Skandalouz Chicks

By Nathan Welch

Once upon a time in Tennessee…

Rasha and Trina met Blueberry-Loc, a veteran gang member from California who enjoyed the gangbanging lifestyle and the risks she had to take to rep her set and solidify her gangsterism in the streets…
Intrigued and caught up by the mysterious and often dangerous lifestyle that Blueberry led, Rasha and Trina immediately developed a strong bond with a scandalous and street-wise thugstress that ultimately separated them from their family and friends.

As Blueberry showered them with love, gifts, and the allure of the fast dollar, Rasha and Trina became eager to get in the fast lane. But when they got initiated into a notorious gang and trapped in a grimy world of betrayal, manipulation, sex, and murder, they quickly realized that their only chance of survival was to become more scandalous than their mentor, which would change their lives forever… ‪

• Language: English
• Publisher: DC Bookdiva Publications
• Release date: Mar 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781519970633

Book preview

SKANDALOUZ

A NATHAN WELCH EPIDEMIC

1

HOO BANG! SHE SHOUTED, imitating her big brother after opening the door to his house on 83rd Street, somewhere on the west side of Los Angeles. If she would have known what was about to happen, she never would’ve opened the door.

ROLLIN’ 60’S, BANG, BITCH! the gunman shouted through the blue bandanna covering his pencil brown face from nose to chin. He aimed a chunky chrome 9mm at her head and forced her backwards into the house, as two more masked villains in blue rags and blue hoodies, with matching Dickie khakis and Chuck Taylor sneakers rushed past her.

She didn’t know at that moment that blue beefed against blue. She was under the impression that they were all one big happy blue united family going against the weaker enemies rocking the red. She was ignorant as to the Crips’ history. Crips originally stood for Consolidated-Revolutionary-In-Power. However, it was later changed to Community-Resources-In-Process to keep the Feds off their backs, but that’s another story…

Young and naïve, she unknowingly stared at the three Rollin’ 60’s gang members – sworn enemies of the Eight-Trey gangstas in her hood. Her whole family was 83rd Street Gangstas and ever since she’d been an itty-bitty child, she’d been known to get ill and kind of buck wild, trying to be down with the set. At eleven years young, she knew how to C-Walk (a gang ritual dance) and could literally out C-Walk most of the O.G.’s in her hood. She could also throw up her set in sign language like a veteran LOC Ridah, thus earning her the nickname Blueberry-LOC. They felt it was their way of showing her affection and brotherly love. Truth be told, it only continued a destructive cycle that plagued the minority communities in Los Angeles concerning the gangs.

As Blueberry hung around the hood and her brothers, imitating and watching them from the sidelines while her peeps got down like gangstas, someone eventually noticed her enthusiasm. By the time Blueberry turned twelve, she got initiated into the gang the traditional and violent way: she got jumped in. Getting jumped in is when some selected members from the set beat you down for a matter of seconds. You were not supposed to fall down and you were to keep fighting back until the time expired.

When Blueberry got jumped in, her brother stood there watching silently and he didn’t lift one finger to help her. She wanna be grown, then she can take that grown woman ass whooping! he thought, while sipping on a 40-ounce of St. Ides Malt Liquor.

Not knowing what she had really gotten herself into, Blueberry fought off eight hard-nosed gangstresses for two full minutes. You can laugh all you want, but two minutes feels like an eternity when you are getting beat down by full-grown women, not to mention Blueberry only stood 4’7". She was a cocoa-brown cutie going for hers, never letting up until they called time. Blueberry thought about everything that had led up to tonight, while the gunman roughly grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to her knees.

Search the house, Cuz! he ordered his cronies, keeping his gun trained on Blueberry.

Blueberry couldn’t believe what was happening, let alone the disgrace she had brought upon herself and the hood for slipping this way. Down on her knees, Blueberry cried hysterically, just thinking about how badly she wanted to kill all of these fools for violating her spot. Seconds later, the gunman knocked her to the floor with the butt of his gun. He kicked her so hard after that, she thought she was going to vomit her dinner all over the floor.

AAAAHHHH, BOY! FUCK IS YO’ PROBLEM, CUZ! she screamed in agony, wincing from the sudden pain that rocked her insides. Blueberry balled into a fetal position, screaming and crying, wondering why some guys dressed in blue were doing these horrible and cruel things to her. Don’t they know that I’m a LOC Ridah ‘til the day I D-I-E? she thought as the masked gunman started grilling her with a thousand questions.

Where’s that busta B.G. at, bitch? the gunman demanded, ignoring her cries and pain.

Blueberry’s brother, B.G., was what you could consider a diligent workaholic in gangbanging terms, someone who puts in major work for his set. They gangbang 24/7 – even in their sleep. B.G. had been a workaholic since the age of thirteen.

Now Blueberry knew the reason why they were doing all the bullshit to her. They were there to kill her brother. She played the dumb role, hoping her brother stayed clear of the house until the psychos left.

H-he’s not h-here, I swear! Blueberry stammered through sniffles while staring down the barrel of the 9mm.

Lying-ass Eight-Play pranksta-ass bitch! Just shut da fuck up! I should smoke yo’ ass!" he snapped as he started kicking and punching her ferociously.

Blueberry laid there, closing her eyes tight, balling up some more, hoping the nightmare would hurry up and end. If I could just get to the flowerpot where my lil .380 is stashed, I’d put some work in of my own on these bustas!

One of the gangbangers said, House clear, Cuz!

Damn, Cuz, you killed that lil ho, Cuz! the gunman’s crony said.

The other gangbanger added, Don’t kill da bitch yet, Cuz! I’m tryna fuck da lil ho, Cuz! Yeah, I wanna see what that Eight-Play pussy like! he said excitedly, causing Blueberry to experience a fear in her heart that she’d never known before.

Tears rushed out of her eyes as she anticipated the pain of being raped, defiled, and having her virginity taken before she was ready to give it away. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the gangbanger grabbed her violently by the throat and forcefully straddled her. He ripped her clothes off, smacking her violently in the process.

This is what happens to Eight-Play Pranksta families! he said through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on her neck.

Blueberry felt helpless as he ripped her panties off. All she could do was scream. Nooooo! Stop! Help meeeeeee!

Shut up, bitch! he hissed. He backhanded her and shoved a huge gun barrel inside her mouth, while his perverted homies cheered him on.

Give it to her, Cuz!

Yeah, show her what that Sixty dick’s like!

Tears continued flowing rapidly, streaming down her battered face as the gangbanger forcefully spread apart her tiny legs. He smacked her hard, and then rammed his thick dick forcefully inside her thirteen-year-young pussy, stealing her innocence and her virginity forever.

UNNNNNNGMMMMM!

Her muffled screams only excited the man as he fucked her harder and harder, tearing her little insides apart.

It seemed like it took him forever to get his thang off. Blueberry couldn’t believe that she was being raped inside her brother’s house, her second home, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. All she could think of was what they were going to do to her next.

As the gangbanger pulled out his meaty shaft and exploded all over her, Blueberry scooted away in shock and disgust at what had just happened to her. Before the other gangbangers could get a turn at the young piece of pussy, B.G. entered the house.

What the fuck! he barked. He tried to reach for his gun after witnessing the scene, but he quickly got silenced by two shots to the head. B.G.’s blood and brain fragments flew everywhere, spraying the carpet as he crumpled to the floor.

Rest in piss, Cuz! one of the gangbangers said with a cocky swagger, and then he spit on B.G.’s corpse.

Blueberry paused long enough to see her brother die right in front of her. The gangbangers were so busy basking in the fresh kill that they never saw or paid any attention to Blueberry creeping closer to the flowerpot, going for her gun. Buck-ass naked as the day she entered the world, Blueberry stood up and didn’t think twice about getting revenge. She aimed the compact handgun at the head of the guy who had just raped her and squeezed the trigger rapidly.

The gangbanger was too busy admiring his homie’s handiwork and he never saw death coming. As he fell to the floor, he never even knew why he had caught two deadly missiles to the head or who had killed him.

Blueberry took aim at the gangbanger who had killed her brother and squeezed off a few more shots, hitting him twice in the upper part of his chest. Before she could bust any more slugs, the gangbanger that had first stormed the house unleashed a barrage of deadly shots from his chunky 9mm.

Not knowing whether her peashooter had done any damage, Blueberry went down hard, feeling burning sensations in different parts of her body. As she fell to the floor from the sudden impact of gunfire, Blueberry spotted the gunman fleeing the house and she instantly knew she’d gotten one of their bad asses.

Blueberry’s eyes grew heavier from the stinging wounds and blood oozing from her small body. She started praying to God to save her life and accept her brother B.G. into Heaven, not knowing what happened to lost souls when they perished.

Blueberry tried to muster up the strength to crawl towards the front door for help, but her mind started tripping. She reflected back on her rape and the brutal murder of her brother. As she lunged forward, reaching the door, she got up on one knee.

AAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE! Her horrendous scream could have awakened the dead. People in her hood started coming from everywhere, running to her aid.

As Blueberry looked up to the sky, her body temperature started to drop and the pain became too much to bear. Suddenly, without warning, the bright world before her vision turned black…

2

GOD ANSWERED BLUEBERRY’S PRAYERS – well, at least one of them, the main one. She had survived her near-death experience four years ago. She was still the same old Blueberry, even after catching four gunshot wounds. She even looked at them as a badge of honor. She joked, laughed, played, gangbanged, and set-tripped even harder than ever before. Now she did it on a different coast altogether – somewhere way down in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

After she had healed up from the gunshot wounds, her mother Dorothy Ross sent Belinda Blueberry-LOC Ross down South to live with her aunt, Mabel Williams. Her mother wanted to get her away from the big city of Los Angeles, hoping to shelter Blueberry from the gangbanging and often dangerous lifestyle that had claimed the lives of her four sons.

Dorothy wanted a better life for her daughter and Blueberry wanted the complete opposite: the life of an 8-3 Gangsta and the streets. Whatever Blueberry set her mind to do or get, she usually accomplished it. Knowing her body had blossomed in more womanly ways that demanded attention and attracted the opposite sex, she used every inch of her 5’6", 138 pounds, curvaceous, soft, country-thick frame to get what she wanted. From clothes and money to drugs and guns, Blueberry manipulated, swindled, and deceived the young black male population of Chattanooga to help her do what she loved to do best: rep her set.

Blueberry’s Aunt Mabel had been nagging her lately about finishing high school. Aunt Mabel constantly preached, Baby, you know a black woman today is nothing without an education, so you need to get yours so you can be somebody.

Somebody told her wrong! Blueberry told herself while checking out her skimpy, dusty-blue Baby Phat outfit in her wall-size mirror and shook her apple bottom-shaped behind for emphasis.

Blueberry-Loc knew her looks and banging body could carry her as far as she wanted to go in life – not to mention the street knowledge she possessed and the homies from the Eight-Trey set that always looked out for her. However, to make her aunt happy, Blueberry decided to finish high school and give her aunt the diploma – something Mabel never got a chance to get herself. Blueberry figured that her aunt was living a second childhood through her, trying to get her to take the supposedly right paths that Mabel had avoided or missed while growing up in Tennessee.

I ain’t gon’ keep doing everything she wants me to do…shiiiiid! I’m a grown-ass woman, Blueberry thought while lacing up her Chuck Taylors. She checked out her outfit again and then headed downstairs.

Once downstairs, Blueberry caught one of her cousins sleeping on the couch. She went through his pockets with ease like an expert pickpocket, retrieving a little over $1,000. She took $300 and put the rest back. She playfully punched him in the chest, waking him up.

Bitch! he snapped, ready to fight.

You bet’ not cuss at me boy! she cut him off. You shouldn’t be sleeping like that anyhow. Anything could’ve happened and your ass up in here sleeping, she scolded playfully as she exited the house, heading out into the grungy streets of Chattanooga.

Blueberry didn’t like anyone around her falling asleep or being lackadaisical, especially after surviving the ordeal back in Los Angeles. As far as she was concerned, she never wanted to get caught slipping again, and she wanted the same for all the people close to her and the people she loved.

Heeeyyyy, Blue, bitch! Trina yelled over-joyously, smiling at her friend Blueberry as she walked over to her. I thought yo’ funky ass snuck back to Cali on me again. I been calling and calling yo’ cell phone for the past seventy-two hours. Trina balled her face up as if she was mad at Blueberry. Whaddup with that shit, kinfolk? she questioned while they embraced each other with a warm sista-girl hug.

I been busy lately, you know, working on something.

Like what? Trina interrogated, prying further. Trina suspected strongly that Blueberry was a member of one of the notorious Crip gangs that had recently flooded her once peaceful, safe, and quiet town. However, Trina couldn’t prove it because Blueberry stayed on some Secret Squirrel time.

Trina was intrigued and fascinated by the thugs and gangbangers that congregated daily outside in her projects, dressing in blue from head to toe, throwing up gang signs and C-Walking to hip hop music. Banged out and raggin’ hard was the slang term they used for their actions. Trina desperately wanted to be a part of the new fad and trend sweeping through the hood, and she figured that being friends with Blueberry would eventually be her ticket into what she considered a cool lifestyle. If she thinks she’s shining without me, she’s got another thing coming, Trina thought, watching Blueberry get irritated from the 21 questions.

Look, Tree… Blueberry sighed. I don’t be all up in your bidness when you be runnin’ around here dick teasin’ all the hom – I mean, all the studs out here! she retorted, quickly catching herself, hoping Trina didn’t catch her, even though she knew Trina rarely missed anything. Trina was nosy and sharper than a razor blade when it came to dealing with people in general.

Hold up! Hold the fuck up! You was about to say homies! Bitch, I heard you, so don’t deny it! Trina said triumphantly, batting her scotch-brown bedroom eyes at Blueberry after catching her red-handed.

Blueberry recovered well from the slip-up and said, You right, Tree, I was about to say homies, but only out of habit though because in all actuality, we share and live in the same area and they represent our hood. So yeah, Miss Thang, they’re our homies, you lil dick teaser! Blueberry playfully teased.

Fuck you, ho! Trina fired back. If these niggas ain’t got a six-figure bank roll, then they can’t do nothing for me, so they ain’t my damn homies, because I can do bad all by my motherfuckin’ self, you heard? Trina said putting her hands on her wide country hips.

Katrina Davis knew she held the status of a Tennessee bombshell, the finest they come, and she openly flaunted her beauty and sexuality to prove it. Trina had smooth copper-penny brown skin, with freckles on her face that looked like microscopic beauty marks, to go along with her fine, sandy brown, shoulder-length hair, which highlighted her China doll facial features. Standing only 5’4", Trina possessed curves, a heart-shaped ass, 32B-cup breasts, hips, and pretty, small feet that were out of this world. Trina was what you would consider a poor man’s dream and a rich man’s addiction and downfall. Men died and went to prison for life, getting caught up in the rapture of women like Trina and she knew it. Every day she thanked her older sister for showing her the power of the P-U-S-S-Y that she possessed.

Trina, get yo’ lil freak ass off my slab befo’ I make you wash my shit! Big Goose said in a playful tone.

Big Goose was a thousandaire baller on the rise around their hood. He was very cool with everybody on the west side and all over Chattanooga. Even though he wasn’t gang-affiliated, Big Goose still received the same respect and love as if he was one of the homies.

Ooooh! My bad, mane! I ain’t know this was yo’ ride, big baby! Trina lied. She had learned and knew everything there was to know about guys who were hustling and getting money in her area. It was her hustle to know who was who and to basically keep herself looking good and dressing fly at the expense of known ballers.

Yeah right, and Michael Jackson ain’t know he’s as black as you and me put together! he replied sarcastically as she slid off the hood of his charcoal grey, Mercedes Benz station wagon, with silver trimmings, sitting on 22" Dalvin spinning chrome rims. Big Goose loved stunting more than he loved making money. He’d take his last dollar and buy something extravagant, knowing damn well he couldn’t afford it, but that was just his style.

Whaddup wit’cho’ girl, Berry-Blue? Big Goose asked with a smile, revealing a mouth full of even rose gold teeth that were flooded with pink and canary yellow diamonds. Big Goose always said Blueberry’s name backwards to express his originality. He told her that by him calling her that, she’d always recognize his presence.

I don’t know, big boy. Why don’t you ask her? she replied nonchalantly, watching Trina give him a hug and whisper something in his ear.

Seeing Trina in action reminded Blueberry of how they had first met back in the day. It seemed like yesterday that she had first come to live in Tennessee.

Blueberry’s aunt lived in a row house directly behind Trina’s abode. Blueberry used to sit on her stoop, bored to death, just watching her surroundings and the little boys running back and forth to Trina’s house with candy, toys, ice cream, balloons, and anything else they could afford. They gave it to Trina with hopes of gaining her affection and friendship.

Being new to a gang and in a completely different environment, Blueberry wasn’t used to seeing non-gangbanging boys chase behind girls at such an early age. She also didn’t see girls at such a young age acting like Trina, so she immediately labeled Trina as a lil ho, because back in Los Angeles, they didn’t play like that.

Trina kept noticing how Blueberry was staring at her as if she had a problem, so Trina took to the defensive. Trina wasn’t about to let some new girl come and steal her shine as the prettiest girl in College Hill Courts, a.k.a. West Wang Projects.

Dang! Trina snapped irritably, making sure she was loud enough for Blueberry to hear her. She gave Blueberry her best head and eye roll, all the while pushing away some googly-eyed boy that was trying to get his mack on.

Dang what? Blueberry replied in an aggressive tone. She quickly stood up, mentally preparing for whatever came next.

Dang, why you all up in here…all up in here though? Trina said, framing her face with her small hands, mimicking the comedian Martin Lawrence. I mean, you act like you ain’t neva seen a girl get her swerve on before. You needs ta get some bidness and stop stepping in mines so hard! Trina said, opening her eyes wide so she could emphasize her point.

Blueberry cracked up laughing while staring at Trina’s funny, cross-eyed look.

It ain’t funny; I’m serious! Trina said, cracking a smile, taking it upon herself to invade Blueberry’s stoop without an invitation.

I can tell you serious. What’s your name, Miss Serious? Blueberry asked, a little curious about Trina because she had snapped on her off the break and was bold enough to trespass on her property. I wonder if she would’ve jumped off that bridge if she would have known I’m a Loc-ass Eight-Trey gangsta that is used to demanding respect and whipping ass if I don’t get it, Blueberry thought.

My name’s Katrina Laverne Davis, but my mens and ‘em call me Trina, why? she asked, smacking her lips loudly.

No reason. I just wanted to know who is who around here, you feel me? Blueberry stated calmly, watching the googly-eyed boy leave after being ignored and neglected. He looked sad and defeated about being swindled out of whatever valuables he had given Trina for a moment of her time.

Oh, I thought you were tryna steal my mens! Trina playfully said, pointing at all the boys running around outside playing tag, football, and having water gun fights.

Neva that, Cuz! Blueberry said, cringing at the memory of the rape. She still had nightmares about that horrible night and didn’t want to be near any boys in any type of fashion at that moment.

What’s your name? Trina asked, invading her thoughts and taking a seat next to her.

Blueberry-Loc, she answered as she scooted away from Trina.

Ugh! What kind of name is that? Trina inquired, scrunching up her face.

It’s a nickname, duh! Blueberry said in a sarcastic tone.

That caused Trina to laugh. Trina cracked up with laughter until tears fell from her oval-slanted eyes. Her laugh made Blueberry laugh, easing the tension between them.

Blueberry, do you wanna come over to my house and play on my sister’s computer? Or we can watch some videos, ‘cause she got da bomb plasma TV.

Blueberry had only come outside to get away from her silly-acting and playful cousins and her overprotective aunt, who was damn near drunk. It seemed like every time her aunt got tipsy, she wanted to shower Blueberry with hugs and alcohol-smelling kisses, claiming how happy she was to finally have another lady in the house in the midst of all her knuckle-headed sons – something Blueberry hated.

Yeah, let’s go, she agreed and she followed Trina to her house.

After chilling for hours and eating a big dinner with Trina’s mother and two older sisters, Blueberry felt the warmth coming from the total strangers. Blueberry decided not to beat Trina down for her earlier disrespect. Somehow, Trina grew on her, which was a first, because not too many girls outside the Eight-Trey gangsta set were able to get in close with Blueberry.

Plus she’s kind of cool, Blueberry thought as Trina walked her back home when it got late.

You wild, girl, you know that? I really had fun chillin’ wit’chu today, Blueberry-Loc. I’ma see you later! Trina said with a slight giggle.

No doubt! I’ma holla at you tomorrow.

Okay, I can’t wait! Maybe I’ll give you some of my mens, Trina joked, hugging Blueberry before running back up her porch.

I don’t want none of them boys, Trina! Blueberry playfully said, but she meant every word. Blueberry wanted no parts of male companionship or friendship. She made a vow to only deal with men that were down for the Eight-Trey set.

And right now, ain’t any around, Blueberry told herself, watching Trina go into her house. Blueberry waited a minute and then went into her house, feeling good about the new friend she had made in a foreign land.

From that day on, Trina and Blueberry became closer than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They were more than best friends, they were more like close sisters. Blueberry thought of how close they were, while watching Big Goose fall for Trina’s art of seduction.

You promise you gon’ call me, right? Don’t be lying, Goose! Trina whined, holding onto his 6’6", 265-pound chocolate frame. Trina looked like Mini-Me standing beside Big Goose.

Yeah, I’ma call you. Now quit sweating a playa! I’m up! he smoothly replied, letting her know that he was about to leave the scene. Big Goose concealed his admiration for Trina, turning towards Blueberry. Ay’, Berry-Blue, where’s yo’ cousins Meech and Tiny Man at? he asked in a deep country drawl accent.

Blueberry hated that and desperately tried to prevent herself from getting one,