The Secrets of Silk (33 page)

“We have to be brave, son. Come on, let's go.”

Clutching Bruce by the hand, Silk pulled the terrified child through the kitchen and dining room. “Don't be scared. Everything is gonna be all right,” Silk said in a croaking voice as smoke clogged her lungs. Through the thick smoke, she journeyed to the living room with a reluctant Bruce by her side. The boy was coughing and choking as she determinedly tugged him along.

In the living room she could hear Myron yelling for help at the top of the stairs. She couldn't save Myron if she wanted to, not with vicious flames dancing wildly up and down the wooden staircase.

“What are we gonna do, M'dear?” Bruce asked with a petrified look on his face.

“One thing is for sure, we can't fight our way through that fire. All we can do is pray that the firemen hurry up and get here. While we're waiting, I want you to say a special prayer and ask the Lord to please spare your daddy and your brother,” Silk advised while stealthily sticking her hand inside the pocket of her robe. She glanced up at the top of the stairs. Myron was no longer standing upright, but his screams hadn't died down. In fact, his plaintive wail had gone up several pitches higher. From what she could tell, the boy seemed to be curled up in a fiery ball on the floor, rolling around and screaming.

Beside her, Bruce had his head bowed and his eyes squeezed
tight. His lips moved swiftly as he prayed on behalf of his father and brother. But his prayer was halted when Silk drew her knife from her pocket and suddenly lunged for Bruce and plunged the switchblade into his stomach.

Reflexively, Bruce doubled over and grabbed his stomach. In shock, he was oddly silent as Silk yanked and dragged him over to the burning staircase. With a forceful shove, she pushed the injured child into the inferno that had once served as the family's staircase. Fascinated, she watched him burn and listened to his high-pitched screams that suddenly went silent when the staircase collapsed on top of him.

T
he front page article in the
Chester Times
depicted Silk as a heroine who had managed to save Dallas Dixon from a house fire that claimed the lives of her father, Richard Dixon and her two brothers, Myron and Bruce Dixon. The fatal fire was the latest misfortune of a family that had been plagued by one tragedy after another, all in the course of one summer.

Red Cross workers assisted Silk and Dallas with temporary lodging at a motel outside of Chester. Tate never left Silk's side, surprising her with his attentiveness and support. Being the sole beneficiary of Buddy's and the boys' insurance policies as well as being the new owner of the fire-damaged home, Silk was required to sign mountains of paperwork, and Tate dutifully accompanied her from one end of the city to the next as she filed insurance claims and made funeral arrangements.

Waking up in Tate's arms in the morning was a dream come true for Silk. But it was a shame that Dallas' presence deprived them of the privacy they deserved. All in good time, she told herself. As soon as she received the checks she was expecting, she, Tate, and Dallas would be moving to Chicago.

Dallas didn't warm up to Tate at first, but after a while, he won her over when he exposed his playful side. He tirelessly gave Dallas piggyback rides, played hide-and-seek with her, and brought her
shopping bags filled with coloring books, crayons, paper dolls, and an assortment of board games that he patiently played with her.

Silk was happy to see him and Dallas getting along. After all, Tate was going to be Dallas' new daddy, and Silk didn't want any friction between the two of them.

Mr. Bob Lewis had miraculously pulled through his bout with pneumonia, and although he continued to battle ill health, the stubborn old man insisted on continuing to run his businesses. Eager to be his own man, Tate assured Silk that running numbers for Mr. Bob and assisting Arvetta with the whores was a thing of the past. He was Silk's man now—body and soul. He admitted to warming up to the idea of getting married once they settled down in Chicago.

Silk knew shit-talk when she heard it, and she was certain that Tate was speaking truth. Now that he no longer had to carry himself like a hard-core pimp, he was free to express his inner feelings. At night after Dallas fell asleep, he made love to Silk with such love and tenderness, Silk was moved to tears. She could feel his love with every stroke, and concluded that a man couldn't fake the kind of feelings that Tate revealed.

Early one morning after Tate had left to go to his mother's house to change his clothes, there was an unexpected knock at the door of Silk's motel room. She peeked through the peephole and was stunned to see Deacon Whiteside accompanied by Sister Beverly.

Silk held up a finger to her lips, informing Dallas to be quiet. She knew what those two pests wanted. They'd heard the news that she was having a private service for Buddy and the boys at Hunt's Funeral Home, and they had come by the motel to try to talk her into having the triple funeral at the church. But Silk's mind was
made up. She planned to get her family's charred bones in the ground as soon as possible and without any fuss.

“It's about time,” Silk muttered after the deacon and Sister Beverly finally gave up and left.

Feeling even more in a rush to get the funeral business over and done with, Silk made phone calls to both insurance companies and was delighted to learn that her checks had been cut. “I'll pick the checks up, personally,” she volunteered when she was told that the checks would be put in the mail.

Silk was giddy with the knowledge that she had struck it rich. Booze, good food, and lots of sex were perfect ways to celebrate her windfall with Tate. But there was one problem—Dallas was in the way. Silk regretted the bad blood between her and Mrs. Sudler. The woman was a good babysitter, always available with little advance notice.

•  •  •

After collecting the insurance checks, Silk drove straight to Fidelity Bank. She thought the bank manager's eyes would pop out of his head when he saw the amount of money she planned to deposit into her account.

If they could see me now,
she said to herself, thinking of all the pampered white women whose homes she often visited while dropping off Big Mama's potions. Those bitches thought they were so much better than she was. It didn't matter that her skin was damn near as pale as theirs, they still turned their noses up at her while urgently snatching the bottles of potion out of her hands.

Back then, Silk had her own unique way of dealing with those uppity bitches. She fucked all their husbands and made sure that she was receiving the special treatment as well as backdoor tongue
licking from every one of them before sending them back to their snotty wives. Now Silk had just as much money as the cracker bitches who looked down on her.

As it turned out, she hadn't needed Nathan Lee or any other white man to give her the luxury lifestyle she craved. She'd gotten it for herself and she couldn't be prouder of her accomplishments.

After leaving the bank, Silk got the bright idea to ask Franny to babysit for Dallas. Franny had a houseful of crumb snatchers, and one more wouldn't hurt. She pulled up to Franny's house in the projects and got out of the car. In an instant, Franny shot out the house, yelling and waving her arms around like she'd been stricken by the Holy Ghost.

“What the hell is your problem?” Silk asked, annoyed.

Franny gave Silk a bear hug. “I wasn't sure if I was ever gonna see you again. Nobody knew how to get in touch with you. Oh, my heart aches for you, Silk. I'm so glad you came around so I can give you my condolences.”

Reminded that she was supposed to be in mourning, Silk assumed a sorrowful expression. “These tragedies have beat me down, Franny. I can't take any more,” she said in a weak voice.

Franny patted Silk on the back. “The Lord won't give you more than you can bear.”

“That's what they say, but I'm lost without my dear husband and those sweet little boys.”

“I know, I know,” Franny said, cutting her eyes at the neighbors who were watching like hawks and wondering what kind of information Silk was sharing with Franny. Being Silk's only friend, Franny intended to get firsthand knowledge regarding the terrible fire that had wiped out most of the remaining members of the ill-fated Dixon family.

“Come on inside,” Franny offered, beckoning Dallas and leading Silk toward her front door. Once inside, Franny offered Silk a seat at the kitchen table, and encouraged Dallas to join her four kids who were watching TV in the living room.

“Everyone is grief-stricken over your tragedy, and the whole town is going to show up for the funeral. Well, that is everyone except Sonny Boy's aunt. She's still holding a grudge for the unmerciful way Buddy beat Sonny Boy and broke his jaw. She swears that you falsely accused her nephew. Sonny Boy's jaw is wired up, and his aunt said that he's in so much pain, he cries out in the night.” Franny's protruding eyes were fixed on Silk, watching her reaction.

“For all the pain Sonny Boy put me through, he's lucky Buddy didn't kill him.”

“With his poor vision, bashed-in head, and his afflicted way of walking, Sonny Boy was messed up bad enough. Now, he can't even open his mouth to talk. I don't know what else can happen to the poor man. But I suppose he got what he deserved for beating you so savagely.” Franny gave Silk a searching look. “Did he rape you, too?”

“He did unspeakable things to me,” Silk said in a whisper.

“Like what?”

Silk shook her head and glanced away. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“So, what happened the night of the fire?” Franny asked, leaning forward as she changed the subject. “The papers said Myron was playing with matches and he started the fire. Is that true?”

Silk nodded and dabbed at imaginary tears at the corners of her eyes. “I can't talk about it, Franny. It's too soon. I'm still in shock. I dropped by to ask if you could keep Dallas overnight so I can spend some time alone and deal with my grief. I've had to be strong
for Dallas' sake, but now I'm at my breaking point, and I can't hold my tears in much longer.”

Franny nodded in understanding. “It's not good to hold grief inside. You have to get it out. Dallas is always welcome here. I'm your friend, and don't you forget it. When you're ready to talk, I'll be right here, ready to listen.”

“That's good to know,” Silk said, standing up.

“You leaving already?”

“Yeah, I feel so empty and weak. I need to go lie down.”

“Where're you staying at?”

“A motel on Baltimore Pike.”

“I see.” Franny furrowed her brows. “A word to the wise…”

Silk inhaled deeply, preparing for more unwelcome gossip.

“As your only friend, I want to pull your coat.”

“Speak your mind.”

“Well, Sister Beverly from the church—”

“What about that ol' meddling heifer?”

“Sister Beverly and Deacon Whiteside have been coming to the projects quite frequently since the fire. They've been having secret conversations with that gal that you had cleaning your house.”

Silk's heart dropped. “Sharita?”

“Uh-huh. Sharita and her mother are members of Sister Beverly's church. Rumor has it Sharita's been crying nonstop since the fire, and mumbling that she knows the truth about what happened. But she wouldn't tell Carrie what she knew. So Carrie forced Sharita to go talk to the pastor, and that's how it all got started.

“Now I don't know what all Sharita told the pastor, but this morning, the deacon and Sister Beverly went over to the magistrate's office and a little while later, the police came and carted Sharita off in a squad car.”

“They arrested Sharita for starting the fire?” Gleeful, Silk's voice climbed several octaves.

“Not exactly. When the cops brought Sharita out of the house, I thought she had something to do with the fire, too.”

“Well, she probably did.” Silk was ready to serve up Sharita to law enforcement on a silver platter.

“As it turned out, they only took Sharita down to the station to get an official statement from her. And then they brought her back.”

“Do you have any idea what Sharita told them?”

“No idea whatsoever. Her mother's being extremely tight-lipped about the situation. But maybe she'll talk to you.”

Silk shook her head vehemently. “No, I'm too busy grieving to go around trying to dig up the truth. Listen, Franny, with Sharita being slow and all, it shouldn't be too hard to get some information out of her. The next time you see her walking to the store or running an errand for her mama, I want you to pull her to the side and make her tell you what she knows.”

“I'll try,” Franny said doubtfully.

“Okay, well, it's time for me to get going. I'll be back for Dallas first thing in the morning.”