never a real answer.
Silky and the Satins had professional photos taken for publicity, and Silky gave one to Dick. She bought a real silver frame and put the picture in it, figuring even if he didn’t think the picture was much at least the frame was worth something. But whenever she went to his apartment she saw her photo there on his dresser. It made her feel wonderful. She asked him for a photo of himself, but he said he never had owned one.
Sometimes they went out, but more often she went over to his apartment after rehearsals and cooked something. She was a fair cook, but he was teaching her that, too. She figured she’d be a great wife someday, after Dick got through improving her, but she didn’t want to think about that because she knew that as long as he was alive she’d never marry anybody. She didn’t have to bring up the subject; she just knew he would never marry her. She wanted badly to be married before she was dead, because she’d grown up around so many people who’d had children and never married the man that she was determined it would never happen to her. She went to a doctor and got birth-control pills. She was glad her mother was dead and didn’t know that she’d ended up going around with a man who would never marry her, but at least she knew her mother would be glad to know there wouldn’t be any grandchildren who knew they only belonged to their mother.
They went off on tour then, and did some clubs, and Silky always telephoned Dick after the last show was over, at about two thirty in the morning, and of course sometimes he wasn’t there and sometimes he was but she didn’t know for sure if he was alone. She knew men were like that, and she knew you could never mention it or there would be a big fight and the woman always lost. She never mentioned him to the girls and they never mentioned him again either, except that if ever a rich-looking white guy from the audience would come backstage after the show they would give Silky mean looks as if she was going to grab him. She was so busy worrying about remembering everything in the act, the jokes, the bits of business, and all the new lyrics, and worrying about not losing her voice from the strain of doing all those shows, that it gave her something to think about and kept her from caring what the girls did to her. She had her own room on the road, too, and she usually did her make-up upstairs in the room so she wouldn’t have to spend much time with them in the dressing room. The people who came backstage from the audience always flipped over her and wanted her autograph, but usually if they were guys they ended up liking the other girls just as much as they liked her because the other girls were friendlier.
In small towns people recognized them on the street, and asked them for their autographs, and all the girls had taken to wearing their stage make-up and false eyelashes and wigs when they were offstage too, to keep up their image. Silky was just as aware of that as the other girls were, and she always wore big dark glasses in the morning if she had to go out to eat and didn’t have her eye makeup on.
Without Mr. Libra to supervise them every minute, the other girls were gaining weight. Mr. Libra flew to whatever club they were at to be at their opening and supervise them, and he’d hired the twins’ older sister Ardra to be their chaperone, but Ardra didn’t do much except stay with them and enjoy all the attention they were getting, and Mr. Libra had other clients to attend to in New York, so the girls were pretty much independent. After a few clubs all the girls had to have their costumes let out, except for Silky. Mr. Libra discovered that, and he blew the roof off.
“I’m not spending money on four ugly sows,” he screamed. “You see this? This is a list. I want you to write down every single thing you eat and drink, and give me the lists every time I see you. If you lose your looks, you’re going right back to that
Silky and the Satins had professional photos taken for publicity, and Silky gave one to Dick. She bought a real silver frame and put the picture in it, figuring even if he didn’t think the picture was much at least the frame was worth something. But whenever she went to his apartment she saw her photo there on his dresser. It made her feel wonderful. She asked him for a photo of himself, but he said he never had owned one.
Sometimes they went out, but more often she went over to his apartment after rehearsals and cooked something. She was a fair cook, but he was teaching her that, too. She figured she’d be a great wife someday, after Dick got through improving her, but she didn’t want to think about that because she knew that as long as he was alive she’d never marry anybody. She didn’t have to bring up the subject; she just knew he would never marry her. She wanted badly to be married before she was dead, because she’d grown up around so many people who’d had children and never married the man that she was determined it would never happen to her. She went to a doctor and got birth-control pills. She was glad her mother was dead and didn’t know that she’d ended up going around with a man who would never marry her, but at least she knew her mother would be glad to know there wouldn’t be any grandchildren who knew they only belonged to their mother.
They went off on tour then, and did some clubs, and Silky always telephoned Dick after the last show was over, at about two thirty in the morning, and of course sometimes he wasn’t there and sometimes he was but she didn’t know for sure if he was alone. She knew men were like that, and she knew you could never mention it or there would be a big fight and the woman always lost. She never mentioned him to the girls and they never mentioned him again either, except that if ever a rich-looking white guy from the audience would come backstage after the show they would give Silky mean looks as if she was going to grab him. She was so busy worrying about remembering everything in the act, the jokes, the bits of business, and all the new lyrics, and worrying about not losing her voice from the strain of doing all those shows, that it gave her something to think about and kept her from caring what the girls did to her. She had her own room on the road, too, and she usually did her make-up upstairs in the room so she wouldn’t have to spend much time with them in the dressing room. The people who came backstage from the audience always flipped over her and wanted her autograph, but usually if they were guys they ended up liking the other girls just as much as they liked her because the other girls were friendlier.
In small towns people recognized them on the street, and asked them for their autographs, and all the girls had taken to wearing their stage make-up and false eyelashes and wigs when they were offstage too, to keep up their image. Silky was just as aware of that as the other girls were, and she always wore big dark glasses in the morning if she had to go out to eat and didn’t have her eye makeup on.
Without Mr. Libra to supervise them every minute, the other girls were gaining weight. Mr. Libra flew to whatever club they were at to be at their opening and supervise them, and he’d hired the twins’ older sister Ardra to be their chaperone, but Ardra didn’t do much except stay with them and enjoy all the attention they were getting, and Mr. Libra had other clients to attend to in New York, so the girls were pretty much independent. After a few clubs all the girls had to have their costumes let out, except for Silky. Mr. Libra discovered that, and he blew the roof off.
“I’m not spending money on four ugly sows,” he screamed. “You see this? This is a list. I want you to write down every single thing you eat and drink, and give me the lists every time I see you. If you lose your looks, you’re going right back to that
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