Down the Rabbit Hole (30 page)

“If they are anything like their posts,” I said, laughing with Angel, who was standing over my shoulder as we were looking at their profile page, “they'll make for
great
TV.”

The candidates were brought to Los Angeles that summer for their test shoots and invited to stay at the Bunny House. Our
Girls Next Door
production schedule was tight, so we had a quick turnaround and needed the girls nearby and available at a moment's notice.

The shoots were going along right on schedule, until I received word from Dasha that Jessica had left the Bunny House the night before her scheduled centerfold shoot at the studio.

If she were MIA, we'd lose an entire day of shooting and waste thousands of dollars. No one had any idea where my runaway Playmate had gone.

“We really need you to finish your pictorial,” I reasoned with Jessica when I finally got her on the phone. “We're on a tight schedule and every day costs money.”

It turned out that the runaway bunny went hopping back to Orange County. According to some of the crew and other girls staying at the house, Jessica had been tormented for days by the twins, along with
Playboy
's resident wild child Laura Croft. While Karissa and Kristina were surprisingly professional on set, they were apparently quite a handful after hours. Supposedly the three girls tormented Jessica: calling her names, smearing shaving cream on her bedroom door, and relentlessly accusing her of sleeping with a
GND
crew member. While these antics would have made for great TV, they were an example of the “negativity” Hef never wanted included in the final cut, so my efforts to include some spice in the mix, by inviting the Shannon twins, were wasted.

“If you come back, you can stay in the mansion guesthouse away from the other girls,” I told her, hoping this would quiet her frayed nerves. They'd done quite a number on the poor girl! After some coaxing, I finally got Jessica to agree. I asked Hazel, the office administrator, to put Jessica on the guest schedule in one of the four rooms in the mansion's guesthouse. After sorting out that potential disaster, I gave myself a well-deserved pat on the back.

Crisis averted,
I thought.

When I arrived later that day to the Sunday night buffet, Hef was waiting for me in the dining room with a rabid look in his eyes.

“What are you
doing
putting Jessica in the guesthouse?” he demanded, his voice quaking with anger.

“She was having trouble with the other girls, so she left,” I calmly explained to him, hoping he would recognize the volume of my voice and aim to match it. The dining room was filled with guests and I didn't want to get lambasted in front of an audience. “I needed her here for work first thing tomorrow, so I put her in the guesthouse. I guess the twins were picking on her, so I thought this was an easy fix.”

“That is
not
your decision,” Hef bellowed at me, with no intent to try to keep this argument private. “
Daddy's
in charge of who stays where! Not you!”

“But it's such a minor thing I didn't even think you would want to be bothered with it,” I said truthfully. I'd invited girls to stay with us before and he never had a problem with it. I was completely caught off guard and could feel the tears start to burn my eyes. I took a deep breath and held them back with every ounce of dignity I had left. Trying desperately to keep my voice from shaking, I continued, “You have more important things to worry about.”

“Well, this isn't
your
decision,” he spat at me. By now everyone was staring at us. “
Daddy
makes the rules.” When I didn't respond, he turned to one of the guests and began jovial conversation as if nothing had happened.

I looked down at my lap. I couldn't bear to make eye contact with anyone—I felt so humiliated. Despite his gentlemanly act, Hef had never been a progressive thinker when it came to women. I had always told myself that maybe I could change his attitude if he truly got to know me. It didn't look like that was ever going to happen.

As we were getting ready for bed, Hef shuffled into my dressing area to inform me that our
GND
shooting schedule for the next day had been postponed.

Shit,
I thought. After hustling to get Jessica back up here and getting the fear of God instilled in me for it, everything was being rescheduled.

“Why?” I asked.

“Something's come up with Kendra that they want to shoot instead,” Hef managed, barely making eye contact with me. At that point, we all knew Kendra had one foot out the mansion gate and was in talks with E! for her own spin-off series. The producers were starting to put scenes into place that would set up her eventual exit.

Recently, Kendra and I had been getting along really well, but as I had a full-time
real
job with actual responsibilities, I wasn't really thrilled about having to rearrange my work schedule for one of her last-minute whims.

“We always have to move stuff for Kendra,” I said, half joking, half hoping he would change the schedule back, while applying face lotion in the vanity mirror and mentally preparing to reorganize my entire workweek.

Hef stopped in his tracks and looked right at me.

“Stop being such a fucking CUNT!” he screamed, his face bloated and red with his hands clenched into fists.

My mouth fell open in disbelief. In seven years, I never once heard that word cross his lips. And now he wasn't just saying it, he was calling me it . . . his girlfriend, the supposed “love of his life.” I sat there staring at him in total shock—unable to move a muscle or even cry.

After what felt like 30 long seconds of him glaring at me with his jaw clenched so hard, I thought he might crack his teeth, he stomped his foot like a child and scuffled back into the bedroom.

Over the years, I'd dealt with a lot: the Mean Girls, the crazy rules, the irrational outbursts, and the repugnant bedroom routine. Because Hef so convincingly wore his “Gentleman Hef” act at all other times, I was able to make excuses for him. But this was it; after being screamed at for no good reason twice in one day, I was freaked the hell out. There was no way I could fool myself into thinking Hef was a nice guy anymore.

In that moment, I didn't care if I couldn't find someone to love me outside of the mansion, because it was crystal clear no one on the inside loved me, either.

I needed to find someone to talk to, someone who could understand all the pressures I was under but wasn't trapped in the same bubble as I was. Maybe I could get some advice and a fresh perspective. I eventually decided on one of Hef's friends, since he knew Hef well and certainly understood the degree to which I was bound to the show.

“I can't take it anymore,” I confided to him two days later. I sat down with my chosen confidant to discuss what had been going on in my private life. I was already in the midst of filming season five, but I felt like I couldn't keep up the charade another minute.

Bridget had come in earlier and placed a box of Sprinkles cupcakes on the table. I cut myself a piece of one and passed the rest across the table.

“Just hang in there,” he said, unwrapping the rest of the cupcake. “He cares about you. He didn't mean it.”

He paused for another moment, sensing this wasn't giving me any comfort. Twisting up his face into a thoughtful expression, he said, “I'll try to find out what's bothering him.”

“It doesn't matter if something's wrong,” I said, trying to make sense of everything in my head. “This is just who he is and I am realizing it for the first time.” I sighed helplessly and put my head in my hands. My rope was rapidly fraying.

He then went on to remind me that Bridget and Kendra were leaving soon and that
Girls Next Door
would then be all about Hef, me, my work, and the girls that came through the studio. He honestly thought this would lift my spirits. I loved working on the show, but this wasn't about the show . . . this was my life!

“Thanks for listening,” I said dismally.

I believed what he had said about the show. Not only was Kendra on her way out of the mansion, but Bridget had recently been offered her dream job hosting a show for the Travel Channel, so her departure was inevitable as well. Audiences and E! loved the episodes that focused on my work at the studio—and so did I! It seemed like all my dreams were coming true . . . but I had to ask myself: were those
still
my dreams?

I was finally seeing Hef's true colors—and accepting that perhaps he had been that way all along. Now the promise of having Hef, the mansion, and the show all to myself just sounded frightening.

I didn't know what to do next. Despite the way he treated his girlfriends, I felt guilty even
thinking
about leaving Hef. I was constantly being reminded of how blessed I was and how grateful I should be. I didn't want to disappoint or let anyone down. What would his friends think? They'd always been so supportive of me because they saw that I treated Hef well. Would I lose my job? I
loved
my job and couldn't bear the thought of losing it. Maybe I could find some way to stay on as an employee?

As all these questions were playing over and over in my head like a broken record, the time finally came to shoot the “good-bye” scene between me, Kendra, and Bridget. The scene was shot in Bridget's room, which was filled with suitcases and rolling racks full of clothes for the new travel show she was leaving to do. As I was the only part of the trio who was supposed to be staying at the mansion, I just plopped myself on Bridget's bed and waited for the others to talk. Most people who knew “Holly” from
The Girls Next Door
would have thought I'd be ecstatic to see Hef's two other girlfriends go, but in reality, I was on the verge of tears. The feeling hit me like a ton of bricks.
I don't want to be here without Bridget and Kendra
. At that moment I knew it for a fact, I just didn't know how I was going to handle it.

After more than four years together at the mansion, our little blond army was disbanding. We had each evolved so much in that time. Like the freckle-faced producer had suggested years before, Kendra really
did
grow up inside the mansion, but it seemed to be due largely in part to a man she had met
outside
the mansion. For eight months, Kendra had been secretly dating professional football player Hank Baskett and was madly in love. Gone was the insecure little girl who labeled Bridget and me the enemies and spent her days desperately jockeying for attention. In her place was a confident and gracious young woman.

Bridget was off to host her own show. I couldn't think of a more perfect job for my best friend, who was packing up to travel the world! When I first met her, all she had wanted was to be a Playmate, and she ended up achieving so much more.

The scene couldn't have been more genuinely emotional. I usually kept my feelings locked up far, far away from the cameras, but this time my tears flowed freely. It was in that moment that I realized how much these two women meant to me and how only the three of us could ever know what this wild ride we had been on was truly like.

It wasn't just the prospect of losing my two costars that made me feel so empty. I knew that even when I was the only girlfriend, there would always be visiting Playmates and Bunny House residents to keep me company. It was seeing these other two women evolve, in just the ways they
should
be evolving, that made me realize that there was so much more out there for me, too. I didn't know what it was, but something had to feel more genuine and fulfilling than simply being the “first lady” Stepford Wife of the Playboy Mansion.

After our teary hugs good-bye, the cameras stopped rolling and I slowly walked down the hall to the master bedroom's back door. My mind was reeling, my heart was hurting, and my stomach was tied in knots. What was I going to do now? I knew I'd be heading to Vegas in a few weeks to finish the last shoot for Jessica's pictorial. Maybe having some time away from the mansion, without the cameras following me, I'd actually have a chance to think . . . and Las Vegas seemed like a good place to clear my head.

C
HAPTER
11

“Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

—
Lewis Carroll,
Through the Looking-Glass

T
hank you,” Hef screamed so loud that my cell phone shook, “for giving me the WORST night of my life.”

Oh shit,
I thought
.

W
E LANDED IN
L
AS
Vegas early the previous morning for Jessica's Playmate shoot. I thought the Playboy Club at the Palms could be a playful backdrop consistent with the 55th Anniversary theme. Knowing that the shoot would pull me out of Los Angeles for a day didn't hurt, either. Jessica's shoot was scheduled over two days, and of course, per the curfew, I had planned on flying back and forth each day. Obviously, this would have been exhaustingly impractical, and given the state of mind I was in, I decided to just take a chance and try and stay over. I really needed the time to myself.