Tainted Love (A Totally '80s Romance 2)

by Addison Moore

  “Cool.” Melissa breaks out in a giant grin of approval. “But before you get all Rodgers and Hammerstein on us, I want you guys to know we like totally approve.”

  “What she said.” Joel gives Melissa’s hand a rattle. “Good move, man.” He offers a quick sock to Russell’s arm. “Where you off to?” Joel asks Russ just as Melissa hustles me to the side.

  “Are you okay?” Her eyes grow wild.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” I glance back at Russell, and a ridiculous schoolgirl giggle escapes me. “Better than fine.”

  “Good.” The grin she’s wearing glides right back off. “Look, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but before Amanda stomped off, she mentioned something about killing you.” She winces. “I’d sharpen my nails if I were you—just in case.”

  “Funny.” My stomach twists at the thought. “I’m not surprised by the threat. I know she’s hurting. Under that six hundred dollar designer gown, that diamond encrusted necklace on loan from Van Cleef and Arpels, she’s just a person. She’ll get over it, though. I’m sure there’s some millionaire heir out there somewhere just waiting to sweep her off her ill-fitting glass slippers.” It’s true. A girl like Amanda won’t spend too much time in the singles’ scene. She’s destined to be somebody’s trophy wife, at least three different times.

  “Okay.” Melissa pulls Joel in as he and Russ migrate over. “Call me, ’kay?”

  “You bet.” I clasp my hand to Russell’s, and a spark of electricity jolts me right down to my weary black heart.

  He speeds us out of the gym and straight for his Beamer.

  “Where to?” I pant, trying to contain the laughter bubbling through me. “The overlook?” Just about everyone ends up at the cliff before the night is through. Homecoming doesn’t have any hardcore traditions locked to it the way prom does, so the entire night is wide open.

  “I was thinking something more private. Joel said we could hang out in his game room. He said he and Mel would come by afterwards.”

  “Yes. That would be great.” A swell of relief comes over me. As much as I do want to be alone with Russell, I’m afraid his sexpectations might be far from what mine are. I’m more than thrilled that Melissa and Joel will be hanging out with us later, so the edge has already been taken off the evening.

  We get into his BMW, and I melt into the soft buttery seat beneath me as the engine purrs to life.

  “Shadows of the Night” plays over the radio, and I turn it up loud as Pat Benetar belts out her hit all the way up the dark and winding hill to Glen Heights.

  I’ve been to Joel’s game room plenty of times. His parents are out of town, so I’m pretty psyched we have the whole place to ourselves.

  “You up for a quick game?” Russell holds up a controller, and I gladly take it. “Frogger?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He fires up the Atari, and we start in with him decimating me before I even get off go.

  “I’m better at the arcade.” Not the entire truth, but, considering that’s really the only place I’ve played, it qualifies. “So, like are you going to talk to Amanda? I really feel kind of bad.”

  “Not tonight.” His expression sours as his man dies. “Heather, I have to tell you something that isn’t going to sound all that great, but I swear if you hear me out to the end, it might make a little sense.”

  My stomach sours. “You know, maybe this isn’t the best time for hard truths.” I reach over and flip on the giant boom box Joel has taking up real estate on the sofa table and spin the dial to KROQ.

  “‘Pulling Muscles from a Shell.’” I smile back at Russell, suddenly not feeling as giddy as I did when we first arrived.

  He pulls me in carefully by the wrist before interlacing his fingers to mine, and I somehow end up on his lap with my legs draped across his thighs.

  “Just what is it that you’re afraid to hear?” Those dark brows of his knit together in a perfect V formation, and my insides do an intense belly flop. How in the hell did I ever fall so hard for a preppy? I bite back a smile.

  “Okay.” I blow a stiff breath through my lips. “First, I’m not easy.”

  His head ticks back a notch, confused. “Good. I like a challenge.” He tips his chin up for a moment. “Wait, that wasn’t in any way an insult.”

  I give a little laugh, my hand falling over his warm, hard as steel chest. “I didn’t think it was.” A mean shudder runs through me. “I guess I’m afraid that I’m not really someone you’re interested in for reasons other than the obvious.” I glance down at the hem of my dress, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Amanda probably isn’t that kind of girl—”

  “You do realize why she got kicked out of Milton. She’s exactly that kind of girl.”

  We share another sad laugh, his eyes struggling to hold my gaze.

  “I’m here with you because I like you.” He picks my hand up and gently kisses it. “I like spending time with you. You’re down-to-earth. Amanda has her head so stuck in the clouds, there’s not enough air in the room when you’re with her. She’s not my type.”

  “And I am?” I look up from under my lashes. “I’m a far cry from the popped collar crowd.” I pluck at my shredded tights. “I’m sort of a self-proposed misfit. I’m pretty sure your mom’s banishment of me will extend throughout eternity.”

  His eyes grow serious as that smile he wears so freely begins to slip. “Since when do you care what other people think?”

  I swallow hard. He’s right. I’ve never cared about anyone’s opinion in all my life. I certainly have never cared what people thought about the way I dress. In fact, I’m the one who coined the phrase, Don’t like it; don’t look, way back in fifth grade.

  “I guess I don’t.” The words come out thick as if in this one instance they weren’t true. Something about Russell makes me want to blend into his world so that he’ll never have a reason to leave. I swallow that hard truth and bury it in the deepest chamber of my heart.

  “Come here.” He blinks a dry smile. “Maybe we should shelve the deep conversations for now and do more of this instead.” Russell digs his fingers into the back of my hair and tenderly pulls me to him until his lips crash to mine, and I taste exactly how he feels for me deep inside my mouth. Russell’s kisses taste like springtime, like flowers, like an ocean of hope that surges way past the boundaries of Glen Heights or San Ramos, further than Wall Street or Skid Row, all the way to the edge of this beautiful universe.

  His tongue rides over mine as Echo and the Bunnymen belt out “The Killing Moon.” Russell and I stay like that, with our lips locked to one another, his hot body pressed against mine, with our arms wrapped around each other for the better part of the next few hours. With everything in me, I want this with Russell. It feels safe. It feels as if I’ve finally come home.

  Around eleven thirty, Joel and Melissa come back and join us. The boys each guzzle down a Corona while we watch MTV. It feels right like this in Russell James’s arms, just hanging out with Joel and Melissa as if we were a couple. I wish this night would never end. But it does.

  The good times always do.

  A week strobes by, then another as October comes crashing to an end. Russell and I spend all our free time together reprising that kiss. At school, we hang out in the darkened hall of the English building between periods just to steal some alone time. Yearbook is going great. We have our pages pretty much mapped out and have already laid out the lines with a grease pencil of where we want the printer to place the pictures. But aside from school, with my job and his football practice, we don’t see each other much outside of that. Each night when I get off work, he calls me, and we talk for hours. Half the time we drift off to sleep, just content to be on the line with one another.

  But tonight—tonight is the last game of the season. I’m pretty psyched for Russell. I know this game means a lot to him. He’s not planning on playing in college, so this is pretty much it.

  I throw on my lace tights, a short plaid skirt in Glen H
eights colors that I tie off with my oversized safety pin, and boots. That’s about as spirited as I get. Before I take off, I douse myself from head-to-toe with my Impulse body spray in Always Alluring. It was either that or my knock-off Poison, but I’m saving that for a very special occasion, like maybe our first time. I’ve been thinking about it. Toying with what it would be like with him—his body over mine, not a stitch of clothing between us—his fingers, his mouth in places that have never seen the light of day. For sure, it would be better than what I had with John. Much like his punk moniker, there was a lot of slamming going on and not a whole lot of loving. I don’t think Russell would be that way. With Russell, every movement would have meaning. Each kiss, every hot lick of his tongue would be a profession of his feelings.

  I bop out of my room with a silly grin plastered on my face just as Mom steps through the door with my little sisters in tow.

  “We went shopping!” Jill screams so loud her glee is palpable. Shopping isn’t something that happens a lot in the Knowles’ household. Both she and Julie take off for their room with a bag a piece.

  “Got you a little something!” Mom dances a little jig when she says it, so I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m already late for the game. She pulls out a couple of pairs of jeans from the bag. One is obviously worn at the knees, and the other has a purple stripe running through it. “A pair of Gitanos and a pair of those fancy Sasoons! They’re all the rage. Priscilla has at least a dozen pairs in her closet, all new with tags. I don’t think she actually wears blue jeans.” It’s clear she’s not envious of Russell’s mother, just simply happy for her.

  “So, how are things going?” I offer a gentle pat to her back. No one works as hard as my mother. Sometimes we forget how tough everything is for her, and we just expect her to keep doing what she does. “Are you happy?” I don’t know why I asked that question. Although, I admit that I feel a tad guilty for floating on air while the world still weighs heavy on her shoulders.

  “Happy? What’s that?” She pulls a few other items out of the bag, including a carved wooden pumpkin that she puts right up on the mantel for display. “I’m content, honey. That’s all you can ever ask out of life. Things are going great on the housecleaning front. And Tony says my hours might perk up come the new year, so there’s that to look forward to.” She fluffs her hair in the mirror. Mom recently cut her hair in layers, but she refuses to curl or tease it, so it sort of just lies flat. “Oh! And Priscilla asked if I could help out at their fancy country club for a night, so I’ll be picking up some great money there. She’s in a pickle with an event she’s hosting, and she really needs me. It’s good to be needed.” She dots a kiss to my forehead. “Where are you off to?”

  “It’s the last game of the season. Kurt left with Veronica about an hour ago, so I’d better take off myself.”

  “How are things going with you and that Slam boy?”

  “That Slam boy” is the exact way my mother referred to my ex-boyfriend for the entire time we were going out. I used to think it was irritating, but now I just think it’s appropriately funny.

  “We’re actually not together anymore.”

  “Oh, really?” She stops short of refreshing her mascara and heads to the kitchen. “He came by the house while you were at work and left these for you.” She pulls a vase full of yellow roses forward.

  “Oh, wow. Those must have cost him a fortune.”

  “The note’s still inside.” She fishes it out and hands it to me.

  Call me. We can work this out. Okay? —Slam

  “Aw!” Mom coos from over my shoulder. “Ain’t that sweet?”

  “Maybe, but we’re not working this out because I’m actually into someone else at the moment.”

  “Ooh!” Mom pulls out the OJ and pours us each a glass. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  My mouth opens, but his name gets jumbled in my throat and doesn’t quite land the dismount. “I don’t want to say.”

  “I get it.” She touches her glass to mine. “To love. May it be true and everlasting!” She knocks back half her juice. “Oh, hell, it may as well be fun, too.” She gives a little wink. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head wistfully out the darkened window. “Things sure are different these days between you kids. When I was young, we just got together and fooled around. Now there are all these fancy dances, football games, cotillions.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s cute. But really? I didn’t think debutantes still existed in this day and age.” She chortles her way back to the living room. “Have fun, hon!”

  I head out into the crisp evening air. What does my mother know about debutantes and cotillions?

  Now that’s Amanda Prescott territory if I’ve ever heard it.

  The game is wall-to-wall bodies. Melissa and the rest of the cheerleaders are already screaming their hearts out by the time I show up. Jennifer waves to me from the front row, and I head over and plant myself between her and Amy Brineman.

  “What did I miss?” I ask, just as the crowd erupts and Russell takes the ball into the end zone.

  Amy leans in. “A whole lot of that.” The cheerleaders spontaneously turn around and start showing off their kick pants. I give a little wave to Melissa who is adorable with her eyes striped with yellow and pink eye shadow. Melissa hardly wears any makeup, but for the game she’s done up like a model. She’s that gorgeous regardless.

  “So, what’s up with you and Russell?” Amy knocks her heavily padded shoulder into mine. Amy is a notorious shoulder pad abuser. Rumor has it she double stacks. She’s one of the girls who keeps a package of spares rolling around in the back of her car—tucked up against the window, of course, so everyone can see. You know, for those shoulder pad emergencies. It’s hard to believe that this fashion must-have somehow also managed to squeeze itself in as a status symbol.

  “Yes. What’s up with you two?” Jennifer leans in. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “I don’t know. We’re just hanging out. We’re just friends, I guess.” It’s hard to imagine Russell and me as “just friends,” but even though he’s thoroughly examined my tonsils with his tongue, we haven’t broached the subject of making it official.

  “Friends?” Jennifer practically hacks up a lung, she’s laughing so hard. “I’m friends with a lot of guys, but I don’t let them stick their tongues down my throat. Face it, you’re going around with him.”

  “You’re his girlfriend.” Amy gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I know it’s awkward to admit it the first time, but get over it. You and Russell are a thing. Can you believe it? You fell for a collar popper!” She and Jennifer have a good cackle over that one. I’ll admit, it is a bit funny. “You know what they say—opposites attract.”

  “I guess so.” Although, I’m pretty sure the fact Russell seems to have an endless supply of Lacoste polos and a seemingly endless array of Members Only jackets isn’t the reason I fell for him. I like him, the real him, the one that exists even under that layer of a steel chest—although, the steel chest is quite the perk. Not that I would know, I haven’t fondled that steel chest for myself just yet.

  I glance out at the field and spot number fifteen out in the center, barking out orders to someone, and a fire enlivens in me. Maybe it is time I introduce myself to his rock hard everything.

  Glen Heights scores again, and a howl emits from me so loud and shrill I rub my voice raw by halftime. Jennifer hops up and high-fives me as she and Amy make a run for the restroom. The team runs this way on their way to the locker room, and a black jersey with a golden fifteen heads in this direction. I spike out of my seat to meet him, but an overly enthused cheerleader beats me to the punch. Amanda Prescott launches herself onto Russell’s body like a missile, and he inadvertently spins her to keep from tipping over. I can’t help but think they look cute together, perfect even. I’m sure their accountant would agree. A sickening feeling coats me from the inside, as he takes a little longer to toss her to the side than I would like. Sh
e plops back down to earth just as I materialize next to them.

  Russell plucks off his helmet and reaches for me, but before his arm can circle my waist, Amanda places herself in prime position once again. “So, like are you ready to kill it tomorrow?”

  He leans in and whispers something into her ear, and she snarls at me for a moment before releasing her death grip on him.

  Amanda turns to Russell, licking her lips with a promise. “Let’s knock this out!” She whoops hard in my face before trotting off with the other Barbie dolls that have quickly accepted her as their fear-leader.

  “What was that about?”

  “She’s still living in her delusions.” His arms find themselves around my waist. “You headed to Friendships afterwards?”

  “Is that where you’ll be?” I bite down on a flirtatious smile.

  “Only if you will.” His hips grind against me, and I can feel him there, or at least his protective cup, and it makes me riot with lust like an idiot. We share a kiss right there on the field, at this, the last football game of our high school careers. It feels special with Russell. Amy and Jennifer are right. We’ve drifted well past the friend zone.

  Our mouths melt over one another for what feels like hours until the whistle blows, and Russell brings the team to one final victory. And just like that it’s over. The entire school floods the field. Russell is lifted onto the shoulders of the team and paraded around like a champion, a hero. And he is all those things and more. Most of all, I think he just might be my boyfriend. Perhaps tonight is the right time to shore up that little detail.

  I head over to Friendships with Jennifer. Melissa drove with Joel, and Amy decided to head home. Russell said he’d be here as soon as he gets a chance to shower and get dressed.

  Friendship Park is a huge expanse situated on a hill that sits high over San Ramos. It’s mostly dark in the mile-wide parking lot, save for the silver eye of the full moon overhead.

  Jeff, the mouth breather, has the loudest speakers, so his truck is in charge of pumping out the music tonight as the Clash’s “London’s Calling” vibrates through the air as if it were a battle cry.