Bootleg Broadway

ISBN Digital: 9781509201297
ISBN Print: 9781509201280
Page Count: 402
Word Count: 106855
Rating: Spicy

The New York Saga

It’s 1932. Prohibition rages, the Depression ravages, and Billy McGlory comes of age whether he wants to or not. Musical and adventurous, Billy dreams of having his own ritzy supper club and big band. On the eve of his marriage to the pregnant Prudence, the shifty “businessman” Rosario Ingovito offers him all that and more. Fame, fortune, his own Broadway musical—it’s all his for the taking, despite Pru’s opposition to Rosie’s ventures.
Meanwhile, Pru’s artistic career gains momentum and their child is born. Can anything go wrong for Billy? Only when he gets in way over his head does he stop to wonder how his business partner really makes his millions, but by then it’s far too late…



The cop poked his head into the car. “What’s in the briefcases?”

I stiffened, paralyzed. My breath caught. “Uh—I dunno. I’m doing an errand for somebody.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you dunno. Step aside, please.”

Now he pissed me off. “Hey, you got a search warrant?” I demanded.

But demanding a search warrant from a New York City cop was like demanding a shot of Scotch from Satan in the middle of Hell.

I didn’t want to look. I turned my head and flattened my palms on the roof of the car, like I was being searched. I heard the clicks as he sprang the latches and his not-so-surprised “mm-hmmm” as he checked out the contents.

“Who you doing this errand for, sonny boy?” He turned to me.

What was the “sonny boy” bit? He wasn’t much older than me. I knew he just wanted to humiliate me. Screw that. I’ve been called a lot worse by much better cops than him. He obviously didn’t know who I was. “Uh—I’d better get a lawyer or something.”

His “You’d better come with me” didn’t sound like a suggestion.

“Look, uh—you wanna just take a few bills outta there and forget it?” I asked, real generously. “I mean, uh—we’re all in this mess together, ya know—”

“Bribing an officer of the law is a very serious offense, sonny boy,” he scolded me, shaking his finger in my face. “Park your car there, please.”

“There?” I gestured at the curb. “But there’s a hydrant there. I’ll get a ticket.”

Copyright © 2018 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.