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

This is our contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, governed by simple rule: ‘Do it in Six or don’t do it at all.’

Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (If you’re just starting, this link will provide the whole story.)

If you’ve been following along, here are Tom’s most recent, which serve as a lead-in: ‘Two Sides‘ and ‘Svikja‘.

Prompt word:

BANK

“If I hear, ‘It’s not a bad as it sounds’, one more fuckin’ time, it will be…for you,” Lou Ceasare pointed his cigarillo at the man standing next to his booth, that being nearest to the kitchen and the backstage dressing rooms, served as his office/boardroom; acutely aware of his employer’s business practices, the former owner of a Dark Web consulting company realized that reminding his boss that he was ‘only the messenger’ would do nothing other than hasten his demise.

Diane Tierney slid into the opposite side of the booth, nodded the grateful man away and spoke in a calm yet, somehow, commanding voice, “Lou, in all the years I’ve been hostess here, there’s never been a problem you couldn’t,” a smile teased the corners of her eyes, “solve”; and if you choose not to believe me, I’ve got a list of frustrated local and federal law enforcement professionals who will be surely testify to your innate ability to …problem-solve.”

Her eyes flared a shade of purple not yet proven to exist, and, a heartbeat later, the bartender dropped a glass, and the dancer who, at that moment was playing keep-away with a circle of light on stage in the strip club half of the building, broke a heel which was more serious than it sounds, it being one-half of her remaining costume.

“You can godamn well take that to the bank,” Lou laughed his crocodile laugh and the grey-blue bank of cigar smoke obscuring his face lifted, “I’m open to any suggestions that get my dancer and her bodyguard back in one piece, provided it don’t involve that rompicoglioni down in Miami; I regret trying to put Cyrus-fuckin-St. Loreto in my debt by agreeing to send Rue on a scouting expedition over in England, or Iceland or wherever the hell the company he needed espionaged.

“There is one resource,” Diane did something with her face, a look that Lou had witnessed stopping a hormone-and-gin drunk Superior Court judge from ending his career on the stage in his club; “But it’s worse than dealing with Cyrus and his Bernebau Company, it involves Anya Claireaux.”

This time, the bartender dropped a bottle of liquor and the dancer fell off the stage.

The post Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- “…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood” [Part 1.5] first appeared on the Wakefield Doctrine.