Shop in the Name of Love Read Online Free Page B

with the
nada
than the Prada— but that is all gonna change with one phone call!
    As I flip through the catalog, looking at all the dozens of things I’m longing to own, I hum to myself, “Oooh, Oophelia’s! I’m feeling ya!”

Chapter
3
    I have never held Mom’s credit card in my hot little hands before. Never. And now, the hologram on its face seems to wink at me, casting a witch’s spell over me. I dial the 800 number and follow the computer instructions, punching in numbers here and there until I get to speak to a real-live person.
    Meanwhile, I am thinking about poor Dorinda. She must feel so down about not being able to keep the duckets from our gig. It’s so unfair that she had to give the money to her foster mom. My heart goes out to her. Surely, my mom wouldn’t want us to lose out on making a deal with Mr. Johnson just because Do’ Re Mi came dressed in rags!
    I decide then and there to make one tiny little exception to Mom’s rule. After all, she said I couldn’t buy anything else—but that meant
for me
, didn’t it? When the operator picks up, I order two of the green leopard outfits—one in my size, and one in Dorinda’s. I give the credit card number to the lady on the phone, and as I do, my gaze wanders to the pages of the catalog. So many other great things, things I’ve always wanted, and will never have another chance to get …
    What would it hurt to borrow just a little of Mom’s credit to stock up on stuff? When we sign with Mr. Johnson, it will be no time till we’re making big duckets from gigs, maybe even a record deal! I can pay my mom back before she even knows I’ve spent the money!
    “Will that be all, ma’am?” the voice asks me.
    “Uh … no,” I hear myself say “No … just one or two more things …”
    Do’ Re Mi looks so “money” in the new outfit I bought her. And on top of that, Bubbles’s mom, who is my
madrina
—my godmother— since birth (and the best godmother in the whole world) made
her
a green leopard pantsuit to match ours for our meeting with Mr. Johnson!
    Aqua is wearing a black-and-white-checked blazer with a red shirt and black skirt. Angie has on a denim suit with a hot pink turtleneck.
    “At least they don’t look like they’re going to church,” Bubbles giggles to me, sneaking a look in the mirror that covers one whole wall of the Hydrant Restaurant on Fifteenth Street, where we are meeting Mr. Johnson.
    When we first tried to tell Angie and Aqua what to wear for the meeting, Aqua got all huffy and said, “
We
are saving
our
money to go home to Houston for Thanksgiving!” The twins are headed south for the holidays—in more ways than one!
    “I feel so large and in charge, I’m loving it— and you all, too!” Bubbles says. “That was so nice of Auntie Juanita to let you buy Do’ Re Mi a pantsuit, too, Chuchie!”
    Okay, so I told Bubbles a little fib-eroni. I didn’t want her to think that I did … well, what I actually did. I’ll have to straighten her out soon, though, before she opens her
boca grande
—her big mouth—and spills the refried beans to my mom.
    The table is covered with a bright red linen tablecloth, and six red linen napkins placed perfectly apart. Right in the middle of the round table is a big glass vase with lots of pink roses, my favorite
flores
.
    “You nervous?” I ask Do’ Re Mi, then I add giggling, “I feel like I’m at a seance and the table is gonna lift up any second!”
    Mr. Johnson has gone to check our jackets. Yes, we have it like that. There is a waiter dressed in white, standing near our table. He smiles at me when I look in his direction.
    “Somebody pinch me, pleez, so I can wake up!” I giggle, then look around at all the people who are having lunch at the Hydrant. I take the book of matches with the name of the restaurant out of the ashtray, and stick it in my cheetah backpack for a souvenir. All around us are grown-ups, and they are all dressed
adobo down
. The lady at the table