Five minutes later we stood in a straight line as an obviously homosexual man paced back and forth in front of us, stopping to size each one of us up individually. He would occasionally take notes, both mentally and literally on a small notepad he held in his hand. “Five very different looking young ladies of various shapes and sizes--that’s good,” Stuart thought to himself. He was a little disappointed in our hair colors though. He studied each of them and observed various shades of brown. Emily and Christina sported hair that was almost identical in color and texture: light brown and curly. Emily’s was long and thicker, while Christina’s was cut into a bob and a bit wispier. Melissa and Cassie both had hair that was dark brown, straight, and shoulder-length: Cassie’s with bangs and a hint of red while Melissa’s was more of a chestnut color. Amelia had heavy, thick, and silky dark brown hair that fell down her back and almost to her behind. It was beautiful, but would be a sweaty mess after one high tempo song and dance number. “Well ladies, I guess it’s true what they say about Kentucky-- fast horses and beautiful women.” We all rolled our eyes and glanced at each other. “Or was it the other way around? Beautiful horses and fast women?” He laughed to himself as we shared a collective sigh. We’d all heard that one a million times. “Nah...you five are a little too ‘virginal’. They like that in the bubble gum pop industry. Hmmm...” He placed his spread fingers together and eyes us all. “Who’s willing to go blonde?”

“Emily was blonde as a kid,” Mel offered up, giving me a slight push forward. I put my hands on my hips and turned to glare at her.

“I’ll go for highlights, but just a couple shades lighter.” I crossed my arms defiantly.

“That could work. Are you opposed to extensions?”

**********************************************************************************

Exactly 28 days later, I found found myself in the green room of a huge London arena. I stood in front of a large mirror with my hands on my hips and studied myself. Stuart was a magical man. I had given in to the highlights that now adorned my long hair with dark golden streaks. My hair was parted on the far left side and pinned behind my ear curling neatly into long ringlets mixed with extensions that cascaded around my face and shoulders and down my back. My eyes were lined with a shimmery navy-blue liner and my lips were painted in a subtle red that I was pretty sure was going to take several scrubs to get off. I wore a royal blue sequined tube top that fell just above my belly button. I’d been horrified two weeks ago when Stuart thrust it at me to try on, but weeks of dance practice had sculpted my stomach and I had to admit that it didn’t look bad. I just prayed that the strapless bra and double-sided tape we’d strategically placed was going to hold up.

I heard a high-pitched whistle behind me and jerked my head around to look over my shoulder. “Lookin’ good, Em.” Howie Dorough leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his muscular chest and one ankle crossed over the other. We met on the plane and became fast friends.

“Guess we’re seat buddies.” He glanced down at his first-class ticket, tucked away his carry-on, and plopped down into the seat beside me. “I’m Howie,” he held out his hand for me to shake it.

“I know,” I said as I nervously stuck my hand out. He raised both eyebrows. “I mean, um...hi I’m Emily.” He laughed, then proceeded to engage me in conversation for the duration of the 10 hour flight from Orlando International to Heathrow Airport.  He was definitely a talker...and a charmer.

“I’m gonna fall on my ass in these things,” Amelia pushed past Howie and marched into the green room with both fists on her hips. She stopped beside me and we examined each other in the mirror

“Stuart’s pretty magical, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She frowned and crossed her arms. “I still think I’m gonna fall on my ass.”

In the background, AJ stopped in the doorway unnoticed. He slung his elbow around Howie’s neck and took in the sight before him. Amelia wore a strapless sequined dress that was a couple shades darker than mine and skimmed over her curves, stopping mid-thigh. Her hair was stick-straight with the front pinned back off her face, making a little “bump” on the top of her head, then falling down her back and stopping neatly at her waist. His eyes followed the line of her legs down to her sculpted calves then stopped on a pair of black strappy sandals with he’d guess about 3 inch heels. “Yep, she’s gonna fall on her ass,” he thought to himself.

“Pick your tongue up off the floor, man,” Howie jested, poking his elbow into AJ’s ribs.

“You’re not going to fall on your ass,” I insisted. “Those shoes are made for dancing. I wore them in show choir for years.”

“Ha! Funny how the one used to singing and dancing in a dress and heels gets to wear pants and tennis shoes. I’m fat. Pants would be nice.”

“You’re not fat!” AJ’s raspy voice rang out from behind us. “Curvy...yes. Voluptuous...yes.” He entered the room and pulled his sunglasses down on his nose.. “Sexy as hell...oh yeah.”

Amelia blushed and turned to face him. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Our first performance went off without a hitch and we’d been relatively well-received by the European fans, who were a bit crazy by our standards and probably a little jealous of the five young women who were touring alongside their idols. However, management told us they compared us to the Spice Girls, who had been huge there for years, so that was definitely a plus for us. We weren’t so sure about being called the “next Spice Girls,” but if it got our feet in the door of the music world, it would work for the moment. The ten performers and six bodyguards (one for each of the Backstreet Boys and one for the five ladies) all went out to a club afterwards to celebrate opening night.