~"Look, I'm not trying to intentionally piss you off," my brother scoffed in my direction at that. "But can you please explain to me why we are moving away from home to a town where the only thing exciting that happens is Civil Reenactment Day?"

Spencer groaned and rolled his eyes, stuffing his nude celebrity posters in a suitcase. "I could have sworn making my life hell was your favorite hobby. So why ask you to change your ways of tradition?" He clapped the suitcase shut and turned, hands on his lean hips. "An old friend of mine is offering to get me a decent paying job and offer us a place to live while you finish school and find a college."

I had thought that maybe life was done punching me in the gut after Mom and Dad died; but, of course, it came back for an uppercut right in the eye after the court let my somewhat irresponsible, dick-biscuit of an older brother care for me.

And then guess what? It kneed me where it count, after my brother got fired for being in the supply closet at the local bar for giving one of the serving girls his version of an "All American Hot Dog" with his "special sauce." And of course the girl was the manager's daughter, and when the big man found out, Spencer was out a job and his paycheck was kept to pay for the sexual charges.

How he was still allowed to keep custody of me after that whole fiasco, I had no idea.

I couldn't really blame him for being a horny hound dog; he was a good looking man. He was the perfect "pretty boy": midnight blue eyes, honey blond hair, thick, ropes of muscle on every square inch of him, matched with a personality that could send a girl's estrogen levels sky high and grant him access to a woman's panties with ease.

Me? I was an expert in trigonometry and American history and frizzy ponytails with no makeup. I wasn't lazy, but I had no motivation to hit the gym, nor did I do very well in PE, so I put my brains to work instead. My hair was more mahogany than honey, my eyes a bit greener, my body a bit more wiggly, like Jell-o.

To top it off, I had…never really had a real boyfriend. And I was still virtuous.

Anyway, after his sexual charges had dropped-because his latest bang-up job admitted that she had wanted the big D as much as Spender wanted to give her a sample tasting of his "American Wiener"-he was still out of a job, so he had contacted his friend in a small town and asked for help.

Annnnd that's how we ended up packing our suitcases.

"But why Mystic Falls? Why not Los Angeles, or Chicago, or I dunno….New York City?!" I snapped, stomping my foot to get his attention

Spencer whirled around and nailed me with a glare. "Alex, if you ask me one more time, I will strangle you until you stop kicking," he threatened.

"Hey, hey, no need for threats. It's not my fault you have a homing beacon between your legs. I just don't understand why a small town."

"Like I've tried to explain to you a million times, I can't afford to care for you and make a living here. It's too expensive; besides, instead of starting in an expensive city where we know no one, we are starting somewhere a friend lives and can help give us temporary wings."

I threw up my hands in frustration. "Wow. Thanks. Thanks for taking me away from friends and other family. Thanks for taking me away to live out the rest of my life as a cat lady amidst vintage doilies and tea sets."

"Alexandria, for once in your life, stop bitching!" Spencer threw a finger at me and growled, "Go finish packing. We have to leave in an hour to get gas then head off before we hit traffic. Now get off my Chargers rug." He shoved me out of his room, and then slammed the door.

I always loved California. The beach...the hot guys...the nice people...I would miss it all. I used to go to the park every weekend with my friends and have so much fun. My mom and dad used to take me and Spencer to the mall and let me shop and Spencer flirt with every girl he saw. Mom and Dad would cook us wonderful meals and teach us the most important aspects of life, like how to avoid sex and practice abstinence until you're ready for it, and never talk to strangers. They even taught me how to drive my Dad's big Toyota Ram, though now it was currently Spencer's since he was twenty five years old.

But Mom and Dad had suffered at the hands of an attacker at a local grocery store, being shot down as they were exiting the doors. Dad had taken three bullets to the chest; Mom took two to the head. By the time the ambulance had brought them to the ER, the doctors declared there was nothing they could do to help them. At the funeral, my brother had gone into a fit of rage and cried for hours; I had broken down and bawled like a baby. Three months later, Spencer had given me a week to say good-bye to all my friends at school, and they had thrown me a huge farewell party (including smuggled alcohol and exotic dancers, and I was determined that Spencer never found out), and Spencer had broken up with his long line of girlfriends, some of which were actually okay with him going.

"Alex! Hurry up!" Spencer shouted through my old bedroom door. He's already packed? Damn, he's fast! I thought. I sighed loudly, and joined him at the big blue Ram outside in the parking lot ten minutes later. He had a cigarette sticking out between his teeth, and he puffed out a big cloud of smoke before saying, "Ready?"

"Oh, of course. Ready to ruin my life," I confirmed, climbing into the passenger's seat. "What's so special about Mystic Falls anyway?"

Spencer stamped out the butt of his cigarette with the big toe of his shoe. "I know someone named Zach Salvatore. He lives in an old renovated manse that used to be a bed and breakfast. And he texted me a few minutes ago saying he already got me a suitable job," he replied, climbing into the cab. He rolled the big truck from the curb, and sped down the streets onto the highway.

"What would that be? A McDonald's clerk?" I laughed at his dark stare. "I knew it."

"No. I'm a bartender at a grill, and it pays decent so we can save up and get ourselves a house." He turned on the radio to drown out my talking.

"So, if you get enough cash, does that mean I can go to college so I can escape from your tyranny?" I muttered in a low voice. But I knew that arguing with my older brother wasn't going to help matters at all. Might as well get the hell over it and start wondering who Zach Salvatore was