Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

CHAPTER 1
“Begin at the beginning,” the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you
come to the end.”
—Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Slowly, the large iron gates surrounding the infamous compound creaked open and our shuttle began
its ascent up the steep driveway. My nose was pressed so tightly against the window—anxious to
spot any sign of the luxurious Holmby Hills estate expertly hidden by the lush foliage—that my
makeup smudged on the glass. Over my shoulder, I heard a fellow partygoer point out the first
glimpse of the 20,000-square-foot Gothic Tudor that was steadily coming into view.
“There it is!” a man in silk pajamas shouted. I craned my neck to spot the roof and fixed my eyes
on the horizon as the mansion began to surface. Like an early morning sunrise, it was magic. The
estate—situated on five rolling acres in one of L.A.’s most prestigious neighborhoods—looked like a
castle from a fairy tale. My large eyes widened, trying to fully absorb this moment.
As the shuttle reached the top of the driveway, my girlfriend Heather spotted the infamous
“Playmates at Play” sign and nudged me in the ribs.
“Look!” she said, her smile so large I thought it was about to snap off her cheeks. We both burst
into laughter. We were positively giddy. We are actually here , I thought. I made it to the mansion. It
had become a goal of mine to see the inside of these walls, and I told myself that I could now happily
check that one off the bucket list. I even wondered if I would meet Gatsby himself . . . Mr. Hugh
Hefner.
MY STORY WASN ’T ATYPICAL: a small-town girl—farmer’s daughter, so to speak—who dreamt of
becoming someone extraordinary.
There were less than 10,000 residents in my hometown, and my high school graduating class
was smaller than the guest list to most Hollywood parties (since then, it has seen a boost in tourism
thanks in part to the Twilight movies, but let me assure you, there was no Edward Cullen sauntering
through my lunchroom).
After graduation, I moved 30 miles away to attend Portland State University. Which didn’t feel
far enough, but it was the best I could do.
It was early 1999 and I was in my second year in college when I heard on the news that