Playground (2 page)

world how her diagnostician saved her life.

Shortly thereafter, the Hollywood invitations began to pour in.

My parents were treated with celebrity status at movie pre-

mieres, nightclubs, and art openings. There was a two-month wait-

ing list to book an appointment. His office was always full of rock

stars, professional athletes, Playmates, models, and actresses sucking

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Playground

on sugar-free lollipops with hopes of transforming themselves

into perfection.

One of the Playmates teases his sandy-blond hair and then looks

down at me. “Who’s this pretty young thing?” she asks in a high-

pitched voice.

“Have you met my daughter?” Dad asks.

The girl giggles, bends over, and shakes my hand. I stare at her

big boobs as my father pulls me into the marble foyer now packed

with bright, smiling faces. We climb the staircase as he leads me

down the upstairs hallway. A tall glass cabinet filled with naked

figurines in weird positions catches my eye.

Hundreds of framed photographs line the hallway. My father

points out Farrah Fawcett, Vanna White, Dorothy Stratten, Kenny

Rogers, Dolly Parton, James Caan, Aaron Spelling, Jimmy Connors,

Sammy Davis Jr., and Frank Sinatra, who he says are all patients.

We stop in front of a closed door.

“Number two is my room. If you need anything, the butlers

will get it for you.”

Dad opens the door. The room is massive. There’s a king-size

bed to the left and windows overlooking the garden to the right.

An armoire with a large television is in front of the bed along with

a wooden chest of drawers. I take a few steps into the room and

run past the closets to the back where there’s a marble bathroom

with two toilets!

“Use the phone to order anything you want. I have to get back

to the game,” Dad instructs, hugging me good-bye.

When he’s gone, I open the door and walk slowly down the

hallway, making my way back down the grand staircase. I wander

through a circus of strangers. Everyone looks past me. I open a

small stained-glass door with an iron knob, which leads to the

backyard.

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J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

A butler in a black suit startles me as I step into the outdoors.

“Your father asked me to show you the pool,” he says, peering

down at me.

“How do you know who I am?”

“I just do.” He smiles.

The butler escorts me down a cobblestone pathway, through

the backyard and into a rock-lined corridor with tons of changing

rooms. He hands me a robe and towel along with a plastic con-

tainer filled with bathing suits.

“Is there one for me?”

“Of course. Mr. Hefner is very accommodating to his friends

and family,” the butler informs me.

I select a slightly oversize orange polka-dot bikini, and the but-

ler guides me into one of the changing rooms. He closes the door

as he leaves.

I look around the changing room noticing the open shower

and plants covering the glass window. Different-colored robes and

matching towels line the closets. One of the shelves has an enor-

mous supply of Listerine, Q-tips, Dove soap, Lubriderm lotion,

Vaseline, aspirin, toothbrushes, and boxes of Trojans stacked neatly

on shelves.

After changing, I open the door to find the butler waiting for

me outside.

“Ready?” he asks and we walk past an outdoor bar and over to

a bigger section of the pool.

“You don’t have to watch me,” I tell him.

“That’s all right, I don’t mind.” He smiles as I get in and swim

under the water, away from him.

There is a mountain in the center of the pool that creates a U

shape, so I follow it around the bend. Beyond the ripples from the

waterfall, I notice a strange, spooky black hole that looks like it

could suck me in if I’m not careful. I swim over to take a closer

look; it appears to be some sort of tunnel.

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Playground

“Stay away from the tunnel!” the butler shouts as I come up for

air.

“Why?”

“It’s for adults,” he says sternly, so I swim over to the step in the

shallow end.

“I’m thirsty. Can I have something to drink?”

“What would you like?”

“Juice, please.”

“Do you mind stepping out of the pool while I’m gone?”

“Sure,” I say, trying to be the picture of sweetness.

When the butler is out of sight, I dive back in and swim under-

water toward the tunnel. As the black hole comes into view, goose

bumps prickle up and down my arms and legs. I circle around it

for a few seconds. The water seems different here: it’s darker and

there’s a strong current swirling around the rocks.

Closing my eyes, I envision a mystical passage into a foreign

land.

I plunge in, holding my breath.

Underwater, panic sets in immediately as my hands feel along

the endless, rock-lined passage. I try to turn around, but the water

is rushing too quickly and I become disoriented, my lungs aching

for breath. I push myself forward, willing myself to the end, hop-

ing desperately that there is an end.

I push against the tunnel with my feet, forcing myself upward.

Finally, I surface. I look around frantically while taking huge gulps

of air.

I’m in a large dark cave. There is only candlelight. The Beatles’

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” plays softly. There are several

couches lining the interior of the cave, but I can’t see well, so I

swim over to one of the bigger pools, paddling with all my might

to hold myself up. I lean against a jet, and finally it registers—I’m

in a gigantic Jacuzzi!

I hear moaning sounds over the gurgles of water. I peek around

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J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

to locate where the noise is coming from. My eyes squint as they

begin to investigate.

Something moves on one of the couches. The something be-

comes clearer and I see that it is a naked man. There is another fig-

ure too. A naked lady is sitting on top of him and she’s bouncing

up and down. Her boobs are flying everywhere. I know that I’m

not supposed to be seeing this. Later I learn it was John Belushi

screwing one of the Playmates.

I am no longer six. I have grown to full maturity in a matter of

seconds.

The lady moans.

I sneeze.

“Hey! What are you doing in here?” the guy yells, as he contin-

ues bucking under the moaning girl.

Terrified, I take a deep breath, dive into the pool, beneath a

waterfall, and swim frantically out of the Jacuzzi. I come up for air

and open my eyes. The butler’s face stares back at me.

“I was playing hide-and-seek and got lost,” I say quickly.

I climb out and race past him, wiggling my way into the chang-

ing rooms. I’m so completely shocked that I throw on my clothes,

barely drying myself. I sneak back down the hallway made of

rocks, coming to a halt as the couple from the cave heads my way.

They’re coming after me.

I duck down another outdoor hallway, running toward a small

white door. I throw myself through the door and am bombarded

by flapping wings. I hit the floor as screeching noises thunder

overhead.

It feels like an hour of being surrounded by shrieks and cries

before I realize I’m in a huge birdhouse.

I dart outside again. It’s getting dark and I don’t know which

way to go. I’m too terrified to go back to the Mansion because now

it looks like a haunted house. I stop to catch my breath when a

man with a walkie-talkie appears out of nowhere. My stomach

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Playground

drops as I skitter down a pathway lined with tall trees and thick

grass. I hide behind a large shrub.

Another man is walking down the path toward my hiding

place. There is a small house on the grounds, much smaller and

safer looking than the haunted Mansion, so I make a run for it.

The lights are on inside and I race up the steps to the front door.

It’s unlocked. I turn the handle and peer cautiously into the dimly

lit room. The room’s interior looks like a warm, cozy lodge deco-

rated with high beamed ceilings, rustic wood paneling, and green

plaid carpet. An old-fashioned piano plays eerily by itself in the

corner. Objects of Pop Art fill the corners: oversize bottles of Pepsi

and Coke, and cans of Campbell’s soup. Images of icons of the for-

ties and fifties like Judy Garland, Elizabeth Taylor, Liza Minnelli,

and Marilyn Monroe line the walls. The room has all my favorite

pinball machines.

I have found the coolest, most secret arcade.

I grab handfuls of red and yellow gumballs from bowls on the

tables in the middle of the room, and stuff them into my pockets.

There’s a picture of Hef surrounded by girls on one of the pinball

machines.

I see shadows flickering in a blue-painted room. I dash across

the arcade, through a mirrored door, and almost trip as I sink

into carpet three inches deep. There are mirrors on every wall,

even on the ceiling. I lock the door, noticing a box of Kleenex,

pads of paper with bunny ears on them, and a sea of cushions on

the floor.

Sinking back into the carpet, I flip the television on and see

naked people rolling around on the screen! I spin around, wonder-

ing if anyone is watching. The images remind me of the man and

lady in the Jacuzzi. The bottom of the screen reads, You are watch-

ing the Playboy Channel.

I’m afraid and curious at the same time. Someone pounds on

the door.

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J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

“Jennifer!” Dad raises his voice.

I shut off the television and immediately begin taking hoards of

gumballs out of my pockets, shoving them underneath the pillows.

“Hang on, I’m trying to open the door,” my voice quivers.

Please, God, don’t let him be mad at me. I promise I’ll never go

into that cave again. He continues banging on the door as I franti-

cally try to unlock it. The door finally opens and my father hovers

over me!

“Don’t ever lock this door again!” he shouts.

We ride home in silence. My heart races. Am I in trouble? What

if Dad knows I saw those people?

Dad pops in a cassette of the Eagles. I catch him stealing

glances at me, but I don’t turn my head. He begins to sing along to

the words and eventually I begin to relax.

10

Two

I t’s Thursday, Dad’s day with us, and I can’t wait to jump in his

pool. The school bell rings and I race through the hallway and run

outside to wait for Carmela to pick me up.

I see Dad’s Rolls-Royce parked across the street with Christo-

pher Cross blaring from his tape deck. My sister, Savannah, waves

me over.

Savannah is about two and half years younger than I am. She’s

a cute little girl with golden blond hair, big blue eyes, and a smile

that illuminates a room. She’s a typical girl, one who likes to wear

dainty sundresses and tie yellow bows in her hair. Her favorite

thing to do is put on her ballerina leotard and dance around the

house. She is happy but also emotionally fragile and quick to cry.

She slides into the backseat of the car as I hop into the front

seat, taking my position next to my father.

J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

“I need to make a quick stop at the Mansion,” Dad tells us.

“We want go to McDonald’s,” I whine.

“Don’t bug me,” he snaps back and my stomach tightens. He’s

been snapping at me more and more recently. We pull up to those

huge iron gates. The rock speaks again and I’m fearful of what this

visit will bring.

We head up the long driveway as gardeners spritz the exotic

flowers that dot the lawn. The castle comes into view.

“Are we at Disneyland?” Savannah asks.

“It’s more like a haunted house,” I mumble.

“Why would you tell your sister that?” Dad rasps at me harshly

as he hurries us out of the car and into the front door.

Savannah stares at the butlers in the funny black suits. One of

them offers to take Dad’s briefcase.

“Good afternoon. Should I put this in your room?” the butler

asks my father.

“Yes, thank you,” he responds.

I don’t say anything, but still wonder why my father has a room