Authors: Izabella St. James
In aggregate, we were
required
to spend only two nights and one day with Hef. That leaves a lot of time for personal pursuits. Each day, from the moment we woke up until 9 p.m., we could do whatever we wanted. The curfew on the nights that we did not go out was the hardest rule to follow. There were days when we had Playboy obligations, such as photo shoots with Hef or other special events that came up, but most of the time the days belonged to us. We would always leave a message on our door so that Hef knew where we were, though mostly it was just a general “Running errands” with an added “Love you, Hef” to reassure him as he walked past our doors.
As we went out on our daily adventures, we considered the possibility that we were followed or were being spied on, but as time passed, we realized that if this was the case, we would have gotten kicked out by now. So we continued to feel free to do whatever we wanted. And we realized early on that we could do just about whatever we wanted. When I began hanging out with Hef, one of the Girlfriends got up every morning at 7 to go to her apartment in Huntington Beach and came back every evening. She got her place ready for when she left the Mansion and hung out with her friends, but when it was time to be at the Mansion, she was there. I always remembered that. I knew all of the previous Girlfriends had their own lives, separate from the Mansion, and I tried to maintain one as well. It was the ex-Girlfriends who taught us about breaking the rules and getting away with it.
For the first time in my life, I had no real obligations and it felt strange but wonderfully liberating. Old habits die hard though, and I started looking for ways to make myself useful. I knew I would be returning to the real world one day, and I wanted to maintain contact with it. I was the only one out of the Girlfriends who had a
real
job. I began interning at Playboy Entertainment Group Inc., at the suggestion of Hef’s assistant, Mary. She said she did not want my legal education to go to waste and asked me to submit my resume. I don’t think they really had a choice though, as Mary called the legal department and basically had them give me a position. I felt uncomfortable about this kind gesture. I was definitely qualified to work there but because of my irregular schedule and obligations to Hef and the Mansion, I am sure they would not have offered me a job without Mary’s intervention. Hef did not allow any Girlfriends to work. I think he did not want us to be independent. He did not want me to have a job, but Mary convinced him it was a good idea. He acquiesced, but I know he did not like it. Also, I had my school loan to pay every month and since he wasn’t helping me in that regard, I think it made him feel like allowing me to work was really him helping me to pay it. I was excited to work and get some experience, particularly at a company my famous boyfriend had founded. I was a little embarrassed about the way I acquired the job, and I wondered how the people would view me, and if they were bothered that they had to hire one of Hef’s blonde clones. Never mind that I was an educated and deserving person. To compensate for my Playboy bunny look, I dressed like a total nerd the first few times in the office, but everyone dressed so casually at Playboy that I quickly abandoned the long skirts and loose sweaters. My hesitation was unwarranted; everyone I worked with turned out to be very nice.
Around the corner from my office space sat a nice guy who was about my age. His name was Henry, and we quickly became friends. We would innocently flirt with each other and go out for coffee often, but we were just friends. It was a few months later, when we were out at a club with Hef, that Roxy accused me of having a boyfriend at work who I go out with for coffee all the time. I believe she did it because there were rumors about her having a boyfriend and she was trying to divert the attention. We started arguing and she made me so angry that I pushed her. Hef grabbed both of us and told us to stop it. I had never seen him so mad. He was trembling, and I was afraid he might have a heart attack. We stopped, but the damage was done. The idea of me dating this guy was firmly planted in the infertile soil that comprised many of the minds of my fellow bunnies. Sometime later, when Henry was no longer working at Playboy, I wore a shirt with his band logo on it to be supportive and advertise his band. Little did I know that when I wore it, I confirmed for some of these girls that he was indeed my boyfriend.
On my birthday, not too long after that nightclub incident, I had received a gift from Stacy Burke, which I thought was odd because we were not really friends, but I figured she was doing it for Hef, not me. The gift was a “Hef’s Hunny” mug that she had made, a silly hat, and two Oh Henry chocolate bars. We all laughed at the strangeness of the gifts, to the point of tears. I laughed, thinking that she was a stranger bird than I originally thought. I don’t even like Oh Henry bars! Sure enough, Hef said he liked them, and he opened one up right there and had a bite. I told him he could have the other one as well. Later as we sat in Emma’s room and I pondered the peculiarity of Stacy’s gifts, the girls suggested that the reason she gave them to me was because of my friend Henry from work.
Ahhh
, a light bulb moment! Stacy thought that she was being clever by giving me Oh Henry bars because I supposedly had a boyfriend named Henry. She thought she was outing my secret. She wanted to make me nervous and uncomfortable in front of Hef. Uh, my dear Stacy, the joke is on
you
. Henry was never my boyfriend. I am sure Stacy did not come up with that prank on her own; I think she had co-conspirators. In any case, thanks for the laugh, girls! It was a hoot!
After Playboy moved its offices from the heart of Beverly Hills to Glendale, my work became more irregular and sporadic. I was not even a parttime employee. What used to be a ten-minute drive to work turned into an hour-and-a-half drive to work. It was much more difficult to leave work and be at the Mansion for photo shoots or appearances that came up at the last minute; and during the year we celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of Playboy, events were popping up every day. When I first had to commute to the new office, Hef would ask me every day how long it took me to get there and back. Hef does not like long drives. I remember when Tammy wanted to go to a concert in Irvine and he said, “Where is
that,
” as if it was in another state, while it was an hour away in Orange County. But then again, he gets to shuffle down the hall to work in his pajamas, so I guess any work commute would seem far to him. I told Hef that many employees were disappointed about the move, but he told me Playboy was saving about a million dollars a year in rent with the move: soon after Playboy moved to Glendale,
The Los Angeles Times
ran an unfavorable article about it, and it seemed like a sensitive subject. I constantly told Hef that it would be nice if he could visit the office and that it would boost employee morale, but he would just smile and say nothing. In a way, I represented him when I was at work, so I wanted to do something nice for the people that worked for my boyfriend. Since I could not bring him by, I brought them the famously delicious Mansion cookies whenever I worked. I also invited my boss from the office for dinner and a movie on a Sunday night. She had worked for Playboy for a long time, and was always very kind and understanding toward me, and I wanted to give her a unique experience.
One of the best things about being one of Hef’s girls was the fact that we got to experience a lot of great events. Whether it was going to the Grammys or having a “backstage” tour of Sea World, there were many cool experiences. Going to Sea World in San Diego was actually one of my favorites. We got to travel on our own train, the Scottish Thistle, which was fully catered. And at Sea World we got a private tour and got to go behind the scenes to interact with the animals. I fell in love with a walrus who gave me a kiss and a sweet Beluga whale that looked like a pure white big marshmallow.
We also went to several Los Angeles Lakers basketball games. Hef is friends with Dr. Jerry Buss, the owner of the Lakers, so we were often invited to come watch the games in Buss’s suite. Usually we would go during the NBA playoffs, which also coincided with Hef’s birthday. Buss always had a gift and a birthday cake for Hef. For his seventy-sixth birthday, he got him an awesome Lakers jersey with “Hefner” and the number 76 on it. The thing about Buss is that he also has a little group of girls hanging out with him, but he prefers young Latinas instead of blondes. The last time we went to watch the Lakers, Buss had also invited Ron Rice, owner of Hawaiian Tropic, who showed up with his own personal entourage of Hawaiian Tropic girls. As we all posed for a picture, I couldn’t help but laugh—was this some sort of a club? Older established men who surrounded themselves with girls. Buss is a very generous, kind man, and I always enjoyed being his guest.
The downside of being a Girlfriend was the fact that I—and I am sure I was not the only one—wished that these experiences were being shared with people I loved. When we used to go watch the Lakers play in Jerry Buss’ box, I could not help but think about Justin. He loves the Lakers; he knows so much about the team, its history, and its highs and lows. I wished that he could have had that experience instead of me, because even though I appreciated it, he would have appreciated it more. I got to meet Jeanie Buss, Dr. Buss’ daughter, who was very sweet and sincere and gave me her business card; the whole time I could not stop thinking that it should have been Justin who was talking to her. I was grateful to experience many of the things I did, I just wished I could share them with other people I cared about.
One of my favorite things was attending the engagement party, and then the wedding, of Carmen Electra and Dave Navarro. At the engagement party, we hung out with former Guns ‘n’ Roses guitarist Slash and his wife, which was way cool for me since I am a G’n’R and Velvet Revolver fan. The funniest thing happened at the party, which I remind Carmen of whenever I see her: Emma and I went to the girls’ bathroom and were waiting for a stall to open up when we heard some noise in the last stall but didn’t give it much thought. All of a sudden, Dave and Carmen emerged; he was buttoning up his pants and she was fixing her clothes. We all broke into applause. Having a quickie in the girls’ bathroom at your own engagement party was classic! They seemed to make a great couple. We were lucky to be invited to their wedding, though of course we missed the actual ceremony because Hef did not dare miss watching his classic movie on a Saturday night, even though he has seen them all at least ten times. We got to the Saint Regis hotel in Century City just when the reception started. It was a Moroccan-style reception. Carmen looked absolutely beautiful with her hair up and, a classic gown, and the groom performed shirtless onstage with his friend Donovan Leitch. It was a lot of fun, and some of the guests included the Osbourne family and Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Then came the moment for Carmen to throw her bouquet; I certainly did not want to catch it, so I moved to the back to let the other ladies fight it out. Carmen must have a good arm because I saw the bouquet coming right at me, and I extended my hand and grabbed it. All of a sudden, Traci Bingham launched herself at the bouquet, I fell, she fell on top of me, and she ended up with the bouquet. I sat there on the floor with petals in my hand, hoping that the MTV cameraman didn’t catch that because I was wearing a short dress.
I just got tackled
, I thought. Traci must have really wanted that bouquet. But Traci is funny like that; whenever I see her at parties, she is always having a good time.
Of the formal Hollywood events and awards we attended, my favorite was the Grammys. The Grammy week celebration started off with the MusiCares benefit dinner, which is always a lot of fun because you get to watch various artists perform renditions of songs by the artist that is honored that year. In 2002, it was Billy Joel, and when we went again in 2004, it was Sting. I remember Bridget whining and complaining in the car that she did not like Sting and did not want to go. Genuinely surprised, I asked her how she could not like such classics as “Roxanne” or “Every Breath You Take” and said even if she didn’t, she should be appreciative of the experience. If looks could kill, I would have been dead, but as soon as she faced Hef, she was all smiles. The Grammy Awards were a lot of fun. The Staples Center was always packed and filled with excitement. In 2002, some of the performances included memorable showings from U2, Alicia Keys, Bob Dylan, OutKast, Mary J. Blige and the Dave Matthews Band. Also, Pink, Christina Aguilera, Mya, and Li’l Kim took the stage and sang the heck out of their ubiquitous Patti LaBelle remake from the
Moulin Rouge
soundtrack. The 2004 awards included performances by Sting and Sean Paul, Martina McBride, The Black-Eyed Peas and The White Stripes, as well as a first-time ever funk collaboration by OutKast, George Clinton & Parliament Funkadelic, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Robert Randolph & The Family Band. In a special segment, Luther Vandross was honored by Celine Dion, Alicia Keys, and Richard Marx, who performed two of his greatest hits. It was amazing, like a concert featuring the year’s best songs. Afterward we went to the Grammy parties, but we never stayed very long. It was enough for Hef that he was photographed with all of his Girlfriends on the red carpet, hopefully he would get enough publicity out of that; we didn’t actually need to go and have a good time, did we?
Every year we also attended the Golden Globes parties, all of which take place at the Beverly Hilton, just down the street from the Mansion. We would watch the awards on television at the Mansion and then make our way to the after-parties. It was always great to go and see the actors whose work I admire, but it was never
fun
. Every party we went into, Hef did not want to stay very long, usually because the accommodation was not to his liking, meaning we were seated among other people—without a velvet rope and security lined up all around us. The first year we attended the Globes after parties, Hef felt uncomfortable and claustrophobic and kept wanting to go to the next party. In an hour, we had walked through all of the parties and were headed home. Then he sat there in the limo and talked about what a great night it had been. Emma and I looked at each other in disbelief. Was he for real? We thought he was just saying that to brainwash us. Was he used to really stupid women who accepted his version of each event or experience? It began to dawn on me that it did not matter what the girls wanted to do, but what Hef wanted, and what it seemed Hef wanted was the publicity. After that, he was ready to go home.