I Have Questions

one

A bright beam of light whizzed around Lydia Martinez's face as she slept, going and going, left, then right and into frenzied circles until she finally stirred, swatting the glittery purple flashlight away with as much sleepy fierceness as she could muster.
"Mom, go away. I want to sleep!"
Lydia grumbled and turned over, but the flashlight followed her and whizzed around some more, up, down, left, and some more circles

A friendly female voice spoke.
"Not your mom, silly. You're not in Brooklyn anymore, remember?"
Lydia's eyes flew open as if she was a dead person returned to life in a horror movie, staring at the ceiling as the memories of the past 48 hours came back to her.
"I don't know who you are, but first of all, I'm from the Bronx."

"Okay then, Bronx chick. Welcome to Los Angeles, baby! My name's Chloe Kelly, if you don't quite know. Take a shower and get dressed, unpack and whatever else you feel like doing, you got an interesting day ahead of you, girl. I'm in the room next door if you need anything."

Lydia turned her eyes towards the tall blonde girl just as she turned to leave, and thought about saying something, but decided against it, and instead just observed her high heels (Prada, maybe?) as she exited the hotel suite and closed the door behind her.

Forcing her body to roll out of bed, Lydia sent a blast text to her friends and family, then took one look in the vanity mirror to her left, nearly gagging at her sleep ridden brown eyes and untamed black hair.
"Jesus Christ, I look like the shit emoji.."
She mumbled to herself, unzipping her suitcase and removing all her clothes from them as she recalled all the events that brought her thousands of miles away from her hometown in New York to the City of Angels.

Only two days ago, she was window shopping in Macy's, singing  'The Way' and daydreaming of buying the diamond and sapphire necklace that sat before her in glass casing, not to mention completely unaware that the assistant manager to Def Jam Records was about five feet away from her, searching for a chocolate diamond bracelet for his only daughter, Chloe, while on a break from a buissness trip.

He introduced himself just before she walked away to the next set of jewels, and they exchanged numbers. Within a few hours the man was sure she was a star, and it certainly didn't take long to convince her mother to let her fly out to Los Angeles - Lydia had two rambunctious, 12 year old twin siblings and an adult brother who filled up her mother's schedule, and although Lydia's mom loved her very much, it seemed like a good idea to have 17 year old Lydia off her hands for a little while.

So the morning after that, an unusually excited Lydia was packed up, suitcase full of bootleg Purpose Tour merch, put on a first class flight from JFK Airport to Los Angeles, California, then put into a luxury hotel, paid for by that same man, who by then Lydia learned was Thomas Kelly.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Lydia hopped into the shower before picking out some clothes. Looking through all of her shirts - mostly Aeropostale and Victoria's Secret - she wondered how long she'd be in this new city that she'd heard so much of, and if she'd fit in like a puzzle piece or stand out like a sore thumb.

What were the California girls like? Were they stuck up, like the snobby high school chicks she'd seen in movies? Chloe seemed nice, but that didn't mean much - she wasn't representing all of Los Angeles, and even then, Lydia had only "known" her for a few minutes. And what about the boys? That didn't really matter to her, since the boys back home in New York were, for the most part, rough and disrespectful at times.

Above all, though, was the fear that the Latin culture she loved and was used to, would be looked at as weird or not exactly on trend - California wasn't exactly known for it's booming latin trap and reggaeton scenes. Sure, latin superstars like Ozuna and Bad Bunny flew in and out of California like clockwork for massive award show performances and tour stops, but did they go around blasting trap music via portable speaker afterwards, in public and in the stores they visited, the way Lydia and her friends did in New York?