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By 2008, everyone had a smartphone and <strong>the</strong> “no camera” rule that used to be what kept <strong>the</strong><br />
parties a private and exclusive haven for celebrities was obliterated. Since by that time I had found a<br />
bit of TV fame, I spent much of <strong>the</strong> night taking photos with guests. The slow, sexy elegance of <strong>the</strong><br />
first Playboy party I had attended back in 2000 had completely vanished.<br />
So much for “what happens in <strong>the</strong> grotto stays in <strong>the</strong> grotto,” I thought.<br />
I decided <strong>the</strong>n and <strong>the</strong>re that <strong>the</strong> Halloween party was <strong>the</strong> last mansion party I ever needed to<br />
attend.<br />
And it was.<br />
Meanwhile, as I was contemplating how much things had changed, somewhere across <strong>the</strong><br />
property that very night, history was repeating itself and someone else was seeing <strong>the</strong> mansion through<br />
new eyes. While Kristina and Karissa Shannon spent <strong>the</strong> evening stuck at Hef’s side, itching for more<br />
freedom, someone else was standing outside Hef’s roped-off area, looking in. I imagine <strong>the</strong> twins<br />
didn’t want <strong>the</strong> responsibilities of being <strong>the</strong> “main” girlfriends, so <strong>the</strong>y had <strong>the</strong>ir eyes open for a girl<br />
to fill that spot. And it was <strong>the</strong>re that <strong>the</strong>y spotted her, standing just a few feet away from <strong>the</strong>ir table,<br />
boiling over with nerves at <strong>the</strong> thought of meeting Gatsby himself.<br />
Just as I had been, seven years earlier, Crystal Harris was 22, thin, blond, a bit plain, and<br />
somewhat shy. How could she ever outshine those gorgeous, vibrant Shannon twins? They had no<br />
idea that night that she would be <strong>the</strong>ir eventual undoing.<br />
While someone else was thrilled at <strong>the</strong> prospect of getting into <strong>the</strong> inner circle of <strong>the</strong> Playboy<br />
world, I couldn’t have been happier to be getting out. The Playboy Mansion certainly changed my life<br />
—for better and for worse. It had been both my safe haven—and my prison. Living inside those<br />
hulking walks hadn’t been <strong>the</strong> path to fame and fortune that I had imagined—and it certainly hadn’t<br />
been my path to love. I was grateful for all I had gained <strong>the</strong>re, but still mourned all that was lost.<br />
As I drove out of those daunting gates, I never once looked back.
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