The Come Up

Chapter 45 - California

After what seems like forever, we arrive at LAX or Los Angeles International Airport. Upon exiting the airport with our bags, Trisha and I are greeted by a bald man in a black suit, holding up my name. We walk towards him and he extends his hand, first to me then to Trish. 

"Ms. Chanel." He says grasping my hand firmly. 

"And friend." He finishes, grasping Trisha's hand. 

"Trisha." She corrects. 

"Ms. Trisha." He smiles. "Please follow me. 

We do as told and as a few cameras come out from the younger people surrounding us, we exit without anyone stopping us for pictures. I heard a lot of the whispering, though. I guess I was pretty known in Cali, a little more than I thought. The car waiting for us outside is a sleek black limo. But that isn't what surprised me. What surprised me was that I completely forgot that I was no longer inside the airport. 

The climate was so perfectly comfortable. I breathed in deeply as the driver opened the door. 

Trisha and I climb in and we are soon on our way to the Hilton's hotel with the pool that I bet Trisha couldn't wait to get in. 

"Gimme your phone, you haven't been snapping enough. You're going to lose followers." Trisha says searching through my handbag. 

She finds it and quickly types in my password. I shake my head unaware that she even knew it but then remember that she is actually the one that put the password on for me. In seconds there is a bright flash in my face. I squint and put my hand up. 

"Trisha! Are you trying to blind me?" I yell at her. 

The light goes off and I can barely see but I imagine a glare on her face.

"We gon try that again and you're gonna act like you've experienced flash before." She retorts. 

I giggle and pose stupidly as the flash hits me. 

She laughs and moves the camera closer to my face. 

"What's up y'all we just touched down in Cali! We outcheaaa! Can't wait to see you." I say chill but still excited. 

The flash is gone and I hear my voice playing over and over as Trish messes with different filters. She adds the Cali geotag that says LAX right across the screen. 

After posting it, Trish turns the camera and takes a selfie. She captions it ''Looking for a papi in Cali" and posts. 

"You better stop playin, you know they will find your cellphone number and start hitting you up. They savages. 

Trisha giggles and checks her phone. I watch as she receives dozens of friend requests immediately on instagram. The requests are moving so fast that the phone can barely keep up with them.

"Holy shit." She squeaks. "That worked?" 

"How did they even find you so fast?" I question. 

"Because I posted a pic of us the other day and tagged myself. I now have 12k followers, just for knowing you, which I find insane. 

"How many do I have on instagram now?" I ask scooting closer to see. 

"700k." She chirps in disbelief. 

"Girl you odee poppin. You should probably start communicating with them more though, or at least start tweeting. You haven't used your twitter more than once since I made it for you. 

I lean back in my seat and fan her off. "All that social media shit is confusing. I don't even know how to work twitter." 

Trisha sighs loudly and the car goes quiet. The radio is low but I can hear a familiar piano echoing through. I listen closely before Devin's chords pick up and soft drums tap behind it. Nothing without you.