Bregoli crouched down to get level with her crowd: “What’s up, all my Santa Ana sluts?” The crowd declared its allegiance, but not for long enough; her discography was still only 20 minutes end to end. She made some efforts to extend her presence visually. A screen played a reel of nonmusical hits: clips of recent TMZ coverage, footage from the infamous Spirit Airlines fight. She performed covers (of Lil Pump, of Kodak Black) and chose a fan to bring onstage (the brace-faced “Julie from East L.A.”). She played a game of call and response: “How many of you hate these fake-ass bitches?” The audience reached an expedient consensus. She flipped her ponytail and paused for a breath. In the moment of quiet, one man tried his luck: “CASH ME OUTSIDE HOWBOUDAH?”
The room fell silent. The man had transgressed an unspoken taboo. He should have known better than to shout at a girl whose only proven talent was firing back.