Playground (38 page)

women in their lives as they off handedly gamble away mountains

of chips.

At night, I ventured into nightclubs and after-hours spots,

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Playground

where I found the voices of other lost souls trying to escape mem-

ories of their own past.

It is then that I began to write.

These bars are a combination of emergency room and perfor-

mance-art stage. To me, they felt like home. I was surrounded by

fabulous superstars in short shorts and Spandex, grungy guys in

ski caps, and skinny girls sporting tinted big-framed sunglasses

and colored fur scarves. They inhaled whip-its while jumping up

and down to remixes of Depeche Mode. The sweat of the reckless-

ness was provocative and biting.

No one can touch us, even if they tried.

Time passes and I find myself frequenting the Mansion again, look-

ing for something to ease the emptiness that has become my con-

stant companion. The Mansion is still a fable of sorts, an enchanting

kingdom where I can escape and become lost in adventures.

Hef and my father are out on the town frequenting all the hot

spots. They show up for all my birthday bashes, making rowdy en-

trances with an entourage of blond beauties. Hef ’s house parties

for young, hip Hollywood are still the talk of the town. It seems a

whole new generation of celebrities have come out to play.

My thirtieth birthday approaches and I decide to spice it up

and celebrate at Stray, a trendy hipster/bisexual bar in Hollywood.

I invite my parents, my sister, and Hef, as well as a hundred of my

closest friends.

My mother stands stiffly beautiful in the corner, sipping a glass

of champagne, overwhelmed by the clubgoers and appalled by

their lax attitude on undefined sexuality. I appreciate her appear-

ance, considering her feelings on club scene decadence and promis-

cuity. Mom finds the whole atmosphere so socially embarrassing

that she eventually starts pretending it never occurred.

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

After college, when I told my parents I was bisexual, my father

shrugged while my mother dropped me off at a post-trauma cen-

ter for rehabilitation. Though it will be voiced as disapproval, her

guilt for not saving her daughter will live inside her forever.

On the dance floor, my friends and I dance and sip martinis,

listening to Eminem as Savannah runs up to me.

“You’re not going to believe this, Jennifer.”

“What?”

“The idiot dyke bouncer won’t let Hef in. She has no idea who

he is. He and Dad have been waiting outside for twenty minutes!”

“Oh my God,” I laugh.

I quickly run downstairs and yell at the fat chick bouncer with

a bad boy’s haircut, and apologize to Dad and Hef. They are both

smiling, as amused at the situation as I am.

In the confusion of the moment, I don’t take note that my fa-

ther is wearing a huge orange Afro wig. Hef ’s in his silk pajamas

as usual.

Dad smiles. “We’re off to a costume party after this.”

They enter the bar, followed by Hef ’s entourage: fifteen eye-

catching girls in micro-miniskirts and high heels, mostly blondes,

all sexy, and most important, all here for my birthday.

A family again.

Along with Hef ’s usual group comes the Court Jester. The

Jester follows Hef around with a notepad. He approaches attrac-

tive girls, gets their phone numbers, and encourages them to send

a head shot to the Mansion. If they pass round one of the inspec-

tions, the girls are invited to attend every Sunday’s Fun in the Sun

party, where they’ll be casually screened for Playmate potential

and/or poolside decor.

As the larger Mansion parties roll around, hundreds of girls

send in photographs with hopes of being invited. They are so con-

cerned about getting in that some of the girls send in shots of

themselves in various positions, making out with other girls, with

sex toys—anything to catch Hef ’s eye.

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Playground

“What some people will do to get into a party,” Hef will chuckle

as my father hands him more pornographic pictures of random

girls he met in strip joints no one’s heard of.

Mom’s face cringes as the Playmates surround her. There’s an

assortment of air kisses and communal laughter.

My parents are now standing on either side of Hef as every-

thing in my life converges in this one moment.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” says Mom.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bunny lap dance?”

I joke.

“I do enough charity work, honey. Feel free to send any of

them to one of my treatment centers.” Mom smiles. We hug good

night and again I find myself never wanting to let go. Nothing will

make up for the years we lost, and despite all the time that has

passed, I yearn for the love that only a mother can give, as if I were

still a child.

Dad, Hef, and his girls leave shortly thereafter. I pass on meet-

ing them at the costume party. Instead, my high school friends and

I close the bar down and then head over to Amber’s parents’ house

in the Canyon for after-hours.

Hef ’s huge birthday bash at the Mansion rolls around, and for the

first time in my life I miss it because I am out of town. When I get

back, I stop by Bar Fly, an old-school Hollywood bar, as the week

of his birthday festivities continues. I bring Tyler, my new twenty-

four-year-old bisexual girlfriend whom I met while she was having

lunch at the Polo Lounge with her family. She unlocks a hunger, a

desire I never thought I could feel again. Our heated intensity re-

minds me of the passionate affair and lasting seduction I experi-

enced as a teenager with Kendall more than a decade ago. Tyler

seems to trigger all the unfulfilled craving and broken love I never

received as a child.

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The place is packed as Hef and his entourage make a grandiose

entrance with ten bodyguards and an assortment of Playmates

he chose to bring for the night. They are quickly ushered behind

a roped-off section. Cameras are flashing as out-of-towners and

star-fuckers ooh and ahh over Hef and his girls, asking him for

autographs and pictures while security holds them back.

The security guards lift the velvet rope as Tyler and I walk up

to Hef to wish him a happy birthday and give him a gift. My father

is nowhere to be found. Guys and girls are hitting on us, trying to

gain entrance, offering us money to get closer to Hef. Tyler turns

to me and asks where my father is.

“I don’t know,” I tell her.

The Jester comes in with his own entourage of young beauties

trailing behind. “Hey, Jennifer, where’s Doc?” he asks.

“I talked to him earlier and he said he was going to a party in

the Hills and then he would come by. But, you know, he’s never on

time.” I see Hef looking at his watch and overhear the Jester calling

my father on his cell.

“We’re all here. Hurry your ass up,” the Jester says.

An hour later, there is still no sign of my father. Hef leaves with

a disappointed look on his face as he makes a grand exit to his

limo waiting out front.

Five minutes later, guess who walks in, scattered, with some

dumb brunette hooker.

“Look who finally arrived,” I say. “You just missed Hef.”

“Oh shit,” my father says as he gets on his cell. “I need to get a

hold of him. I have his birthday present right next to me.” He gives

both my girlfriend and me a kiss hello as he introduces us to Hef ’s

birthday present.

“What do you think of her?” he asks as I shrug, clearly unim-

pressed by his choice of girls these days.

“Not much. Does she speak English?” The girl half smiles at me

as if I didn’t just insult her.

“Are those real?” my father asks, staring at Tyler’s perfectly

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shaped breasts. She ignores him and proceeds to ask if she can

hunt for eggs at Hef ’s Easter party the next day.

“Only if you wear your hair in pigtails,” he responds. She

ignores him again as she can feel he is clearly flirting.

“I have to leave. I have to go to the Mansion to drop off his

gift,” Dad tells us.

“So soon? You just got here,” Tyler responds politely.

“Sweetie, call me when you’re done with Jennifer,” he says. “You

won’t need to be on any list if you’re with me. Oh, and don’t forget

to wear your pigtails tomorrow.” I roll my eyes. Some things will

never change.

The next day, Tyler and I spend Easter Sunday at Hef ’s. As we’re

driving past the back gate to the Mansion, two people jump out of

their parked car, waving us down. They’re holding plastic cups in

their hands as they approach my car asking for directions to the

Mansion. I quickly realize it is my father with his ex-girlfriend, who

at one point had a restraining order against him. They are slurring

their words, scratching, unable to stand up straight, or focus on

anything. They’re giggling like children and appear extremely

loaded. I don’t know what they are on but it is definitely not just

alcohol.

“Hi, Dad. What are you doing?”

“We can’t find the Mansion,” he says, using his cell phone to

call Hef.

“Dad, you’ve been coming here thirty years and you still don’t

know where the Mansion is?”

“If you don’t have the information I need then move on,” he

orders, directing us with his hand as he presses redial on his cell

phone to figure out where the hell he is. We drive off twenty feet to

the front gate, laughing as we approach the entrance.

“There are like a hundred things wrong with that picture,”

I say to Tyler, too embarrassed to express what I am really think-

ing or feeling. “Please excuse my father,” I say, not wanting to get

into it.

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We pull up to the front gate as a voice coming from the Rock

welcomes us.

“ Morning, Jennifer,” one of the security guards says through

the microphone. “Just bringing one friend up with you today?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“By the way have you seen your father? Hef is wondering where

he is,” the voice asks.

“I think he’s lost,” I tell him as the gates open. Tour buses pass

by as we head up the driveway that is covered with colorful Easter

decor.

We arrive at the front door and are greeted by Tommy Lee and

Pamela Anderson, a former Playmate, who are standing with their

two little sons holding Easter baskets.

“Hey, guys. How’s it going?” Tommy asks.

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“We’ve been here for hours. The kids are tired,” Pamela an-

swers. We kiss them good-bye and go through the front door, pass-

ing Fred Durst along the way. We walk inside and instantly, it’s like

I’m a kid again. There’s a sense of timelessness. It’s like a divorced

child’s Christmas for that one special morning a year when every-

thing is warm and inviting.

Tyler and I head to the backyard and our eyes light up. A huge

carnival is going on. Billy goats and other farm animals are in

pens. Balloons, trolleys of popcorn, and ice cream are everywhere.

Kids jump up and down on a very large trampoline. We watch as

Hef autographs a brand-new toy car for the winner of the Easter-