Shop in the Name of Love (8 page)

“I know that’s right,” quips Aqua.

Dorothea is no joke. She can wheel and deal and, hopefully, she will save me from being the subject of a missing person’s report.

“You’re gonna pay for this one, Chuchie. In full,” Bubbles says, putting away the cell phone. “Your mom is
caliente
mad!”

Angie hands me a pack of tissues out of her backpack. I take one and hand it back to her. “No, keep the whole thing, ’cuz you’re gonna need ’em by the time your mother gets through with you,” Angie clucks, then unzips her backpack and takes out a sandwich. “I’m sorry, y’all, but I’m hungry. We didn’t have time to eat breakfast.”

“I hope you’re burning a good-luck money candle, Chuchie, because you’re going to need all the luck you can get,” Bubbles says, rolling her eyes at me. “Even though those candles look like a bunch of green wax to me, I don’t see any duckets dropping from the sky to save you right now!”

It’s a good thing Bubbles’s cell phone rings, because I want to crown her like a queen for being so mean to me. Bubbles pulls up the phone antenna and hops on her Miss Wiggy StarWac Phone like it is a Batphone or something. Then she says, “Hmm, hmm,” all serious—at least ten times, and keeps us waiting in suspense like a soap opera. My godmother is obviously giving her the
super ataque
, the blow-by-blow report.

When Bubbles hangs up, she lets out a sigh. “You are so lucky, Chuchie,” she says, pulling one of my braids. Then she gives us a blow-by-blow of the soap opera that is filming at Toto in New York … Fun in Diva Sizes,
madrina’s
boutique in Soho.

“Chuchie, your mom came into the store screaming so loud that Toto ran into the dressing room and scared a poor customer who was getting undressed,” Bubbles explains.

The twins laugh, but I don’t. Neither do Bubbles nor Dorinda. “We have to go to the boutique right now.
All
of us,” Galleria says.

We all look at each other and swallow hard. It’s high noon. Time for the big showdown. Ready or not, here we come!

Dorothea is yelling at a man outside the boutique when we get there. Toto in New York … Fun in Diva Sizes is a
muy famoso
boutique, and many famous divas shop there, including Jellybean Nyce, the Divas, Sista Fudge, Queen Latifah, and even Starbaby, the newscaster who wears so much gold you have to wear sunglasses when you watch her on television. Dorothea does not play hide-and-seek with all the riffraff that comes to Soho looking to pickpocket all the tourists.

“You see what the sign says? It says, ‘Toto in New York … Fun In Diva Sizes,’” Dorothea says with her hands on her hips, drilling the man, whose clothes look rumpled and crumpled. “This is a clothing store, not a toothless-men-who-love-big-women dating service, so get outta here!”

The man grins at Dorothea, then smacks his lips like he hasn’t eaten
lonchando
. Then he hobbles away with his bottle in his hand, babbling like a parrot.

“He doesn’t have any teeth,” I mumble to Bubbles.

Because the door of the store is wide open, Toto comes running out. He is probably still afraid because of all the commotion. He looks so cute and fierce in the little cheetah-print suit Bubbles made for him, and he’s as fierce as a cheetah, too! He jumps on the back of the legs of the man who has never had a visit from a tooth fairy

“Toto, come here! Don’t go running after him like he has treats for you!” Bubbles yells, then grabs Toto and carries him back inside the store, rubbing his stomach. Toto likes to get attention from anybody.

“Hi, Toto,” I say, giving him a rub, too. I love him so much. I guess I’ll never get a dog of my own now, though….

“Dag, it must be hard having a store in New York, because there are a lot of crazy people here,” Angie says.

There are a lot of people in New York who are cuckoo, but maybe not as “loco as Coco,” I think, feeling sorry for myself. I climb up the stairs and inside the store, like a prisoner going to the electric chair. There is my mom, sitting on a stool with her arms crossed in front of her, and her eyes shooting bullets at me.

Luckily, my
madrina
takes over the situation, as usual, as soon as I get inside. “Chanel, I’m going to lay out the situation for you like the latest design collection. Juanita doesn’t want you to be in the group anymore. And in many ways I don’t think you deserve to be,” my
madrina
says.

Now both my mom
and
my
madrina
, who I love so much, are ganging up on me! I haven’t eaten anything all day, and I feel really dizzy, but I don’t say anything. I just stand there.

Dorothea, wearing a dalmatian-dotted caftan, has her hands on her hips and is looking at my mom but standing over me, which makes me feel smaller than Dorinda. I know I’m not going to be a Cheetah Girl anymore. I’m so sad, I burst into tears.

“Now, I don’t think that making you leave the group is going to teach you anything, Chanel, and I know how much this means to Galleria, so we’ve worked out a solution,” Dorothea continues. “You are going to work part-time in my store and pay back every penny you charged up on Juanita’s cards, even if it takes you till you’re a very old Cheetah Girl!”

Gracias, Dios!
I say to myself. Thank goodness! My prayers have been answered! I don’t have to leave the Cheetah Girls after all!

“Thank you, Dorothea! Thank you,
Mamí
!” I gush, the tears streaming down my face. “I will pay back all the money,
te juro
—I swear! And thank you s-o-o-o much for letting me stay in the group!”

All the other girls let out a shout of sheer relief, and hug me tight. But a word from my
madrina
makes them quiet down.

“We’re not finished with you yet,
señorita
,” Dorothea says, looking at me and getting more serious. “You know, Chanel, we all love to shop. It’s fun, but it is not something you do when you are unhappy, or mad at someone, or looking for
love
, or for approval from kids in school. Love you get from your family, your friends—your mom—not Oophelia’s catalog. If you are shopping with money you don’t have—whether you are a child or a grownup—then you have a problem, and you’ve got to own up to it, and change your ways.”

Even though I don’t say anything, I nod my head so Dorothea and my mom know that I understand.

“Mom, I like that,” Bubbles says all excitedly, then whips out her notebook.

“Like what, darling?” Dorothea says, not at all amused.

“What you said about shopping for love. I’m going to write a song about this!”

“That’s nice, darling, just don’t act like you’re large and in charge with
my
credit card.”

“Yes, Mom,” Bubbles says meekly.

“Mrs. Simmons, I wanna give back the outfit Chanel bought me. Is that okay?” Do’ Re Mi asks quietly.

“No, Dorinda, you keep that. Chanel is gonna pay for it, so you might as well wear it,” Mom says.

Nobody is stupider than I am, I think to myself. Why couldn’t I be smart like Bubbles, or Dorinda? “When do I start working?” I ask.

“There’s no time like the present,” Dorothea quips, then looks at Bubbles and the rest of our crew.

“I got a Spanish quiz tomorrow, so I’d better study,” Bubbles says, then picks up Toto and gives him a kiss on his nose. “Bye, Boo-boo— you be a good boy, and help Mom chase away all the bozos!”

“Knowing Toto, I’m surprised he didn’t ask that man for a sip of wine from that bottle he was carrying!” Dorothea says, opening up the cash register.

Do’ Re Mi picks up her backpack and puts it on her munchkin shoulders, saying, “Guess he’s just tippin’ when he’s not sippin’!” She is making a joke on the Drinka Champagne’s disco song from back in the day. I can see we’re all feeling a lot better—most of all, me! Good old Dorothea—she is the best!

“It’s gonna be all right,” she tells my mom. “Don’t write Miss Cuchifrita off yet. She isn’t crazy, just lazy, but she’ll learn that duckets don’t drop from the sky. Trust me.”

They both laugh. It’s the first time I’ve seen Mom smile since we got here. But then, Dorothea could make anybody laugh. She is
tan coolio
.

“Come here, baby,” my mom says. I do, and she throws her arms around me. I hug her tight. “You know I love you so much. I’ve just got to be able to trust you, that’s all.”

“You can,
Mamí
,” I tell her, meaning it with all my heart. “I’m gonna play it straight with you from now on.” I hug her back, really tight. “And thanks for letting me stay in the Cheetah Girls.”

“I know how much it means to you, baby,” she tells me, as Dorothea and my crew look on, smiling. “After all, I’ve had dreams, too.”

She and Dorothea smile at one another, and just for a second, I can imagine them when they were our age. Young, full of dreams, and chasing
la gran fantasía
.

“I love you, too,
Mamí
,” I whisper, smiling and crying at the same time. “And from now on, you can trust me one hundred percent!”

“That’s my Miss Cuchifrita!” Dorothea says, smiling. And we all share a laugh together.

Mr. Johnson called us with good news this morning. Not only has he booked us, the Cheetah Girls, for the Amateur Hour contest at the world-famous Apollo Theatre on 125th Street, but he has talked Hal Hyena, the president of Hyena Records, into coming to see us perform!

“He says he called in a favor—’cuz we got the flava!” Bubbles types to me on the computer screen.

The Phat Planet chat room on the Internet has become my hangout, because, as Pucci so loudly announces to everybody, “
Loco Coco
is grounded!” But Aqua’s idea about forming the Cheetah Girls Council and having meetings sure comes in “handy dandy” for a grounded
señorita
like myself.

I only get to go out to go to school, to work at Dorothea’s boutique, and take classes at Drinka’s. So, of course, our meetings have to be on-line, but that’s okay. They really help.

I am not sad anymore about what happened, because I’ve learned a good lesson. I’m only sorry that I caused everybody so much trouble. I like working at the store, of course, because I love Dorothea. And slowly but surely, I’m paying back the money I owe my mom. Of course, at the rate I’m going, it’s gonna take me about a year, but like they say, I made my bed, now I’ve gotta lie down in it.

“Loco Coco is grounded,
Papí
!” I can hear Pucci on the phone with my dad in the kitchen, which is way down the hall from my bedroom.

I’m finally going to see my dad tonight, and I’m going to tell him everything. I know he must have heard the whole story by now, though, and I’m sure I’m going to get yelled at big-time.

“Do me a flava. Who’s gonna come with me to see my dad?” I type on the screen.

“I want y’all to hear the lyrics I wrote for this song,” Bubbles types, ignoring my request. “Guess what the title is?”

“‘You Think You Large ’Cuz You Charge’?” Do’ Re Mi snaps.

“Cute, but no loot, Do’ Re Mi! Anybody else want to take a crack at my new song attack?”

I have a title idea, so I type it in: “’Chanel Ain’t So Swell’?”

“That was true when you broke one of our sacred commandments, but now it isn’t, because you’re working for the ‘Benjamins.’ Give up yet?”

“What’s the sacred commandment, anyway?” Do’ Re Mi types.

At least somebody had the nerve to ask.

“Um, let’s see,” Bubbles types in. I can just see her making up a snap on her feet. “’You can only do so much fibbing to your friends who’ve seen you in your spotted pj’s before you’re so far backed up in a corner, you come out boxing like a cuckoo kangaroo’? How’s that?”

“Galleria, you’re a mess!!!!” Angie types in. “But that is the truth you’re preaching, because the Lord don’t like lies.”

“Or flies!” Do’ Re Mi types in.

Oh, just what I need—for the gospel hour to begin. When Aqua and Angie get started, you never know when it’s going to end.

Bubbles isn’t having it, though. “Okay, back to name that tune? Y’all give up yet?”

“Yes!” we all type one by one.

“It’s called, ‘Shop in the Name of Love,’” Bubbles types.

Leave it to Bubbles. Nobody is better with words than she is.

“Come on, Bubbles, let’s see the Cheetah-licious lyrics!”

“Not now, brown cows. I want Mr. Johnson to hear it first when we go to the studio again. Maybe he and Pumpmaster Pooch will let us record it for our demo tape!”

“What time do we have to be at the studio?” Do’ Re Mi asks. “Mrs. Bosco has got to go down to the agency with Twinkie, another one of her foster kids, so I’m on baby-sitting duty.”

“We have to be there by ten o’clock,” Angie responds.

Basta.
Enough. I need help here, and nobody’s paying any attention. “Listen, I feel like a
holograma
because no one is answering me! I have to go my dad’s store tonight—who’s gonna come with me?” I type, hoping Bubbles will take the steak bait. She loves my dad’s Shake-a-Steak sandwich.

“We’ll go with you,” Angie types.

“I’ll come, too, but I gotta drop Toto off to Dr. Bowser, the doggie dentist, first,” Bubbles types.

“Maybe if you didn’t give him so much Double Dutch Rocco Choco ice cream he wouldn’t have to go to the dentist,” I type. I mean, Toto eats too many treats.

“I’m gonna let you slide the read ride this time, Chuchie, since you are seriously grounded, but we’ll be there to back you up,” says Bubbles.

“Está bien!”
I type back. That’s my crew for you. Always down for the ‘do. And not just hairdos either.

We are really pouting on the way to my dad’s store. It’s a good thing we’ve still got Amateur Hour at the Apollo Theatre coming up, because our session at the studio did not go well at all. If the song Pumpmaster Pooch and Mr. Johnson had us singing the first time was
la wacka
, you had to hear the one he gave us the second time around.

“It was called ‘Can I Get a Burp?’” Bubbles moaned as soon as she read the title. “What are we now, cows? she asked. “I don’t think these guys get our image, and I’m not going out like that. Did you hear how they responded to my ‘Shop in the Name of Love’ lyrics?”