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, there is only one rule: use the prompt word and make the sentence count: Six

This week’s prompt word:

TRUCK

“Miz DeNite? Please follow me.”

The young man watched Rue, Rocco watched the young man and Rue DeNite smiled to herself, ‘All the world’s a stage and the dance is always for money;’ as if on cue, an armored trucked came to a stop on the far side of the glass wall that shielded the lobby from the ravenous Miami morning sun, ‘except when it’s not’.

The floor in front of the bank of elevators was marble and not drink-stained plywood, the interior lighting discreet rather than salacious; for her part, Rue wore a business suit by Chloé, carried an Epsom Kelly Sellier, the picture perfect wardrobe of a successful business woman had been waiting in her hotel suite; a chance brush against her thigh as Rocco stepped to the back of the elevator, pressing the clip of the garter belt she’d packed, brought back her conversation with the owner of the Bottom of the Sea Strip Club & Lounge.

“There won’t be nothin’ to it,” Lou was waiting in his booth as the last customer stepped out of the club, “go to Miami, convince them you’re my personal assistant and let them show you what they’re hiding…”

The look on Rue’s face prompted the club owner to elaborate, “Everybody’s hiding something, either their sins or their ambition and the funny thing, when the right person appears, they can’t resist bragging; this company, the Bernabau Company, is insisting on doing some business with my operation, fine, they’ll be expecting me to do due diligence, so help them believe you’re there to spy on ’em.”

Lou got up from the booth, “Hell, ain’t much different from your dancing, just pimp their imagination to your dance; do this for me and I’ll help you with that business on the Vineyard.”

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