Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Six Sentence Story, not the Six Course Lunch. A bloghop that Friend of the Doctrine zoe (and her companion Joules) host each and every Thursday and invite you to join in the fun.

The theme is a simple one. Write a story that involves the prompt word and keep it to six sentences. No more or no less. Semi-colonizing inadvertent over-population of words, descriptions, phrases and other necessary elements is permitted, if not officially condoned.

Regular Readers of the Doctrine’s contributions to the Six Book Library will take note of the photo at the top and think, ‘Ah! We’re going to get a scene from that soon-to-be-the-surprise-bestseller, ‘The Search for the Missing Starr’. And they will be correct.

Wage

I spent a couple of hours, before meeting Haley for lunch, in my office working on the books; seems that while the wages of sin may be death, the dividends it pays out aren’t half bad. Desiderata Detection and Conflict Resolution Services, LLC was growing nicely; as I locked the office at noon, I smiled at the memory of Edwin St.Pierre, an ambitious cop with the Providence PD saying, as we waited for a class at law school to start, “If I had it all to do over again but still had to deal with criminals, I’d either go into private investigation or get an MBA and head to Wall St.”

My soon-to-be ex-wife was meeting me at Capriccio’s which was for Providence’s legal and financial community, the place to be seen; it was the place to: close the deal and make millions, hammer out a plea bargain and keep the underworld happy, and the guaranteed tipping point in any romantic evening. The interior design looked to be by ‘Testosterone, Flowers & Muscle, Ltd’.; if the dark wood paneling, burgundy carpets, brass-studded leather furniture and chandeliers that weighed more than a riding mower didn’t make an impression, the maître d’ in his tuxedo and pencil mustache would be more than happy to, ‘letcha know the score‘.

Haley was in her favorite booth and I held back, enjoying the sight of her working the room, which with her incredible charm and charisma mostly consisted of crowd control, as half the women and ninety percent of the men interrupted their lunch, ‘just wanted to stop and say hi’.

My pleasure came at a price in that seeing her always made me re-discover an empty place in myself I didn’t know was there; I loved the feeling because she’d show me what it was I was missing and I hated it because, before I met her, I didn’t know anything was missing.