______prologue________
A warm breeze sailed through the September air as Amber walked into the front door of the Charles Townsed Agency. She walked past the receptionist's desk and straight into the conference room. There, sitting on the couch, were her two comrades, Candice and Christy. As soon as Amber seated herself beside the two of them, a voice came from over an intercom set on a desk.
"Good morning Angels."
"Good morning Charlie," the girls replied, their voiced synchronized.
"So, what's our next mission?" Candice asked, pulling out a stick of gum out of her pocket. "What do we have to do to save the world this time?"
Over the intercom the girls heard the sound of Charlie laughing. "Well Candice, this case involves international pop stars."
Christy smiled. "Ooh, should be interesting." She leaned forward, anticipating the assignment.
"Do tell us what we have to do," Amber insisted. "They'd better be fine," she said to the other two girls. Candice snickered.
"Take, for your consideration, Justin Timberlake and Lance Bass of *NSYNC, and Howie Dorough of the Backstreet Boys. All three are in groups that have wide fan bases, and all three--along with their fellow bandmates--were at one time controlled by Lou Pearlman, CEO of Transcontinental Records."
"So, what's the dilly?" Candice asked, a slightly "ghetto" tone overtaking her voice. Amber and Christy rolled their eyes. "Is this Pearlman guy out to get those guys?"
"Basically, yes," Charlie continued. "Due to the fact that both Backstreet and *NSYNC are now estranged from their formerly controlling manager and doing just fine on their own, Mr. Pearlman is set on getting revenge on former members of his most successful groups."
Christy nodded. "Figures."
"So, basically our mission is to find out what Pearlman's sinister plan is and to stop it before he causes harm to the aforementioned members of the groups," Amber stated.
"In a word, yes," Charlie responded.
"I object," Candice said. "That was four words."
"No need to get smart, Candice. You must also retrieve each member from their homes and bring them back here. We must ensue their safety at all times. We have no idea what kinds of tricks that Pearlman has up his sleeves."
"And very large sleeves they are, sir," Christy remarked, looking at a photograph of their suspect. She passed the photos along to Amber and Candice, keeping a picture of the blonde, green-eyed man. "I'll get him."
Candice picked a picture and studied it. "I get the Backstreet Boy. Whooee, that man is a walking, breathing orgasm waiting to happen. Whaaat?" she inquired as her partners stared at her after making that remark.
"CE... I didn't need to know that," Amber said.
Christy sighed. "Hell... none of us needed to know that."
"Personal issues aside, you must hurry girls. Bosley has the locations of Mr. Bass, Mr. Dorough, and Mr. Timberlake. Good luck Angels," Charlie said.
The three got up and headed out. "This is gonna be a fun assignment!" Amber said. "We're rescuing international heartthrobs--and they ain't that bad lookin' either."
Candice nodded. "Amen sista. But do me a favor and remind Justin that he's white."
The other two girls laughed. "Who's taking what car?" Christy asked.
"I get the BMW," Candice said, stopping to retrieve the car's keys from a hidden compartment in the costume room. "What're y'all gonna drive?"
Christy rummaged through a pile of "waitress" outfits, then looked up. "I'll take the Porsche."
"Heads!" Candice tossed the keyring at her.
"I've got the Mustang," Amber replied. "Keys, please?"
Candice held the keys to the Mustang in the palm of her hand. "Take care of my baby," she said, feigning tears.
"You're not funny. Now give me the keys or I'll cap yo ass."
The keys sailed through the air, and they glittered iridescently in the light of the room and fell into Amber's hands. "Thank you."
"Welcome!" Candice threw the rest of her costume into a black bag. "Ready to go, Angels?"
"Ready," Christy said, shoving the rest of her clothes into her bag.
"Ditto," Amber replied.
"Then let's hit the road. We gots boys to rescue!"