Free Kiss and Tell by Shannon Tweed

maintaining the Playboy brand—mainstream, but attractive to a late-night audience. It was an Entertainment Tonight-type format featuring adult world news—what strippers do in Russia and so on—from the Playboy point of view. Peter Tomarkin and I were the hosts of the show.
    I was thrilled to have a job; it was challenging, especially since I was high all the time when going to work—not good. Someone from Lorimar Studios caught the show and thought I’d be good for a role on Falcon Crest, which was then a big nighttime soap on CBS. It was a very small part, but I’d only been in L.A for a year or so and here I was being considered for a role on a prime-time television series. Even if I didn’t have many lines, I was lucky. I auditioned and got the part. Believe me, they weren’t looking for acting talent. They needed some arm candy, some sexual decoration for the show, and publicized that I was Playmate of the Year and Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend. They were trying to boost their audience a little bit, but I don’t think I did as much for them as they did for me.
    Hef was torn, and so was I. He was happy for me and wanted to be supportive, but he didn’t want me to leave. Wasn’t there any work I could do here, at home? I had been told to report to work on location in Napa Valley, a date which conflicted with the annual Midsummer Night’s Dream party. I said, “I have to go to work, I can’t go to the party. It’s my new job, I can’t stay and be the party hostess with you.” I was really chafing at this point. I felt irritated. This relationship was not working out the way I wanted. I was itching for more freedom, even though I knew that the more freedom I took, the faster Hef would replace me. Hugh Hefner is not a man who likes to be single, or alone.
    “Look, I really want this job. I’m going to go for it,” I told him. But the annual Midsummer Night’s Dream party was a big, big deal—the same party where I’d originally met Hef just one year before. He was not about to appear without his girlfriend. When I asked, “How can I be at the party the night before and on the set in Napa Valley the next morning?” Hef replied, “I’ll fly you to work.” So the party raged all night, and as it was winding down I said, “It’s time to go to the airport.” My bags were packed and ready to go with me to Napa Valley. My sister, another girl, and I were still partying all the way to the airport. I was wearing, basically, a negligee with a robe over it. I hopped off that plane and went straight into hair and makeup. Talk about making a bad first impression. It doesn’t get any worse than that.
    It was all over the set. She did what? She flew into work on a private plane? Does she even need this job? I didn’t, of course, but I wanted the experience. I’m sure they could see that I was high. I hadn’t even slept, and there I was getting my hair and makeup done. Chatting away about the party and who was there, on and on, not even stopping to consider that this was no one else’s reality. Everything I said sounded like a complete fabrication.
    It didn’t even occur to me that this kind of chatter might not endear me to my fellow actors. That they might not really take to me after that. Why wouldn’t they like me, I never did anything to them? I just flew in to go to work! In retrospect, my God, I would hate me, too! But there I was and they had to deal with it. David Selby was very sweet and gracious to me; I’m sure he had seen quite a lot in his lifetime. Jane Wyman was there, and Susan Sullivan, who was great. Jane, the former Mrs. Ronald Reagan, couldn’t have cared less who I was or how I got there. I saw famous sweater girl Lana Turner, who never did say a word to me. After that inauspicious beginning I had to spend the next few months slowly trying to get into everyone’s good graces. I developed a huge crush on David Selby. I didn’t do anything about it because he was married, but oh my,