Tainted Love (A Totally '80s Romance 2)

by Addison Moore

  I like Wayne. He’s a decent guy. When he asked to adopt you, it broke my heart, but made me really happy at the same time because I know he can give you all the things I can’t as a parent. I have no problem with you calling him Dad, loving him as if he was your own flesh and blood. I want you to listen to him and be a good son like I’m sure you would have been for me.

  I don’t really know what’s going on in your world. I know you’re living in Glen Heights now, a well-to-do suburb of Los Angeles, and it gives me comfort knowing you’ll be raised in a safe neighborhood with good schools. I’m hoping that means you’ll surround yourself with good influences. Your mom let me know she’s having a baby next spring, and I’m glad about it. I know you’ll make a great big brother to whoever comes into your life. There aren’t a lot of people in this world who will mean more to you than family, so remember to cherish the ones God gives you.

  I hope school is going well for you. Remember to stay out of trouble and know I’m still thinking about you. I’ve asked your mother to please insist you don’t try to write. I’m not looking to give you an incarcerated pen pal. I want you to enjoy life and enjoy the letters and cards as I send them, that’s all.

  I’m sure when the time is right, when destiny and perhaps a little luck are on our side, we’ll meet up again.

  Until the next time.

  Son, I love you.

  Dad

  * * *

  “Oh, Russ.” Heather buries her face in my chest, pouring her hot tears over me once again.

  “It’s okay.” I sniff back my own emotions and drop a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for doing this with me. It felt good.” It felt better than good. It felt like the letting of a festering wound. As if all of the hurt, the pent-up frustration of keeping such a heavy secret to myself all these years was finally removed, the weight of the world finally rolling off my chest, and I can breathe again.

  “Thank you for sharing.” She looks up with her eyes red as strawberries. I place the letter back into the box and land it onto the floor before pulling her in. The bed jumps up and down, and we share an anemic laugh.

  “I know you’ve had it rough, Heather. And I’m really sorry about that.”

  She settles her body against mine as a scream comes from the television. “You know, we’re kind of the same in a lot of ways. I guess this is one area I never imagined we’d have in common.”

  “I think you’re right. Hey, would you mind if I asked that you not tell anyone? I’d like to share it with my sister Megan before word gets out.”

  “My lips are sealed. I swear it. I won’t even tell Jen or Mel.”

  “Thanks.” I dot her lips with a kiss. Eventually, the VCR burps out the tape as the movie comes to the end. An old episode of The Twilight Zone blinks to life on the television. “So, what do you want to do now?”

  A devilish grin perks on her lips as her hands ride up under my shirt, and her cool fingers rake across my abs.

  “I think we should continue in the trajectory we’re headed. You know, keep getting to know one another just a little bit better. After all, you are my boyfriend.”

  “I like how you think.” My mouth dives over hers as she takes my hand and places it under her shirt. My hands float up until I hit her bra and slowly, ever so slowly, I cup her into my palms, feeling the weight of her soft body as it conforms in my hands. Heather is soft in all the right places.

  Our kisses grow fiercer, wilder, far more intimate than anything we’ve shared before. My fingers make their way under her bra, grazing gently over her soft tits, and she groans straight into my mouth. We spend the next few hours getting to know one another a heck of a lot better.

  For once, I wish the morning never had to come.

  The bright eye of the sun envelops my bedroom at an all too early hour. My alarm goes off, and I slap it until it shuts the hell up. I shower and shave and put on a fresh pair of khakis like a good little sheep. God knows they don’t allow blue jeans down at the country club.

  Last night things got pretty heated between Heather and me. We stopped before we had a hard situation on our hands—which I technically did, but after I drove her home, the first thing I did was hit the shower and give myself a little relief.

  A goofy grin breaks out on my face just thinking about Heather, about the way her bare skin felt pressing against mine, about the fact I have an official girlfriend for the first time in my life.

  I follow the scent of sizzling bacon downstairs and make a beeline for the kitchen. Mom is at the counter in her aerobics outfit—black tights with a neon pink leotard, matching leg warmers, and a big fat bow in her hair. I’d say something, but I’m keeping my mouth shut. Heather’s mom is at the helm of the stove. No wonder it smells so good and yet strangely foreign. My mother is diabolically opposed to anything that even remotely smells delicious.

  “Morning!” I pull the milk from the fridge, but Heather’s mom is quick to take it from my hands.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Let me get that for you.” She gently wags a finger at me. “And morning to you, too! I made breakfast. You okay with sunny side up?”

  “Are you kidding? That’s my favorite.” I give a thumbs up over to Mom who quickly rolls her eyes at the mutiny going on in the kitchen.

  “You can’t eat like this every day,” she scolds. “I don’t want to see your cholesterol levels rising.”

  The only thing rising is my testosterone, and that’s courtesy of Ms. Knowles’s oldest daughter.

  Dad and Megan stroll in, and Ms. Knowles is quick to serve up a plate to each of us brimming with early morning goodness.

  “That was some game.” Dad offers up a congratulatory pat on my back. “What time did you get in? I didn’t hear you.”

  “Oh, like, he came in early.” Megan sticks her tongue out at me. It’s hard for me to keep a straight face when she initiates the valley-speak. It’s her new thing. I know for a fact she and Tracy work hard to hone it, so I don’t dare say a word. “I like heard his new TV on all night long. I think he had a girl with him. Like, seriously, gag me. All I heard was ‘Oh, Russell!’ Giggle, giggle, giggle!” She sways her shoulders from side-to-side as she says it, and a pink strand of hair shakes loose from her ponytail. It looks like Megan is going through a punk phase herself.

  “What is that?” Mom squawks, as we all notice it at the same time.

  “Oh, it’s adorable!” Ms. Knowles swoops in and admires it. “My oldest does the same thing with her hair.”

  “Well”—Mom gives an incredulous huff—“we most certainly don’t do that here,” Mom scolds. “I want that gone before church tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Megan plops her earphones back on and effectively tunes out the rest of what was shaping up to be a nice family breakfast.

  “I like it on your daughter,” I say to Ms. Knowles, and she gives a sly wink while gathering the pots and pans to the sink.

  “I gotta run.” Dad jumps up. “I’ve got a big contract we’re outlining this afternoon out on the golf course.” He gives my mother a kiss and waves to the rest of us.

  “The life of a corporate lawyer,” Mom bleats, and she and Ms. Knowles share a laugh. It warms me to see them getting along. I bet they have no clue they, too, have so much in common.

  “So”—Mom leans into me while Ms. Knowles starts in on the dishes—“you had a girl in your room last night, huh?” Her lips twitch into an approving smile that lets me know just who she thinks that girl might be. “I know you don’t want to hear this from your mother”—she whispers so that Megan doesn’t hear, not that she would with the volume turned way up—“but for the love of God, please use protection.”

  “Ooh.” I wince, dropping my fork. “Appetite lost. Don’t worry. And don’t bring it up ever again.” That’s about as close as I ever want to get to discussing the birds and the bees with either of my parents. My dick and I prefer to have a few secrets of our own.

  “Morning!” a cheery voice calls from the foyer, a
nd before I know it, I’m face-to-face with Amanda, my Saturday afternoon sparring partner. Just two more weeks of this torture, and then it’s good riddance.

  “Morning, sweetheart.” Mom jumps up and pulls her into a tight embrace as if they haven’t seen one another in weeks. They’re both laying it on a little thick if you ask me.

  Megan strips off her earphones in time for the excitement. “I heard you all night!” She giggles. “‘Ooh, Russell! You’re so great! We’re so perfect!’ And the screaming, for the love of God, what was the screaming about? On second thought, I don’t want to know.” She bops up the back stairwell on the way to her room.

  “It was a horror movie!” I stop shy of correcting her on which girl was in my bed enjoying it with me at the time.

  “Oh”—Amanda comes in close with that I-know-your-secret look in her eyes—“like what movie was it that we were watching again, babe?”

  I pause a moment, taking her in, the way my mother is glowing like a light bulb just being in her presence. For some sick reason, my mother needs to believe this is real. “Nightmare on Elm Street, sweetheart.” That last word evicts itself a little more curt than necessary.

  “Oh, is this your girlfriend?” Ms. Knowles tosses a dishtowel over her shoulder and heads this way. “My, aren’t you beautiful!” She drinks Amanda in. “Russell, you are a very lucky young man.”

  Amanda eats up the compliment with a mock curtsey. “Like what can I say? We are like the king and queen of Glen Heights High, literally.”

  “My daughter goes to Glen!” Ms. Knowles’s face flushes with surprise. “Perhaps you know her, Heather Knowles?”

  Amanda’s mouth opens, and a gagged laugh breaks through. “Heather?” She wrinkles her nose at me with that shit-eating grin still plastered to her face. “Like I totally know Heather. We’re practically best friends.” She sputters out a laugh, and I start to squirm.

  I don’t like the fact Amanda is not only lying straight to Ms. Knowles’s face, but she’s laughing at her daughter at the same time.

  “So, where are you two headed off so early?” Ms. Knowles wipes the counter clean before pulling my mother’s signature sarsaparilla smoothie from the fridge.

  “Cotillion practice.”

  Mom raises a finger toward Ms. Knowles. “That’s the event I’ve been talking your ear off about.” She glances back to the two of us. “Sheri, here, will be helping with the event. She’s my right-hand gal. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

  “You sound like quite the help.” Amanda puts an unnecessary emphasis on the word help.

  I slide off my seat. “And on that note, we’re out of here.”

  “There it is. Young love,” Mom coos as we migrate toward the door. “Oh, and, Amanda, if you have time, let’s do lunch!”

  “Like fer sure!” Amanda chirps back.

  I’m not so sure I like the idea of Amanda weaseling herself in with my mother. Amanda leans into me with a seductive look in her eyes as I let her into the passenger’s side of my car, the exact same spot my girlfriend sat in just a few hours prior.

  “I can do you before I do lunch, if you like?” Her tongue sweeps her lips as I slam the passenger’s door shut.

  I’m not so sure I like Amanda weaseling herself in with me either.

  5

  Always on My Mind

  Heather

  Halloween night lands on a Sunday, but the entire day feels more like Saturday, with its festive, there’s-going-to-be-a-fucking-party vibe. Seth is playing at a club in Hollywood tonight. Kurt is taking Veronica to see him, but I’ve opted to have a much more traditional Halloween night for, this, my senior year. I’ll be spending it at the Helle house with the rest of my friends. Cheryl Helle hosts a party to remember every year, and, even now that she’s at San Ramos Community College, she’s graciously extended the invite to those of us still stuck at Glen. I’m thankful for it, too, because this glorified fright night wouldn’t be the same without her.

  I Think I Can sputters and shudders all the way over to Jennifer’s as if the car itself is coming down with an incredibly nasty cold. The left headlight blew out on me last week, and now the radio is starting to fizzle. Even though I hardly came up with any cash for the thing, I’m starting to think the price was way too high. Those racy pictures I took in Dusty’s cousin’s garage come back to haunt me, and I shiver. At least I got a pretty decent camera out of it. Speaking of which, I bring it along with me as I head on up. Russell had the idea we shoot some candid shots of our friends tonight to include in the yearbook. All of our pages are really coming together with the exception of creating that mixed tape we plan on featuring. I’m pretty sure that’s going to be the best part. Russell and I have decided to make an actual mixed tape before we take the picture. He’s going to make copies, and we’re going to give them to all our friends for graduation as sort of a class of 1986 memento. I’m sure Joel and Frankie wouldn’t mind having a copy themselves.

  Upstairs, I find Jen helping Melissa squeeze into that vixen dress I wore to homecoming. A smile bobs to my lips just thinking of the soul-melting kiss Russell gave me that night.

  “Hey, like no fair.” Jen looks up at me and doesn’t bother hiding her disappointment. Jennifer is dressed in green tights and a green tutu with a pair of transparent wings sinking over her back. She already told me she was going as Tinker Bell, so thankfully I don’t have to guess, because quite honestly, I’m not so sure I could have. “You’re totally not wearing a costume.”

  “Like my life is a costume.” I kneel in front of the mirror. The entire face of Jennifer’s closet is essentially a mirror with a smoky yellow tint. “Welcome to my world, people. I am Halloween.”

  “Very funny.” Jennifer manufactures a Thrifty’s bag and vomits its contents over the carpet. “Like I did a little shopping. Maybelline Kissing Slicks, anyone?” She holds up a trio of colors.

  “Dude! I’ve always wanted to try that! This is totally rad.” I marvel at her haul. Trina has the cinnamon colored one, and I’ve admired it from afar on several occasions. I love the gold print wrapped around the tiny clear bottle that repeats the brand name over and over.

  “Pick a color, girls. I have a forbidden fruit for each of you.”

  “Ooh!” Melissa coos as she plucks the pink one from Jennifer and opens it up. “I’m not as innocent as I seem!”

  We share a laugh at the expense of the ad they run for this stuff. I take the red one and thank Jennifer. Jen is always doing things like this for us. And she never expects anything in return. She’s just that nice.

  “I like got a bunch of new perfume, too.” She holds up a yellow striped can of body spray, and I gasp.

  “Designer Imposters Primo! This is my all-time favorite. If you like Giorgio, you’ll love Primo!” I read the side of the can with a touch too much drama before spraying myself down.

  Jen coughs and sputters while waving her hand in front of her face to clear the air. “That’s like all fine and dandy, but I think this unholy night calls for a little spice.”

  “Not the Babe.” Melissa groans because she knows it’s coming. Jennifer is a notorious Babe whore.

  “Oh, come on, Mel.” Jen teases. “I know you think it’s a scent totally reserved for the wild side, but I say we all get a little slutty this evening.” She belts out a maniacal laugh as she effectively douses us with the stuff. Babe smells pretty good. I’ve got a bottle or two myself. Melissa just loves giving her a hard time. And, ironically, I don’t think there’s anyone more innocent in this room than Jennifer. Melissa’s already shared that she and Joel have done it. They both know I’ve done it—stupid as I was. I shudder at the memory of doing it with Slam—my legs riding up his skinny ribcage while he grunted over my body.

  “You’re quiet.” Melissa rocks into me while applying a neon trio of colors to her eyes. I guess if you’re going to get wild with makeup, tonight would be the night to do it. Although, I’m seriously liking her electric sherbet look, and I�
�ll probably replicate it as an everyday style.

  “Just thinking about stuff. You know, Russell and me. I sort of wish I didn’t mess around with Slam so much.” I swipe the Wet ’N Wild mascara from my purse and stroke on a few extra coats. “I think maybe if I had waited for Russ, things would have been special.”

  The two of them break out in a choir of aww.

  “Oh, shut up,” I plead, plugging in the curling iron.

  “So, are you there yet with him?” Jennifer leans in and adjusts the temperature setting on the curling iron and goes the extra step of actually turning it on. Details. Russell has me forgetting just about everything these days. He’s all I think about. All I want to think about.

  “Not really. I don’t know, maybe.”

  “I can see it now.” Mel presses her lips white to keep from laughing. “Oh, Heather—gee your hair smells terrific!”

  “Be quiet. I don’t even use that shampoo anymore.” When we were kids, I used to think that one day a boy would say those very words to me—inspired, of course, by the product I was washing my hair with. I obviously made the grave error of sharing that foolishness with my friends. “I use Agree, apple scent.” True and I like it better.

  “So you’re ripe for the picking.” Melissa doesn’t let that one slip by.

  “I guess you can say that.” I snatch up a bottle of pink Cutex nail polish and give it a shake.