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"Playground A Childhood Lost Inside the Playboy Mansion JENNIFER SAGINOR In loving memory of Ashley Boyer, who inspired me to speak the truth I n the journey to unravel our past we are confronted by our demons. In order to avoid our demons we create distractions. It’s in these distractions we will ﬁnd our own personal playground. —JS Contents Epigraph One It’s 1975. I’m six when I see sex for the ﬁrst time. T wo It’s Thursday, Dad’s day with us, and I can’t wait to jump in his… T hree It’s 1977. By the time I’m eight years old, going to Hef ’s is like… Four It’s 1981. I am twelve when Dad moves into the Mansion…- JENNIFER SAGINOR Five After the remodeling, Dad’s house becomes a mini Mansion. Six By 1984 I’m a freshman at Beverly Hills High School. Seven My bedroom at Dad’s is stocked with all the latest high-tech… Eight Life becomes more exciting when I get my driver’s permit and… Nine Kendall’s intensity overpowers me. The thing is, I’m not sure… T en I hit all the hot spots in town: Nicky Blair’s, Vertigo, Helena’s… Eleven At home I shower, letting the water run over me for almost an… T welve It’s the middle of the night when Dad receives a phone call that… T hirteen I attempt to call Hayden, but he does not answer. Finally, I pick… Fourteen As summer rolls on, Kendall’s phone calls grow less frequent. vi Playground Fiffteen The night of my seventeenth birthday I don’t have plans with… Sixteen I wake up to someone knocking incessantly on the front door… Seventeen On my way to school one day, not long after the night when… Eighteen Most days after school Kendall and I meet at the park across… Nineteen It’s 1987. I graduate Beverly Hills High School with the rest of… T wenty Alone in Dad’s house, I beg Carmela not to leave. But by 2:00 a.m. T wenty-One At eighteen years old, I feel twelve or even younger. T wenty-T wo After college graduation, I move back to L.A. with a new set of… Acknowledgments About the Author Credits vii JENNIFER SAGINOR Cover Copyright About the Publisher viii One I t’s 1975. I’m six when I see sex for the ﬁrst time. After school, I wait alone by the fence. Most of the other kids have gone home. I push my Coke-bottle-thick glasses up my small nose as my green eyes squint against the sun. I pull my long brown hair back into a ponytail. Dad’s housekeeper, Carmela, a Hispanic woman with broken English, blares the horn of Dad’s champagne Rolls-Royce convertible from across the street. She picks me up today because Dad is too busy. Carmela cooks, cleans, and drives, but mostly she is my friend. “Jennifer!” she hollers. I rush to the car and duck inside. “Where’s your sister?” she asks. “She’s at Mom’s. She stayed home sick,” I tell her. JENNIFER SAGINOR Carmela drives the car carefully to my father’s ﬁve-bedroom, six-bathroom estate in the heart of Beverly Hills. Pulling into the circular driveway, the automatic gate opens. Water trickles down a large Mediterranean-style fountain. Inside the foyer, a huge staircase parts to the left and right, dividing the room. The walls display the works of Alberto Vargas: nude women with perky breasts and thin legs, and nude women clad in black ﬁshnet and holding whips posing next to white dogs. Dad’s favorite is titled Temptation. Arcade games and pinball machines line the living room walls and an air hockey table sits in the center. In the corner is an oldstyle jukebox. I punch in Linda Ronstadt and Kenny Rogers since my father’s always telling me how lucky I am to know them. I throw my Hello Kitty purse on the leather sofa and play a quick game of pinball. After beating my highest score, I go into the kitchen for a grilled cheese sandwich. Carmela tells me now there’s a note from my father at the top of the staircase in the pair of oversize porcelain breasts designed to hold mail. The note is placed between the breasts and reads, “I’m up at the Mansion. Have Carmela drop you off if you’re bored.” I crumple the note, ﬂicking it at the enormous Andy Warhol portrait displaying six different angles of my father’s face on the wall. I tear my eyes away from his multiple faces and ask Carmela to take me to Dad. As we’re driving down Sunset Boulevard my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask, “What’s the Mansion?” “You know, Jennifer, I am just supposed to drive you, you should ask your father,” Carmela rambles. We pull up to a gigantic barred black gate. I start to get a sick feeling in my stomach. We look around for a few minutes until we hear a voice coming from a large rock next to Carmela’s window. If you look closely, you can see a small round speaker inside the rock. “Carmela Delatora. I have Jennifer Saginor,” she announces and the enormous gates open. 2 Playground We drive up a long driveway and I notice at least ﬁve gardeners working on the cliff-like lawn. A castle comes into view and I instantly feel like Alice in Wonderland, diving into the Great Unknown. My nerves take over again as we near the massive gray stone mansion before us. I tell Carmela I’ve changed my mind and to please take me home. She assures me that my father is waiting inside as she pulls around the circular driveway. I ask her to come in, but she says that it would not be right. Reluctantly, I slip out of the car and begin the journey of my life. I enter a grand marble foyer to ﬁnd men lined up in funny black penguin suits. The men smile at me creepily; they already know my name. One of them escorts me through an enormous living room with the biggest television screen I’ve ever seen. It’s like a movie theater, but with soft plush couches, a ﬁreplace, a grand piano, and as much free popcorn as you want. Lounging girls in short shorts, poufy hair, and Heaven T-shirts stare at me as I pass. The butler opens the doors to a smoky room where ﬁve men glance up for a split second. They’re playing cards. There’s a builtin backgammon table that is surrounded by a comfy couch and leather chairs. My father’s eyes instantly light up at the sight of me as he proudly introduces me to the men one by one. They nod, distractedly, and wave hello. Dad motions for me to say hello to Hef, the handsome, kind-looking man dressed casually in a silk robe. “Hello, darling.” Hef smiles graciously, as if he’s known me my whole life. “It’s a pleasure to ﬁnally meet you. Doc, you have such an adorable daughter, are you sure you’re related?” “Why, thanks, Hef. Your girls aren’t so bad themselves.” Dad excuses himself and leads me through the screening room, where four young blondes jump up to kiss him and wrap their skinny arms around him. Dad is a powerfully built man in his forties, with broad shoulders, an athletic body, manicured hands, and a handsome face—a 3 JENNIFER SAGINOR face people turn to look at. He’s a doctor, but he looks more like a movie star playing the part of one. He’s the kind of guy everyone wants to know. My father, a bookworm from Ohio, graduated at the top of his Dartmouth class Phi Beta Kappa, and from Harvard Medical School. He then moved to Los Angeles and opened a private medical practice in Beverly Hills. He soon became a renowned Hollywood ﬁtness internist during a time when various weight-loss regimens, including the Beverly Hills diet, a pineapple and grapefruit diet, the cabbage soup diet, amphetamines, and unidentiﬁed vitamin shots, were beginning to peak in popularity. As far as his rich and famous Los Angeles patients were concerned, he was not just a world-class doctor but also a true genius. He regularly prescribed the appetite suppressants they so coveted. Pill popping was trendy and purses had become portable pharmacies. Everyone knew if you were famous and in real or imaginary pain, prescriptions were a phone call away. Though concerned for their reputations and restricted by a code of ethics, doctors made names for themselves by providing legal ways for their clients to get high. And my dad was the biggest name in Beverly Hills. Before long, my father was referred to as “Dr. Feel Good.” All this in addition to his regular practice as an internist. The legitimate part of his practice skyrocketed when Suzanne Pleshette wrote a heartfelt poem that she dedicated to him and read aloud on The Tonight Show. This poem announced to the world how her diagnostician saved her life. Shortly thereafter, the Hollywood invitations began to pour in. My parents were treated with celebrity status at movie premieres, nightclubs, and art openings. There was a two-month waiting list to book an appointment. His ofﬁce was always full of rock stars, professional athletes, Playmates, models, and actresses sucking 4 Playground on sugar-free lollipops with hopes of transforming themselves into perfection. One of the Playmates teases his sandy-blond hair and then looks down at me. “Who’s this pretty young thing?” she asks in a highpitched voice. “Have you met my daughter?” Dad asks. The girl giggles, bends over, and shakes my hand. I stare at her big boobs as my father pulls me into the marble foyer now packed with bright, smiling faces. We climb the staircase as he leads me down the upstairs hallway. A tall glass cabinet ﬁlled with naked ﬁgurines in weird positions catches my eye. Hundreds of framed photographs line the hallway. My father points out Farrah Fawcett, Vanna White, Dorothy Stratten, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, James Caan, Aaron Spelling, Jimmy Connors, Sammy Davis Jr., and Frank Sinatra, who he says are all patients. We stop in front of a closed door. “Number two is my room. If you need anything, the butlers will get it for you.” Dad opens the door. The room is massive. There’s a king-size bed to the left and windows overlooking the garden to the right. An armoire with a large television is in front of the bed along with a wooden chest of drawers. I take a few steps into the room and run past the closets to the back where there’s a marble bathroom with two toilets! “Use the phone to order anything you want. I have to get back to the game,” Dad instructs, hugging me good-bye. When he’s gone, I open the door and walk slowly down the hallway, making my way back down the grand staircase. I wander through a circus of strangers. Everyone looks past me. I open a small stained-glass door with an iron knob, which leads to the backyard. 5 JENNIFER SAGINOR A butler in a black suit startles me as I step into the outdoors. “Your father asked me to show you the pool,” he says, peering down at me. “How do you know who I am?” “I just do.” He smiles. The butler escorts me down a cobblestone pathway, through the backyard and into a rock-lined corridor with tons of changing rooms. He hands me a robe and towel along with a plastic container ﬁlled with bathing suits. “Is there one for me?” “Of course. Mr. Hefner is very accommodating to his friends and family,” the butler informs me. I select a slightly oversize orange polka-dot bikini, and the butler guides me into one of the changing rooms. He closes the door as he leaves. I look around the changing room noticing the open shower and plants covering the glass window. Different-colored robes and matching towels line the closets. One of the shelves has an enormous supply of Listerine, Q-tips, Dove soap, Lubriderm lotion, Vaseline, aspirin, toothbrushes, and boxes of Trojans stacked neatly on shelves. After changing, I open the door to ﬁnd the butler waiting for me outside. “Ready?” he asks and we walk past an outdoor bar and over to a bigger section of the pool. “You don’t have to watch me,” I tell him. “That’s all right, I don’t mind.” He smiles as I get in and swim under the water, away from him. There is a mountain in the center of the pool that creates a U shape, so I follow it around the bend. Beyond the ripples from the waterfall, I notice a strange, spooky black hole that looks like it could suck me in if I’m not careful. I swim over to take a closer look; it appears to be some sort of tunnel. 6 Playground “Stay away from the tunnel!” the butler shouts as I come up for air. “Why?” “It’s for adults,” he says sternly, so I swim over to the step in the shallow end. “I’m thirsty. Can I have something to drink?” “What would you like?” “Juice, please.” “Do you mind stepping out of the pool while I’m gone?” “Sure,” I say, trying to be the picture of sweetness. When the butler is out of sight, I dive back in and swim underwater toward the tunnel. As the black hole comes into view, goose bumps prickle up and down my arms and legs. I circle around it for a few seconds. The water seems different here: it’s darker and there’s a strong current swirling around the rocks. Closing my eyes, I envision a mystical passage into a foreign land. I plunge in, holding my breath. Underwater, panic sets in immediately as my hands feel along the endless, rock-lined passage. I try to turn around, but the water is rushing too quickly and I become disoriented, my lungs aching for breath. I push myself forward, willing myself to the end, hoping desperately that there is an end. I push against the tunnel with my feet, forcing myself upward. Finally, I surface. I look around frantically while taking huge gulps of air. I’m in a large dark cave. There is only candlelight. The Beatles’ “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” plays softly. There are several couches lining the interior of the cave, but I can’t see well, so I swim over to one of the bigger pools, paddling with all my might to hold myself up. I lean against a jet, and ﬁnally it registers—I’m in a gigantic Jacuzzi! I hear moaning sounds over the gurgles of water. I peek around 7 JENNIFER SAGINOR to locate where the noise is coming from. My eyes squint as they begin to investigate. Something moves on one of the couches. The something becomes clearer and I see that it is a naked man. There is another ﬁgure too. A naked lady is sitting on top of him and she’s bouncing up and down. Her boobs are ﬂying everywhere. I know that I’m not supposed to be seeing this. Later I learn it was John Belushi screwing one of the Playmates. I am no longer six. I have grown to full maturity in a matter of seconds. The lady moans. I sneeze. “Hey! What are you doing in here?” the guy yells, as he continues bucking under the moaning girl. Terriﬁed, I take a deep breath, dive into the pool, beneath a waterfall, and swim frantically out of the Jacuzzi. I come up for air and open my eyes. The butler’s face stares back at me. “I was playing hide-and-seek and got lost,” I say quickly. I climb out and race past him, wiggling my way into the changing rooms. I’m so completely shocked that I throw on my clothes, barely drying myself. I sneak back down the hallway made of rocks, coming to a halt as the couple from the cave heads my way. They’re coming after me. I duck down another outdoor hallway, running toward a small white door. I throw myself through the door and am bombarded by ﬂapping wings. I hit the ﬂoor as screeching noises thunder overhead. It feels like an hour of being surrounded by shrieks and cries before I realize I’m in a huge birdhouse. I dart outside again. It’s getting dark and I don’t know which way to go. I’m too terriﬁed to go back to the Mansion because now it looks like a haunted house. I stop to catch my breath when a man with a walkie-talkie appears out of nowhere. My stomach 8 Playground drops as I skitter down a pathway lined with tall trees and thick grass. I hide behind a large shrub. Another man is walking down the path toward my hiding place. There is a small house on the grounds, much smaller and safer looking than the haunted Mansion, so I make a run for it. The lights are on inside and I race up the steps to the front door. It’s unlocked. I turn the handle and peer cautiously into the dimly lit room. The room’s interior looks like a warm, cozy lodge decorated with high beamed ceilings, rustic wood paneling, and green plaid carpet. An old-fashioned piano plays eerily by itself in the corner. Objects of Pop Art ﬁll the corners: oversize bottles of Pepsi and Coke, and cans of Campbell’s soup. Images of icons of the forties and ﬁfties like Judy Garland, Elizabeth Taylor, Liza Minnelli, and Marilyn Monroe line the walls. The room has all my favorite pinball machines. I have found the coolest, most secret arcade. I grab handfuls of red and yellow gumballs from bowls on the tables in the middle of the room, and stuff them into my pockets. There’s a picture of Hef surrounded by girls on one of the pinball machines. I see shadows ﬂickering in a blue-painted room. I dash across the arcade, through a mirrored door, and almost trip as I sink into carpet three inches deep. There are mirrors on every wall, even on the ceiling. I lock the door, noticing a box of Kleenex, pads of paper with bunny ears on them, and a sea of cushions on the ﬂoor. Sinking back into the carpet, I ﬂip the television on and see naked people rolling around on the screen! I spin around, wondering if anyone is watching. The images remind me of the man and lady in the Jacuzzi. The bottom of the screen reads, You are watching the Playboy Channel. I’m afraid and curious at the same time. Someone pounds on the door. 9 JENNIFER SAGINOR “Jennifer!” Dad raises his voice. I shut off the television and immediately begin taking hoards of gumballs out of my pockets, shoving them underneath the pillows. “Hang on, I’m trying to open the door,” my voice quivers. Please, God, don’t let him be mad at me. I promise I’ll never go into that cave again. He continues banging on the door as I frantically try to unlock it. The door ﬁnally opens and my father hovers over me! “Don’t ever lock this door again!” he shouts. We ride home in silence. My heart races. Am I in trouble? What if Dad knows I saw those people? Dad pops in a cassette of the Eagles. I catch him stealing glances at me, but I don’t turn my head. He begins to sing along to the words and eventually I begin to relax. 10 T wo t’s Thursday, Dad’s day with us, and I can’t wait to jump in his pool. The school bell rings and I race through the hallway and run outside to wait for Carmela to pick me up. I see Dad’s Rolls-Royce parked across the street with Christopher Cross blaring from his tape deck. My sister, Savannah, waves me over. Savannah is about two and half years younger than I am. She’s a cute little girl with golden blond hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that illuminates a room. She’s a typical girl, one who likes to wear dainty sundresses and tie yellow bows in her hair. Her favorite thing to do is put on her ballerina leotard and dance around the house. She is happy but also emotionally fragile and quick to cry. She slides into the backseat of the car as I hop into the front seat, taking my position next to my father. I JENNIFER SAGINOR “I need to make a quick stop at the Mansion,” Dad tells us. “We want go to McDonald’s,” I whine. “Don’t bug me,” he snaps back and my stomach tightens. He’s been snapping at me more and more recently. We pull up to those huge iron gates. The rock speaks again and I’m fearful of what this visit will bring. We head up the long driveway as gardeners spritz the exotic ﬂowers that dot the lawn. The castle comes into view. “Are we at Disneyland?” Savannah asks. “It’s more like a haunted house,” I mumble. “Why would you tell your sister that?” Dad rasps at me harshly as he hurries us out of the car and into the front door. Savannah stares at the butlers in the funny black suits. One of them offers to take Dad’s briefcase. “Good afternoon. Should I put this in your room?” the bu..."

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