Bunny Tales (26 page)

The day of the party, I called Scott and left a message saying he would get in, and if there was a problem to call me when he was at the door and I would come out and make sure he got in. I did not see Scott at the Super Bowl party. He called me and I called him back, but somehow we missed each other. Maybe because we always left a party before it got any good. It sucked! We chartered a private jet to take us to San Diego from Los Angeles. We were met at the airport by our security as well as several police cars, which escorted us to the Super Bowl party. I had never had a police escort before, with traffic stopped and streets blocked off; we felt like superstars—it was awesome. The party was a lot of fun, but even at our own party, we were roped off in our separate area and unable to mingle with guests.There was also a burlesque dance performance by Dita Von Teese, now married to rocker Marilyn Manson, which was great, though we were not thrilled by it because we had seen it so many times. And just as celebrities began arriving, we had to leave. Hef said it was because of the jet we chartered—we had to fly it back by a certain time. But why couldn’t we have just stayed at a hotel? We could have gone to the Super Bowl the next day and left afterward. Hef disliked traveling; he wanted to be home and that was that. So we, the hosts, were the first to leave our own party, and I never saw Scott Stapp that night. We got to do all of these cool things, but since they are always cut short, they were so anti-climactic. I later heard that Scott was at the party. It was another case of missed opportunity.

Even though sometimes we resented going out to the same clubs on the same days of the week, every week for months at a time, it was still the only way we could go out at all. I met Nicolas Cage at Concorde on our usual night out. I saw him checking me out as I walked by, and I smiled. He motioned for me to come over and sit with him. I did, but I immediately told him I was there with Hef. After some small talk, he asked for my cell phone number and I gave it to him, because there was something very interesting about him. He called me the next night; it was late and he was tired. He told me he was filming a movie called
National Treasure
, and he wanted me to come to a Christmas party he was having in a few days. I told him that I would love to, but I had a curfew (damn curfew was ruining my social life!). He mentioned that he could invite Hef and then we could all come. The next day Hef proudly announced that we had been invited to Nicolas Cage’s Christmas party that Saturday. I smiled.
If Hef only knew.
Nicolas called me a few more times before the party, but it was always late and he seemed tired. I thought he was very enigmatic. There was something about him that made me very interested although somewhat intimidated (maybe it was the Oscar?).

As we arrived at his house, I felt a little nervous but excited to see him. Ever the gentleman, he greeted Hef, said hello to all the girls, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. The décor was absolutely beautiful. A winter wonderland. As you walked out of the house into the backyard tent, you were surrounded by white and silver. There were many beautiful ice sculptures. In contrast, his house was dark and warm: dark wood, earthy tones, just what I like. One thing that stuck in my mind was a beautiful carved red dragon he had over the fireplace. I decided I wanted something like that for my own home, but I have not been able to find a dragon like his. After getting acquainted with our surroundings, we proceeded to find a place to sit in the tent. Most of the tables situated in front of the dance floor were already taken, so Hef decided that we should sit right behind the dance floor on a white couch. Once again, we were isolated—we were seated by a dance floor away from everybody else. I was mad. Why go to these beautiful parties where interesting people were and be seated so that no one could talk to you? Of course I made countless excuses to go to the bathroom so that I could walk around. At one point Hef, some of the Girlfriends, and I started to dance, and Nicolas came over and danced with us for a while. I saw him looking in my direction several times. It was frustrating not to talk to him.

The other guests included Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher with all of her daughters; Bruce Willis was also there with Brooke Burns and she was very friendly. She smiled as we all walked by, which I thought was very cool since most women, particularly at the side of a famous man, tend to snicker. I concluded that she was a happy, confident woman, as she should be. Of course we weren’t there too long before Hef decided it was time to go home. I didn’t mind; it’s not like I was allowed to have any fun so we might as well go home. As we were walking out, I saw Nicolas and made eye contact. He quickly came over and asked if we were leaving, and I nodded. We said good-bye. I was sad to leave. As we were walking out, Hef stopped to talk to Stephen Bing, who was formerly linked to Nicole Kidman and is the father of Elizabeth Hurley’s son. While we waited for Hef, we noticed Jack Nicholson standing by. Emma and I chatted with him for a while; he was witty, sharp, and charming. It’s so nice when someone you are a fan of turns out to be a cool person. After that night, Nicolas called me and invited me to dinner on Christmas Day. Not only was I sick with a cold, but my parents were also visiting from Canada. I didn’t call back immediately and by the time I was able to, it was too late. He had married some waitress he met. Although I wish him all the best, I regret not having dinner with him. There was just something about him. I guess it will have to remain a mystery.

While I lived at the Playboy Mansion, there was one person that I did actually care for other than Justin. I met Gavin Maloof at my friend Jason Davis’ birthday party at the Beverly Hills restaurant Trader Vic’s. Jason called me all the time, asking me to come to lunch, coffee, or anything, but most of the time I couldn’t because of Mansion obligations. But for his birthday I wanted to make an effort, so Emma and I went over at 8 p.m., knowing full well that we had to be home in an hour. By the time all of the guests arrived, it was time for us to go home. But I just didn’t want to leave; Jason was so happy that we came, and we were actually having fun, so I decided we should stay for the appetizers and deal with the consequences later. When we were seated, I was beside Jason, Emma next to me, and George Maloof next to her. We had met George during the fiftieth anniversary of
Playboy
celebration at the Palms. As the owner of the Palms Casino Resort, he was our host, so we reminisced about the weekend. As we sat down, Jason started opening his gifts. He opened one that was a basketball signed by the Sacramento Kings and a Kings warm-up suit; besides the Palms, the Maloofs own the Sacramento Kings, among other things. Emma and I thought the suit was very nice, and I said something about wanting one. The person who gave him the gift, George’s brother, Gavin, immediately took notice and asked me to write down our address and he would have something sent to us. I wrote down our Mansion address but did not really think we would hear from him. A few days later a package arrived from the Kings with a couple of hats and two tracksuits. I was pleasantly surprised. Gavin called to make sure we got it. We chatted briefly, and he said he wanted to have dinner next time he was in town. For the next year and a half, Gavin and I saw each other occasionally, mostly for dinner. I never worried about getting “caught” because I was not sleeping with him. I was simply having dinner with a man I found to be interesting and kind. One night we were having dinner at Koi when I saw Playmate Jennifer Walcott at the table next to us. I also found out that Gavin’s brother Joe went on a date with another Playmate, so I knew it was just a matter of time before rumors began circulating.

In February 2004, Emma told me she wanted to go work as a model at the Magic Clothing Convention in Las Vegas. She told me I could work with her, but first we had to get Hef to agree to let us go. I thought it would be a great opportunity to see Gavin, who had invited me to Vegas countless times. We had to get psyched up to go ask Hef; it was a big deal because he hated to let Girlfriends go out of town for any reason and rarely agreed to it. We told him that it was a clothing convention and we would be modeling and that our flight and room was paid for—which was true. Hef looked at us with suspicion, and then told me that he heard I was dating one of the Maloof brothers but that of course he did not believe it was true. I thought it was strange that if he heard it previously, he never came to ask me about it. But I guess he felt it was appropriate to bring it up now since we were going to Vegas and the Maloofs owned a casino resort there. It was his way of asking if I was going to stay at the Palms and see Gavin. I reassured Hef that nothing was going on, and he very reluctantly agreed to let us go. We could not believe it.

When we arrived in Vegas, we went straight to the convention. To my surprise, Emma’s modeling job was with Hustler clothing. Oh my God! I couldn’t believe she failed to mention that important detail to me. I also found out that she had worked with Hustler before.
Hef would die if he saw her donning Hustler gear
, I thought. I had no choice but to hang out, so I put a Hustler tank top on and stood there looking pretty for three hours. Don’t get me wrong, everyone from Hustler was very nice and friendly, and we did not discuss our Playboy connection, but I was sure Hef would freak out if he knew, so it made me very uncomfortable the whole time. While Emma worked at the convention over the next two days with another of Hef’s ex-Girlfriends, Lea, I stayed at the hotel. I just couldn’t betray Hef to that degree.

The first night when we went to the Hard Rock hotel to check in, we found out that they had already given our room away because we arrived late. I called Gavin, who immediately sent a limo to pick us up and told me to go to the VIP check-in at the Venetian and they would take care of us. We got our room key and entered the most beautiful room I had ever stayed at, even when we traveled with Hef. It was a two-bedroom high-roller suite, and it was stunning. I had my own huge bedroom with two bathrooms and a gym, and Emma—and Lea, who came with us—had their own two-bed luxurious bedroom. It was amazing. We ordered dinner and ate in our dining room and met Gavin afterward. He took us to see Eminem, whom Emma and I both love, at a private show, and then we partied into the wee hours of the morning at Ghostbar at the Palms, where Eminem later showed up. He got on the bar and started spraying people with alcohol. Gavin told me Eminem was staying at the Real World suite at the Palms, so named because that is where the Las Vegas season of MTV’s
The Real World
was filmed. It was a wild night! The next night I ended up going gambling with Gavin; he taught me how to play Baccarat and gave me some chips to play with, though he was making all of the decisions. I ended up winning $7,500! We cashed in our chips, and I turned to give him the money, but he told me to keep it because I had won it. I could not believe his generosity! That was the equivalent of seven and a half weeks at the Mansion! We had to fight with Hef to get our allowance sometimes, and here was Gavin giving me all of this money and expecting nothing in return. Though I was attracted to Gavin, nothing happened between us other than a kiss. He dropped me off at the Venetian, and I ran up to see the other girls. I didn’t tell them about the money because I didn’t want them to feel bad that they did not have the same luck.

When we got back to the Mansion, we got in trouble. Hef called us in and asked how we could afford to stay in a room that was thousands of dollars per night. Apparently he already knew that Gavin was taking care of the room. We had told Hef before we left that we were staying at the Hard Rock hotel, and that it would be paid for by the company we would be working for. But when we could not stay at the Hard Rock, we called him to tell him we got a room at the Venetian instead, but we certainly never gave him any details of which room or who took care of it for us. I don’t know how he found out, but I guess a little birdie called the Venetian and asked about our room.
Hmm, who could it be?
I didn’t care either way. If he kicked me out for it, it still would have been worth it. Though Hef was generous with some things, Gavin’s kindness, without any strings, changed the way I viewed Hef. He bought us boobs, which we wanted, but never really did anything that would have a permanent, positive impact on our lives. It was a matter of weeks before I would leave the Mansion.

Despite the fact that I constantly was hit on and met many men, and despite the fact that I had lunch or dinner with several people, I never slept with any of them. Not one. Justin and I hooked up a couple of times, but I wanted to wait to be intimate with him again until after I moved out of the Mansion. I wanted to see what happened between us when I left, whether we were going to give a relationship another chance or we would just remain best friends. And the only other person I had been intimate with a few times, as previously explained, was Hef. That was it. It is so strange and ironic to realize that the two years I lived at the Playboy Mansion were the years I had the least sex ever. I think I just did not want to complicate my life any more than it already was. I was living with one man, I still loved another, and while I was intrigued with Nicolas Cage and cared for Gavin, neither of these relationships had a chance to develop. Other than my amazing night out with the rock star, I didn’t even kiss any other boys! Wild and crazy Playboy Mansion? Yeah,
right!
I may as well have lived in a convent.

14: What Happens in the Grotto...

“When a fantasy turns you on, you’re obligated to God and nature to start doing it right away.”

—Stewart Brand

W
hat happens in the Grotto does
not
stay in the Grotto; it ends up on these pages. With that promising introduction, I now must tell you that not much happened in the Grotto during the two and a half years I was at the Mansion. I think the Grotto’s finest memories come from the swinging ’70s, and thankfully the water has been changed since then. I always hoped that the Grotto would live up to its reputation and get some worthy action during the parties, but all that would happen was a bunch of naked guys would get in and hope for the girls to follow. And these were usually the same guys that by some stroke of luck had gotten on the party list and knew this probably would not happen ever again, so for bragging rights, they had to get in the Grotto just so they could say they did and maybe, just maybe, some drunken hottie would get in and make their fantasies come true. I understand their hopes. Oftentimes toward the end of the parties (and yes, we checked regularly on the progress), a couple of girls would find themselves in there and make out with some willing guy. But there was never an orgy or any blatant sexual activity. Perhaps there could have been, but by the time people were ready for that kind of licentiousness, security would ask everyone to leave.