Fleiss, perhaps more sympathetic to the women contestants, had told me that beauty pageants were innately cruel.
“I hate to see people’s feelings hurt,” she had said. Her favorite line of inquiry turned out to be, “Two questions: What’s your favorite book and who is your favorite boxer?”
“I don’t have a favorite book,” answered a Shakira look-alike named Lissa. “Maybe Grapes of Wrath,” replied Aurora. “Or Macbeth— that was pretty good too.”
It became the kind of day loved by people who love to hate L.A., although it never turned into a battle of the blonds.
“The dark hair did it for me,” Sawyer said after giving a high grade to a self-effacing brunette named Devon. “Nice rack and a fine butt.”
Fleiss concurred: “I see nothing but dollar signs in this girl’s future.”
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