Down the Rabbit Hole (34 page)

Just as I had been, seven years earlier, Crystal Harris was 22, thin, blond, a bit plain, and somewhat shy. How could she ever outshine those gorgeous, vibrant Shannon twins? They had no idea that night that she would be their eventual undoing.

While someone else was thrilled at the prospect of getting into the inner circle of the Playboy world, I couldn't have been happier to be getting out. The Playboy Mansion certainly changed my life—for better
and
for worse. It had been both my safe haven—and my prison. Living inside those hulking walks hadn't been the path to fame and fortune that I had imagined—and it certainly hadn't been my path to love. I was grateful for all I had gained there, but still mourned all that was lost.

As I drove out of those daunting gates, I never once looked back.

C
HAPTER
12

“She's
my
prisoner, you know!” the Red Knight said at last.…

“I don't know,” Alice said doubtfully. “I don't want to be anyone's prisoner. I want to be a Queen.”

—Lewis Carroll,
Through the Looking-Glass

C
riss was
desperate
to have me in Las Vegas for the premiere of his show
BeLIEve
on Halloween night. After fulfilling my final scheduled obligation to
Playboy
(in New York with Bridget and Kendra to promote a recently developed
Playboy
perfume—just don't call it
Girls Next Door
!) I jetted off to Sin City to walk the “black carpet” with my new boyfriend.

Seduced by this good-looking man who was seemingly frantic in his affections for me, I allowed myself to be lured in. After knowing each other only a few months, he
needed
me by his side for the world premiere of his new show.
I
was the one who calmed his nerves, he said. I had become so used to taking a backseat to Hef and sharing the remaining spotlight with other women, I was beyond flattered that this successful man was so enthralled with me—and
only
me.

BeLIEve
had utterly bombed during press previews. Critics were merciless in their dismembering of his performance. The
Las Vegas Sun
ruthlessly called Criss “a charmless mook” and “a rudimentary stage performer—he's barely believable playing himself.” It didn't stop there. The writer went on to say, “The single most amazing thing about ‘Believe' is that it is still so boring.” Ouch! No wonder he was nervous! I felt sorry for the guy.

And, like a magician does when wanting to guide the audience's attention away from a trick, he needed to provide a distraction, or in magician's terms, “a misdirection,” for the media the night of the show's opening. That night, unbeknownst to me,
I
was the misdirection.

On the night of his premiere, Criss introduced the world to his splashy new romance: the flashy blonde he had seemingly stolen from right under Hugh Hefner's nose. We paraded down the press line hand in hand, before pausing in front of photographers so Criss could plant a big wet kiss on me.

Wow,
I thought, giddy with the excitement of my new romance.
He really wants to show me off!

It wouldn't take long before the illusion started to dissolve.

T
RUE TO HIS WORD
, Criss spent his days off toting me around Las Vegas. Like a normal young couple, we'd spend afternoons four-wheeling out in the desert or going to pool parties and our evenings eating at the finest restaurants and catching some of the Strip's most acclaimed shows. The two of us didn't really have that much in common, but I was so thrilled to be able to go out and try new things that I didn't notice or care. We were quickly becoming the most buzzed about couple in Las Vegas. I have to admit, it was nice to be recognized as someone independent of Hef. Sure, people still thought of me as a “Playboy Bunny,” but I had separated from Hef and was still not only relevant but thriving (things he told me that I wouldn't be without him). My name was topping search engine lists regularly and I was being written about in gossip blogs. I had never received that kind of attention when I was with Hef! With all the excitement swirling around me, I found it easy to go along for the ride.

Not long into our courtship, Criss bought me a piece of jewelry—a small diamond cross necklace. Conveniently, a photo of us at the jewelry store popped up on a few gossip sites, most of which speculated that we must be engagement ring shopping.

With a 10-year Vegas residency on the horizon, Criss was in the market to purchase his first home—and insisted on me coming along to all the showings. He wanted me to love what he insisted would be
our
future home. As we'd stroll through these sprawling Vegas estates, he'd ask my opinions on this feature or that fixture—seeming interested in what I had to say.

On the days I would travel back to Los Angeles to work on my
Playboy
job that I had somehow managed to hang on to, I'd come home to a huge bouquet of red roses already waiting for me at my Santa Monica condo. Criss didn't waste a single opportunity to continue impressing me. He would text me often throughout the day wanting to know what I was up to, getting worked up when he couldn't get ahold of me.

After a few trips back to the coast, Criss began insisting that one of his security guards accompany me. As our public profile continued to rise, Criss said it was in order to keep me safe. The guard would stay in a hotel near my condo and was to accompany me
everywhere
. It was awkward and embarrassing to have to explain to my friends why a security guard joined us for every meal.

“Doesn't that seem a little unnecessary?” one friend suggested over our lunch. “Maybe a bit possessive?”

“No,” I said, trying to hide my embarrassment.
Criss worshipped the ground I walked on and genuinely worried about me,
I thought. “He's just protective,” I explained.

In my post-mansion life, Criss seemed to be exactly what I needed. It wasn't long before I reverted back into the Converse-wearing, jeans, ponytail, and black nail polish kind of girl that I used to be in high school. No longer feeling the pressure to look and act like a human Barbie doll was a gigantic weight off my shoulders. In fact, Criss even encouraged me to go without makeup.

Wow. Somebody who likes me for who I really am!
I thought.

Despite having made a complete break from my relationship with Hef, I still felt like I was awkwardly darting back and forth between two worlds. Not only was there my job at the Playboy Studio, but there were still
Girls Next Door
obligations to fill. I had been with Criss for only about six weeks or so when I received a call from the
GND
producers asking me to come into the studio for audio commentary for the season five DVD. Understandably, now that the season was wrapped and edited, the producers were eager to get this commentary in the can before the three of us girls scattered even farther in different directions.

Despite placing an impenetrable candy coating on what was often a miserable existence, I was always very grateful for
Girls Next Door
and the opportunities it provided me. Who knows where I would have ended up if it hadn't been for the series? Perhaps still locked behind that giant gate, depressed as ever . . . or worse.

Committed to fulfilling my obligations to the show, I agreed to come in that week. For the audio commentary, producers set Bridget, Kendra, and me in chairs around a monitor. They'd play each episode and we'd talk about what was going on in that moment or provide some behind-the-scenes details. Despite having been away from the girls for only a few weeks, it felt like I hadn't seen them in years—and it was so much fun laughing over the show with them.

My jovial mood, however, wouldn't last. During the final episode, producers had cut a video montage of Hef's and my most romantic-seeming moments over the course of the last five seasons. With our breakup (not to mention the way he had treated me) still so fresh in my mind, I couldn't begin to manufacture any sort of sentiment for the commentary. In fact, the entire montage made me sick to my stomach.

“Really?” I groaned into the microphone at our producer. “Do you
have
to do this?”

“Holly, Hef is a romantic,” he said calmly. “He wants to hear from you.”

“It's gross,” I protested. “Do you have to put all this in? We're not together anymore. Nobody wants to see this.”

He seemed disappointed that I wasn't making this easier, but I didn't care. The montage seemed wildly inappropriate. Plus, Criss was growing more and more sensitive about my affiliation with
Playboy
. About a month into our living together, he started getting really upset any time an article would surface linking me to anything
Playboy
-related. His rants frightened me, but since I had (foolishly) already moved in with Criss, I gave him chance after chance, hoping that this was a passing phase. In my head, I imagined Criss watching this episode and completely going off the deep end (which is exactly what would happen).

After we wrapped commentary, Bridget, Kendra, and I gathered around outside the studio with the producers and the crew chatting about the season, what we loved, what we hated, etc.

“You know, Hef
likes
all the drama,” Kendra began. We'd all had our complaints in the past, but this was the first time Kendra was so vocal in front of production. I guess since it was all over, she had nothing to lose. “I remember one day we were all watching a movie and afterward Hef followed me back into my room. He goes, ‘You know, I'm really disappointed that you didn't sit closer to me.' And it was so weird, so I just said, ‘Well, that's, like, where Holly sits and I don't want to, you know, step on anyone's toes.' Then the dude stomps his feet and was like, ‘I
like
the drama!' ”

Kendra's story hit me like a punch in the gut. While I had long ago tired of Hef's double standards, ridiculous rules, and belittling comments, this was the first time I
really
realized what a manipulator he was. Suddenly, it all became clear to me. The biggest reason I never got along with most of the girls in the house was Hef. He encouraged the infighting all along, despite his fake pleas for harmony. He was looking more and more pathetic in my eyes. I couldn't believe I had been manipulated for so long.

I kept in touch with the show's producers regularly. Since I openly blabbed to the press about my hopes to do a reality show of my own in Vegas, they called to find out what I had in mind. They also contacted me regularly to invite me to Kendra's bridal shower and to confirm me as a bridesmaid for her wedding. It was difficult for me to communicate with them, though, because Criss seemed to be getting more and more paranoid about any affiliation I had with
Playboy
or
Girls Next Door
and tried to talk me out of even attending Kendra's wedding. While his behavior troubled me, I could almost sympathize with it, in my own twisted way. After getting some space between me and the mansion, I was truly beginning to realize just how poorly I had been treated and what a grim situation that had been, and so in a way, I saw Criss's behavior as him protecting me from
Playboy
.

During one of Criss's performances, I waited for him backstage and found myself alone for the first time in weeks. Usually I watched his shows from the audience or waited backstage with other members of his entourage, but that evening everyone else must have been occupied because I was the only one in the room. I decided to take the rare opportunity to call one of my favorite producers and catch up.

The call didn't go quite how I had planned. Somewhere in the midst of our catching up, what was meant to be a friendly phone call turned into a berating session. I believe it stemmed from the fact that I didn't react the way they wanted to the “Holly and Hef love montage” during the audio commentary session. What I remember clearly is ending up in tears and trying to stick up for myself as he rattled off a list of complaints Hef had logged against me in a recent bad-mouthing session. I knew that when I made the choice to leave the mansion that I was leaving my spot on TV behind, but I certainly hadn't expected Hef to try and poison everyone I had worked with against me. My producer friend told me that all of the things I'd said during the commentary made everyone uncomfortable: him, the crew, Bridget . . .

Apparently it had been okay for Kendra to rattle on and on about Hank throughout the commentary, despite having dated him behind Hef's back for the better part of a year. I guess because they had been planning a Kendra spin-off anyway, that was okay. True, they thought the spin-off was going to be about a wild, single Kendra out on her own, but the concept of the show was easily adaptable to the idea of Kendra having a boyfriend, once they found out about the secret months-long romance. I had thrown a huge wrench in their vision for
GND
season six, however, so my behavior and honesty during the commentary was deemed “wrong.” It was incredibly hypocritical, but what else was there to expect from the same camp that thought we should all be faithful to Hef without him showing us the same respect?