Taken aback by Silk’s spunk, Franny said, “I didn’t expect you to be such a firecracker.”
“I speak my mind, and I don’t take shit off anybody.” Under normal circumstances, Silk would have at least made an attempt to present herself as innocent and harmless, but she was ticked off by the way those two biddies wearing house dresses and slippers had called her names under their breath and then snubbed her.
“That’s just how I am, honey chile. I don’t talk behind nobody’s back, either. Anything I have to say, I’ll say it to your face.”
“Yeah, well, you better watch what you say to me because I’ll cut your ass if I don’t like the shit you’re talking.”
Franny laughed nervously. “I was speaking in general. I don’t know you well enough to talk trash about you.”
“Mm-hmm,” Silk murmured doubtfully.
“Here we are. This is Carmalee’s house.” She pointed to a house with pretty flowers in the yard. “What do you want to see Carmalee about? I know you’re not thinking about letting her put a straightening comb in all that bone-straight, pretty hair of yours.”
“No, I need to make an appointment for my daughter.”
“You got kids?”
“I consider Buddy’s three children as my own flesh and blood.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks for walking with me. I’ll catch you later.” Silk left Franny behind and walked up the steps, and knocked on Carmalee’s door. She put on her most endearing smile and thickened her Southern accent when Carmalee opened the door.
“Hi, there, Carmalee. My name is Silk Dixon and I’m new around here. I’m in a heck of a pickle and would appreciate it so much if you could squeeze my little girl in for a hair appointment.”
Taken in by Silk’s beauty and Southern charm, Carmalee smiled and welcomed her inside. Sitting in a kitchen chair was an older woman with half a head of nappy hair and the other half was straight. On top of the kitchen table was an assortment of hair pomade, hair pins, and silver clips.
“I had a cancellation. You can bring your daughter over at one o’clock if you’d like. You have to wash her hair first, though.”
“Thank you. We’ll be here at one o’clock sharp,” Silk said with an appreciative smile.
Outside, Silk was surprised to see Franny still hanging around.
“Did she give you an appointment?” Franny asked.
“Yep, she’s gonna fit my daughter in at one this afternoon.”
“Shoot, it’s only a little after ten. You got almost three hours to kill.” Franny fanned her face with her hand. “It sure is hot today. I could go for a cold beer; what about you?”
Although Silk didn’t care too much for Franny, she didn’t mind relaxing over a beer and picking the woman’s brain to find out where the excitement was on this side of town. “You got some beer in your ice box?”
“No, but I saw Sweet Daddy pull up to the Flower Hill bar in his Thunderbird. He’s the numbers runner, and the pockets of his sharkskin suits are always full of cash. He’d buy plenty of drinks for a pretty girl like you. You wanna stop by the bar for a little while?”
“Sure, why not?” Silk could drink like a fish when she wanted to. Being a good wife to Buddy, she’d been trying to lay off the hard stuff, but after battling Dallas’ kinky hair, she felt she deserved a drink or two. She checked her wristwatch, one of the many trinkets she had inherited from Buddy’s dead wife. “I can’t stay long, though. I have children to attend to, you know.”
“One beer,” Franny assured her, guiding her along Ruby Street. When they approached the woman who had snubbed Silk, Franny flashed a smile and clutched Silk’s arm as if she’d won a prize. The women buried their heads in their magazines, pretending not to notice Franny and Silk.
“Those two biddies don’t like me and I don’t care,” Silk said bitterly.
“Don’t pay them any mind. They’re jealous because you’re as pretty as Dorothy Dandridge and you’re dressed to kill. Plus, they both had their eye on Buddy. He’s a decent man and would have made good husband material for the women in the community who ain’t got one. Folks are upset about you swooping in and stealing him before anyone got a chance to try to win him over.”
“It was love at first sight between Buddy and me. That’s the only way I can explain it.”
“That’s nice,” Franny said dismissively. “Now, listen, Silk, I wouldn’t expect you to play around behind your husband’s back, but it wouldn’t hurt if you were nice to Sweet Daddy. Smile at him and act sociable after he buys us a beer.”
Silk didn’t need any lessons from Franny on how to get what she wanted out of a man, but she nodded, pretending to go along with Franny’s instructions.
Franny pointed to a flashy, yellow Thunderbird parked in front of the bar with its top down. “That’s Sweet Daddy’s car. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“It’s all right,” Silk said, sounding unimpressed, but in actuality, her heart skipped a beat when she got a close look at the flashy vehicle. The glimmering yellow convertible was the kind of car she’d been dreaming of. The kind of car Nathan Lee had promised to buy her when they were planning to run away together. Well, she was up North now, and the car was staring her in the face, which she took as a sign that by hook or by crook, she would soon get a pretty car of her own.
Buddy owed her a wedding present, and she decided in that moment to start working on her husband, and to figure out a way to entice him into taking out a loan to buy her something that outshined the yellow Thunderbird.
CHAPTER 25
Sandwiched between the bar and the barbershop was an area with a set of rusted metal stairs that led to six apartments that were up high, above the bar.
“A colored man, Mr. Bob Lewis, owns the bar and those apartments,” Franny pointed out. “His wife, Arvetta—she’s a former beauty queen. She won the Miss Sepia beauty pageant back in the day. Anyway, she runs a speakeasy up there in one of the apartments after the bar closes,” she said in a lowered voice. “All kinds of illegal carryings-on take place in those apartments. So, honey chile, make sure you keep your distance,” Franny cautioned.
“What kind of illegal carryings-on?”
“You didn’t hear it from me, now…” Franny paused.
“I won’t say anything.”
“Well, aside from allowing his wife to sell booze after-hours, Mr. Bob lets her use those apartments for illegal gambling like crap shooting and poker. And I hear there’s prostitution going on up there,” Franny added in a whisper. “Every weekend there’s some kind of trouble that requires a visit from the police. But Mr. Bob has political connections. He’s in real good with the white politicians, and no matter how much trouble happens at the Flower Hill, the place never gets shut down.”
Franny sidled up close to Silk and spoke conspiratorially. “Sweet Daddy works for Mr. Bob and his wife, Miss Arvetta. Rumor has it that Sweet Daddy and Miss Arvetta have a thing going on. I don’t know if it’s true, but that’s what people say.”
Silk didn’t give a damn about Sweet Daddy or Miss Arvetta. She wanted to roll her eyes at Franny for wasting her time with idle gossip, but instead she merely gave a little shrug.
With her metal hair wave clips gleaming in the sun, Franny gripped the door handle of the Flower Hill. “Time to get us some free drinks,” Franny said with a broad smile.
Back home, the honky-tonk didn’t open until the sun went down, and Silk was excited to enter a bar during morning hours. There wasn’t much of a crowd inside the Flower Hill, but the distinct smell of alcohol, music from the jukebox, and the sound of billiard balls smacking into each other livened up the place enough to suit Silk just fine.
The bartender’s eyes lit up when Silk sat down at the bar. “How you doing, Franny? What can I get you and your friend?” he asked, unable to tear his gaze away from Silk’s face.
“Hey, Wally. This is my new friend, Silk. We’ll have two cans of Schlitz beer.”
“How you
doing, Silk. You look like a ray of sunshine, and you done brightened up my entire day,” Wally said, grinning.
Silk barely cracked a smile at the bartender. Wally was too portly and unattractive to warrant her exerting any energy.
“Where’s Sweet Daddy?” Franny asked, stretching her neck, looking in the back area where the pool table was located.
“I believe he’s upstairs in the apartments, making his rounds. You can leave the number you want to play with me, and I’ll make sure he gets it,” Wally offered.
“Nah, I don’t play the numbers ’cause I never hit. I wanted to talk to him about something else,” Franny said, giving Silk a knowing smile.
The bartender placed the cans of beer and glasses in front of Silk and Franny. “These are on the house, Sunshine,” he said, pointedly to Silk. “My way of showing appreciation for you coming in here and brightening up the place.”
“Hey, Wally, can I bum a cigarette off you?” Franny asked, taking advantage of the bartender’s good mood and unexpected generosity. Any other time, Wally would have pointed to the cigarette machine if Franny had asked him for a smoke, but wanting to make a good impression on Silk, he shook a Marlboro out of his pack and not only handed it to Franny, he lit it for her, also.
Franny sat back and sipped her beer and took a deep and satisfying puff on the cigarette. Blowing out a stream of smoke, she wondered what else she could get out of Wally. It seemed that being friends with Silk came with lots of perks and she didn’t want to miss any opportunities.
“Say, Wally. Isn’t Carrie Pettiford selling dinners out of her house today?” Franny inquired.
“I don’t think so. She usually sells dinners on Saturday.”
“And the first Wednesday of the month, which would be today,” Franny replied. “You should treat me and my good friend to a dinner.” Franny looked at Silk. “You want fried fish or chicken?”
“Uh, it’s pretty early for one of Carrie’s dinners,” Wally said, looking a bit angry and somewhat flustered, realizing that Franny was trying to spend his money and play him for a sucker.
Silk laughed to herself. She could tell that the bartender didn’t want to give Franny anything, but he also didn’t want to make a bad impression by appearing stingy in front of Silk.
“I could go for some fried fish,” Silk said, enjoying putting Wally on the spot.
“In that case, I’ll give Carrie a call and tell her to drop off a couple of fish platters.” Wally came from behind the bar and reluctantly meandered toward the pay phone in the corner.
Franny elbowed Silk. “Wally’s sweet on you. Maybe you can get him to buy us tickets for the rock-and-roll show tonight.”
“What rock-and-roll show?” Silk’s ears were perked. She loved listening to live music. The rare occasions when musicians came from out of town to play at the Low Moon, Silk would dance up a storm and drink more liquor than usual. Not to mention, getting cozy with one or more of the band members when they finished playing for the night. Being married to Buddy was cramping her style. Silk was ready to let loose and have a good time.
“There’s a bus excursion going to the Uptown show in Philly. Don’t you listen to the radio? It’s been announced on WDAS all week long. They got Patti LaBelle and the Bluebelles on the show, Barbara Mason, The Marvelettes, The Vibrations, and Little Stevie Wonder.” She gazed at Silk curiously. “You know who he is, right?”
Silk shook her head.
“Little Stevie Wonder is that little blind boy who has that new hit song called ‘Fingertips.’ ”
“I never heard of that song.”
Franny poked out her lips as if insulted. “Where you been? ‘Fingertips’ is number one on all the stations. But anyways, the headliners of the show are the Miracles. And honey chile, I loves me some Smokey Robinson. Ain’t no way I’m gonna miss that show.”
Thinking back, Silk realized that Cephus had mentioned taking her to the Uptown Theater back when they’d gone to The Melody Lounge together. “Do you mean to tell me, all those famous people are gonna be in the same place at the same time?” Silk asked incredulously.
“Mm-hmm. The Uptown stays packed. Standing room only!”
“Do the entertainers come off the stage and mingle after the show is over?” Silk asked, delighted to have the opportunity to make time with the likes of Smokey Robinson, the lead singer of The Miracles.
“When the curtains closes, the show is over, and you get back on the bus,” Franny informed, gazing at Silk curiously. “What kinds of shows have you been to where the singers hang around and mingle with the audience?”
“Back home at the honky-tonk. We dance, drink, and party with the musicians that come to town.”
“Oh, we ain’t going to no honky-tonk. We’re going to a theater,” Franny said, pronouncing the word, thee-ater. “No liquor unless you sneak it inside your purse. But liquor or not, you have a real good time at the rock-and-roll show.”
Franny looked over her shoulder at Wally who was placing the call for their fish platters. “You need to work on Wally when he gets back behind the bar. If you make eyes at him and pretend to like him, he might drive us to Philly, and we won’t have to waste money on bus tickets.”
Silk was tickled that Franny thought she was stupid enough to work the bartender over on her behalf. Silk could pay for her own bus ticket to the Uptown, but if she felt the need to work somebody over, she’d do it for herself, and not for some poppy-eyed, fat heifer she barely knew. Silk was about to put Franny in her place when the door opened emitting a streak of blinding sunlight.
“That’s him!” Franny said with awe in her voice. “That’s Sweet Daddy.”
Silk shielded her eyes and squinted in the direction of the door, curious to get a gander of the infamous Sweet Daddy. She gasped in shock and nearly choked on her beer. Strolling into the Flower Hill bar was none other than Tate Simmons. As usual, he was looking good and was as clean as the board of health.
“I know him. He told me his name was Tate,” Silk whispered to Franny as Tate pompously glided toward her.
“Tate’s his real name, but everyone around here calls him Sweet Daddy, and you can see why. Ain’t he fine, honey chile?”
“Hmph,” Silk grunted. “I don’t see what’s so sweet about him. He don’t look like much of nothing to me.” Silk may not have had Big Mama’s gift of vision, but she could clearly see that Tate was nothing but bad news. Clutching her purse, Silk eased off the barstool. “I’ll catch you later, Franny. I gotta go.”
“Wait a minute. Wally’s ordering our food.”
“Fuck that food,” Silk spat as she breezed past Tate.
“Where are you running off to?” Tate inquired.
“None of your damn business,” Silk exploded and rushed out the door.
“Can I talk to you?” He grasped her arm.
“Hell, no.” She snatched her arm away. “You might think you’re God’s gift to women, but you ain’t nothing but a pain in the ass to me.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Tate said with arrogant laughter in his voice as he kept on strolling toward the bar.
• • •
The cocky look on Tate’s face had infuriated her and when Silk got home, she took her anger and frustration out on the boys. She yelled at them for having the volume of the TV up too loud. She pulled Myron over to her, put him in a headlock and then ground her knuckle into the side of his head, causing him to flail about and holler. When she finished with Myron, she grabbed Bruce and shook him until he was breathless.
“Now, take y’all ornery asses upstairs and stay out of my sight.”
The boys quickly scampered upstairs.
Trying to alter Silk’s bad mood, Dallas changed the channel from the cartoons she’d been watching with her brothers to The Price Is Right. “Do you want to watch this show, M’dear?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Silk responded, flopping down on the sofa while Dallas sat Indian-style on the floor in front of the television.
When Dallas’s tiny hand and arm disappeared beneath Silk’s dress, Silk closed her eyes and let out a sigh of satisfaction. “That’s my good girl. You’re the only one in this family who cares about my feelings.”
CHAPTER 26
With Buddy putting in overtime and working the third shift as well as his regular morning shift, and with Mrs. Sudler staying overnight to babysit the kids, Silk had the entire night to kick up her heels and have a good time.
Dressed to kill, Silk turned heads as she walked along Twelfth Street, en route to the corner of Twelfth and Engle Streets where the charter bus was picking up folks who had tickets for the midnight show at the Uptown Theater.
Silk’s steps faltered when she drew near the Flower Hill bar. She saw Tate’s canary-colored convertible in the parking lot. She picked up speed and swept past the bar, relieved that she’d gone undetected by Tate. Tate had a way of rattling her nerves, and she didn’t want him and his smart-alecky remarks interfering with the good time she planned on having at the rock-and-roll show tonight.
“Hey, honey chile,” Franny greeted cheerfully when Silk reached the bus stop on Engle Street.
There was a large crowd waiting for the charter bus, and she noticed that most of them were coupled off with only a few single people among them. As was usually the case, all eyes were on Silk. Women looked her up and down with envy, and the men appraised her with lust in their eyes.
It wasn’t Silk’s fault that the men tended to try and undress her with their eyes, and so she shrugged off the dirty looks she received from their female counterparts and struck up a conversation with Franny.
The Secrets of Silk Page 15