The next day, Hugh Hefner materialized and handed me a memo about my piece. He was the first man I’d ever spoken to with dyed hair.
Hefner claimed he’d gotten late word that an objective article was in the works and he was furious that such a piece could have been assigned behind his back.
I skimmed his memo, my stomach churning. I hurriedly copied as much of it as I could:
We must destroy them before they destroy the PLAYBOY way of life.
My stomach growled, but I was speechless.
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