I can be one of those flighty girls. Not that I mean to either. It just comes out especially if it's a hot biker boy. Though most boys are hot in my opinion. If they aren't related to me. I can be impulsive and reckless. I love the surf and the sand, and the best place I think I ever lived is Hawaii which is full of surf and sand. I love to surf, but am definitely apprehensive when it comes to thinking about sharks down below the surface. I move at a fast pace as if I'm a blur sometimes as my brothers call it. It drives them crazy. One thing I won't do is drugs, but bring on the alcohol for the parties on the beach!

[smear:#7f19e6]Positive Traits:[/smear:#e619a1:0]
1)Playful: Fond of playing and fun.
2)Passionate: Being capable of or expressing deep feeling.
3)Flirtatious: Inclined to provocative teasing and suggestive attention.
4)Spunky: An inclination toward liveliness and high energy.
5)Persistent: Stubbornly continuing on despite opposition, difficulty, or danger.
6)Spontaneous: Enjoying what naturally occurs; given to acting on healthy impulses.

[smear:#e619a1]Negative Traits:[/smear:#7f19e6:0]
1)Stubborn: Unyielding or obstinate.
2)Verbose: Wordy; inclined to say more than is needed.
3)Impulsive: Acting on desires, whims, or inclination without forethought.
4)Mischievousness: Maliciously or impishly troublesome.
5)Vindictive: Disposed toward seeking revenge.
6)Rebellious: Flouting the law or resisting authority.

James Dean Deveraux was born while his father was attending TOP GUN as it was nicknamed by the pilots. It was located at the Naval Air Station Miramar in San Diego, California. He was one of three boys all of whom followed their father into the military. My father James was the youngest of the boys. Growing up he knew no other life and so therefore he followed in his father’s footsteps. Both of his older brothers never married and were killed in combat. While stationed in Spain at the Naval Station Rota he went to a festival going on with his buddies in Rota Spain. It was where he met my mother Rosa Paloma.

My mother Rosa Marie Paloma was born in Rota Spain, and grew up the only child of the Mayor Lorenzo Paloma and his late wife Marisol who died of pneumonia when Rosa was ten years old. In her eighteenth year she attended the Urta Festival with friends. It’s a four day event, and draws in a lot of tourists. Her father had warned her about staying away from the soldiers from the base, but when James ran into her in the large crowd it was love at first sight for the both of them.

Mom would tell us that they had literally run into one another, and when his arms had gone around her there had been sparks between them. They were both shocked and had stood there for what felt like eternity just staring into one another’s eyes. It was one of James’s friends who had brought them back to reality with her friends not knowing what to think, and his friends picking on him for it. She spent the rest of the festival having fun with him.

In the weeks that followed when he was able to get leave they spent every moment they could together falling deeply in love. When she finally told her father he wasn’t happy one bit. When he met James though his doubts fell away. James was old fashioned and had done everything as a gentleman. It was a few weeks after meeting one another and they got to know one another during that time when James was on leave that James asked for Rosa’s hand in marriage, and her father happily gave it.

A month later they were united in marriage with her father giving her away, and James’s parents and brothers in attendance. It was the first and last time all of their family would be together in one place. The wedding was held in the gardens of her family's estate. It was only family and friends, but it was a day they cherished in their hearts forever. Six months later Rosa’s father was assassinated, and her world was shattered. She was pregnant with their first child, and almost lost the baby when she received word about it.

Four months later she gave birth to their first child and they honored her father in naming him after him. His first name was indeed Lorenzo, and he was given his father’s middle name Dean. James's mother came to help out with the new baby, and she stayed for a few weeks. Unfortunately word soon reached them that his father had been killed in the line of duty. His father was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery. James’s mother stayed with them then after that. She never recovered from a broken heart though, and she died a year later not able to go on any longer.

When Lorenzo was three years old their second son was born, and they named him Krew after his Grandfather Deveraux. Krew Austin. For a while they were living happily. When Krew was a year old and Lorenzo four James was transferred to Aviano Air Base in Italy. It was two years later that I came into this world. I was named Sarsaparilla Mae Deveraux. It was both of my parents' favorite sodapop. At least I wasn’t named Sodapop. I actually like my name which got shortened to Sassy when I was born as my older brothers couldn’t say my name and it would come out to be Sassy.

With two older brothers I naturally became a Tomboy. I hated frilly ruffle dresses. If mom put lace on me it was in tatters within hours with how I played. I was two when the first of my baby brothers was born. Mateo Maverick came into this world. By this time my father was stationed at Ramstein Air Base in Ramstein which is located near the town of Ramstein-Miesenbach, which stands outside the base's west gate, in the rural district of Kaiserslautern. A year later another boy was born, and they named him Sebastian James. This made me the only girl, and the middle child.

When I was seven we were stationed in Korea at the Osan Air Base. We weren’t there long as dad was needed elsewhere. While there though mom had gone into the town with a few of the other military wives. She never came home as she and the other wives were caught in gunfire from rival gangs. None of them survived. None of us but maybe my oldest brother were old enough to really understand what had happened. I didn’t understand why mommy wasn’t coming home to us. Instead daddy had told us she had gone to Heaven. After that dad wasn’t really the same again.

I lost track of all the different bases that we lived on after that. It just became routine. Not staying in one place for long after that. Dad used to take us with him to practice drills. We grew up learning different obstacle courses going through. I learned quickly I was fast, and would often beat my older brothers much to their disbelief.

Dad discouraged my brothers from joining the military even though that was all they had known growing up. Instead he encouraged them to find their own dreams and do what they wanted. He’d lost his own father, and both of his brothers to this world, and he told them he didn’t want that for them as well.

Dad was stationed in Hawaii when my older brothers were in high school, and I was in junior high. Dad gave up moving around, and took second in command of the base. It was rare that he was deployed anymore, and we definitely had more time with him. I was Daddy’s little girl. He devoted a lot of time to us kids after mom died. That spark he’d had before though was gone without mom there with us.

When we moved to Hawaii dad joined the Sons of Anarchy as he loved to ride. He served with all the guys in the charter, and considered them his brothers. Both of my older brothers prospected to the club when they turned eighteen becoming full patches. They were a family to us.

During my teenage years I was a wild child. I loved parties and drinking, but I didn’t do drugs. I went out for sports, especially surfing which I came to love. Only thing I hated about it was not knowing if there were sharks down under the waters where I was. Still though I didn’t let that stop me. I got my own Harley when I turned sixteen. The color is black cherry, and I loved it. I had a dirt bike as well, and joined the motocross team. There was nothing like flying through the air on my bike. I still hold a few records for my team at the local high school.

After graduation I went to college to study Oceanography, but I wasn’t totally into it. Still I didn’t know what else I could go into. I finished my first year of the course, and talked to dad about it. He told me to follow my heart and it would lead me in the right direction. I had the summer to think about it.

A month into summer one of my worst fears rose up to literally bite me. I was out surfing with my friends. My younger brothers and a lot of our friends from the club that were our ages. I was heading in to catch a wave when something jerked at my leg, and I was suddenly underwater. I was fighting to get away from whatever had me, and I saw the blood in the water, and of course the great white shark that had gotten me. The pain in my leg was horrible, and I fought against it. I wasn’t going to let it get me. Suddenly out of nowhere a pod of friendly dolphins was there, and attacking the shark. Its jaws opened, and I was free.

I shot to the surface gasping in water. One of my guy friends was there, and he pulled me onto what was left of my board, and I was pushed in by the guys hearing the siren going off that there were sharks. I don’t remember much after that as it was a blur. I remember waking up in the hospital. My dad and brothers were all there. The shark that had gotten me was a juvenile one so I was lucky. If it’s mouth had been any bigger I would probably have lost my leg. Instead I had around 200 stitches, and would have a gnarly scar for sure. At least I still had my leg. Being laid up for a while sucked after that. Having to use crutches so I didn’t pull my stitches was a pain.

Wasn’t long after that dad got deployed. He didn’t have much of a choice with them being short on men at the time. He and a few others would never come back from wherever they had been sent after their caravan was bombed. Five of them were from our base. The other guys from our base survived. My dad wasn’t one of the survivors. Somehow I held it together, and was strong for my brothers during the services and our dad being buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Where his brothers, father and mother were buried as well as our own mother since that was where dad would be. It was all a blur, and I had withdrawn into myself bottling everything up. I was still recovering myself, and life just didn’t seem real at this point.

The club changed too with five members dying. Including the VP of the club. The president Rich Stokes had been injured, and he left the military. As well as the club moving to where his brother had joined a new charter in a place called Washington, California. Emily and her children had left too after her husband Nathan the VP had been killed that day. Nothing was really the same anymore.

I was home alone as usual when there was a knock at the door. I rarely went anywhere anymore. I was usually holed up in my room retreating into myself not wanting to face things. I knew my brothers were worried about me, but I still hadn’t really mourned our father. Answering the door I was handed an eviction notice by the Military police. I didn’t understand as my father had made sure we had a place even if something happened to him until we were able to find a place. There was a grace period, and that wasn’t up. I was told our assets had been frozen too. Dad’s pension was cut off. I really didn’t understand what they were telling me. We had twenty-four hours to vacate the place.

Both my older brothers had been living at the clubhouse which was off the base. I remember trying to call them and not getting answers. Which was odd because they always answered. I was starting to have a panic attack. I couldn’t even get a hold of my younger brothers. The last thing I remember is not being able to catch my breath, and passing out.

Lorenzo and Krew had been in church when I was trying to call. They tried calling me back later, and couldn’t get a hold of me. They did get a hold of our younger brothers who had been out surfing when I had been trying to call. They found me passed out at home in a puddle of blood. I had hit my head on the coffee table when I passed out. The papers I had in my hand had fluttered everywhere when my hand had released them. A couple of them were covered in blood.

When I came to hours later I was in the hospital and was in and out of it for a few days. When I really came to, my brothers were there. They had figured out what happened and had vacated the house. They were being told that my father hadn’t finished filling out the forms that had been required for his pension and living requirements for his children. Which was definitely a lie for he documented everything and kept copies of everything. Even his superiors were raising a fuss about this, and were trying to rectify it.

While I was still in the hospital my older brothers were framed for something. They never really told me the whole story, but when I got out we were escorted straight to the base, and put on a flight to California. The Hawaii president had contacted Rich and was sending us to him right now to protect us from whatever or whoever seemed to have it in for our family. Let me tell you that flight wasn’t fun after a head wound. I ended up with a helluva headache and passing out.

We landed in Nevada City late at night, and I was getting checked out at the local hospital. I was admitted and kept there for a day, before they let me out, and we were on our way to Washington California then riding our bikes that had been shipped over with us. What we had stuffed in our saddle bags which my brothers had done was all we had for now. Which wasn’t much, but it would do for now. I definitely wasn’t prepared for how small Washington California was. It was a cute, quaint, little town though. I was used to the big cities and air force bases.