Ascending from the glitter of Hollywood, Lola navigated Richard’s convertible up Laurel Canyon, then right onto Mulholland, where the winding ridge road seemed to magically levitate her and Richard above the city’s smog. Lola loved this teeming city; it was so exotic, so monstrous, so unlike Kansas City. And she didn’t mind the hairpin turns on Mulholland at all—especially in the daylight. In fact, she took pleasure in them--accelerating through one so recklessly that it caused Richard to scream, “Jeeez Lola, what are you trying to do, kill us?" Lola smiled, but not at Richard’s sudden fear. No, she was smiling now at her recollection of something the painter, Gaugin, had written: “The ugly may be beautiful, the pretty never.”
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