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Authors: Izabella St. James

Bunny Tales (17 page)

BOOK: Bunny Tales
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Another thing I really love and respect about Hef is his soft spot for animals. He has rescued many animals, which now call the Mansion their home. He allows the girls to keep many pets. I cannot imagine many iconic men like Hef, who picks up the poop of his Girlfriends’ dogs and doesnt mind it. I always found it charming. He genuinely likes and cares for all animals. If I know anything about human nature, I know that a person who cares about animals is a good person.

One of the things I admire about Hef is the fact that he is a gracious and generous host. He holds dinners and parties for his circle of friends all week long and throws fantastic, elaborate, and expensive parties for many lucky invitees and the various charitable causes he participates in.

He is also giving on a personal level. The things I remember dearly include the fact that when my parents came for my law school graduation, he invited them to come to Magic Castle—a restaurant that also offers various magic shows—with us, and they had a great time. When my mom visited on her own, he invited her to come to dinner with us on more than one occasion; she had a great time and felt honored to share the experience with all of us. When my friends came to visit, he always welcomed them and invited them to come out to dinner with us or whatever it was that we were doing at the time. When my friend Niki came to Los Angeles for her bachelorette weekend, Hef permitted all of the girls at the party to stay at his $4 million “Playmate house,” which was used for the filming of
Playboy: Who Wants to be a Playboy Centerfold
, down the street from the Mansion. He also invited them to come to the Mansion for their meals and to come out with all of us to clubs. Not to mention that he allowed me to throw Niki’s bachelorette party poolside and in the grotto. As far I know, she is the only woman who had her bachelorette party there. I am grateful for his generous hospitality because my family and friends got to share with me the experience of living at the Mansion. My parents were so excited to be at the Mansion New Year’s Eve party; they had never seen a party like that before or even had the chance to enjoy something like the grotto—they got to live out many people’s dreams. I am appreciative because Hef, whether directly or indirectly, brought happiness to the people I love and care about. I know some people who watch
The Girls Next Door
cannot believe how Kendra’s grandma or Bridget’s family like Hef so much. They do not understand how warm, kind, and polite Hef is. And they forget that the parents or family don’t necessarily know the full extent of the relationship between the girls and Hef; from what they see, their girls are being treated wonderfully by this kind older gentleman.

Hef is used to entertaining; he has a big group of friends he considers his “extended family,” whom he wines and dines all week long. The open-door policy toward his friends stems from childhood, and many of his friends are in a time warp with him. We got to know Hef’s friends at the weekend buffet dinners. The most important one in the group is Keith Hefner, Hef’s younger brother, a very gracious man who I like very much. There is also big band leader Ray Anthony, who had once been married to American actress and sex symbol Mamie Van Doren, and is the sweetest man. There were many more that I never got to know despite living in the Mansion for more than two years. I heard that when Hef was married to Kimberly, she trimmed the guest list and the frequency of the gatherings. His friends called it the Dead Ball Era, when parties became black tie instead of lingerie. I can certainly understand Kimberly’s motives; she was married and had two small children; she didn’t want a bunch of people always hanging around the house.

Although I know that some people genuinely care about Hef, some seemed to me to be taking advantage of his generosity. They were there several nights a week set aside for dinner and the movie. When we watched the movies, Hef and us girls were on the leather couch. The second couch was reserved for Keith and his date, and other alternating guests. The rest of the guests sat in chairs behind and beside the couches. There were also some pillows in front our sofa on the floor, where about four or five people lay. Sometimes the movie would be of interest to the kids and Hef’s sons would come over. I remember a few of the people complaining about the kids taking their spots. I could not believe their nerve. These were Hef’s children—the man who owns the house and kindly invites them to dinner and to watch movies with him several times a week. How rude.

Sometimes the guests were “banned” if they crossed the line with a Girlfriend. Apparently, one Fun in the Sun Sunday Roxy was having a water fight with someone and accidentally splashed a male guest. The man grabbed her by the arm and scolded her. She complained to Hef, and he was banned. The man gave it some time and apologized to Roxy and Hef. Eventually all was forgiven—Hef has a good heart, and the guest was allowed back into the exclusive Mansion circle of friends.

Meanwhile, Hef’s relationship with his real family seemed very casual if not strained at times. His daughter Christie, who runs Playboy Enterprises, ignored the fact that we were his Girlfriends for the most part. Since the day I met Hef, I have wanted to meet Christie Hefner, the young female CEO of the most famous men’s magazine. I imagined her to be articulate and intelligent. And so it happened that a couple of months after I met Hef, Christie and her husband were staying at the Mansion for a couple of days while in town for a benefit. Christie was in great physical shape, very confident and charming when she wanted to be, but she did have an intimidating quality about her. Christina Santiago, in her Playmate of the Year acceptance speech, said, “Christie, you scare me.” Hef introduced all of us girls to his daughter, and when he came to me, he informed Christie that I had just graduated from law school. “You know, before I took over the magazine, I was planning on attending law school as well,” she told me in a very friendly tone. I was pleased to have her respect and told her that if I had had the opportunity she had, I would have passed on law school as well.

Holly, who didn’t seem to care much for Christie, informed me that Christie does not like “the girls.” I could understand if she did not like the Girlfriends mainly because we were an unnecessary expenditure. Hef was paying rent for the rooms we lived in, giving us spending money and paying for our cars, plastic surgeries, and other things. Clearly that money could be spent on other things, or could just be preserved as part of her and the other kids’ inheritance. I totally understood. But at the same time, we
were
her father’s Girlfriends. Maybe now that a reality show centered around the Girlfriends is on television, bringing Playboy a lot of attention and publicity, she is more accepting of the remaining three Girlfriends. When I started dating Hef, I learned from his friends that Hef and Christie clashed on several issues, such as the cost of his lifestyle—not only the Girlfriends, but also the parties and other entertaining expenses at the Mansion. I remember Hef’s birthday party in 2002 had to be downsized as a result of cutbacks. He didn’t seem happy about it, but he went along with it. It is also my opinion that Playboy ownership of adult channels and acquisition of The Hot Network, The Hot Zone, and Vivid TV from Vivid were largely driven by Christie. I think Hef would have been happy just to have the magazine, but financial reality dictated otherwise. I don’t think he is proud of the more graphic aspects of the business, but that’s the cash engine that drives the company.

Besides Christie, Hef’s most famous child, there are also three sons. Everyone knows about Marston and Cooper, his two young sons with former Playmate Kimberly Conrad. Marston and Cooper seem like great kids. Besides being mischievous—boys will be boys—they were very creative and artistic. Even as little boys they were making films, starting their own play magazines, writing stories, and creating Web sites. I believe they have a wonderful future ahead of them. I can only imagine how strange it must be to grow up in the environment they are in. I was told by one of the butlers that now, as they enter their teenage years, they are starting to realize who they are; they understand their wealth and power. He also told me that they are becoming more rebellious, and that Cooper has been sent to boarding school and Marston may join him soon. In my opinion, they are good kids. I remember on Christmas they went to a novelty store with their mom and came back with little gift for all of us, which they left by our bedroom doors. I got a Hello Kitty wallet and stickers. I was touched by the gesture. All of us girls put some money together and got the kids presents in return. I think the boys will make terrific successors to the Playboy empire. They are good-looking and very social and have good manners. I remember one time at a Spice Network premiere party at the Mansion, as we were getting ready for a picture to be taken, Hef suddenly left to speak with someone. Seeing an opportunity, Marston stepped in and sat in the middle of the group in Hef’s place. We all laughed, and the cameras went wild.The future of Playboy is bright indeed.

Hef has another grown son about whom many people don’t seem to know anything: David Hefner, who is a couple of years younger than Christie. Some girls didn’t even know he had an older son until he showed up at the Playboy Jazz Festival. David seems reserved but has always been very nice to me, and I enjoyed seeing him at the festivals, during the holidays, and at other Playboy events.

Now eighty years old, Hef remains the company mascot: he continues to vigorously sell the magazine and the lifestyle associated with it by using his own life as the example. Those who see him on television making appearances to promote the magazine and his image as the ultimate playboy see a witty, gracious man. But only a few people get to see the other sides of Hef, the sides that living at the Playboy Mansion for two years slowly revealed to me: insecure and egotistical, controlling but naïve.

It is as difficult to label my relationship with Hef as it is to explain its nature. Hef was my boyfriend, my friend, and yet, at times, a stranger. When people asked if he was my boyfriend, I instinctively said no. Most of the time, the girls and I claimed that status only when we needed to—to pull rank and to assert ourselves for one reason or another. Initially he played the boyfriend role more than later on in the relationship. There were tender moments, real conversations, and genuine fondness. I remember shortly after I moved in and decorated my room, he came in and noticed my reproduction of a Dalí painting and my Picasso’s
Guernica
tile. We discussed art and had real conversations, not just that phony baloney “Hi honey” or “Hi daddy” nonsense—we used to call Hef “honey” most of the time; sometimes we called him “Daddy” when being flirtatious and coy. I don’t remember where the terminology came from, who invented it, but those were terms we all used. There were real moments with Hef at the beginning of our relationship, but they became increasingly rare as time went by.

When I met Hef, I admired him. I really saw him as an intelligent, accomplished man. And yes, I was attracted to him, not physically, but because he was a brilliant entrepreneur, social icon, and a one-of-a-kind individual. I looked forward to getting to know him better and learning from him; I really thought it would be a unique lesson in life to live with such a legend. My first impression of him was that he was kind and generous, a gentleman. And that was the thing: it is easy to love him, but not in a sexual relationship. For an intimate relationship to exist, there must be lust and passion. As lovable and cute and sweet Hef was, it appeared to me that for most of us, there was never a physical attraction to him. There were moments when I looked at him and did not see age or physicality, when I saw only the man and his accomplishments, and that was a turn-on. But those moments alone were not enough for a true intimate relationship to exist.

After I lived with him for a while, I realized the limits of the relationship; it was shallow and superficial. We never had any one-on-one time with Hef, and when Holly moved into his bedroom, she made it impossible. There was no opportunity to bond or really get to know him. If there was, it was on his terms alone: watching old movies. But I think that’s the way he likes it, eye candy who listen to him, admire him, and occasionally say something cute and funny.

No matter what he says about having seven Girlfriends, it is not a real, equal, and intimate relationship. It is simply impossible to be connected to seven girls at the same time. Though he did care for all of us, the feelings were superficial. The one thing that I found most puzzling about Hef was his perception of the relationship he had with the Girlfriends. Hef always used to tell us, “We are a family.” That’s the one thing Emma, Susan, and I would discuss to death: Did he really believe this is what family is? He didn’t know that much about us. He knew the basics, our names, where we were from, and any distinguishing qualities. He would always say, “This is Izabella, she is from Poland and Canada, and she graduated from law school.” He knew that Susan was also Canadian, and that Emma was British and had a son. He didn’t know anything else really—our interests, our ambitions, our fears. He liked to keep things at a basic, uncomplicated level.

Because of that lack of intimacy, we didn’t feel like real girlfriends and accordingly we didn’t act like
real
girlfriends. We went out and flirted with boys, we went on dates, and most of us had boyfriends. But Hef doesn’t believe things he does not want to believe. When he heard I was dating Gavin Maloof—co-owner of the NBA’s Sacramento Kings and the Palms Casino & Resort, among other things—he told me, “Oh, I know it’s not true,” before I even opened my mouth, even though it was partly true. If I were to tell him that Emma, who he knew was technically married, was spending time with her husband, he would get mad at me for ruining his image of love and family harmony. Yet he would be almost too shy or scared to ask her about it. It was the same with all of the girls; when he heard that some had boyfriends, he would put it out of his mind. That’s the truly mind-boggling thing. I can’t tell if he’s that naïve or if he just pretends to be to make his life run more smoothly. They say rich men tend to believe in their own lies, and Hef must be an expert at it.

BOOK: Bunny Tales
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