana?” Hank questioned. “Didn't you say you're from Mississippi?”

“The soil comes in the mail,” Silk responded quickly. She grew solemn, missing Big Mama suddenly. If Big Mama hadn't tried to slow her down by asking for the special treatment, she wouldn't have had to kill her.
I'm sho' gonna miss my mama, and I hope my beautiful skin can survive without her preparations.

“You look sad all of a sudden,” Julius observed.

Silk shrugged. “I'm feeling homesick, I guess.” She ignored the salad, but quickly polished off her steak and baked potato, and then stabbed through the chunks of ice with her straw, tilting her
glass, and loudly sipping the last drops of cola. “Y'all ready to give me a tour of the city?”

Julius and Hank scrambled to their feet, reaching in their pockets and tossing dollar bills on the table, both eager to pay for Silk's meal.

Outside on busy Market Street, Silk took in the sites. The marquee of the Fox Theater advertised the movie
Gypsy
starring Natalie Wood. She was mesmerized by the beautiful images of film clips that were displayed outside the movie house. Each time the door to the theater opened, she was struck by the delicious aroma of popcorn.

“Do you want to catch this flick?” Hank asked her.

Silk had never been inside a movie theater, and she nodded enthusiastically. Hank checked with the ticket attendant and then announced that the next show wasn't scheduled until five p.m. and the next one after that would begin at seven.

With time to kill, Silk accompanied the sailors to a nearby arcade. Inside, Hank asked her to take a picture that he could have as a keepsake. She eagerly obliged, striking a glamorous pose next to a gigantic, inflatable whiskey bottle prop that the photographer provided. The photograph was placed inside a cardboard frame with the words:
Thinking of You, Always
imprinted at the bottom.

While Hank admired Silk's picture, Julius stole a kiss. Silk wrapped her arms around his neck, inviting him to kiss her long and deeply.

Hank gazed at Silk's picture. “I guess I have to settle for kissing your picture since I can't get any sugar from you.”

Julius's lips were soft and the taste of his sweet kiss had an unsettling effect on her nature, causing her to squirm with desire. Being in a public place, there wasn't much Silk could do about her discomfort, but she did manage to subtly rub her groin against Julius's, letting him know that she wanted more than a kiss.

“Hank and I have a room a few blocks away on Arch Street. I'll tell Hank to give us some privacy. Later, we can go and catch the seven o'clock show at the Fox Theater.”

“Sounds good to me.” Silk waited by the door while Julius delivered the news to Hank. Left holding Silk's picture, a dejected Hank watched as his buddy and the girl he desired walked out of the arcade.

O
n the way to the hotel on Arch Street, Julius made a detour at a liquor store and bought a bottle of Wild Turkey. Hugged up as they walked along Arch Street, Julius and Silk alternately kissed and drank from the bottle of bourbon.

When they arrived at a flea bag hotel, Julius apologized for the condition of the place. Silk walked inside without batting an eye; she felt frisky enough to raise her dress in a back-alley to get the thrills she yearned for.

Images of the dead bodies she'd left back home filled her mind, exciting her. She reached a hand behind her back and began unzipping her dress before Julius could get the key in the lock.