I knew our relationship was probably ending, but I wasn’t really sure how I would explain myself to him. All I knew was that things were changing for me. This was about to become my new life. I could feel it. And with that thought in my head, I went to sleep.
The next morning Hef came into my room to see how I was doing. Hef never went in the guesthouse. I’d done my research on him, so I knew that.
“Hello, my darling,” he said.
He was so charming. That was all it took to make the crazy thoughts that had been bouncing around my head the night before go away.
Hef didn’t go to the other girls’ rooms. He’d singled me out. I felt special, loved, and pretty. Isn’t that all a girl really wants out of a boyfriend?
“Get your suit on,” he said. “Everyone is in the pool.”
We went down to the pool and swam and lay around in the sun all day. I enjoyed a beautiful day at a beautiful mansion and took it as a sign of a beautiful new beginning.
CHAPTER 11
Fresh Princess of Bel Air
After that weekend, I returned to Zack as a different girl. I felt like he and I were drifting apart, but I didn’t think he saw it that way, and I was anxious to see how everything would play out.
When I got home, he asked me only basic questions about my weekend. “So how was it?” was about as detailed as he wanted to get, which was great, because “Fine” was really all the information I wanted to offer.
We mostly kept our distance and didn’t talk about where I’d been or what I’d done. He didn’t want to know, and I didn’t want to tell him. Some things are better left unspoken.
Over the next five or six weeks I returned to the Mansion every weekend. Every Friday Hef would send the car, and every Sunday I would return to my life in San Diego. I’d been invited to move to the Mansion full-time, but I couldn’t because during my first phone call with Hef I’d lied and told him I was in school. Mark had told me that Hef liked girls who were in college, so I’d told him what I thought he wanted to hear. Of course that meant I had to be “in school” during the week, until summer arrived, when I would be free to be at the Mansion full-time.
Meanwhile, I was spending my weekdays in San Diego waiting around for the weekend. I had nothing going on there anymore. I went into Cheetah’s a couple of times just to pay the bills, but I was ready for a change.
When summer rolled around, I was out of excuses and ready to make the move. The only problem was that I still had a few months left on my apartment lease, and I had both Zack and a roommate counting on me to pay the bills.
“How much?” Hef asked when I told him my problem.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you can’t move in and be my girlfriend until the lease is up, how much would it cost to just pay for it all right now?”
“I don’t know, a little over four grand, maybe,” I said, unsure of what he was going to do.
That weekend he came to my room at the guesthouse and handed me an envelope. Inside was $5,000 in cash. All I could do was smile. He liked me so much that he wasn’t going to let a few months of rent stop me from moving into the Mansion. I was flattered. If I was wavering at all about what I wanted to do, this put my doubts to rest. I knew then that I would be moving to the Playboy Mansion full-time.
When I went back to Zack after that weekend, I sat him down, handed him the cash, and told him my plan.
“Hef wants me to move up there full-time,” I said in the most serious voice I had ever used.
“Well, what about us?”
“We’ll be fine,” I assured him. “It will only be for a few months, and then I’ll be back.” I knew it would be longer, but I felt bad so I gave him something to hold on to.
“So we’ll be back together when you come back?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Then why go? What’s the point?” he asked.
“This could be good for me,” I said. “It’s a good place to be for a few months. I just feel like it’s a good idea.” I knew it was over with Zack. I was losing interest in him, but I didn’t want to break his heart.
“Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
I packed a couple of suitcases and told Cheetah’s that I was moving to the Playboy Mansion. They didn’t seem to care very much.
With Zack, the good-bye was a little harder. He didn’t know what was actually happening, but I knew this would be good-bye for good. When he realized I was taking my dogs, Raskal and Martini, Zack was not happy. I got them when we were together, so there definitely was some attachment there, but it’s hard to say whether he wanted to keep the dogs or if he knew that my taking them meant I was probably not coming back. Either way, he was pissed off, and the good-bye felt more bitter and angry than anything else.
I hopped in the limo that Hef sent for me and took off. I didn’t bother saying good-bye to my mom. I knew she wasn’t happy about the move, and after Zack’s reaction I didn’t want to hear it. There were no tears on my end; this was a happy occasion for me. I spent the whole two-hour ride looking out the window, and it felt like a spiritual event. Where is this road taking me? I thought. I knew moving to the Mansion was a risk, but I also knew that I had little to lose. In my gut I knew it was a good idea, but I worried a bit about what I was getting myself into.
During those two hours I thought about everything I had done in my life—the hell I’d put my mom through, the danger I had put my own life in. After a while, I knew this wasn’t a risk I was taking; this was a path I was meant to be on. This was my future, and I was excited about it.
When I pulled up to the Mansion I looked down and realized that Martini, who wasn’t spayed, had had her period all over the nice limo that Hef sent for me. Some would say that was a bad sign. I just thought a dog having its period all over a limo was funny. I wonder if Hef knows Bob Barker . . .
Inside the Mansion, once again I felt a little lost. By that point I knew my way around, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing there. Did the other girls have jobs? What was I supposed to do all day? It was all very confusing, and I didn’t have any friends to help me figure it out.
Bridget was so nice to me that first weekend, but our relationship quickly went south when it became known that I was moving in full-time. Hef had recently kicked out a bunch of girls because they were bad and did a lot of things to piss him off. Plus, those girls didn’t get along with Holly and Bridget, and from day one, Holly was in charge and Bridget was a close second in command. With four different rooms open, Hef asked me if I wanted to live in Room 2, which was Natalie’s old room. That was fine with me; it was a pretty awesome room. When I told Bridget I was moving in there, she flipped out.
“Room two?” she said. “You can’t move in Room two. That’s going to be my scrapbooking room!”
Umm . . . what?
She wasn’t super-jealous, but I could tell she wasn’t happy. Obviously our relationship would change over time, but in the beginning, when I first moved in, both Bridget and Holly were very territorial. They’d put in their time, and if they wanted Room 2 for scrapbooking instead of a human being, then that’s the way it was going to be.
At the time I thought that they were so stuckup and weird. They told me that they were celebrities and hadn’t worn the same outfit twice in the past six months. I showed up to the Mansion with everything I owned—three shirts, three pairs of jeans, some cutoffs, and some stripper clothes. How was I going to not wear the same thing twice? I wore the same thing four days in a row. I still do! Deep down, I knew—well, I hoped—that I would somehow get along with Holly and Bridget. But I was never going to be like them.
I was really nervous. I was so different; I didn’t see myself fitting in. I wasn’t a celebrity—I was just some girl from Clairemont. I couldn’t compete with those girls. I instantly started questioning what I was doing there. I felt like I didn’
t belong. Plus, I had no money, so even if I wanted to look the way they looked, I could never afford to do so.
Somehow Hef heard about my situation and came to the rescue. He gave me $2,000 and sent Holly, Bridget, and me in a limo to the Beverly Center to find clothes for me. Even if the girls didn’t like me, they loved shopping, so it was a good opportunity for us to spend time together. Maybe that was part of Hef’s plan—I don’t know—but I bought a bunch of clothes that Holly and Bridget liked on me and we had a great time. At the mall I bought a few tight things and some clothes that were just slightly nicer than my stripper clothes, and then we went to Melrose Avenue, where I got a bunch of sexy skirts. I looked at what Holly and Bridget were wearing and tried to find similar items. I realized what kind of girl Hef was looking for, and by the end of the day I had a closet full of clothes that made me one of the girls. I had also inched my way closer to having two friends in Holly and Bridget.
Even when they found out Hef had officially given me Room 2, they didn’t complain. Not to me, at least. They just moved their scrapbooks somewhere else.
After shopping I was pooped, but I wanted to enjoy L.A. a little bit. I was hoping some of the girls would want to go out and have fun at a club or something, but when I asked around, I noticed most people were in their pajamas. I didn’t understand what was going on, until someone told me we had a nine P.M. curfew.
What? Shut the fuck up!
My first day at the Mansion was overwhelming and exciting, but my first night was one of the loneliest of my life. I used to strip until two in the morning. I was clearly a night person; I couldn’t go to sleep at nine P.M. But that was the rule. Hef didn’t want his girls out on the town, getting into trouble and hurting Playboy’s reputation.
That evening I sat in my room for a while, staring at the ceiling, not knowing what to do with myself. I took a bath in my new big Jacuzzi tub—soaking in my new life—and then went downstairs into the kitchen to talk to the butlers (even when I was just visiting, I always loved the butlers). I talked to them until two A.M. I wasn’t sure what I was allowed to say or if I could ask about Hef and the other girls, so we just talked about sports and life. I also used that time to take advantage of the “eat anything you want” policy in the Mansion’s kitchen. I had chili cheese fries and a cheeseburger and some beer. It was like a real-life Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I could have anything I wanted—and I did. I ate until I couldn’t fit one more piece of food into my mouth. It was kind of gross, but delicious, too.
The next morning I woke up still full from my late-night meal but with nothing to do with my day. We had no responsibilities during most weekdays, so I sat around the house. I was so bored and felt so alone. I had Martini and Raskal there to keep me sane, but other than that I had no one.
The first time I visited the Mansion it seemed so big and overwhelming. I thought that I could stay there and be happy forever. After I’d lived there a couple weeks, the Mansion felt like home, and while it was still beautiful, it started to feel really small. I got used to my surroundings and I’d see the same people and feel like I was living in a tiny community instead of a big house. I would walk my dogs in the evening and have moments where I would look around, sigh, and try to take it all in because I knew early on that it wasn’t going to last forever and I wanted to remember as much of the good parts of the experience as possible. Then at night it was back to the kitchen for more burgers and fries.
A few weeks after I moved into the Mansion, out of nowhere I was given a large amount of cash from Hef. As it turns out, I was supposed to get $1,000 a week as an allowance. I had no idea that was part of the deal when I moved in, but I was sure as hell happy to take it. I would have moved in regardless of the money, though; living in a Mansion with free food was enough for me.
I think Hef didn’t mention the allowance because he doesn’t want girls to move in for the money; he wants us to move in for him. And I did. Hef had already done so much for me—buying me clothes, paying off my rent—that I was never going to ask for money. Just like when I was a kid, I hated asking for money as an adult. But having the money was a nice bonus. Now I could finally live a little.
I started going out during the day and enjoying Los Angeles. I met a few Playmates and actually made a few friends. Slowly, I started getting used to the whole lifestyle.
At night, though, I would be in my pj’s by nine P.M. and usually in the kitchen by nine thirty for burgers, cheese fries, and a stomachache—in that order.
It was a depressing routine and it got even worse when I started to gain weight. When you eat that garbage every night and lie around all day, it’s bound to happen. After six months living there I had put on a good fifteen pounds and my confidence was at an all-time low.
It was tough to deal with the fact that I was gaining weight, and being surrounded by beautiful girls every day didn’t help. Plus, every week we would get photos of ourselves that had been taken the one night a week we all went to the club or to a Playboy event, so I could look at the photos and see myself getting fatter from week to week.
One night we were all in the limo on the way to a book signing with Hef when he pulled me aside.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“I feel fat, Hef,” I told him. “Everyone is so pretty. It’s making me really insecure.”
“Well, you look a little bigger,” he said honestly. “Maybe you can go to the gym.”
When we got home I went to my room and cried myself to sleep. I was so disappointed in myself. I had this whole Mansion and a great life to enjoy and all I was doing was lying around and eating. I felt so lazy and miserable. This was supposed to be paradise, but for me, it wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, the parties were great, but every time they ended I would go back to feeling alone and lost. I guess there is a fine line between happy and sad—and on that line is a big plate of chili cheese fries.
CHAPTER 12
Party Hopping with Bunnies
A month in, I was really on the fence about whether I should stay at the Playboy Mansion. Yes, I had new clothes and a weekly allowance, but I was also bored to death and gaining weight by the second. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
My mom, who was against me moving there in the first place, changed her mind about Playboy once I was settled. She hates change, and if it were up to her I would never try anything new, but shortly after I moved in she and my grandmother came to the Mansion to visit, and she quickly fell in love with my new life. Hef took us all out to a nice steak dinner and treated my mom and my grandmother like family. They all instantly bonded, and my mom saw not only the kind of life I was now living but also the great man I was living with.
From that visit on she considered the Mansion a place I should stay the rest of my life—not just for the money, but for the comfortable family environment it provided. So, when I called her complaining and told her I might move back home, she fought me on it.
“Where would you be if you weren’t there?” she asked. “Papa John’s?”
It was tough love, but it was what I needed. Mom was right. It was time to make the best of the situation. This was the freakin’ Playboy Mansion, after all. I needed to start having some fun. So I decided to whip my ass in shape, both mentally and physically.
I began playing in a softball league—at first with some of the people who worked at Playboy, and then later with random teams. I missed playing sports, and this was a good way for me to get in shape and have some “me” time. Plus it was cool to come back to the Mansion with my knees all bloodied and have everyone ask me what happened. I also started going to the gym and really working off those chili cheese fries.
I did my best to get out more and make friends with some of the other girls in the house and in the Playmate guesthouse. Some girls were great. I quickly bonded with Destiny Davis, a 2005 Playmate. We both loved hip-hop, and we were alike in so many ways. We called each other PIC because we were partners in crime—two ghetto white
chicks always looking for fun. Then there was Tiffany Fallon, the 2005 Playmate of the Year, who was the one girl I saw as a role model at that place. She was classy, polite, always smiling, and constantly doing things to make Playboy look good. She was a real inspiration and a great friend.
I also got close to Carmella DeCesare, who, like me, loved sports, and was a really down-to-earth chick. She’s married to quarterback Jeff Garcia, so of course she followed football, but she also loved basketball. During the Playmate of the Year dinner—an annual formal dinner, which that year honored Sara Underwood as the magazine’s top centerfold—Carmella and I were more interested in the Lakers playoff game than the dinner. I wore a Lakers jersey to a fancy restaurant and all the girls angrily talked behind my back about how disrespectful I was. But the playoffs were more important to me, and Carmella and I kept getting up to check the score in the bar. I knew we would be friends from that day forward.
These girls, and some of the other Playmates, were really cool. We’d stay up until four A.M. laughing and having a great time, and then we’d go into the kitchen and hang with the butlers.
Bryant, DeAndre, Carlena, and some of the chefs were like my best friends. They were real people, and I liked that. At first we kept our conversations to general topics, but once they got to know me I opened up to them about all of my concerns about the Mansion. None of them thought I would last, but they were always there to hug me and stay up until five in the morning to listen to me whine about my problems. We had to be sneaky, though, because the staff wasn’t really allowed to fraternize with the girlfriends. I think in the past girls had been caught sleeping with some of the staff, so Hef kept them off-limits after hours. On the rare occasion when Hef left his room late at night, the butlers or chefs would hear Hef’s slippers shuffling across the floor and scatter and hide. Hef would walk into the kitchen and I’d be standing there by myself.
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