23 The Adventures Of Bonnie And Bernadette… Clyde part 2

The Ike, Bernadette, And Bonnie Review

Finally, our search for girls found five potential new members that Bernadette approved. I found a rehearsal hall called Bolic Sound Studios in Inglewood, California. Ike Turner, of Ike and Tina Turner fame, owned the studio and rehearsal space. Ike’s recording studio and private offices were in the front, the rehearsal rooms were on the side of the building, and he also owned the apartment complex in the back.

The minute Ike saw me, he was relentless in his pursuit to get me into his all-white studio. I entered an immaculately furnished front room with a large white sofa, white shag carpet, all-white fixtures, and white walls dressed in gold and platinum albums. Also, the Cocaine, placed overtly on the table, appeared the purest I’d ever seen from my years of watching celebrities indulge at Hollywood parties. The potent smell and yellowish hue alerted me to its potency.

I had no desire to indulge, and, besides, Tina’s beatings were public and a sign of what was to come fooling with Ike, and he offered no free rehearsal time, so what was in it for me?

Ike soon turned his lust toward Bernadette, whom I became very protective of, especially when he came around. Bernadette formed a friendly relationship with Ike’s bodyguard, Big Mike, and Big Mike genuinely liked Bernadette as a friend. Ike walked into the rehearsal studio one day to watch and listen to the band. He stared at Bernadette and then left.

Approximately thirty minutes later, Big Mike returned to our band room and whispered in Bernadette’s ear. Apparently, Ike had summoned her to his private suite. I wondered, “What was going on?” but knew she could handle herself; besides, I thought he wanted to discuss the band. I would have sacrificed myself to protect Bernadette if I knew what Ike was trying to do.

Judging by the look on his face, Mike reluctantly relayed the message to Bernadette and escorted her to Ike’s office.

Bernadette explained later, “When I entered his room, Ike was smoking Cocaine out of a pipe. He was very polite at first, and I stood there wondering what he wanted. Then he stared at me and said in a stuttering voice,”

“I, I, I like the way you, you play the drums. I, I, I think you are the most talented musician in the band.”

“At which time, Ike extended his arm to give me his Cocaine pipe, filled with a Cocaine rock, towards my mouth and said take a hit.” I said, “No, thank you, Ike; I’m cool.”

Ike did not take kindly to my rejection and aggressively insisted that I smoke. Then Big Mike intervened and stood up to his boss, saying,

“Ike, she’s a good girl; she’s cool, man.”

Ike chilled out, and Bernadette returned with a look of relief as she explained. We then shook it off and continued rehearsing.

Weeks passed before our next rehearsal because sponsor Eddie disappeared and refused to pay my rent and the rehearsal studio tab. I was unsure if he was mad at me, but it left Bernadette and I with no excess funds. Ike locked our equipment in the rehearsal studio and refused to return it because of nonpayment. Discouraged, we tried to figure out a way to get the music gear back. The day that Ike Turner gave us our gangster license was when I was driving by the rehearsal hall and noticed the door was wide open; another band was rehearsing in the studio. I rushed to a telephone booth, called Bernadette, and said, “We’re going in and getting our shit.”

She replied, “Let’s do it.”

Bernadette rushed over in her convertible MGB.

I had my convertible Fiat, and we both put our tops down. We ventured into the studio and noticed our equipment stacked in a corner. I nervously told the male band members, “We are late for a gig and must get our equipment out as fast as possible.”

All the guys quickly helped us load our band gear into my small convertible ‘FIAT’ and Bernadette’s drop-top ‘MGB.’ Our hearts were beating fast, fearing that Ike or Big Mike would come around the corner at any time. We loaded up the cars and drove at high speed down La Brea, known as a main boulevard in Los Angeles. We had an entire drum set, guitars, keyboards, amplifiers, and the ‘Syn’ drums sticking out of our convertibles.

We hid out in fear, thinking Ike would find us, and wondered what the punishment might be. A few days later, the manager called me.

“Bonnie,” He said.

I answered with a shaky, albeit cocky, “Yes, this is Bonnie.”

He laughed and stated, “It tickled Ike; he thought what you girls did was so gangster. He laughed hard at the description of how you did it. Ike said everything was cool and you didn’t have to pay him for the rehearsal time owed. However, you must pay for all future rehearsals up front.”

Relieved, now Bernadette and I had the task of getting all the equipment out of my living room and into another rehearsal studio. Bernadette found one, a rehearsal complex called Wilshire Fine Arts. The man who owned the place was Mr. Cooper, a handsome man with a facial structure reminiscent of Harry Belafonte in his mid-forties. He was kind but serious about his business. Fortunately, he liked Bernadette. When she was short on funds and could not pay, he only required a kiss that bought us a full day of rehearsal time. Until his Asian wife, who was shell shocked from the war, found out about it. She verbally attacked Bernadette, screaming, “You kisa my husband, you kisa my husband.” The entire rehearsal studio paused and heard the shenanigans.

Eddie and I finally rekindled our relationship. He continued his financial responsibilities to me, which helped support Bernadette’s dream of an All-Girl Band. Since I no longer had to hustle money, we had lots of free time on our hands. We lived to watch videos of Cleopatra Jones and Foxy Brown. After viewing it one day, Bernadette stated, “The women empowerment vibe is what Klymaxx should represent.” And I agreed.

As we conversed in the morning, I drank my cup of coffee, and Bernadette always had her daily breakfast of Frosted Flakes. While eating she would say,  “These are jamming.” They are really jamming.”

Getting the group up and running would require much more money than Eddie offered. I devised ways to earn money to afford rehearsal halls and equipment. Now, in the age of MTV, videos are becoming popular, so we feel we need one. We remained focused on securing a recording contract and becoming stars.

If It Ain’t Love, It’s A Business Deal

I was the type of woman a poor man couldn’t do anything for me, and I would not get down and then get up penniless; I understood how a man’s mind works: Treat me like a queen, or I’ll be broke by myself.

My first two immediate questions to a guy (which Bernadette hated that I asked) were, “What’s your name, and what do you do?” Straight up! And then, “How can our relationship be mutually beneficial?” These questions were all I wanted to know. Forget about the small talk. I continued, “What about you? It gives you an advantage over all the other gentlemen who were calling.” These questions were scriptures in Bonnie’s Bible. Ironically, these upfront questions weeded out the real men from the pretenders. The men with money appreciated my honesty and always called. Bernadette coined the phrase, ‘If it ain’t love, then it’s a business deal.”

From Superfly to Don King

Since I always had older men with the money to provide for me, I concluded that I should pursue that angle and find Bernadette a “Sugar Daddy.”

For this reason, I approached the ever-so-cool Capricorn to entertain an older, wealthy man. The gentleman I was thinking of was Eddie’s best friend, Gene. He was an older man, 40 years Bernadette’s senior, and had hair like Don King. He was short and not attractive at all, yet financially secure. Gene always complained about not having a woman to spoil and spend his money on like Eddie did. I thought this was the perfect match. I thought, Gene would make the cash, and Bernadette could spend it. However, I did not tell Bernadette about the unattractive, short Don King part.

Bernadette considered it and agreed to try it for the band’s sake. So, I set up a blind date. Gene was extremely excited about his young potential date, who drove a brand new brown El Dorado Cadillac. The meeting was to happen at my apartment in Encino. Bernadette was nervous but excited about the possibility of Gene liking her and being a benefactor. We thought our financial woes would soon be over.

Bernadette had hyped herself up all day and was hanging out in my room, watching television, among my luxurious furniture, when Gene arrived. He knocked on the door, entered the living room, and sat on the sofa. Eddie, Gene, and I chatted for a while. I then stepped into the bedroom and said,

“Bernadette, Gene is here. Are you going to come out or what?”

Full of enthusiasm, Bernadette said, “Tell him to come in here.”

An enormous smile came on Gene’s face as he walked toward the bedroom. What happened next was a mystery to me. However, shortly after he entered, Bernadette exited the room with disgust. She stared at me in disbelief and whispered, “Are you crazy?” We could not contain our laughter.

She beckoned me to the kitchen and whispered, “Girl, I can’t do it. I just can’t do it!” Then Bernadette sat on the couch, glued to her Ebony magazine like we were in a prayer meeting. Gene soon returned to the living room where Bernadette planted her butt; he hung around just long enough to hand Bernadette a fifty-dollar bill. She graciously accepted it; however, she could barely look at him. When he and Eddie left, she rolled her eyes, gave me fifty dollars for groceries, and stated, “Here is your finder’s fee.” We had to concoct a new plan.

The Ever-Changing Courtship Of Eddie

Eddie, who lived with his wife, often visited us in Encino unless he got mad at me for something I did. At this point, he became invisible and unreachable. The first of the month rolled around, and I could not reach Eddie to pay rent; the courts served me with a three-day notice, and even though I left countless messages about facing eviction, Eddie would not respond. I had enough and said, “Bernadette, get in the car; we’re going for a ride.” I now had a two-door, drop-top Mercedes-Benz. I left the kids with the babysitter, and we headed to the other side of town.

Manicured lawns, Winnebagos in the driveways, and alarm sign warnings erected by a stake on the front yard, where trespassers could see, These sitings alerted us that we were in an upscale, predominantly black neighborhood. We parked across the street from a well-kept house and snacked on burgers purchased on the way from Jack in the Box.

Bernadette had no idea why I drove to this neighborhood, I said, “Just wait, you’ll see.”

She remained silent until a car approached us with Eddie and a woman sitting beside him. She was Eddie’s wife. He immediately noticed my car lying in wait diagonally from his house, and we made eye contact. He appeared terrified as he turned into his driveway, almost hitting the no-trespassing sign. I started my car and fiercely drove off. With her mouth open, Bernadette burst into laughter. The next day, Eddie paid the rent in advance for six months and on time afterward.

Signed, Sealed, and Delivered

Bernadette changed band members when she felt the girls were not right for the band. Eddie and any other man I dated had to contribute financially to the band, and the costs escalated. Having become desperate, I introduced a credit card scheme into the scenario.

Back in the 80s, before computers, a stolen credit card was valid for at least twenty-four hours after being reported. Eddie loved me so much that he would do anything for me. The mail carriers knew when the delivery letter had a credit card inside. Eddie’s route was a constant in the wealthy neighborhood of Hancock Park, and the plastic they received had high credit limits.

Instead of the intended customer, Eddie selected and sent me letters with credit cards. I would steam them open and gather pertinent identification information on the acceptance letter. I would then use the cards to purchase clothes and other merchandise to sell. After maxing them out, I returned the card to the envelope, resealed it, and Eddie delivered it to the rightful owner.

Bernadette was too afraid to participate, but I always hooked her up with stylish clothes, and we were always sharp. Having unlimited shopping cards introduced me to designer clothes from North Beach Leather, Gucci, and Saks Fifth Avenue. So now we look the part, and in most places, everyone thought we were already stars and rarely questioned me when I purchased expensive clothes.

I often went alone, or Eddie waited for me in the car. If I got an overly suspicious cashier and they inquired about the credit cards, I would act as if I accidentally left my keys and exited the store.

The fun abruptly ended while walking out of the store one day. I had so much merchandise that two clerks assisted me with my bags. Eddie saw these people and assumed they were security. He quickly drove away. I pretended like my ride, tired of waiting, he left me, and I called a cab. Fearful of losing his job and being sent to jail, Eddie shut the credit card hustle down. However, that did not stop me from seeking other opportunities.

You’re Under Arrest Suga

Bernadette began contributing by working as an undercover agent for stores. With her previous experience attending a school that specialized in this, an outside investigation company hired her to work undercover, busting employees who stole from their clients’ companies. Therefore, she received a weekly check from her agency and one from the store. Coming home with double pay helped with rent. She also did other jobs for the investigation agency, and so did I. Keep reading.

Bernadette introduced me to the boss at the investigation company, who hired me. The owner required that all employees take a polygraph test at the examiner’s office on Wilshire Blvd. Bernadette’s appointment was at 1 p.m., and mine followed at 5 p.m.

Her story to the police went like this. “When I arrived in this room, in a large office complex, the polygraph examiner was a black guy, around 35 years old, who asked me to sit down. He explained the process and asked me professional questions, gradually becoming personal inquiries about my life. I felt uncomfortable but answered. Then, this man walked over and tried to kiss me, becoming aggressive and reaching for my pants to take them off. I stood up, which he allowed me to do, and rushed to the other side of the polygraph machine. He followed. I began walking faster and found myself running around the table with him in tow to escape. We did this dance for five minutes before I ran out of the door.”

Bernadette could not alert me and reach me by pay phone. Thus, when I arrived for my exam, he did the same thing to me.

We compared notes later and discussed it for two days before deciding to press charges for attempted rape.

The agony of it all was disturbing, and justice prevailed slowly. Our initial court date was a month away; still upset, we chose to let his wife know that he was a rapist. Through the white pages (a public directory), we got his home number and called. When his wife answered, I told her what had happened; she called me a liar and hung up, so we decided to torture her. The following phone calls went like this, “Do you know what your husband did?” And then we hung up. Bernadette would be on another phone in the house. We contacted her every day for a week, asking, “Do you know what your husband did?” and then we hung up the phone. One day, she decided to listen to us, and we finally alerted her to the entire story, not the lie he told her. We felt good knowing someone believed in our account.

When Bernadette and I finally attended our first court hearing, we observed him crying in the hallway. He approached us, begging us not to proceed with the case. “I will lose my wife and family, please; I’m sorry, don’t do this.”

We were not as gangsters as we thought, so we dropped the case.

Mr. Big Stuff

Deciding that a nine-five job was not enough to pay for the band’s needs, we depended on Eddie to sustain us. Unfortunately, during this time, the Feds arrested Sal Watts, the man who gave me so many opportunities and was the possible grandfather of my daughter. He was later found guilty of tax evasion and sent to federal prison.

The government confiscated seven million dollars in cash and property and sentenced Sal to two years in Terminal Island Prison in Long Beach, California; close enough for Bernadette and I to visit? Surprisingly, he was one of Oakland’s most significant Cocaine and heroin dealers.

Now, I understand why he always carried a battery-operated TV with him. He could watch the news and monitor his shipments to ensure they made it to the dock. If not, the evening news would report it. One day, the inevitable happened. The federal government confiscated the shipment, docked it, and seized millions of dollars in cash. The Feds surrounded Sal and arrested him.

Bernadette and I visited Sal as often as possible and did many favors for him on the outside. I coordinated talent to perform for the inmates and snuck in contraband.

During that time, smuggling contraband into and out of the minimum security federal prison was as simple as paying off a guard. In fact, sex was common, as security turned their heads and lined their pockets.

Sal convinced us to befriend two inmate friends without one to visit them. Many of these guys in federal prison were rich, big-time players incarcerated for things like tax evasion. Still, they had cash—bank robbers who hid the money and senior executives who misappropriated funds concealed in a Swiss bank account. Bernadette and I considered the risk and took the plunge for the band’s sake.

Sal introduced me to a handsome guy who looked like “Billy Dee Williams.” His name was Nadine, and stupid me fell in love with him. Bernadette met a good-looking young man named Teddy, a transferee from a San Francisco prison to Terminal Island. He claimed to be the head of an international car theft ring. Bernadette nicknamed him Mr. Big Stuff because he exaggerated his importance. While visiting Sal, we were always on the list to see the guys.

Teddy told Bernadette that he had money stashed away and wanted to invest it. Thinking that a relationship with him would benefit the band, she visited him more often. All seemed well until Teddy revealed his religion: He was a Muslim. He abruptly took the yogurt she purchased from the vending machine and, without her permission, threw it in the trash.

“No woman of mine is going to eat this.” He said

Apparently, it contained pig gelatin. We all know that Muslims do not eat pork, but in the 70s, Bernadette was not a conscious eater; she came from the ‘Church of God In Christ,’ and they overlooked that part of the Bible and ate pork chops, neckbones, and plenty of bacon. Also, his confusion about Bernadette being his woman made her think he was delusional.

However, the courtship didn’t last long. Teddy reneged on a business deal they had planned. Paraphernalia and drugs were worth triple inside jail walls. She did a favor for him outside the prison, and he refused to pay her.

Knowing that the profit would go to the band, she never revisited Mr. Big Stuff; Sal later informed us that Teddy received more prison time for raping a female guard. Bernadette and I thought, “I guess raping is okay, but pork isn’t.”

I continued to visit Nadine. After his release, I eagerly awaited for him to fulfill all the promises he made. However, his love for me suddenly ended when he became free.

The Psychedelic Ajax Bathroom

Our shenanigans continued after my failed love attempt with Nadine and Cooper’s break-up with Mr. Big Stuff. It was unusual to see two young black girls following each other in convertible foreign vehicles during that time. Men often hit on us, and we loved playing games. Bernadette brought these cue cards with sayings like Follow me home, Honk if you’re horny, or in this case, Kiss me. Once a guy in a passing car showed interest, Bernadette held up the card and pointed to me, who was trailing her, instructing him to obey the card. Those were the days when you could meet a guy in your car, pull over, and catch a wealthy donor without dying.

By this time, I had moved out of Encino to a cheaper apartment in Inglewood, and Bernadette moved with her mother. With newfound members, we were performing night shows around town. We were also rehearsing for an upcoming performance at a resort in Napa Valley near San Francisco. With no additional money, we drove the six-hour drive. The resort had cottages for guests hidden in the pines, and we performed in the lounge. This mission became another crazy, fun, and first-time experience.

When we arrived in Napa Valley, the housekeeper had not cleaned our rooms. Rushing, I asked to enter so we could rest before the show. Once relaxed, I told Bernadette, “Girl, I have some Cocaine in a hundred-dollar bill that a guy gave to me. Do you want to try it together?”

We, the fearless duo, proceeded to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and noticed that the housekeeper, in her haste, had left Ajax on the countertop. I pulled out the folded bill, opened it, and we inspected the contents. Bernadette asked, “What will it do? Are we going to die from this?” We both lauged as our curiosity heightened and then Bernadette’s clumsy ass dropped the Cocaine package all over the counter. Now, combined with the Ajax, we still wanted to try it, so we scraped up the remaining coke and put it up our noses. Despite this, we felt nothing, no buzz or sensation. However, we sneezed all night.

Fire knocked me to my knees, and I’m smoking.

On the way home, Bernadette mentioned a guy she met who liked her. She thought he was cute but did not want to dine with him alone. She called, and he invited us both to lunch. When we arrived, he kept talking about his job as an insurance agent. The conversation quickly turned from lust to a life insurance and insurance annuities sales pitch.

He stated his commission-based position required him to turn in a certain amount of policies by the end of the month and offered to backdate a new renter insurance coverage to ensure he gets his percentage. We stared at him oddly, wondering, ‘Why the hell do we need life or renter’s insurance?’ The conversation shifted from a date to planning our eternal lives. No humor here, so we quickly left.

Coincidentally, a week later, destruction happened. The sound of my son screaming awakened me in a smoke-filled room. I entered the living room and into a blazing fire. Jai had been playing with matches and lit a fire that burned up seventy-five percent of my apartment and all of my belongings. I grabbed my children and ran out of the apartment, naked, with them in my arms. Cold and in shock, I stood outside while the flames grew higher. The firefighters arrived, covered me with a blanket, and evacuated the other tenants. My expensive furniture, furs, jewelry, and all our clothes burned. My children and I had nothing.

We moved in with my extended family: Tory, his sister, brothers, and mother. As I tried to get my life together, I mentioned the fire to Mrs. Jackson. She and Latoya picked up Jai and Myaa and took them shopping for an entirely new wardrobe. The insurance offer popped into my head as I pondered how I would survive.

Unknown to the agent, he backdated a renter’s insurance plan for me a month before the actual fire. I waited until he gave the policy to me and then reported the incident. The insurance company investigated, and sure enough, there was a fire; they opened a claim and paid me handsomely.

The young man realized the con. However, he knew he couldn’t tell his company because he would be involved in a conspiracy to defraud it. After all, he had backdated the policy.

The day I picked up a twenty-thousand-dollar insurance check from his office, he gave me the most hateful expression, but I graciously said, “Thank you.”

Since meeting The Jacksons, I have preferred living near them. Therefore, the entire twenty-thousand dollars were put towards an apartment in Encino, buying furniture, clothes, a tummy tuck, and whatever Bernadette needed for her band.