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"Never," she said

"Hell-low butterfly," an old gravel laden voice interrupted from across Main Street

"Russell," Shannie cried "How are you?"

"Fine," the gravely voice coughed "Just Fine Thank you You behaving yourself young lady?" Across the street, under a plulasses and carrying a white cane His gray hair matched day old stubble A sweat stained T-shirt covered a healthy potbelly

"But of course" Shannie replied She motioned for me to follow her across Main Street "What kind of trouble can a girl get into in this town?"

"Loads if your gallivanting around toith a young fella," Russell smirked

"James isn't trouble It's me James has to worry about," Shannie said

It was hard to tell if the old h was spiced with a chuckle "Nice to make your acquaintance Ja to meet this lady's standards"

"Nice tomy hand from his cold, sweaty embrace

"Hoas your trip?' Shannie asked

"Fine doll But you kno I aet holad you're hoainst Russell's pot belly