The Secrets of Silk Read Online Free Page B

That’s my side money that goes right inside my pocket,” he boasted, holding the steering wheel with one hand and smacking his bulging left pocket with the other.
    â€œDoes the stronger mixture get rid of the bugs?” Silk asked, feigning interest in the exterminating business, when her mind was actually focused on his left pocket that was filled up with cash.
    â€œNah, I spray those restaurants with the same basic, pest control spray that I use for all commercial businesses. But you know what they say: What the customers don’t know won’t hurt ’em.” He chuckled and gave Silk a conspiratorial wink.
    â€œAnyways,” Floyd continued, “aside from the filth that I find in the kitchens of restaurants, my wife is such a heck of a good cook; I don’t want to eat anyone else’s cooking.”
    â€œWhat’s your wife’s specialty?” Silk asked, faking a smile while her brain was at work trying to figure out a way to sweet-talk Floyd out of some of the money he’d collected from the restaurants. Maybe he’d fall for a hard-luck story about a sick old mother who was depending on her. The cash she’d taken out of the bread box would only last but so long, and she suddenly wanted Floyd’s money so badly, it became difficult for her to breathe.
    â€œMy wife, Shirley’s baked ham is one of her best dishes, buteverything she cooks is mouthwatering.” He patted his protrusive belly, and said, “This here ain’t no beer belly—it’s from Shirley’s good, home cooking. She packs me up enough food to feed an army when I have to drive long distances out on the road. I got some fried chicken in a Tupperware container in a brown sack, back there.” He turned slightly, nudging his chin toward the backseat. “If you’re hungry, reach back there and get yourself a leg or a wing. I’m a thigh and breast man, so you won’t find none of those parts left.” Again, Floyd erupted in laughter.
    â€œI’m not hungry, but thanks for your hospitality,” Silk said politely. Looking out the window, she noticed a sign indicating Baton Rouge was only eight miles ahead. Floyd was tearing up the road, driving fast. With time ticking away, she didn’t have a lot of time to come up with a believable sob story.
    â€œSo, where are you gonna be teaching school, Missy?”
    â€œI’ll be teaching at a private school, uh, for Christian children.”
    Floyd chuckled. “A teacher with your good looks is gonna give those little Christian boys a head full of impure thoughts.”
    Silk lowered her eyes demurely.
    â€œI ain’t never been up North and can’t say I want to. What city is the school located in?”
    Silk was planning on putting down roots in either New York or Chicago, and willing to go wherever the next bus that pulled out the station was headed to, but she didn’t want to give Floyd the full truth about her intended destination, in case he was ever questioned by Sheriff Thompson. “I’ll be teaching in Boston, Massachusetts.”
    â€œOh, that’s where President Kennedy hails from. I’m Irish like the president and I was happy to give him my vote. But I’m not too pleased with the way he supports those radicals that want tochange the segregation laws here in the South. I consider myself to be a reasonable person, and as long as you coloreds stay in your place, I treat you with decency. I don’t like the way those high-minded Negroes are starting to insist that their little pickaninnies be allowed to go to the same schools as white children. It’s unnatural and goes against God’s plan.” Floyd gazed at Silk curiously. “Is that school you’re gonna be teaching at, a school for coloreds-only or are the races all mixed together?”
    â€œIt’s all colored, sir,” Silk replied.
    Floyd nodded in satisfaction. “That’s