Tainted Love
Book One-
Whiskey & Vixen
By R&C Christiansen
Edited by Caryn Pine
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
One
Welcome to Hell
There are no rules here. Not on the Hill, because everybody who lives here is either rich or related to someone who is. We all know only three things for certain in this place… One, that money is king and women wear the crowns. Two, nothing is holy. And three, Friday nights are for partying and fucking. Fine, maybe that’s five things but they all go hand in hand in this place.
It’s finally Friday and I’m all in on the fucking as soon as I find a party to hit up that my mother won’t be attending. The woman is a complete bitch, ruins everything she touches, including my attempt to be a normal twenty-year-old. Well if there is such a thing in this life. The point is, my mother, Helen King, is a walking, fucking plague. She’s hot as hell with little effort mind you, but the woman is even madder than the devil.
“Kirsten Evelyn King, where in the hell are my car keys and my condoms?”
Is she fucking serious?
I make my way to the wrought iron railing at the top of the stairs before I answer.
“Same place you left that shit when you got home last night, Mother,” I yell down. “On the counter by the empty bottle of Grey.”
I roll my eyes as I listen to her stomp around, her heels echoing over the marble flooring and through the entire house as she belts out profanities and smashes what sounds like another priceless vase.
“Why the fuck are there only two condoms here you little slut? I had three and I’m not stopping at the store because you can’t keep your trampy legs closed, Kirsten!”
Takes one to know one.
“Don’t blame me, Mom. Whiskey only fucks bareback; maybe you should go to the clinic and see if they can’t help you find where in that twat of yours the condom ended up!”
I turn to head back to my room. Hearing the march of her heels approaching fast, I duck as the Tiffany explodes on the wall beside me.
I feel the shards hit my hair and my hands as I cover my face and peek my eye open hoping she’s not about to launch another one up the stairs.
Shaking the shards off, I turn and glance down at her, now pacified by a mouthful of Jack as she chugs it straight from the bottle.
“Nice aim, Mom, you missed again,” I laugh. “Maybe you should get your pitching arm looked at by the doctor while you’re in there for your rotting condom issue.”
The bottle of Jack comes straight at my head, narrowly missing as I scramble into my room and lock the door.
“Yeah, you better fucking hide, Kirsten. One of these days I’m gonna make you wish you were never born, you little bitch!”
I already do, Mom. I already do.
Like I said, madder than the Devil. I grew up here, born and raised straight from the womb of Satan, into money, bad role models, and governed by a woman who not only destroyed my father, but aims to destroy me too.
That’s if I don’t destroy her first.
It’s not yet four and I need to get ready for a festive Friday night down at the Club. It’s near the bottom of the Hill about a forty-minute walk through the private gated neighborhood in the suburbs. The Club is a tin-walled party house disguised as a boat storage shack down by Lake Davenport. A few of us pitched in together and got the Marron brothers to build it. It’s the only place in this shithole that those of us younger than thirty can go and hang out without being embarrassed by our kin. It’s not far from where I met Pax, or Whiskey as I sometimes call him. He’s hot AF but broken AF. The guy’s been through the darkest shit, things that have given me nightmares, but on the plus side, he can bring me to orgasm with his eyes closed with nothing more than his hand and some dirty talk. He’s also one of the only guys I know that hasn’t banged my evil mother, so that’s a bonus.
I study my freshly-applied cat eye makeup in the mirror and pull my just-dyed Obsidian Black hair back into a high ponytail. Going for the badass bitch look again tonight, I’ve dressed in my thigh high boots paired with my frayed blue jean shorts and Whiskey’s biker jacket. Good to go, I exit my room and tip toe not wanting my heels to draw mother’s attention as I listen at the top of the stairs for movement. Assuming the cow got lost in a bottle and likely passed out in the washroom again, I make my way down the stairs, around the shattered vase, and out the door.
As expected, I hear the rumble of Pax’s bike up the road, and head toward him as some douche in a top down, stark black Porsha hits a puddle and sprays me as he pulls up and stops outside my house.
Pissed,
