Kris Jenner . . . And All Things Kardashian Read Online Free PDF Page A

to a nearby pillar to wait for Debbie to place her bet. That’s when I noticed a guy standing in front of me.
    “Hi, is your name Janet?” he asked.
    “That is the worst pickup line I have ever heard!” I replied.
    “No, I’m serious. Is your name Janet?” he continued. He was dressed in a blazer and slacks, platform shoes, with slicked-back hair and had this big mustache. He looked very successful, and a lot like the singer Tony Orlando.
    “No, my name is not Janet,” I told him.
    “Well, then what is it?” he asked.
    “What’s
your
name?” I shot back.
    “I’m Robert Kardashian.”
    “Okay, my name is Kris.”
    “What’s your last name?”
    “Why do you want to know?”
    “Because you look exactly like a girl I used to go out with.”
    “If you used to go out with her, you should know her last name.”
    “Come on, tell me your name.”
    “It’s Kris Houghton.”
    “How do you spell that?”
    “K-R-I-S-H-O-U-G-H-T-O-N.”
    “Where do you live?”
    By then I’d had enough. He was so bold. He was hitting on me! I thought he was cute. I also thought he was way too old for me.
    “San Diego,” I said.
    “Oh,” he said, and paused. “Well, would you ever consider going out with me?”
    “No!”
    He stared down at my necklace, which, of course, spelled out “OH, SHIT.”
    “Nice necklace,” he said.
    “Thanks,” I said. I have to admit, I was snobby. I knew I looked pretty cute. I was on my game that day, and I knew it. I turned to go back to the Turf Club.
    “Maybe I’ll call you sometime. What’s your phone number?” he called out after me.
    “I’m not giving you my phone number,” I replied firmly, and that was that.
    I felt his eyes on me for the rest of the day. I would look around and find him practically stalking me, standing in the corner, staring at me. When a race was about to begin, I would go to the window to place another bet. Sure enough, there’s Robert Kardashian, waiting for me to show up. This time he had brought his brother.
    “I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Tommy,” he said. He and Tommy and their father, Arthur, came to the races every year, just like we did.
    “Nice to meet you,” I said to Robert’s brother. Then to Robert: “See you later.”
    “Are you still not going to give me your number?”
    “Nope, not going to give you my number.”
    Back in the early ’70s, you could look up just about anybody in the phone book. I wasn’t listed, though, because Debbie and I had just moved into Anthony’s house about six months before. We had a new phone line of our own. It was just an old-fashioned one-line dial-up phone.
    One day, Debbie was at work when the telephone rang.
    “Hi there, Kris! It’s Bob Kardashian,” he said. “Remember? The races?”
    I remembered all too well. “How did you get my number?” I asked.
    “My friend Joni Migdal works for the telephone company,” he said. “She just looked up your records and saw that you have a brand-new number and she gave it to me.”
    Oh my God!
I thought. But I just said, “Well, hi.”
    I put him off for weeks and weeks as he kept trying to convince me to go out with him. He called me twice a week. Then weeks turned into months. He had this low voice, and it was so adult and grown-up. He actually scared me a little bit. He was a little intimidating.
    I got to know him a little over the phone, even though I really didn’t want to for some reason. Robert said that he lived in Beverly Hills, and he had a really nice house. He told me about his close Armenian family. But every time he would get around to asking me out, I would say, “I really can’t.” I never told him the full story about Anthony, but I did eventually tell him that I was dating someone else, and that his name was Anthony and that he was a PGA golfer.
    Months passed. I hadn’t seen Robert again, but I had continued to speak to him by phone. One day, Debbie and I went up to Los Angeles to watch Anthony and Phil play