Beautiful Deterrent Cannot Be Believed

Weaponized beauty saves lives.

Photo by Anastasia Vityukova on Unsplash

“What is it that you’re pitching today, sweetheart?” The middle-aged woman flicked a crochet hook through a preposterously long scarf, scanning the green room, and gazing into Alyssa’s eyes.

“Beauty products,” said Alyssa. She beamed her blinding white pageant smile and nodded at her bulging tote. “How about you?”

“Skin care line for women over….of a certain age. It’s not all wrinkles and you’re dead!” Her mouth tightened disapproval as she surveyed Alyssa’s stilettos, bare legs, and black minidress.

“No, of course not. Unless, of course, you’re in the beauty pageant business, in which case you’re pretty much done by the time you’re 26.”

“How about that?”

The woman focused on a ten-year-old boy sneaking treats to a beagle.

“What are you pitching today, son?” Her voice singsong light, she held out a candy bar to the boy.

“Dog walking invention,” said the boy, nudging his father. “Is it okay for me to talk to other bunnies?”

His father grunted at his phone and put it in his pocket. “What’s that, Jimmy?”

“Can I talk to the bunnies?”

The man scanned the others perched on shabby couches. His eyes landed on Alyssa and lingered.

“Never call a woman a bunny, son,” he said in a firm, deep tone. “She has the same right to be here as you do — as long as she doesn’t take any of your investors!” He laughed as if joking.

The middle-aged woman patted Alyssa’s knee. “Don’t you listen to them, sweetheart. They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“As we used to say in pageant world, people see what they expect to see.” Alyssa assured the woman, patting her leg.

The room quieted when Alyssa cleared her throat. “The child has the right idea about what we are, only the proper term when you’re pitching your business proposition on Screaming Eagles is rabbit. The investors are the eagles and we are the rabbits.” Alyssa blazed her trademark smile at the room, pulled out a platinum ultrabook, and tapped the screen.

The beagle escaped the man’s tight hold and vaulted across the room to Alyssa. The little boy chased him and grabbed his collar.

“You sure are pretty,” said the little boy. “No offense.” He shifted his feet awkwardly.

“None taken,” said Alyssa. “You’re very pretty, too.”

“What are you here for? I’m pitching my doggy walker treadmill.”

“Kirk, please stop bothering the pretty lady and get back over here. We need to go over the financials one last time.” The man wiggled his fingers at his son and leered at Alyssa.

Alyssa was the last rabbit summoned to pitch her business proposition.

She checked her lipstick, tossed her mane over her shoulders, and sashayed out onto the set, laughing at the wild applause. As she headed for the rabbit’s X spike on the black floor, she waved both hands to the studio audience, pointing to a few people as if she knew them. Once on her mark, she took a deep breath and beamed a warm hello to the eagles.

“You have a huge fan club,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Too bad your body isn’t for sale.”

“Shut up, Kyle. I want to hear what she has to say,” Bonnie sat up taller and smiled encouragement at Alyssa.

“It says here that your name is Alyssa Murray? That can’t be right. Unless…you’re the identical twin to Erin Rose Murray? And didn’t you wind up in the final four in last season’s The Bachelor?” Jack steepled his fingers, looked peeved and perplexed. “Who are you?”

Alyssa explained that her beauty pageant name was Erin Rose. At her first beauty contest when she was four, she’d forgotten her name in the bright lights and high pressure and blurted out her aunt’s name. She’d walked off The Bachelor when the producers changed the rules.

“So, what do you have for us?” Lauren rocked in her chair, impatient to bolt for dinner with her husband.

“Empowerment,” said Alyssa. Her smile wavered for a millisecond, returned with megawatt power.

The eagles laughed, leaned back in their chairs to murmur to one another.

“And your bio says that you’ve been a professional beauty pageant contender for….um, your whole life?” Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “And somehow, somewhere, you managed to earn a degree in chemistry from Stanford? How, pray tell, did you manage that?”

“Empowerment,” said Alyssa. “Improvisation. Resilience.” She raised her tote as if it weighed nothing. “May I approach the nest?”

“Absolutely,” Kyle sniggered.

“Stanford? And that’s where you got the idea for your business? Did you work with the innovation lab?” Bonnie nodded approval.

“Stanford is where I earned my degree. I learned empowerment, improvisation, and resilience in pageants. Pageants are a tough business and you never know what’s going to happen next. Your best efforts might win a contest today, but tomorrow, someone beats you. You come up with another approach. No matter what, you keep going, smiling for all you’re worth, and learning all the time.”

“My business idea comes out of the pageant world. See, when you’re in that world, it is incredibly tight, supportive, and protective. So, when I made a stupid mistake with my hair spray near my friend’s lighter, I set the dressing room on fire. You know, aerosol meets flame and makes torch? All the others knew it was an accident and we put out the fire, but that didn’t matter.”

“The pageant authorities had me banned from further competition. Every single woman in that room testified that it was an accident, but the management committee didn’t care. They said things like ‘liability insurance’ and ‘unstable personality’ and other lies, forgetting that I am a major draw in every market, every demographic, a spokeswoman for key brands….Well, their loss is the rest of the world’s gain.”

“So, here’s my idea — and you’ll understand why I led with that seemingly off-point set-up.”

“As I said, the pageant business is a business — and it looks after its own. When I was kicked out, I was suddenly vulnerable, alone, and unprotected.” Alyssa’s lips quirked into a sly grin. “That’s not entirely true, of course. My special talent is martial arts. I’m black belt in karate, judo, taekwando, and aikido.”

“One night I was walking home from class when I spotted a young woman walking too fast up the middle of a dark street. She was hunched, afraid, looking over her shoulder at nothing. Her fear galvanized me. All of us, woman or man, young or old, need to be able to take care of ourselves in the world, so we are unafraid to go where we want to go and do what we want to do.”

“Empowered Beauty is a whole-person beauty proposition.”

“I’m in,” said Bill.

“I’ve heard enough blather. Can we cut to the financials?” Kyle rolled his eyes, waved his hand.

“Thank you, Bill. I will make sure you get a spectacular return on your faith in my idea. Kyle, the financials are summarized on page 24.” Alyssa handed a thick document to each eagle.

“I worked with chemists, engineers, and AI experts to perfect weaponized beauty products. Aerosol cans of hair spray, mousse, roots touch-up work for appearance as well as personal safety. Foundation, spray tan, moisturizer, and other skin products are in beta testing. All of the products work on the same principles and with the same easy operation. The user presses small buttons in a particular sequence and the product shoots flame. Otherwise, the can is simply superior quality personal product. The idea is to surprise the assailant and flee the situation. The element of surprise is key. No one expects a beautiful woman — or man — to wield a weapon when all you see is how they look. There is no need for confrontation beyond that. In our live tests, assailants fled and there was no escalation of violence.”

Lauren finished flipping through the financials. “I’m in. But, please, go on.”

“Thank you,” said Alyssa. “I’ve written a book about the pageant life that segues into this business proposition and the manuscript is currently under negotiation with several big Five publishers. The products have been vetted by exceptionally tough user groups of men, women, all ages. Test markets have been conducted across the United States to record-breaking results. Our marketing and messaging have been perfected through social media and on-the-street demonstrations.”

Jack ran his hands over his balding head, wiping off the matte make-up. “I’m in, too.”

“But that’s not all,” said Alyssa. “Beyond the book publishing and the launch tour, we’re booked on every major morning show and drive time radio program.”

“I’m in,” said Bonnie. “You all know how I love to drive! And beauty works for me, every time, and you know what, people, dang if that strategy doesn’t make me even more obscenely rich!”

Alyssa talked faster, wringing her hands as she came to the end of the pitch.

“Empowered Beauty is a social movement. We offer the products themselves, the basic ones I’ve got right here. And then there is a tier up where our customer can attend workshops in essential skills such as presentation and reading body language. In the tier above that one, I coach individuals in small groups.”

“Naturally, there is another higher tier where you work with a person one-on-one?” Kyle rocked in his seat, Cheshire cat grin displaying crooked teeth.

“There is always the potential to adjust our proposition,” said Alyssa. “Right now, we’re focused on the everyday individual. While our products are nothing new, the way that they are built into the life of a person, into truly empowering them, is our point of difference versus the thousands of piecemeal possibilities.”

“One arm of the enterprise that is gaining traction is merchandising. There, we offer responsibly created apparel and goods. We cannot keep our slogan artwork in stock: You can always rely on yourself and Beauty does not lie — unless it wants to.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Still working on getting those right.”

“What’s this line about franchising?” Kyle sneered.

“Our workshops are robust. We have drawn upon our resources and created an ongoing, sustainable service business. We’re besieged with requests to get in on the first offering.”

“Who is this ‘we’ you keep on saying? Is that your miss congeniality win shining through?”

“We is my management staff, my board, and our advisors.”

“Who are?”

“From diverse industries and areas of brilliance: scientists, business operations and supply chain professionals, musicians, Stanford colleagues and professors, former beauty pageant allies…”

Kyle jerked forward. “Those girls make it beautiful?”

“We all make it beautiful. We are smart, we are capable, and we are powerful. That’s the Empowered Beauty promise.”

Kyle groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m dazzled. You’re smart, you have a solid plan, and damn, woman, you are gorgeous! Count me in.”

“Thank you all. We won’t let you down.” Alyssa shook each eagle’s hand, pausing when she came to Jack.

“I have something that will help with the shine on top,” she said so only he could hear.

Jack startled, wiped his head and made it even shinier under the lights.

“One quick spray and you’ll be good,” said Alyssa. She rummaged in her bag, pulled out a palm-sized can. She shook it hard, eying the top of his head.

“No, no, no, I’m fine with it just as it is,” Jack’s eyes widened as she aimed the can at his head.

“Suit yourself,” said Alyssa. “Try it out later.” She handed him the can.

“I don’t need a code to make sure it doesn’t go nuclear, do I?” Jack panted.

“It’s not from my product line. That’s just regular old everyday spray powder. No one risks glaring shine when she’s competing.”

In the fifteen incredible years that Screaming Eagles was on the air, Empowered Beauty was the single most successful, transformational business investment any eagle ever made.

“If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed; but the cleverest, the acutest men are often under an illusion about women: they do not read them in a true light: they misapprehend them, both for good and evil: their good woman is a queer thing, half doll, half angel; their bad woman almost always a fiend.” ― Charlotte Brontë, Shirley