"As serious as a heart attack!"
"Are you smoking crack?" She responded.
"You never wore a ring before. Someone gave it to you."
Shannie evaluated me from behind her sunglasses. "I'm busted, Steve Lucas," she said straight faced. "I know its weird. He's so good. In so many ways. It's hard competing with his sisters but someone has to do it."
"That fucking Brutus."
Shannie turned to me. "I thought your family was idiot proof after your mother left. FYI - I wouldn't fuck him, not even with Jenny Wade's fat ass."
My face burned. Fucking Marcy, I thought staring at my reflection in Shannie's sunglasses.
"I don't have a boyfriend. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't need a boyfriend. If I wanted one you'd be him. But you're too big of a pain in the ass; so I do without."
She loves me, I thought. I smiled.
The rest of the afternoon, Jenny Wade was an afterthought - for a few hours Shannie occupied my mind. That night, it occurred to me that Shannie never told me who gave her the ring. The thought wasn't going to keep me awake, my worries were history. Under my pillow rested my bachelor's ransom. Unwittingly, Shannie solved my problem.
We spent that afternoon on Indian point. We couldn't be at Indian point without mentioning Russell. In a heartbeat, I knew Russell was the man. I remembered Shannie telling me: "When in doubt; seek Russell out." Like an omen, an eastbound freight lumbered across the trestle towards the darkness of the tunnel.
In the darkened hallways above Wally's, pipes clanked and mice squealed. I held my breath as I walked. The place stunk. No wonder Russell smells like rotten eggs, he lived in a science project gone wild.
"Who be there?" Russell's voice seeped under his door.
"It's me, James."
"James who? I don't know no James." Russell growled.
"You know me. James, James Morrison."
"Don't know ya," he coughed. His voice billowed like smoke from burning tires.
"Yes you do, Come on, open up. It's James. James Morrison. You know Shannie's friend."
He didn't answer. I pressed my ear against the door. Inside his feet puttered to and fro. A greasy film clung to my ear as I pulled away.
"Russell? You okay?" I asked.
"Oh, That James." When he opened the door, the smell of pot embraced me. "I thought it was those pain-in-the-asses Jehovah's Witnesses again. You know, telling me all about the wrongs of my ways. Telling me they can offer me salvation. I always tells them they want salvation, come smoke a lid with me, that'll salvatate ya."