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CHAPTER 15<br />
“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense.”<br />
—Alice in Wonderland<br />
Despite what one might think, creating a world for myself and by myself, independent of Playboy,<br />
wasn’t all that easy.<br />
“Why don’t you go somewhere else—like Miami?” suggested Brenda, one of my favorite E!<br />
executives. A few weeks after I had returned to Los Angeles, after my breakup with Criss, I took a<br />
lunch meeting at <strong>the</strong> Four Seasons in Beverly Hills with a few people from E! to discuss ideas for a<br />
possible Girls Next Door spin-off.<br />
“I don’t want to go to Miami,” I explained. “There’s no reason to. I don’t have anything to do in<br />
Florida. It just doesn’t feel organic.”<br />
“What about . . .” Brenda began. She tapped her fork against her plate, trying to drum up some<br />
additional non-Vegas ideas. “Chicago!” she finally exclaimed. “You could try to take over Playboy!”<br />
she teased.<br />
I smiled at her exuberance. As farfetched as it sounded, I knew Brenda believed we could make<br />
a good show out of something so preposterous. She was one of my biggest champions for my photo<br />
editor storyline on GND and really hoped to see season six follow <strong>the</strong> action at Studio West. I needed<br />
to let her know that I was going to completely sever ties with <strong>the</strong> magazine, before <strong>the</strong> conversation<br />
went any fur<strong>the</strong>r.<br />
“I really want to separate myself from Playboy and do my own thing,” I said, before revealing to<br />
<strong>the</strong>m my grand plan. “I’m going to go to Las Vegas and do a live show.”<br />
They all stared at me with blank expressions, trying with great care to make sure <strong>the</strong>ir faces<br />
weren’t betraying <strong>the</strong>m. When we sat down for this lunch, I hadn’t yet landed Peepshow. But it wasn’t<br />
hard to read <strong>the</strong>ir minds: <strong>Holly</strong> doesn’t have any stage talent—what was she possibly going to do?<br />
Okay, so it’s not like I had put my best foot forward for <strong>the</strong> meeting. Still in <strong>the</strong> midst of my<br />
Dancing with <strong>the</strong> Stars run, I didn’t have time to shower before, let alone do laundry. I arrived at <strong>the</strong><br />
swanky Four Seasons hotel dressed in old jeans, Converse high-tops, and a bulky Criss Angel logo<br />
emblazoned skull hoodie (not out of sentimentality, mind you; it’s what was clean).<br />
“Well, we’ll see what happens,” Brenda offered, after what felt like a 10-minute pause. “We<br />
just have a hard time with Vegas.”<br />
I gave her a puzzled look.
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