Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

Las Vegas for Hope’s Playmate of the Year celebration. But between Kendra and Holly’s World,
there was just too much Playboy-produced content on E! and the pilot wasn’t picked up to series.
However, there were those who remained obsessed with the idea of resurrecting Girls Next
Door, so Claire and Jayde were planted on Holly’s World in hopes that their characters would gain
enough popularity among viewers that E! would be forced to revisit The Bunny House concept.
I had virtually no choice in the matter, but I wasn’t particularly bothered by it at first. Producers
insisted that, per E!, the show needed more drama and Jayde had signed on to the show, knowing she
was going to play the “bad girl.” Honestly, that made my job much easier; I was happy to let her be
the drama queen. Unlike Girls Next Door (where “negativity” was forbidden), most reality shows
require some dramatic elements . . . how can you have an interesting story without conflict?
Oftentimes, producers will guide the storylines, encourage talent to make provocative statements, and
edit things together to increase the overall tension on the series. If producers had a predetermined
villain, then we wouldn’t need to manufacture trouble between the existing cast—who at the time
were my closest friends. Plus, I didn’t feel threatened. I was sure E! would never order The Bunny
House.
As for Claire, she was a natural fit for Holly’s World, not because of her Playboy connection,
but because she was a budding Vegas showgirl herself who had just signed on for a guest run at
MGM’s Crazy Horse Paris revue.
While we took a break from filming during the holidays, Hef and Crystal had become engaged.
Right on cue, the media firestorm began citing that I was reportedly “devastated” upon hearing the
news. Actually, I was probably one of the few people in the world not at all surprised that Hef was
getting remarried. Hef’s youngest son, Cooper, turned 18 that year, providing Hef the green light he
felt he needed to divorce Kimberley (despite the fact they had already been separated for nearly 13
years), plus with Girls Next Door no longer on the air, Hef needed an incentive to once again
reinvent himself and garner headlines.
I understand why people thought I would be upset. For five seasons it appeared as though I
wanted nothing more than Hef to myself, a big white wedding, and the mansion hallways echoing with
pitter-patter of tiny feet. In the media, our breakup played out as if I was unable to tame the ultimate
bachelor only to have him propose to the next blonde that shoved her way into the mansion. The truth
was: I couldn’t have cared less. The happier Hef was without me, the more quickly I could
disassociate myself. It could have easily been me walking down that aisle and I was grateful to have
gotten the hell out of there!
Long after I left, a friend of Hef’s confided to me that Hef kept saying that he had “no idea” why
I chose to leave.
“All you had to do was stick around until Cooper turned 18,” he said with a pointed look.
“But I don’t care anymore! That’s not what I want,” I responded. So few people seemed to
realize that I had woken up from the spell I had been under a long time ago.
The few years I had been out of the mansion had been the best of my life so far—if I had married
Hef, I wouldn’t have had any of that. My life would have been over.