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

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

Hosted by Denise, it requires but one thing from participating writers: the story must consist of exactly six sentences.

Yeah, this is the first part of a two part Six (not to mention something of a prequel to our host’s own set of stories set in the eponymous locale of the Six Sentence Café & Bistro.)

Prompt word:

STYLE

“And don’t forget, ladies, post your dance schedules to your social media and link to the Club’s site, we’ll take care of the video feed,” Diane Tierney stood, half-in half-out of the swinging doors just behind Lou’s booth where she could watch the front door and the kitchen and the dressing room full of strippers,  “Salome, count your veils, last week you got to 13, I assure you, Rue will not be happy if you cut into her time, she is our headliner.”

She turned and almost collided with me, so naturally I smiled and managed a ‘Early Happy New Year, Diane, which earned me a distracted smile and a hand on my arm; I’ll take it.

Without the slight hint of glissando, the volume of the house-music dipped suddenly, causing the packed house to mutter un-spellable  interrogatives; Diane’s eyes change from a hush of purple to a flare of violet; say what you will about her personal life, the woman had style.

The shoals of revelers, including those who hoped to wish the owner, Lou Caesare, a happy New Year, which, not for nothin’ did not count against a body, went full-on Red Sea between the currently vacant hostess station and where I’d stepped back a step, putting me at Lou’s left shoulder; note to self: the glance of approval from the man at my possibly unintended stance of protectiveness made the previous 364 days way better.

For the first time in the three-and-a-half-years I’ve know Lou, this was the first time I’ve seen him get up from his side of the booth to greet a visitor.

Extending his hand to one of the Proprietors of the Six Sentence Café & Bistro, Lou’s eyes never left those of the young woman; the smile on his face would make the Mona Lisa consider shaving her head and getting a nose ring; my sole New Year’s resolution became to develop a tenth of the man’s style.

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