Never Gonna Give You Up: 80's Baby Series 2 Read online

  Never Gonna Give You Up

  80S BABY SERIES

  S. CINDERS

  Edited by

  VIOLET RAE

  Cover Artist

  CAMERON HART

  Copyright © 2022 S. Cinders Author LLC

  NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected].

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination only.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Zee

  Chapter 2

  SLOAN

  Chapter 3

  ZEE

  Chapter 4

  SLOAN

  Chapter 5

  ZEE

  Chapter 6

  SLOAN

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Dude! We’ve got to jet over to Pine Grove Galleria, where the scrunchies are abundant and love is in the air. Grab your mixtapes and hop into the Delorean. We aren’t coming back until we’ve reached a steamy happily ever after.

  Eliza:

  It’s been nearly eight years since that terrible night.

  Eight years since I scribbled Eliza Riviera on my notebooks.

  Eight years since Sloan gave up his football scholarship to care for his thirteen-year-old twin brothers.

  It’s been eight years since I packed up and left for college by myself, leaving my dreams of a future with Sloan behind.

  Eight years is a helluva long time to pine over what was never meant to be.

  * * *

  Sloan:

  Eight years ago, my parents were killed in a car accident the day after my graduation.

  Eight years ago, I became a parent to my thirteen-year-old brothers when I was barely an adult myself.

  Eight years ago, I gave up the one person who meant the world to me. Eight years ago, I didn’t have a choice. But the boys are grown now, and Eliza is back in town.

  Whether she realizes it, or she needs convincing… I’m Never Gonna Give Her Up.

  * * *

  Pull out your acid wash jeans and grab your walk-man… The 80s are back, and we are chillin’ at the home of Pine Grove Galleria.

  Chapter

  One

  ZEE

  "Eliza June, as I live and breathe! Are you back from your little school up north? " Mrs. Robinson called out to me as she entered the hallowed halls of my family’s video store.

  Mrs. Robinson was wearing a lovely sunflower yellow pantsuit and a beehive that would elicit the envy of every 1970s housewife. Only, it wasn’t the seventies, and yellow wasn’t her color.

  It matched the blue and yellow of that big box video store that just came into town. Dad was worried our little mom and pop video store couldn't compete. But Mom assured him a dozen times that we had the best location here at Grove Galleria. There wasn’t a better one in all of Louisiana.

  Family Video, that was the name. (I know, the parental unit really went with something original). It was my dad’s dream child, and my mom had the staying power to make Dad’s dream a reality.

  At the current moment, my dad's dream was my nightmare.

  The little school I attended up north was the University of Louisville, and yes, I was back. However, I wasn’t just returning. I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in Molecular Biology and Cell Regeneration.

  I wanted to throw it in the old bat’s face. But we both knew she was well aware of where I’d been and what I’d accomplished. Mom said they went to high school together and Mrs. Robinson had a huge crush on my dad.

  In the end, Dad picked Mom and Mrs. Robinson picked Mr. Robinson, one of the quietest individuals I had ever met. I felt sorry for him.

  As far as Mrs. Robinson was concerned, nice young girls went to college to get a husband. Nothing good could ever come from mixing women in business and politics.

  She actually said that to me. Could you imagine being so narrow minded? Not to mention demeaning your own sex? It was ridiculous. But Mom said we have to be polite, I forgot why.

  So, I pasted my best poser smile on my face and lied through my teeth. "Mrs. Robinson, hello. It’s nice to see you."

  "I see that diet of yours never worked out," she said, shaking her head. “It’s a shame. You’ve such a pretty face.”

  The pen in my hand threatened to snap in half. Or maybe it was the way I was clutching the thing, like it was a knife in my favorite Hitchcock movie, Psycho.

  “How kind of you to notice,” I ground out.

  “Oh, don’t take offense,” she added flippantly. “I’ve known you for so long, it’s like we’re family.”

  I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I did not share any DNA with this woman. To put things in perspective, you know how Mrs. Kravitz never gave Samantha and Darren any peace on that TV show, Bewitched? Well, Mrs. Robinson was the Mrs. Kravitz of my neighborhood. She saw everything, was everywhere, and somehow managed to phone your mom to rat you out.

  She was the kind of neighbor that would call your mama if she saw you taking a shortcut through someone’s lawn. It was grass for hell's sake, not fine china.

  "Was there something I can help you with, Mrs. Robinson?" I asked, choosing to ignore her dig about my weight.

  I carried a few extra pounds in my hips and thighs. Mom was built the same way, and Dad said he’s always liked the swing in her backyard. (Could they be any more embarrassing?) After spending the summer wearing out my Jane Fonda tape in high school and still not dropping any pounds, I’d caved and gone to a local weight loss class with my mom.

  How was I to know that Mrs. Robinson would be there front and center? Or that she would bring it up every time I saw her?. It was eight years ago. I’m a different person now.

  "Oh, yes, I was looking for the Barbara Streisand movie," she began, leaning against the counter.

  "She’s been in quite a few," I replied hesitantly. "Do you remember who else was in it?"

  The bell rang near the door, indicating someone else had walked into Family Video. But I didn’t look up. We were pretty slow in the mornings, and it was a Thursday, too. All the videos were due back on Thursday night, so the mad rush didn’t start until after people got off at six.

  “Yes, it has that handsome man who likes rocks! And Barbara tells him that her name is Bernzie, only it isn’t that at all.," she exclaimed, obviously proud of herself.

  I was drawing a complete blank. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Robinson, but I'm not sure which Barbara Streisand film you're referring to.”

  "I think I can help you."

  The deep voice had my head snapping up. I knew that voice. I knew what it sounded like: excited, mad, happy, and even sad. However, it had been a helluva long time since I’d heard it.

  "Sloan?" I didn’t even care that my voice cracked, or I sounded like an idiot. Because there, right behind Mrs. Kravit’s Mark 2.0, was the one boy who had been my entire world—until, well, he wasn’t.

  "Hey, Zee," he said, as if we were meeting up at the food court to hit up Hot Dog on a Stick, or crashing in his b
asement to go over biology notes.

  I couldn’t move. My heart was beating so erratically that it threatened to fly out of my chest and scream how much I loved him. I loved him—I couldn’t do this again.

  Mrs. Robinson, never one to take social cues, didn’t sense the awkwardness of the situation. She just plowed on with, "What was it called? When they all have the matching suitcases, and she shoves the real Bernzie into her room and steals her fiancé? I just love that show!"

  "What’s up, Doc?" Sloan replied, his gaze still glued to mine.

  I frowned at him. “Nothing—what’s up with you?”

  The smile that split his face was akin to seeing the sun for the first time. Damn the man for being so sexy, and damn my heart for caring.

  “Um, no, Zee,” he replied with a sexy grin. “The name of the movie is, ‘What’s up, Doc?’”

  Sloan Riviera had a body that could rival a god. At two inches above six feet, with golden skin from endless days working construction in the hot Louisiana sun, Sloan looked good enough to eat–and I was damn hungry.

  "Do you have ‘What’s up, Doc?’ Right now?” Mrs. Robinson asked loudly. Maybe it wasn’t the first time she’d asked?

  Color flooded my cheeks. "The older movies are over in this section. Let’s go see if I can find it. "

  "Older?" Mrs. Robinson wrinkled her nose.

  Sloan smothered a laugh, and my blush intensified. "Erm, not old, precisely. I think ‌it was released in the early seventies.”

  "1972," Sloan added helpfully.

  I gave him a side-eyed glare that caused his smirk to reappear on his sinfully handsome face. It wasn’t fair that he was so damn appealing.

  I found the video and handed it to Mrs. Robinson.

  "How did you know about that movie?" I asked, directing my question at Sloan.

  I knew for a fact that Sloan was the same age as me. We’d only gone through every year of school together growing up. We’d been supposed to go to college together as well. That was partly why I’d taken the scholarship to Louisville because he’d accepted a football scholarship there. But life had a funny way of rearranging everything you thought you had planned.

  "It was my mom’s favorite," he said simply.

  Mr. and Mrs. Riviera were two of the coolest parents around. Mrs. Riviera was from Mexico, and despite trying to learn the language, she was never easy to understand. However, what she couldn’t communicate with words, she did with food.

  Mrs. Riviera loved to cook. Everything was traditionally made, but sometimes she would get crazy and throw some fried Spam into her enchiladas. I know what you’re thinking, but seriously, it was amazing.

  Mr. Riviera wasn’t around as much. He worked long hours for little pay. Born in Cuba, Mr. Riviera wasn’t what you’d call the most legal of citizens. My parents never made a fuss over it, but I knew there were times when people weren’t as nice as they could be to the Rivieras.

  Legal or not, Miguel Riviera was a good man. That’s why it shook our entire town when, the night after graduation, Mr. and Mrs. Riviera were struck by a long-haul semi-driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel.

  We were told they were killed instantly. My mom tried to assure me ‌they experienced no pain whatsoever. For many of us kids, it was the first time we’d dealt with death.

  Their deaths nearly destroyed Sloan. Back then, he couldn’t even talk about it or either of them—not even to me.

  It had been nearly eight years since that terrible night. Eight years since I’d scribbled Eliza Riviera on my notebooks. Eight years since Sloan had given up his football scholarship to care for his thirteen-year-old twin brothers.

  It had been eight years since I packed up and left for college by myself. Any dreams of Sloan and I having a future together were crushed. Eight years is a helluva long time to pine over what was never meant to be.

  "What can I do for you, Sloan?"

  Chapter

  Two

  SLOAN

  Eliza June Peabody, better known as Zee, looked at me with feigned indifference as she politely asked how she could help me. There were a lot of ways she could help me, but none I’d be comfortable saying in front of Mrs. Robinson.

  That old bat used to twist my ear in Sunday School. I swear to this day, she’s the reason I stopped going to church.

  “You can go ahead and finish with Mrs. Robinson,” I say reasonably.

  I have no desire to cross the woman. After all, I figured if she was on God’s side, I would take my chances with the devil. I was pretty wild growing up. Shit, when Zee and I were in high school. Zee was the only reason I graduated. Always the smartest in the class, Zee would study with me constantly. I have dyslexia, and the letters don’t stay where they’re supposed to on the page. It didn’t help that I have a wicked temper, and a chip on my shoulder that could rival the Empire State Building.

  “I’m in no rush.” Mrs. Robinson batted her eyes at me.

  Gag me with a spoon! I fought to keep the revulsion from showing. For God’s sake, she’s old enough to be my grandmother. That’s just nasty. Besides, did she honestly think I’d forgotten how mean she was to me when she came in as a parent helper?

  When I was a kid, I was often called retarded or stupid. It’s hard enough when the children poke fun. But Mrs. Robinson came in to help one day and literally said in front of the class that I was too stupid to read. My parents were immigrants and didn’t speak English very well. So, they could hardly help me. Then one day, this little girl in pigtails decided ‌she was going to befriend me.

  “I insist,” I ground out. Trust Mrs. Robinson to cock-block me.

  It hasn’t been easy for me growing up in Pine Grove. Lots of kids at school made fun of me, but never Zee. When I got older, the guys liked that I led the football team to the championship. The girl’s loved my height and washboard abs. But I wasn’t interested in any of those girls. Zee was the only girl I had eyes for.

  Zee wasn’t the girl you made out with under the bleachers. She was a good person. The kind you bring home to your mama. I took her to prom. It was the perfect night. I told her then that I couldn’t imagine her going away to school without me. She was smart, and I knew it. I could play ball just about anywhere. So, when she chose University of Louisville, I told her I planned on following.

  I kissed her then. It wasn’t our first kiss, but it was one I would always remember. It was the last kiss before my world came crashing down. The kiss that would end the innocence of youth. Little did I know it‌. But it was also a goodbye kiss.

  Zee finished checking Mrs. Robinson out and saw her to the door.

  “It was nice seeing you, dear!” Mrs. Robinson trilled at me as Zee expertly shooed her out. Then to Zee, she said, “You know, Eliza, if you lost a few pounds, it would really bring out your cheekbones.”

  What the hell? I interrupted before I even had a chance to think about it. “Zee is perfect just the way she is. She doesn’t need to lose any weight.”

  Zee’s cheeks heated and she ducked her head a little.

  “It’s never my mind, of course,” Mrs. Robinson said, gesturing to the both of us. “I’m sure you’re right. You know, they say love is blind.”

  Zee laughed and closed the door firmly on Mrs. Robinson. I could see her shoulders visibly relax. I didn’t like the older woman hurting Zee with her careless words.

  “She’s a piece of work,” Zee muttered. “I’m sure your plans didn’t include running into Mrs. Robinson.”

  I nearly blurted out; life has a way of changing all of your plans. After all, I hadn’t planned on losing Mom and Dad right after graduation. They were killed in that accident, and we had no other family in the states to rely on. I could either let my brothers go into foster care, or I could man up and take responsibility. I was barely a man myself at just eighteen.

  I felt Zee’s touch before I realized that she’d moved closer. “Hey, are you okay?”

  I was tempted to lie, just to get her to keep touchi
ng me. But I no longer wanted any lies between us. We’d struggled back then. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt from the age of thirteen onward. They didn’t have the loving home-life I’d had. But we managed. The twins got a newspaper route, and Zee's mom helped a lot. And without Zee around, I worked—a lot. How did I explain everything to her?

  Was I an idiot for even thinking we had a shot together? “Yeah,” I half croaked. “Zee. I really need to talk to you.”

  A wrinkle formed between her brows. “I’m right here—talk.”

  The words twisted in my throat, choking me. There was so much she didn’t know. So much that I had hidden from her. Zee didn’t leave me behind because of my parents' death. She left because I did something terrible. I made sure she didn’t give up her future.

  She turned her bracelet nervously. “Sloan, it’s cool. We’re cool.”

  But the memories kept coming. The police officer, knocking on our door late at night. I realized ‌my parents weren’t home from their dinner date. Planning a funeral when I’d just learned my parents had four hundred and twenty-seven dollars in the bank.

  I made a choice that changed the course of our lives. The day after we buried my parents, I asked Zee to meet me at Skateland. The local skating rink at the galleria. Only when she walked in, I was skating arm in arm with Katie Radford.

  Then, as Zee looked on in horror, I spun Katie into my chest and I kissed her—in front of Zee, all of Skateland, God, and everything. Zee went home crying, and Katie smacked my face. I felt terrible, but I knew I had to do it. Zee would never have gone otherwise.