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

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, ruled by a single… rule? To use the prompt word and keep it to six sentences in length.

To get you back into the story, here’s where we left off : Previously on…

This week’s prompt word:

CONSEQUENCES

Walking away from the last booth on the right, I left Lou growling into a burner phone, “If you’re done with the bullshit excuses, I’m gonna tell you once, not twice, once, what you’re gonna do…”

Stopping at the hostess station just inside the entrance, I decided to watch Diane Tierney do what she was exceptionally good at, i.e. managing customers, specifically, a table of loud and somewhat rowdy Shriners engaged in the age-old contest of ‘who can get the dancer’s attention’; the clear front runner: an overweight hardware store owner twirling the tassel of his fez in perfect sync with those worn by the dancer on stage, Rue DeNite.

Diane, bending slightly from the waist, the better to dominate the seated men, smiled as she spoke to the group and their response was, of course, that of boys locked in the grip of Stage 2 pubescence, daring each other to risk the consequences of defiance; sixth grade boys on bicycles in front of a schoolyard full of eighth grade girls were to Michael Rennie accepting an Oscar as the over-stimulated businessmen were to the hostess of the Bottom of the Sea Strip Club and Lounge.

Backing away from the now docile conventioneers, Diane turned only a second before colliding with me. For a high-school-moment we stood face-to-face; the pupils of her eyes, already a deep blue, became bottomless; her arms softened from rigid defensiveness, hands rising into suggestive, yet not totally committed welcome and her shoulders moved back and slightly downward.

I resigned myself to living on as much oxygen currently in my lungs for as long as necessary.

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