Shop in the Name of Love by Deborah Gregory Read Free Book Online Page A

feet tall. I wish
I
was that tall.
    At last, the huggy bear twins have arrived!
    “You know the Cheetah Girls rule: don’t be late or we’ll gaspitate!” Bubbles says, warning the twins as they hurriedly throw their cheetah backpacks on an empty chair in the studio.
    “Dag on, y’all, just when we think we know how to get somewhere, they change the subway line on us!” Aqua laments, fixing her pin curl in place. Aquanette and Anginette still haven’t learned their way around the Big Apple yet.
    “You’re ‘Westies’ now like me, so you’d better get with the IRT program,” Do’ Re Mi grunts. She lives on 116th, on the Upper West Side, and last summer, the twins moved from sunny Houston to 96th Street and Riverside Drive.
    Like mine, their parents are “dee-vorced” (as Angie says in her Southern drawl), and the twins live with their dad. He must be kinda cool, ’cuz he pays for them to go to the beauty parlor twice a month to get their hair
and
nails done. I think they should pay me instead because I would give them
la dopa
hairstyles instead of the “shellac attack” curls they like so much. Sometimes less is more!
    Today, the twins are wearing makeup, so they look kinda cute. Aqua and Angie are
café sin leche
color, and they love that white frost lipstick on their big, juicy lips. They are screaming for a Miss Wiggy! virtual makeover.
    Mr. Johnson and Dorothea come back into the room. His beeper goes off, and he looks at it nervously. “I got a situation I gotta take care of,” he says. “That is Mr. Hyena—I told you about him—he is the Big Willy at Hyena Records. Mrs. Garibaldi, Kew will look after you. And Pooch will get with you girls when he gets through,” Mr. Johnson adds chuckling, never too nervous to get a rhyme out.
    Pumpmaster Pooch is in the other room on his cell phone. We can see him through the big glass partition. He waves at us with his five-carat fingers. I mean, he is wearing enough gold rings to start a gold mine. Kew is busy fiddling with the keyboard, so the five of us sit and watch the music videos on MTV, which are playing on one of the monitors over our heads.
    “
Ay, Dios mío
, Krusher’s latest music video!” I whisper.
    Dorothea goes into the room with Pumpmaster Pooch, so we relax a little. I feel so nervous!
    “Krusher’s got it going on,” Do’ Re Mi says, looking up at the monitor and grooving to Krusher’s new single, “My Way or the Highway.”
    “Look at Chanel getting all goo-goo-eyed!” Do’ Re Mi says.
    “I’m saving my first kiss for him,” I giggle to my crew.
    “You better hope it ain’t the first ‘dis!’” Do’ Re Mi sighs.
    “Oh,
cállate la boca, Mamacita.
Be quiet.” I sigh, then hum aloud,
“Yo tengo un coco
on Crusher.”
    “What’s that mean?” Do’ Re Mi asks, smirking and squinting her eyes.
    “Look it up!” I heckle. “I’m just playing with you, Dor-r-r-inda,
Mamí
,” I say rolling my Rs like I’m on a choo-choo train. “You won’t find it in
el diccionario
. It means I have a crush on Krusher.”
    “Coco is cuckoo for Krusher,” Bubbles heck-les, making a play on my middle name.
    “Watch out, Chuchie, this may be your last dance, last chance,” Bubbles says, pointing her finger excitedly at the monitor.
    The Krusher music video has ended, and now there is a commercial for a Krusher contest. “Are you the lucky girl who will win an all-expenses-paid date with R&B’s hottest singer, and spend two fun-filled days and nights with Krusher in sunny Miami? What are you waiting for? Call 900-KRUSHER right now!”
    “
Ay, Dios mío
! I’m gonna enter,” I squeal, jumping up and down.
    “Okay, Cuckoo Coco, get over it, because here comes the man,” whispers Do’ Re Mi, secretly pointing to Pooch, who is on the move toward us.
    “Ladies, ladies, I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Pumpmaster Pooch says, rushing into the engineer’s booth. He has on dark sunglasses and a hat, and a black windbreaker. I