Tainted Love (A Totally '80s Romance 2)

by Addison Moore

  “As we head into Christmas break”—Amanda’s annoying voice comes over the mic while both she and Tess enter into a giggle fit—“we thought we’d give all of Glen Heights High a little early Christmas present. Especially you boys in yearbook.”

  The J. Geils Band starts up with “Freeze-Frame,” and the class erupts in whoops. Some of the girls break into spontaneous dance while Jeff plays the air guitar.

  Thankfully, the music is too loud to actually conduct a conversation, but Russell doesn’t leave my side. There are still a few minutes left until the bell rings, so I pull out my Pee Chee and start doodling a lightning bolt near the top. I’ve already given the tennis player an electric guitar in place of a racket and turned the track team into the members of Kiss, but that’s all pretty requisite stuff.

  The song ends, and Amanda’s irritating cackle stinks up the airwaves again. “Like this one goes out to Russell James. Go ahead and leave class a little early. There’s a surprise waiting for you in the hall. You’re welcome.”

  “Hey”—I lift my head in mock protest—“she said she was dedicating a song to me. Airhead.” I get back to my artwork. Too bad I can’t make a living off defacing Pee Chee folders.

  The J. Geils Band starts up again, only this time with the much cheerier “Centerfold.” The pen slips right from my fingers.

  “Oh shit.” I bolt out the door, and half the class follows with Russell right there by my side.

  A whimper escapes me when I see it. Covering the floor, wallpapering the lockers is skin, so much skin. God, I’m such an idiot.

  There I am, lost in my own seduction—legs parted, that ridiculous come hither look in my eyes that yielded me a car I would happily plop right back in Dusty Bennett’s driveway if I could.

  The bell rings, and bodies bleed into the hall just as the song ends. It’s suddenly quiet as a morgue as jaws drop all around me. Most of these pictures are copies, in a rainbow of colors at that, but the quality is still undeniably good, and then there are the actual pinups from the magazine strewn over the lockers—dozens and dozens of them. And, of course, there is one nestled square in the center of Russell James’s locker.

  “Heather.” Russell says it sweetly, not a hint of judgment in his tone, and for the first time in weeks, my eyes rise to meet with his.

  His jaw clenches as his midnight blue eyes flicker like shards. Russell looks anguished, hurt, and afraid for me all at once.

  A few guys back by the door break out in hysterics as they pick up my picture and gawk.

  “Nobody touch them!” Russell barks in that direction, and they promptly let the pages fly from their hands. “Jessie, get the guys from the team together. We’re going to do a little cleanup.” He pulls a trashcan from next to the drinking fountain and begins raking up the loose-leaf papers strewn on the floor. One by one, Russell snaps the colorful glossies from off the lockers and pitches them away, never to be seen again.

  Principal Harper comes over the speakers and wishes us all a wonderful lunch hour before Band Aid’s “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” bleeds through the air.

  Jennifer and Melissa come over and help me collect my things before I get into that car I paid for with my soul and drive myself the hell out of there.

  Once I crawl underneath my covers, I listen to “I Wanna Be Sedated” on a loop until it’s finally time to go to work.

  Sometimes the Ramones are the best medicine.

  Russell

  “It gets worse.” I slap down a copy of Motor Grinder in front of Joel just as he gets out of his car. I called, and he came right home. He’s right, we’re like family, and I happened to need my brother around tonight.

  “What’s this?” He picks it up, and I pull it back.

  “She’s in there, dude. She’s the centerfold.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what this is about, but it’s pretty screwed up.” I tell him how it all went down, and he groans as I finish.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She won’t pick up the phone. Her mom says she’s at work. That might be the only way I can get in touch with her.”

  He touches his hand to his forehead a moment. “All right. I’ll pick up Mel, and we’ll meet you at the Galleria.”

  “What for?”

  “You’re going to need backup.”

  The Glen Heights Galleria is the hot spot on this Friday night, like it is on most. The movies are all almost sold out, and, by the looks of it, everyone at Glen Heights High has purchased a ticket. I spot Amanda and Tess each hovering over their own baked potato in the food court. Rumor has it they both got served a three-day suspension that begins as soon as school returns in January, and a solid month of detention—a small penalty for what they’ve done to Heather’s reputation.

  Melissa comes up next to me with Jennifer by her side. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “I have to.”

  Hot Dog on a Stick sits smack in the middle of the food court with a Chinese restaurant flanking it on either side.

  Heather works the register with her hair up in that colorful hat, that striped uniform makes her eyes glow—and she smiles at each and every costumer. That is, until I’m up at bat.

  Her eyes settle past me. “Welcome to Hot Dog on a Stick! May I take your order?”

  “Excuse me.” I turn to the dude behind me. “I was actually next.”

  It’s a stalky guy with a Raiders hat, and, by the looks of it, he’s pissed and hungry. “Well, it sounds like she’s servicing me.”

  Something about the greasy smile he gives when he says “servicing” makes me want to deck him.

  “I’m next,” I growl at him, and he slowly slinks away.

  “What do you want?” She spits it out while hitting the purple key on the register and leaning into the miniature microphone attached to it. “Order 253, your fries are ready.” Heather’s voice strums through the food court like a song.

  “I want you”—I swallow hard—“to hear me out.”

  “Would you like a drink and fries with that?” She slams a cup down in front of me. There’s a mechanical tone to her voice that exemplifies her annoyance, and suddenly my lame attempt to get her to speak with me seems achingly hopeless.

  “No. I just want to talk.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to buy a hot dog. That’s the only thing I’m able to discuss at the moment.” She openly glares at me. There’s a hurt layered just beneath that anger, and it pains me to see it.

  “I love you.”

  Her eyes widen a notch.

  “I should have told you about the dance.”

  A bald guy comes up from the back of the restaurant and storms his way over. “What the hell is going on?” His nametag reads Manager Bill. “This isn’t chit-chat hour, lover boy. If you’re not buying a hot dog, I suggest you take a hike.”

  “Fine.” I pull out my wallet. “I’ll take twenty.”

  “Twenty?” she and the bald guy ask at the same time.

  “What the hell, make it thirty. But I need to pay for them individually.” I blink a smile up at her, and she rolls her eyes.

  “You heard the man.” Bill is suddenly on board with my consumer-driven plan.

  “Like I was saying,” I pull out a twenty and hand it to her as she starts processing order after order, “there are things I need to say to you. I swear—I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Stop.” She buries her face in her hands, and her chest bucks. “I can’t do this.” She steps away from the register a few good feet.

  “Shit.” A genuine panic fills me at the thought of never fully expressing to her how I feel. If I don’t get these words out, these feelings out right this minute, I might just explode on the spot. I lean over the counter, hit the purple button, and pull the tiny mic toward me. “Heather, I love you.”

  “What the!” The red-faced manager jolts back to life. “That’s it! I’m calling security.”

  Heather peers at me from between her fingers as if she�
��s witnessing a real life horror show, so I go for it.

  “You are the only girl I have ever felt this way about. Yes, I should have told you about the dance. But what I really should have told you is that my mother promised she’d take me to see my father in prison if I took Amanda to that cotillion.” A series of gasps break out behind me. “I wasn’t upfront with you, but only because things were so great between us. The time never felt right, and—in the mother of all ironies, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Heather drops her hands to her side and takes a few steps in this direction. My heart soars at the thought of finally having her attention, finally having her back in my life.

  So I go on. “I have never been happier in all my life than the times we spent together.” A few adoring sighs break out to my left, where an entire group of girls has gathered. “And I’ve never been so damn miserable than without you by my side.”

  The security guard shows up, and the angry manager demands my arrest.

  “Man, can you wait?” the security guard snaps with irritation. “He’s just getting to the good part.” He motions for me to proceed.

  I look back to Heather. “I don’t care about those pictures of you in Motor Grinder.” It’s true. I’m not judging her in any way.

  The security guard’s mouth falls open, and now I feel like shit for throwing it out there.

  “I mean, they look really good and everything, but that’s not important to me. What’s important to me is you, Heather—that I have you back in my life.” I finally lock eyes with hers and don’t let go. “I can’t do this. I can’t breathe without you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being such an ass.” I hop onto the counter and get on my knees. “I beg for your forgiveness.”

  Her lips twitch, as that uncertain look on her face grows more intense by the second. Heather has never been an easy one to read—that’s one of the many things that I like about her.

  I lean back into the mic. “Wonder Twin powers activate—shape of—my heart.” I point the mic at her and nod with the hopeful intent she’ll finish the logline in my favor. I’ve never given her liquids before.

  Heather bites down over her bottom lip as she sheds a blooming smile. She heads over to the mic and leans in. “Form of—a bucket full of forgiveness.”

  A grin breaks out over my face as she hops onto the counter with me, and the crowd around us erupts in thunderous applause.

  “That’s technically not a liquid,” I tease.

  “Shut up, smartass, and kiss me.” She runs her finger over my nose before our lips finally meet. I melt my mouth over hers tenderly as if it was the first time, and, in a lot of ways, it feels like just that. Her heart drums against my own as I pull her in close.

  Heather and I are going to make it.

  I think we already have.

  “For the record, this has been the best day of my life,” I say as we stand on the porch just outside of my house, our hands interlaced as we swing them gently.

  “It’s the happiest day of my life,” she counters. “Which also happens to coincide with the day I was fired from my job.”

  I wince. “Yes, but at least three different managers said they would love to hire you within twenty minutes of the event.”

  “True. I’m pretty sure I’ll take the position at Contempo just to pass on my employee discount to Melissa and Jen.”

  “You’re a great friend.” I bow in and steal a kiss off her lips. “And a better girlfriend.” My stomach free-falls as I say it. “You ready to do this?” I nod toward the house, and she takes a breath.

  “I guess I am.”

  We head inside boldly, right through the front door, with our hands still conjoined, only to find both Mom and Ms. Knowles standing in the foyer shocked to see us.

  “Heather?”

  “Russell?” our respective moms say in unison.

  “I’m glad you’re both here. Dad! Megan! Can you come to the front?”

  The two of them come racing out of the kitchen with mildly amused expressions.

  “What’s going on?” Dad looks stumped by Heather who’s still in her colorful uniform.

  “Mom, Dad—Megan—Ms. Knowles.” I nod toward her. “This is my girlfriend, Heather. I’m in love with her, madly, deeply—I’m all in, and if any of you don’t like it, then I guess you won’t like me very much anymore because this isn’t going to change. This is the real deal, and I’d appreciate if you treated it as such.”

  “Heather.” Her mother clutches her chest as she giggles out her name. “Everything okay?”

  “Better than okay.” She plants a kiss right over my cheek, and I can hear Mom’s breathing enter an uptick.

  “Well!” Mom claps her hands together while looking at Ms. Knowles. “I guess we’ll be seeing more of one another after all.” She looks to me. “Ms. Knowles just came by to get her final paycheck.”

  She nods. “I’ve had my hours reinstated back at Admiral Rusty’s. Although, I still haven’t used my dinner for two coupon that I received last Christmas, and it’s set to expire. How about I extend it to the two of you?” She gives her daughter a wink.

  “Mom! Thank you!” Heather lunges at her with a hug. “And I know I’ve brought shame and embarrassment to our family in recent days. I just want to publicly apologize to you.” She turns to my mother. “And you. Knowing Amanda, you’ll hear of it soon enough. I’m Miss December in the latest issue of Motor Grinder.”

  Megan claps her hands over her mouth and gasps. “I knew you were cool!”

  “No”—Heather strokes my sister’s hair, and something about that small act endears me to her even more—“it wasn’t cool. I did it to pay off a debt, but, in hindsight, I regret it. Anyway, it’s out there. All of my important parts are covered, but it is racy, and if it brings you any embarrassment at all, I apologize for that.”

  Mom’s face grows pale with shock. “My—we’re off to a colorful start already.”

  “Mom,” I gruff.

  Mom gives an acquiescing sigh. “Welcome to the family, sort of, Heather.” Her lips twist with a devious smile. “I was Miss March in the 1966 issue of Garage Greasers.” She holds up a finger to Megan. “Not a word, young lady.”

  Once the shock briefly dissipates, the room breaks out in a warm laugh. We hug it out for another few minutes before Ms. Knowles takes off, and so do Heather and I.

  “Where to?” I whisper into her ear.

  “I know just the place.”

  Heather has me take us through the switchbacks, down the coastal route that leads to the Glen Heights lighthouse sitting all by its lonesome on the tip of the peninsula. On a sunny day, you can see Catalina Island from here.

  “I love to come here and just clear my head.” She motions to the desolate parking lot, and I manage to edge a little further out toward the guard rail that stops just shy of the cliff side.

  “It’s beautiful.” I kill the engine and leave the radio on as it softly plays “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” in the background. The ocean glitters as the stars spray out above, and it’s a sight to behold, one to remember, especially now that Heather is in my life again. “But it’s not as beautiful as you.” I touch my finger to the side of her cheek.

  She looks down, and even in this dim light I can see her blush.

  “I don’t ever want there to be secrets between us again.” She bites her lip in anguish—the promise of tears in her eyes.

  “There won’t be.” I lean over, and my arms swim around her waist. My eyes steady over hers, strong as steel. “I love you, Heather.”

  “I love you, too.”

  My lips find hers, tender and easy at first as if we have all of time to engage in this one beautiful event. Heather and I start in on a kiss that makes every other kiss we’ve ever shared feel like a build up for this one right here. Her hot, hungry tongue explodes over mine in a fit of fury and unrelenting passion—a rival level of angst that I hold in me. Her hands swim under my shirt, and she rakes
her nails over my back before fumbling with the button on my jeans.

  Heather strings her kisses all the way to my ear. “I want to be with you.”

  “What?” I pull back, startled. “Jessie says there’s a cooling period between saying I love you and—”

  “Are you dating Jessie Fox?”

  “No.” I flatline.

  “Then I suggest you listen to your girlfriend.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A dull laugh pumps from me, straight into her throat as our mouths fuse once again. We move the party to the backseat. Heather evicts her uniform until every last inch of her is exposed. I look at her like this, painted blue from the moonlight, and my breath escapes me.

  “You are beautiful,” I whisper, running a soft line down the center of her body, just taking her in, my girlfriend. My mouth crashes to hers again as my clothes tumble off one by one. Heather tugs down my boxers and holds me there in her hand, running her fingers over the length of me as I pull a rubber from my wallet.

  She takes it from me, tearing it open with her teeth, and I can’t help but bleed a greedy grin. She’s all mine, and I’m more than glad to have her. I’ve never been one to romanticize destinies or soul mates, but, without a doubt, Heather Knowles feels like both. She is.

  I take my time, running my mouth over her body, loving her the way I’ve wanted to, the way I’ve dreamed. My hands warm her as her soft skin adheres to mine until finally I’m buried inside her, deep, like I need to be. Heather Knowles has consumed me both inside and out, and now I’m inside her, loving her the way my body, my heart, and my soul have craved all along.

  Being with Heather is restoring me, putting all of the pieces that fell out of place these last few weeks right where they belong, especially right here with her body conjoined with mine.

  “Damn, I love you,” I press the words into her ear as that incessant ache inside me releases.

  Heather pushes a tiny laugh through a groan. “I’ve never heard sweeter words.”

  Epilogue