Hank and I said our good-byes to my family, and then we drove up to L.A., where we booked a hotel room for the night. By that point I wasn’t worried about getting caught at all. I knew the drill. Someone from the Mansion would call looking for me, but no one would question my mom. The toughest part would be going back to the Mansion the next day. Someone there would ask me about my trip and I would have to keep the same story going.
I wasn’t sure how Hank felt about all the lying. He was probably looking for a normal relationship, but I just couldn’t give that to him at the moment. I had to think about the show and Hef. I needed to honor my responsibilities. I couldn’t just bail on everything just yet. On the ride back to L.A. we talked about the situation a little. This was clearly the beginning of something great, so some sacrifices would have to be made.
As it turned out, Hank knew a lot about keeping relationships secret. Hank’s dad is black and his mom is white and she grew up in Louisiana, in a part of the Deep South that didn’t accept interracial relationships at the time they started dating.
His mom kept her relationship with his dad a secret from her family. When she got pregnant and her family asked if she was keeping the baby, she told them that after she gave birth the baby would live with his father, and that their relationship was over. She’d go home to visit her parents and basically pretend that Hank didn’t exist.
When Hank was in college, his mom’s parents passed away, and his mom didn’t want to keep the secret anymore. So she moved forward with her life openly and honestly. The whole time, Hank understood. He says he doesn’t blame anyone, and considers his mother’s need for secrecy a sign of the times. Whenever the topic of racism comes up he always says that you really have to experience it firsthand to understand what it’s like.
Compared to the secrets he grew up with, what I was asking him to do seemed silly. I promised that the sneakiness wouldn’t last long, and he was okay with it.
As if that wasn’t enough, on the ride back to L.A., I decided to really put Hank to the test: I put on some country music.
“You may not like this,” I said as I popped in a Kenny Chesney CD.
“I love country music,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it. I thought, This guy is perfect. We listened to Kenny the whole ride back to L.A., and when we got to our hotel we took all my country CDs up to the room.
The first song Hank played was “I Cross My Heart” by George Strait. When the music started, he took my hands and began spinning me around. I had always been a good dancer, but more in a hip-hop, booty-shaking kind of way. This kind of dancing was very different, and I had no idea what I was doing.
Hank taught me a two-step dance. It was so much fun! Even better, the whole time we were dancing we didn’t worry about anyone or anything else. I wasn’t Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend who lived at the Playboy Mansion, and he wasn’t a football player returning to Philadelphia in a few hours. We were two kids dancing around a hotel room without a care in the world.
I never thought I would find someone like him. I always did whatever I wanted in front of people and didn’t care. I walked through school in a bikini! And here was this guy dipping me and dancing around like a cowboy, with no fear of what was going through my head. He was so comfortable in his own skin, and grew more confident with each dance step. I loved that about him.
We stayed up until five A.M., and a few hours later I dropped him off at the airport, kissed him good-bye, and returned to being the Kendra Wilkinson the rest of the world knew. Saying good-bye was not easy for me. After the amazing weekend together it was hard to not have him close by.
Laurie, a chef who started cooking at the Mansion about three years after I moved in, became a good friend, and knew me well enough that if I tried to keep a secret from her she would figure it out. From all the times I opened up to her while she taught me how to cook soul food, she’d learned to take one look at me and know something was up. So when I got back I had to tell her about Hank. She was really happy for me; she knew that I was excited about my relationship, and she told me to focus on all the positive things about it instead of the fact that he was so far away. That helped, but coping with the distance was still hard.
Luckily I was also able to keep busy, so I had a lot of distractions. That year, I had so many appearances and promotional gigs it was almost a full-time job. At least two days a week I would fly somewhere for an event, and the rest of the time I was busy with the show.
A couple of months later, Hank and I were ready for our next date. The plan was to go back to San Diego for the Del Mar Fair, which is a big county fair with rides, games, and awesome food. I went every year as a kid. I wasn’t too concerned about my cover story. It was getting easier and easier to leave the Mansion at that point; I think everyone knew my days there were nearing an end.
I was so excited to see Hank again, and making the trip all the more special was the fact that he was bringing his parents to meet me. Hank and I were both nervous—meeting the parents is a big deal. He didn’t really tell his mom much about me ahead of time, and he warned me that she could be rough on girls he brought around, so I didn’t really know what to expect.
Before heading down to San Diego, we all met at Houston’s for dinner in L.A. We started with small talk, and his mom and I realized that we both like our hamburgers well done and that neither of us likes seafood. Then Hank’s dad and I bonded when he found out that I like golf. Once I told him that, I was totally in.
Then Hank and I explained a little about Playboy and what I did there. His parents didn’t really ask questions, but I felt the need to be open with them about my life. His mom was concerned about what people would say and think about Hank and me if it got out that we were dating, since I did live at the Mansion. She wasn’t judging me—she was just as concerned for me as she was for Hank—and I felt like she was on my side, too.
“People just see you for twenty minutes on TV each week and they think they know you,” she said. “But that’s not you.”
It turned out that she was right. Hank’s hometown of Clovis, New Mexico, had a big billboard up of Hank that said HOMETOWN HERO; they later took it down, when they found out he was dating me. It’s a religious town and they didn’t like my connection to Playboy, and that pissed me off. I went on some city Web site and wrote that I was going to buy every billboard in town and put our picture on it. (I still might do that, someday!)
Hank’s mom wasn’t like some of the other people in that town, who jumped at the chance to judge me. She understood me. I was Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend, but that was just part of who I was, just like being a football player was only part of what defined Hank. Both of us were more than that. I love my family and my dogs and I’m a normal person, and both of Hank’s parents realized that right away.
Any anxiety I felt before meeting them quickly went away. I even had Hank’s mom laughing at one point. Hank was stunned—he couldn’t believe how well we were getting along. The next day when we went to the fair his mom and I were talking like best friends. By the end of the weekend his mom had nicknamed me “Little Bit” and we were practically family already. I reassured his parents that I would never do anything to hurt Hank and that we both were going to do our best to make our relationship last, and as I was saying good-bye I asked them to remember the girl they met and to not believe everything they read on the Internet.
It was a great weekend, but afterward I was back at the Mansion and Hank was back in Philly. Being apart was hard for both of us, and the closer we got, the more difficult it became for Hank to handle my job at Playboy.
I was still going to club appearances and parties looking sexy—it was my job. A club was like my office, and the crowd was my boss. I had to give them what they wanted. Bits and pieces of those nights would end up on the Internet, and it became tough for Hank to deal with my public persona when he could only see me in private.
Our relationship was still secret, so it’s not like he could talk t
o a friend about it. He just had to sit back and watch me travel around the country in tiny skirts and revealing tops. He couldn’t even attend the events because security always came with me on those trips.
It was tough for both of us. I’d be onstage at a club, shaking my booty and texting Hank in between songs. Then when I got back to my hotel I would call him and we’d talk until I fell asleep. We knew in our hearts how we felt about each other. Would I really be texting him from the club if I didn’t love him? Of course not, and he knew it.
At times, however, I would do things that didn’t really make it easier on him.
One night I was on my way to a party and a camera crew from TMZ was outside the club when we arrived. I was in a good mood and knew I needed to act a certain way in front of the cameras, so when I got out of the car I pulled my shirt down and flashed them.
I called Hank and told him what I’d done right away, and he was so mad. He knew my party-girl behavior was part of the deal, but he thought flashing was going overboard. Plus, I had been in the car with a few of my guy friends, and he hated that that was how I was acting around guys I knew. He didn’t want to start a fight because I was drunk and out at a club and I couldn’t be seen getting upset on the phone, but he did stress that I could still be Kendra without showing my boobs to everyone.
He was right. I promised I wouldn’t do it again.
Then, a few weeks later, I was out drinking again at some party I was paid to be at and I flashed the cameras again. This happened over and over, and every time I talked to Hank about it, I blamed someone else. I’d say my friends got me drunk and the paparazzi talked me into it. Or I blamed my friends for egging me on. I used every excuse in the book. He didn’t want to hear any of them.
I don’t know why I kept flashing. It reminded me a little of my drug days. Back then I would do a bunch of drugs, get caught by my mom or a friend who cared about me, and say that I wasn’t going to do it again. But it was only a matter of time—sometimes as soon as a day later—before I was doing drugs again. I was having trouble juggling both lives. I didn’t want to upset Hank, but as long as I was living at the Mansion my brain kicked into party-Kendra mode when I was out.
Not long after the TMZ flashing, I went to the Dominican Republic for an appearance and it happened again. I felt like I was in another world, and away from all the cameras, so I didn’t think I would get caught. Also, I swear on my life that I had to do it. I’d built up this persona, and there were thousands of people at the club who wanted to see me, so I went up onstage and started dancing with some girl. The crowd wasn’t that into it, so I grabbed the mike and began rapping on stage. That picked the crowd up a little, but then a guy screamed, “Flash your boobs!” and before I knew it the whole place was chanting, “Flash! Flash! Flash!”
I didn’t want to do it. I even left the stage once without doing it. I knew it was wrong, and I knew Hank would be pissed. But even when I was offstage the crowd was still begging for some boobs. I felt the pressure . . .
Fuck it.
I went out there and gave them what they wanted. If it’s going to make them happy, then I’ll give them some boob. Why not? I pulled my shirt down and the crowd went wild. My work was done, so I ran off the stage and that was it . . . until, of course, the video showed up all over the Internet.
Hank was mad, and I swore that I wouldn’t do it again. He was actually pretty calm and reasonable, considering I kept doing the one thing he hated the most. But at some point he had to break. That breaking point came when I went to Las Vegas to film the show and the producers wanted me to skydive topless. Okay, maybe I wanted to do it—maybe it was even my very scary idea—but for Hank’s sake, let’s just say someone forced me to do it.
Before I went I swore up and down that I wouldn’t show my boobs—for real this time. I meant it.
I lied.
Again, he couldn’t say much when I told him because he was in the car with someone and he couldn’t be heard yelling at a girlfriend he supposedly didn’t have. But even without getting into a real argument with him, I knew it was wrong. I’d broken a promise—a real promise—and I felt terrible.
Making fans or photographers happy wasn’t worth feeling as horrible as I felt, but I was caught between wanting to change my ways and holding on to what got me there in the first place.
Although we didn’t fight often, this was our ongoing battle. But fighting every now and then is a good thing, and Hank and I could always talk our arguments out. I listened to him and he listened to me. It made us better as individuals and stronger as a couple.
This time he was right. It was time for me to grow up and decide what was more important to me. If I was going to make this relationship work, I needed to make some sacrifices. Hank was certainly holding up his end of the bargain. Most guys wouldn’t put up with a girl living the Playboy Mansion lifestyle, the long-distance relationship, and being forced to keep the whole thing a secret. He was so committed and so patient, and I knew he deserved better.
CHAPTER 18
The Secret to Love
By the time we were filming the fifth season of The Girls Next Door, I think Holly, Bridget, and I were just sort of going through the motions. Each girl knew exactly what she had to do to make an episode interesting, so we were able to get through shooting fairly quickly.
We all knew the show was nearing its end, so we wanted to leave a good lasting impression on the viewers. After all, we were pros.
Bridget was the creative, motherly type who was always fixing problems and making some artsy shit, but she was no pushover. If something went wrong or she didn’t like what was happening in an episode she was the first to say “Fuck you” and get her way. She means business, and I think fans got that from her in the fifth season.
Holly was the nice, polite girl who had a smile on her face at all times, but she was also strong and courageous and never gave up. I’ve never seen Holly cry. You’d think I would be the toughest of the three of us, but I lost my shit a number of times. Holly was the fighter.
During the fifth season the producers wanted to film us taking a scuba-diving test, but Holly didn’t know how to swim. We figured Holly would just sit this one out, but she had taken a few swimming lessons with Amanda Beard for a previous episode, and then, knowing we had the scuba episode coming up, she really worked at learning to swim off camera. She was determined to pass that test.
On the day we went out on the ocean to get certified, the water was really choppy. It was a terrible day for scuba diving. In the episode it looks like we all passed the test easily, but the truth is, none of us wanted to even get in the water, except Holly. Holly—who had just learned how to swim—was determined to get that certification, and she did it. It was amazing.
As for me, I was the resident party girl, but I was doing my best to put an end to that off camera. I didn’t care how I looked on the show, but I wanted to prove to Hank how much he meant to me, and that meant toning it down in public. Plus, I missed Hank so much that it was hard for me to have fun the way I used to.
I began focusing all my energy on figuring out how Hank and I could meet up without getting caught. I was losing my mind without seeing him, and then, just before football season started, Hank told me he was going to Cabo San Lucas with some of his boys and he wanted me to come. I didn’t really want to crash a boys’ weekend, but at the same time I totally wanted to crash the boys’ weekend. I didn’t know how I was going to make it work, but I told Hank that I would find a way to see him.
At the time Hef was being way more lenient on the rules because he knew our time at the Mansion was almost up, but there was no way in hell he was just going to let me go to Cabo for no reason. So I found a reason. I had my publicist book me an appearance at a hotel down there so I could make it a work trip. It worked out perfectly—I even scored a free flight and a room at the ME Cabo Resort.
I took two girls with me so the trip seemed like a girls’ weekend in addition to a work event, a
nd of course Joe, the bodyguard, was there, too. I use the term bodyguard lightly. Joe was a skinny, gray-haired guy in his sixties—not exactly the ass-kicker you might imagine. He was more the guy who got me out of bed and to my event on time, and who stayed sober to make sure there was no funny business. Don’t get me wrong—he always had my back, so in a sense he was a bodyguard, but in a more fatherly sort of way.
Joe and I had developed a good relationship, but he was super-loyal to Hef, so Hank and I knew we had to be sneaky—especially since he had seen Hank a couple of times already and was starting to get suspicious. Hank and I always said that we were family friends, and we never acted like we were together when Joe—or anyone else for that matter—was around. Plus, in Cabo there would be paparazzi, so we had to be extra careful.
Just being in Cabo with Hank made all the work I had to do to get there, and all the sneakiness that had to take place once we were there, worth it. The day we arrived I met all of his friends. We went off-roading on ATVs, and then we all went to the hotel pool, where I bought shots for everyone. I was like one of the guys, cracking on Hank and talking trash. I fit right in—they loved me.
My girls came out, too, and they met all of Hank’s friends, but they also had one another to hang out with, so they weren’t too concerned with what I was doing. That’s why I took two friends: if you bring one, they count on you to be with them all the time; with two, they entertain each other. So they didn’t care if I was off somewhere with Hank. I had everything figured out.
Joe watched us the whole time, but it all looked platonic, so there was nothing for him to report.
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