Sliding Into Home

Sliding
into Home

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This work is a memoir. It reflects the author’s present recollection of her experiences over a period of years. Certain names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed. Dialogue and events have been recreated from memory, and, in some cases, have been compressed to convey the substance of what was said or what occurred. Some scenes are composites of events, and the time line for some events has been compressed.

Copyright © 2010 by Kendra Wilkinson

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First Gallery Books hardcover edition July 2010

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Wilkinson, Kendra.
    Sliding into home : a memoir / by Kendra Wilkinson ; with Jon Warech.
       p. cm.
1. Wilkinson, Kendra. 2. Television personalities—United States—Biography.
3. Models (Persons)—United States—Biography. I. Warech, Jon. II. Title.
PN1992.4.W547A3 2010
791.450’28092—dc22
   [B]                                                      2010017539

ISBN 978-1-4391-8091-4
ISBN 978-1-4391-8093-8 (ebook)

To my son, Hank IV,
who marks the beginning of a
wonderful new chapter in my life.

Introduction

Chapter 1
    A Tale of Two Kendras

Chapter 2
    No Room for Daddy

Chapter 3
    A Friend in Need

Chapter 4
    A Perfect Misfit

Chapter 5
    Summer Druggin’

Chapter 6
    Not-so-Fresh Feeling

Chapter 7
    Hitting Bottom

Chapter 8
    All Work and No Play

Chapter 9
    Working Hard for the Money

Chapter 10
    Adventure in Wonderland

Chapter 11
    Fresh Princess of Bel Air

Chapter 12
    Party Hopping with Bunnies

Chapter 13
    Playing the Role of Kendra Wilkinson

Chapter 14
    Going Home a Star

Chapter 15
    Breakout Star

Chapter 16
    When Kendra Met Hank

Chapter 17
    No Flash-in-the-Pan Relationship

Chapter 18
    The Secret to Love

Chapter 19
    On My Own Now

Chapter 20
    A Biscuit in Mrs. Baskett

Chapter 21
    The Adventure Continues

Acknowledgments

When you star in a reality show, the entire world thinks they know you. Fans see you as the girl next door, tabloid editors see you as a story line, and paparazzi see you as a target. At the end of the day, they are all wrong.

Yes, I’m on TV, and yes, that makes me a celebrity, but I wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and see Kendra, a regular girl from humble beginnings who nowadays gets to do some pretty amazing shit. The girl you saw on
The Girls Next Door
and
Kendra
is only part of who I am. I really
am
a fun girl who likes to party, and I will kick some ass on a soccer or softball field, but I’m also a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend, and so many other things to many different people.

Ultimately, I’m a real chick with real emotions, real concerns, and a growing sense of responsibility.

The crazy thing about television is that you are rarely allowed to grow. You are molded into a character based on some of your
strongest traits and you are forced to stay that way for your entire television life. I was nineteen when
The Girls Next Door
started. All I cared about was having fun. If I’d written this book back then, it would be 250 pages about which tequila tastes better (Patrón) and when it’s all right to flash your boobs (always).

In the past year and a half, my life has completely changed. I moved out of the Playboy Mansion, got married, and gave birth to my baby boy, Hank Jr. The way I look at life and fill my days now is as far from that nineteen-year-old as you can possibly imagine. I set a dinner table every night instead of dancing on one at a club. I wake up at five
A.M
. instead of passing out at that hour after a long night of partying. And if I’m whipping out a boob, it’s probably because Hank Jr. is hungry.

But I wouldn’t be the Kendra I am today without the life experiences I’ve had and, more important, the people who have been in my life throughout this entire journey.

Through all the good and bad, my mom has stuck by me. She didn’t pick me up every time I fell; she let me get up on my own and learn from my mistakes, but was always there when I needed her. Hugh Hefner was the same way. He’s the kindest, most thoughtful man on the planet, and he saw strength in me that I didn’t even know existed. He let me fail and succeed on my own because he believed in me more than I believed in myself at the time. Holly and Bridget—there was probably a time when they wanted me to fail, but we all became good friends and learned to not judge a book by its cover. And Hank, well, he gave me his heart. True love changes a person. One day you care only about yourself, and then, before you know it, you are putting someone else first all the time.

It’s because of them that I’m not the one-dimensional character
you see on TV. Behind the laugh you hear on television, there is a girl who has been through some intense shit—stuff I’m proud of and stuff I’m not so proud of. But my life experiences shaped my personality and because of that experience I know I’ll be a great mom. I needed to fail and succeed, to have loved and lost, and even to have shaken my ass on a dance floor to become a well-rounded, confident mother who won’t freak out every time Hank Jr. starts to cry.

Without those experiences and the people who were along for the ride, who the hell knows where I’d be? I was always on the move as a kid, always getting into trouble, and I never had a clue where I would end up. My life was crazy, and it only got more insane when I packed up and moved into the Playboy Mansion. I was a wild child who could never sit still.

To this day, I still am all over the place. I moved from the Mansion to a condo in the Valley to Philadelphia to Indianapolis and back to L.A., all in the past year. I don’t know where life will take me—I’ve always been a free spirit in that way—but I do know that with Hank and Hank Jr. by my side it doesn’t matter where we live. As long as the three of us are together I will always feel like our house is a home . . . and that’s the best feeling in the world.

CHAPTER 1
 

A Tale of Two Kendras

“So you’ll be naked?”

“Well, I’ll be painted,” I corrected Zack, my live-in boyfriend.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it will be fine.”

I wasn’t sure spending an evening as a painted girl at Hugh Hefner’s seventy-eighth birthday party would actually be fine, but I was hoping it would turn out to be. At the very least, I would make a couple hundred dollars, meet some cool people, and get a chance to check out the Playboy Mansion. How could I turn that down?

And besides, it was Zack who had initiated the whole thing. He’d taken me to the car show where a photographer had said he wanted to set up a photo shoot with me, and at the time Zack was all for it. So it seemed totally logical that when the photographer posted the photos on One Model Place—a sort of MySpace for models—if any work came from it, Zack would support me.

Well, the photographer posted the photos, and that same day a guy named Mark called from
Playboy
and asked about me.

The truth is, I wasn’t exactly sure what the Playboy Mansion was—or who Hugh Hefner was, for that matter. I knew about the bunny; I had an uncle who worked at the Playboy Club in Atlantic City, and he would send my brother and me T-shirts and sweatshirts with the bunny on them when we were kids. I’d wear them to school and all the kids would tease me and say
Playboy
was gross, but I thought it was cool.

Beyond that, I didn’t know much about
Playboy
. But I knew enough to know that getting a phone call from someone who worked there could be the beginning of something big.

Mark’s first call wasn’t guaranteed to lead to anything. He mentioned that he was looking for girls to work at Hef’s upcoming birthday party. I figured
Playboy
had a lot of models to choose from for the party, and it was a long shot. But a couple of days later Mark called back.