CJ POV

It was nice being a pretty boy.

He could have all the freaks he wanted. Girls came on to him and offered him whatever he wanted. He had his way with them and left them just as quickly.

Smash and dash.

His current smash was Venetia McKenzie, a fine as fuck sophomore at Missouri State University. He fucked with her last year, and she was the first chick to call him up on the first day of classes to hang out at her dorm.

He knew what she wanted, so he made sure he brought plenty of condoms. She stayed in the residence called nicknamed Freddy, short for Freudenberger House, and had a roommate, but she was gone even though it was the middle of the day.

Under the sheets, he had Venetia's legs wide open drilling into her as she held in her screams of pleasure. She was a little thing, not even five feet tall and not a hundred pounds. Next to his six feet height, that shit was sexy to him.

"Oh my God CJ! I love you!" she screamed out.

Now she was tripping. He just wanted to bust his nut and keep it moving. No time for feelings or emotions. He was not trying to get trapped by some girl. Love and all that whatnot.

Not for him.

"You love this dick, that's all," he said, continuing to blow the back out of her walls.

"No CJ, I love you!"

The shit she was saying was going to make him lose his hard-on. He quickly power drove in her, making himself come quicker than he liked. Once he orgasmed, he pulled out and sat up in her bed.

"Your roommate coming back soon?" he asked her, rolling off the condom.

"No." Venetia scooted her naked body next to his, putting her arm around his shoulders and kissing his neck. "Want to go again?"

"No," he simply stated.

"Want to sleep over? My roommate would not care."

"Can't." He trashed the condom, grabbed a towel she had nearby, and wiped himself. He checked himself out in her full-length mirror, admiring his fit body. Six pack abs on his pale yellow skin, a few hairs leading down to his manhood, which was a nice size if he said so himself. He grinned at himself, checking out his blemish-free face, his almond-shaped eyes, and his thick lips.

Best of both cultures. His Japanese mother and his African-American father. Head full of thick, black curls on his head he kept short on the sides and longer at the top. Looking at him he looked Asian more than Black but he only identified with Black.

"CJ!" Venetia said with a whining voice as he started to get dressed.

This was why she would never be his girl. That whiny voice. That desperation. He loathed girls like that.

"I have a class later, I need to go," he lied so easily. He had no class. He had two early classes and he was done for the day. He might find another honey for later in the day, but for now, he needed a rest. "Call me later in the week, we can hook up again. A'ight?"

"Sure." Venetia's face drooped a bit as she stared down at her bare feet, while her shoulder-length curly hair made a big halo around her head. Pretty girl, beautiful even, and nice wet pussy, that's all he wanted about.

He walked over and kissed her. "Don't give that good pussy away to nobody else, a'ight? That's mine."

Then he rolled out. He jumped into his beaten-up Range Rover he had for the last three years. The one and only gift his loser father ever gave him that meant something. That dude named Christopher, who he has named after, gifted it to him six months after his high school graduation as an afterthought.

He wished he would have told him about his sisters then, he would have had more time with Ashley.

He still could not believe she was gone. He barely got to spend any time with her and now, nothing. He would never see his sister again. He was too busy bonding with Nola, thinking he had plenty of time to get to know the rest of his sisters.

Time was a motherfucker. Fuck cancer!

He knew that was also how his sisters lost their mother. Yeah, fuck cancer!

Instead of driving to the apartment he rented off campus, he headed to his mother's house. His mother was the only woman he loved. She was his rock, always there for him when that deadbeat would not. She never married him, and good for her on that. She loved the bastard and for years was his doormat.

He did not know any better as a kid, why his father would come and go as he pleased and never stayed with them. He did all the things for him growing up, taught him how to ride a bike, toss a ball, tie his shoes, helped with his homework. But he never really showed him how to be a man.

As much as he was good with him growing up, he hated the way he treated his mother. They argued a lot. His mother would forgive him and take him back. She would do whatever he wanted. Cooked, cleaned, looked nice for him, worked like a fucking dog for that man to treat her like a whore.

He did not see that till he got older. He would come and sleep over, take him to school in the morning, and be gone for days. Sometimes he would flaunt other women around CJ. He couldn't tell his mother that his father had other women.

But his mother knew and didn't care. She loved Christopher Kelly.

The last straw was when he told him about his sisters and what he had done. He hated his guts and wanted nothing to do with him.

He was at Ashley's funeral and that was the last he wanted to see of him.

His mother was a short, tiny thing. Five feet two, slim, still young looking at only forty-two. Long black hair down her back, blunt cut bangs, and never wore make-up. Pretty if she tried. She never wanted another man outside of that loser Christopher. He wished his mother would move on and have a life without him.

Since he moved out of the house last year, she decided to invite one of her friend's daughters to stay in his old room while she attended Missouri State this year. He had not met the girl since she moved in sometime over the weekend and he was too busy getting turnt up and lit at all the parties.

"Mom! I'm home!" he yelled out as he used his key to enter the house he lived in with his mother all his life. That was one thing Christopher did, help buy the house they lived in and continued to pay the mortgage.

His mother co-owned a Japanese restaurant with some friends she met in college back in the day before she met that deadbeat. His mother was the best cook in the world and he was hungry for some of her food.

"Mom!" he yelled out again.

He made his way to the kitchen but then stopped when he saw a little girl making a mess on the kitchen counter.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like!" she snapped at him, without even looking up.

There was food all over the counter. Diced veggies, fresh fish, shrimp, rice, and nori paper. He assumed she was making sushi, but he could not quite tell by the looks of things.

"Who are you?" he asked her, but already knew she was the girl his mother must have taken in.

"Who do you think I am?"

"Don't be funny, you're in my house making a mess with my food."

She finally looked up at him. What a plain-looking girl, he thought. Dull black, stringy hair, round face, small, slanty eyes, thin lips, just, basic. Maybe if she razzled dazzled her hair, added make-up, and some flattering clothes instead of the too big sweats she wore.

She only stared at him and didn't say anything, fumbling with the rice she was trying to get to stick on the nori sheet.

"Hello? Do you have a name?"

"Ishi," she said quietly.

"My mom told me she was giving away my room. Just great." He walked over to her, moving the nori sheet she destroyed and trashed it. "You don't know how to make simple sushi rolls?"

"Uh...I do...I mean...yeah, it just wasn't working out."

His mother had him in the kitchen watching and then helping at a young age. He started with her rice, which was all wrong.

"Did you add rice vinegar and sugar?"

"No."

"Okay, just move back and let me fix this."

He fixed the rice, made a prep line, then quickly assembled several rolls, sliced them up, and put them on a large tray his mother always used when they made sushi together. It was one of his favorite things.

"You're CJ."

"Duh," he said, grabbing a roll and dipping it in spicy mayo while they stood over the counter eating.

"Your mom said you hardly ever come home, I didn't think I would meet you."

"I come home a lot, sometimes just to eat," he said with a chuckle. "But I won't intrude that much since you're here."

"No, it's okay," she said. "I don't know anyone here. I'm from Kansas City. Your mother and my mother went to school here before my mom moved back home. My mother thought it would be better I stay here than on campus."

"That's what I did my freshman year," he said, "Just make sure you get out a lot and meet people. Parties and stuff."

Though he could tell she was not that type of girl. He knew it was wrong, but he had a preference for the girls he hooked up with. Blackity-Black-Black. There was something about Black women he was attracted to. Never any other race.

Definitely not anyone of the Japanese culture, though it was half of his heritage. In his experience, they were too submissive for him. Like his mother. So no, they were not attractive to him at all.

And Ishii was so far from his type even if he did like Japanese girls.

A/N: More on CJ and his thinking and what is going on with him. I actually like writing his POV and how what their father did has affected him. He will truly be on a journey in this book...yes, I z know it's Nola's book, but CJ will not get his own book so I had to sneak him in here.